The Secret of the Mansion (18 page)

“The redheaded kid?” The young lieutenant pulled off his helmet and mopped his face. “He disappeared in those bushes over there. Maybe he doesn’t like pilots.”

He laughed. “But a lot of others seem to be interested.” He pointed down to the road.

As if by magic, Glen Road had suddenly become packed with cars and trucks, and people were already swarming up the rutted driveway. Two policemen reached

the clearing first and began questioning the pilot, while Trixie ran around to the back of the house to bring him a drink of water. When she returned from

the well, reporters were scribbling in their notebooks, and a news photographer was taking a picture of the pilot with the old Mansion in the background.

Then she saw Mr. Lytell climbing up the short cut from the hollow,

208 187 though how he got there so quickly Trixie didn’t know. Regan and Honey came galloping through the woods on horseback, and in a few minutes the clearing

was filled with a crowd of milling, curious people.

“The ground shook for miles around when that plane crashed,” Mr. Lytell was telling the pilot. “You were lucky to get out in time.”

“Say, I’ve got to call headquarters and report,” the lieutenant interrupted. “Is there a phone in this old house?”

“Not here,” Mr. Lytell said. “This is the Frayne place. He was an eccentric old man. Supposed to be a miser. Died yesterday of pneumonia, I hear.”

“A miser?” The reporters moved closer to the house and peered in through the windows. “Zowie!” one of them yelled. “Look at all that junk. This’ll make

a swell yarn.”

“Take all the pictures you want of the outside,” a policeman cautioned. “But don’t any of you cross the threshold without a permit from the chief. Come

on,” he said to the pilot. “Our car’s parked down below. We’ll drive you in to the station and you can make your report from there.”

“Oh, no,” Honey whispered to Trixie. “All these people! And look at that photographer. He’s taking pictures of

209 188 the living-room through the open window. Where’s Jim?” I don’t know,” Trixie whispered back. “He just disappeared suddenly.”

Regan cantered away, leading Strawberry, and in a short while the crowd dwindled down to Mr. Lytell and the girls.

“Lucky we weren’t in those woods today,” he said, shaking his head. “The fire department was having quite a time down there when I drove past.”

Trixie and Honey stared down at the wisp of smoke that was rising above the pine trees. “Golly,” Trixie breathed. “Do you suppose they’ll be able to put

it out?”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Lytell said. “There wasn’t enough left of the plane by the time it hit the ground to start much of a fire. Never saw anything like that before

in all my life. The explosion was deafening down at the store. Even Belle was startled, and she’s stone deaf.” He chuckled. “And where did all those cars

come from? I couldn’t

park any nearer than the Wheeler place. The plane had hardly hit the ground before there was a solid line from here to the Post Road.” He peered through

his glasses at Honey. “Funny your brother wasn’t up here, too. Strikes me that a boy his age would be kind of interested in a pilot bailing out of an exploding

plane.”

210 189 “My little brother got bitten by a copperhead,” Trixie said hastily. “You know, Bobby.”

“Read about it in the paper,” Mr. Lytell said. “Glad to hear he’s doing so well.” He moved over to the open window. “Better close this. It might rain, although

it doesn’t look like it. Those nosy reporters must have left it open.”

Trixie thought he would never go away, but finally he did and she whistled, “Bob Mite! Bob nite.1”

Jim came crawling out from the old arbor that led to the summerhouse. “Whew!” he said. “Some excitement. The story will be in the New York papers for sure.

I don’t dare hang around here any longer.”

“No, Jim,” Trixie broke in. “I’ve got a plan. Dad and Mother are leaving right after lunch for the seashore. The doctor thought the change would be good

for Bobby.” She turned to Honey. “I was going to ask you the first chance I got. They said I could stay home if you stayed with me. just for the night.

Dad‘11 be back tomorrow. Do you think Miss Trask’ll let you?”

“I guess so,” Honey said. “But why don’t you spend the night with me, instead?”

Trixie shook her head. “No, it’s better this way, because our house is nearer the Mansion. As soon as the family leaves, Jim can hide down there, and you

and 1

211 190 can give the place one last search. Please, Jim,” she finished. “One more day. You’ll be perfectly safe in our house, and there’s going to be a

full moon tonight, so maybe we could go for a moonlight ride.”

“Well, all right,” Jim said, after thinking it over for a minute. “But I’d better hit the road the first thing in the morning.”

When Trixie got home, Bobby was full of the story of the plane crash. “Our house shook so I almost fell out of bed,” he told Trixie. “Mummy said the pilot

came down up at the Mansion. Did you see him? Did he get hurt?”

“Yes, I saw him,” Trixie said. “And he wasn’t hurt at all. But the plane was blown to bits.”

Bobby bounced up and down in bed. “It ‘sploded in midair,” he yelled. “Hey! Soon’s I get well I’m going to ‘splore through those woods for shiny pieces

of metal. You’re not the only one who can ‘splore ‘round here.”

Mrs. Belden came in with Bobby’s luncheon tray. “It was certainly thrilling,” she said. “I was down in the garden picking lettuce, and it looked to me as

though the plane missed the Wheelers’ chimney by inches.” She tied a napkin under Bobby’s chin. “Is Honey going to stay with you, Trixie? If not, you’d

better start packing. I’m not at all sure we ought to leave you girls here alone, but

191 your father seems to think you’ll be perfectly all right.” “Of course we will,” Trixie said quickly. “And it’s only for one night.”

Her mother snapped the lock on a small suitcase. “Bobby and I will probably stay for a week or ten days. The doctor said he could play quietly on the beach

tomorrow and go in swimming by the weekend.” She pinched Bobby’s pale cheek. “You’ve got to get back those big red apples, you know.”

“Don’t worry about anything while you’re gone,” Trixie said. “I’ll take good care of Dad. It’ll be fun cooking for him.”

She waved good-by to the family from the terrace, and in a little while she heard a bobwhite call from the

woods behind the garage. She whistled back, and in a moment Jim darted out and ran down the driveway with Reddy barking at his heels.

“Saw the car leaving,” he said. “I don’t even feel safe here. Mind if I go in?”

“Of course not.” Trixie led him into the living-room. “You don’t have to worry. Nobody’ll arrive without warning. Reddy barks his head off at everybody.”

“That’s pretty good.” Jim stared around the low-ceilinged room admiringly. “This is a nice place. It reminds me of the house we had in the country before

213 192 Dad got sick. We had to sell it then and move to a small apartment in Rochester.” His eye fell on a loving cup on the mantel. “Golly, I left in

such a hurry I forgot to bring down my cup and the will.”

“Honey and I’ll bring them down this afternoon, after we search. Can I fix you some lunch now?” Trixie asked.

Jim shook his head. “I’ve already eaten, but I would like a hot shower. It was awfully hard keeping clean up there. I washed my shirt and pants a couple

of times, but I couldn’t really get the dirt out in that cold water.”

“You can have all the hot water and soap you want,” Trixie said. “And I’ll find you some of Brian’s clothes. While you’re in the shower, I’ll wash the ones

you have on. They’ll dry in no time in this hot sun.”

Honey came down around four o’clock, and the girls bicycled to the store for the New York evening papers.

“They just arrived,” Mr. Lytell told them, pointing to the first page.

Pilot Bails Out At Miser’s Mansion the headline read, and in the bank under it were the words, Missing Heiress Sought in Rochester

“Isn’t that just like a newspaper?” Honey giggled. “They would make it a girl!” She clapped her hand over

214 193 her mouth as Trixie’s elbow dug into her ribs. But it was too late.

Mr. Lytell glanced at her with quick suspicion. “Eh, what’s that?” he started to say.

Trixie grabbed the paper. On page two were pictures of the Mansion and the debris-filled living-room. Trixie read the caption out loud: “In this house and

perhaps in this very room a fortune may be hidden.”

“I doubt that.” Mr. Lytell walked with the girls as far as the door. “In my opinion, Mr. Frayne died a pauper. What was that you were saying about a girl?”

“Nothing,” Trixie said hastily. They got on their bikes and pedaled away from the store. “Oh,” she moaned, “Jim isn’t going to like this at all. I wish

we didn’t have to show him the papers.” Then she added, “You must be more careful, Honey!”

“I know it,” Honey said shamefacedly. “I almost let the cat out of the bag, and that man’s suspicious enough anyway.”

215 194 Chapter17

Treasure

The freckles stood out in the whiteness of Jim’s face as he read the newspaper account of the plane crash. The first two paragraphs covered the pilot’s

story, but the rest of the report was concerned with Mr. Frayne’s recent death and the fact that there was no way of tracing the niece-in-law who would

inherit the estate.

A reply to a query in Albany, just received, the story ended, revealed a birth certificate for a boy, James Winthrop Frayne II, who, if he is still alive,

would be fifteen years old this month. Authorities are making every effort to locate this boy and his mother who seem to have vanished into thin air after

the death of the boy’s father, five years ago.

“We didn’t vanish,” Jim said, staring at the newsprint. “We stayed right on in Rochester until Mother married jonesy. Then we went to live on his farm outside

of Albany.” He turned the page to the photograph of the miser’s cluttered living-room. “What a bad break,” he said slowly. “That christening mug of mine

which I left on the mantelpiece stands out more clearly

216 195 than anything else in the room. The light must have hit it. If Jonesy sees this particular picture, he’ll know just where to look for me. I’d better

get going.”

“You can’t,” Honey wailed. “Everything’s all set for tonight. Regan said we could go for a moonlight ride at nine o’clock if you went with us. He’s going

to have the horses ready. All three of them, Jim,” she pleaded. “Don’t you want to have one last ride on Jupe?”

Jim was obviously tempted. He ran his hand nervously through his thick red hair. “Gosh, I’d like to,” he admitted, at last. “And even if Jonesy does see

this picture, he isn’t apt to come around here until tomorrow sometime.”

Trixie let out a sigh of relief. “Come on, Honey,” she said, starting for the screen door to the terrace. “If Jim’s really going to leave the first thing

in the morning, we’d better start right now giving the Mansion one last thorough search.”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” Jim said. “But go ahead. I’ll read this book I found. And please don’t forget to bring back my mug and the Bible.”

“I think we’re wasting our time, too,” Honey said as she and Trixie climbed up the hill with Reddy racing ahead of them. “And if we don’t find anything,

I want to give Jim some money before he goes, Trixie. I never

217 196 spend my allowance, you know, and I’d like him to have it. But I don’t quite dare. He might be insulted.”

“I thought about that, too,” Trixie said. “I’ve got five dollars coming to me at the end of the week and I almost asked Dad for it today, so I could give

it to Jim. But I doubt if he’d accept it. He’s awfully proud and stubborn.”

“I know,” Honey agreed. “I wouldn’t like him if he were any different, but just the same I wish he’d let us help him.”

Trixie clambered over the window sill. “The best way to help him is to find his uncle’s money. Why don’t you tap around that desk in the study, and see

if you can find a secret panel while I work in the living-room. I’m still sure it’s hidden in there somewhere.”

Trixie felt along the paneled walls of the living-room, but without success. “There’s no sense in going through those books and papers again,” she told

herself. “And we’ve moved everything at least twice looking for a trap door. I’d better give up in here and try the dining-room.”

Honey joined her then, and together they pulled away the heavy mahogany sideboard. Dust was caked inches high on the baseboard behind it, and the wallpaper

was streaked with grease and dirt.

“There’s no secret hiding place here,” Honey said after a while. “But how about that big picture on the

218 197 other wall? In books, there’s always a wall safe behind an old family portrait.”

“Wel.7-1, that’s not a portrait,” Trixie said, with a giggle- “141’s just about the ugliest still life I ever saw. Look at those hideous flowers and that

stiff bowl of fruit. That apple,” she said giving it an exasperated poke, “is no more an apple than I am a-” She stopped in surprise, for suddenly the