drinking. From the little pantomime, Trixie drew some definite conclusions about the characters of the two people involved. The whole thing gave her an uneasy feeling; although she kept telling herself that it was probably just a matter of strong physical likeness, she still wasn’t really sure the boy wasn’t Neil.
After they arrived at the motel late that afternoon and were unpacking the station wagon, Mrs. Lynch drove up with the others in her convertible.
“Well, you made good time, Mother,” Mr. Lynch called out cheerily. “I didn’t expect you for another hour, at least. You didn’t break any speed laws, did you?”
“No, we didn’t get a single ticket.” She laughed. “The secret is that I let Jim take the wheel just south of New York, and you’re right: He is a superb driver.” Mr. Lynch had reserved three rooms, one for himself and his wife, one for the boys, and the third for Trixie, Honey, and Di. Trixie gasped as she went into their room. She had never in her life seen such a luxurious motel. The furnishings were modem in style. Quilted turquoise bedspreads harmonized perfectly with the draperies and the thick rag. Attractive lamps and pictures and comfortable chairs gave the room a hospitable air. A sliding glass door opened onto a porch, from which they had easy access to the swimming pool.
“Why don’t you all take a swim while Mother and I rest up a bit?” Mr. Lynch suggested. “Then we can go next door for dinner.”
“That sounds great!” Mart cried. “Come on, gang. Last one in is a monkey!”
After a refreshing swim, they were relaxing by the side of the pool, and Trixie told them about the horse van at the restaurant.
“Oh, it couldn’t have been Neil,” Honey said. “How could he have gotten a job on a track, living way back off the main road at Miss Julie’s?”
“Well, you know our Trixie,” Mart gibed. “She can’t let a day go by without something mysterious happening. Incidentally, even if it was—I mean were— Neil what s-his-name, what’s that got to do with the emeralds?”
“Oh, nothing, I suppose,” Trixie said. “It’s just one of those peculiar things that always bother me. They don’t seem important at the time, and yet....” Trixie’s voice trailed off into silence.
“Well, that’s all too vague to make me lose any sleep,” Mart drawled, stretching out full length on the warm tiles.
“You don’t have to lose any precious shut-eye,” Brian told him in a slightly acid tone. “All we ask is that when you are awake, you make an attempt to keep your eyes open. You might pick up some information that would be helpful.”
Mart took this dig in silence, but Di jumped to his defense.
“Oh, don’t be hard on Mart. He may talk a lot, but you know he’s come up with some good ideas in the past. Hasn’t he, Trix?”
“He sure has,” Trixie replied warmly, not wanting any quarrels to spoil the trip, “and I’m willing to bet he will again.”
“Just so we’ll all know what to look for,” Di continued, “why don’t you describe that old horse van in detail, Trixie?”
At first everyone laughed at Di’s naive suggestion. It seemed so unlikely that they’d ever see the truck again, but Trixie had second thoughts about it.
“Don’t be so sure we wont bump into that pair again sometime,” she said. “Stranger things have happened. Well, the van was dirty green and large enough for two horses, but there was only one in it today, a black one. At least, its head was black, and it had a white star on its face. The left taillight of the truck was broken. On the side of the van was the word ‘Stable’ in big white letters and another word had been painted out with black paint.”
“Wow! How’s that for a photographic memory?” Jim exclaimed. “How do you do it, Trix?”
“I’ll let you in on the secret of my enormous success as a detective.” She laughed. She felt the color rising in her cheeks at Jim’s praise. “It’s
After they arrived at the motel late that afternoon and were unpacking the station wagon, Mrs. Lynch drove up with the others in her convertible.
“Well, you made good time, Mother,” Mr. Lynch called out cheerily. “I didn’t expect you for another hour, at least. You didn’t break any speed laws, did you?”
“No, we didn’t get a single ticket.” She laughed. “The secret is that I let Jim take the wheel just south of New York, and you’re right: He is a superb driver.” Mr. Lynch had reserved three rooms, one for himself and his wife, one for the boys, and the third for Trixie, Honey, and Di. Trixie gasped as she went into their room. She had never in her life seen such a luxurious motel. The furnishings were modem in style. Quilted turquoise bedspreads harmonized perfectly with the draperies and the thick rag. Attractive lamps and pictures and comfortable chairs gave the room a hospitable air. A sliding glass door opened onto a porch, from which they had easy access to the swimming pool.
“Why don’t you all take a swim while Mother and I rest up a bit?” Mr. Lynch suggested. “Then we can go next door for dinner.”
“That sounds great!” Mart cried. “Come on, gang. Last one in is a monkey!”
After a refreshing swim, they were relaxing by the side of the pool, and Trixie told them about the horse van at the restaurant.
“Oh, it couldn’t have been Neil,” Honey said. “How could he have gotten a job on a track, living way back off the main road at Miss Julie’s?”
“Well, you know our Trixie,” Mart gibed. “She can’t let a day go by without something mysterious happening. Incidentally, even if it was—I mean were— Neil what s-his-name, what’s that got to do with the emeralds?”
“Oh, nothing, I suppose,” Trixie said. “It’s just one of those peculiar things that always bother me. They don’t seem important at the time, and yet....” Trixie’s voice trailed off into silence.
“Well, that’s all too vague to make me lose any sleep,” Mart drawled, stretching out full length on the warm tiles.
“You don’t have to lose any precious shut-eye,” Brian told him in a slightly acid tone. “All we ask is that when you are awake, you make an attempt to keep your eyes open. You might pick up some information that would be helpful.”
Mart took this dig in silence, but Di jumped to his defense.
“Oh, don’t be hard on Mart. He may talk a lot, but you know he’s come up with some good ideas in the past. Hasn’t he, Trix?”
“He sure has,” Trixie replied warmly, not wanting any quarrels to spoil the trip, “and I’m willing to bet he will again.”
“Just so we’ll all know what to look for,” Di continued, “why don’t you describe that old horse van in detail, Trixie?”
At first everyone laughed at Di’s naive suggestion. It seemed so unlikely that they’d ever see the truck again, but Trixie had second thoughts about it.
“Don’t be so sure we wont bump into that pair again sometime,” she said. “Stranger things have happened. Well, the van was dirty green and large enough for two horses, but there was only one in it today, a black one. At least, its head was black, and it had a white star on its face. The left taillight of the truck was broken. On the side of the van was the word ‘Stable’ in big white letters and another word had been painted out with black paint.”
“Wow! How’s that for a photographic memory?” Jim exclaimed. “How do you do it, Trix?”
“I’ll let you in on the secret of my enormous success as a detective.” She laughed. She felt the color rising in her cheeks at Jim’s praise. “It’s
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