The Mystery of the Headless Horseman by Julie Campbell Read Free Book Online

Crandall stole it—and if no one is allowed to talk about it—” She glanced sharply at Miss Trask. “Why, that means that everyone must still think he’s a thief. Isn’t that right?”
    Miss Trask sighed again. “I’m afraid so. People who really knew him—and I mean the people who were his friends—don’t believe he could possibly have done such a thing. But there it is. The vase was delivered to the museum late one Friday afternoon. Jonathan Crandall did receive it. Someone saw him do so.”
    “But,” Honey said slowly, “when they came to look for the vase after he died, they couldn’t find it? Is that the way it was?”
    Miss Trask agreed that that was exactly how it had been.
    “But how awful for Mrs. Crandall,” Di said. “She must be very upset that people still think such terrible things about her husband.”
    “You’re right,” said Miss Trask firmly, “and I can’t think how we got off on this subject. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. Matters like this are best forgotten. And it was all settled long ago by the insurance company.”
    Trixie said suddenly, “I wonder where Harrison fits into all of this.”
    “Aha, my pretty!” Mart said, pretending to twirl the long ends of a nonexistent moustache. “The plot thickens!”
    Miss Trask smiled at him. “Aha, yourself!” she said. “There’s nothing mysterious about it. Harrison and Mr. Crandall were very good friends, you see. They were also enthusiastic chess players.”
    “Harrison?” Mart sounded astonished again. “He plays chess?”
    “People do, you know,” Miss Trask said dryly. “Harrison often went to Sleepyside Hollow on his evenings off, I believe.”
    It was Brian’s turn to be astonished. “Harrison told you all this?”
    Brian wasn’t the only Bob-White who couldn’t believe that Di’s butler had ever been that informative. Trixie couldn’t believe it either.
    Miss Trask laughed aloud.
    “No,” she said, “Harrison didn’t tell me. Rose Crandall and I have known each other for some time. It was she who mentioned it to me once.” Jim had been listening closely. “Does Harrison now feel, perhaps, that he should keep an eye on things for his friend’s widow? I mean, he went over there to feed the cat. He didn’t seem to think it was at all strange to have been asked to do it.”
    “That’s very perceptive of you, Jim,” Miss Trask said, turning to leave. “Yes, I believe Harrison does still try to help his friend’s widow every chance he gets.”
    After she had gone, the Bob-Whites were silent. Even Patch sat still. His big brown eyes were watching Jim.
    Trixie watched Jim, too. She thought it was just like him to have understood immediately the loyalty that Harrison might feel for his friend. Maybe it was because Jim had been friendless himself, until the Wheelers adopted him.
    Trixie also felt that maybe Jim’s remark had helped her to understand Harrison a little better. Before today, he had seemed to her to be just Di’s butler—a reserved, quiet man who was good at his job. She had never given much thought to the fact that he, too, was a human being with feelings and loyalties of his own.
    All the same , she thought, I still want to tell Honey about that cellar door.

    In spite of Trixie’s eagerness to talk to Honey alone, she had no chance to do so for the rest of the afternoon. There was work to be done.
    When Regan realized that the Bob-Whites had returned, he hurried to the stables. Under his watchful eye, the teen-agers worked industriously, first with the horses, then with the tack.
    Patch, disappointed that Jim obviously had no time to play with him, turned and trotted away toward the house.
    Trixie watched him go. She found herself wishing that one day Reddy might be as well behaved. It was impossible, of course. Or was it?
    It was almost suppertime before Regan was satisfied that his beloved horses had come to no harm from their afternoon’s outing.
    The tack had been polished