The Black Jacket Mystery

spite of Honey’s quick smile and Di’s admiring look, Dan only nodded stiffly to the girls. “As if it hurt him to be polite,” Trixie whispered as Mart and Dan went to the counter to get trays and serve themselves. Trixie was disappointed.
    “He’s just bashful, I guess,” Di said and fluffed her soft black curls around her neck.
    “Huh!” Trixie noticed the curl-fluffing with a critical eye. “You can call it that, but it looks more like just plain old rude, to me.”
    “Trixie Belden, you’re not being fair,” Honey told her quietly. “You don’t know a thing about the poor fellow, and you’re deciding not to like him.”
    “Oh, it’s just that black leather jacket, I guess,” Trixie answered truthfully. “And those cowboy boots. Why would anybody wear cowboy boots?”
    “Maybe it’s a club outfit, like our red jackets,” Honey suggested. “When he walked away just now, the sun hit the back of his jacket through that window. And I’m almost sure I saw where something had been painted over, right in the middle of the back.”
    “Really? What did it say?” Trixie was interested now.
    “I couldn’t tell. But I bet it was the name of some club he belongs to,” Honey told them.
    Di’s eyes were wide. “I saw a movie about a street gang that wore black leather jackets. They were awful. Always fighting. Do you think he’s like that?” She was ready to be alarmed as she stared at Dan and Mart coming across the cafeteria with loaded trays.
    Trixie saw Di’s expression and was suddenly ashamed of herself. She told Di hastily, “He’s probably a very nice boy. And either Mr. Maypenny has hired him to help on the preserve, as Honey suggested, or else he’s Mr. Maypenny’s grandson.”
    “Grandson, I bet!” Honey guessed enthusiastically. “He’s probably been living in the city all his life. That’s why he’s so thin, maybe. And Mr. Maypenny’s hoping to fatten him up with country air and some of his wonderful cooking.”
    “Got it all figured out, haven’t you?” Brian laughed. “Now, how about eating lunch before the assembly bell rings?” But even he stopped eating and looked surprised as Mart came on alone after introducing Dan Mangan to three ninth-graders at the next table. After putting down his tray, Dan seated himself.
    Mart met their inquiring looks a little sheepishly as he emptied his tray and sat down with them. “Dan’s getting acquainted with the guys in our homeroom,” he explained. “It’s better.”
    Di pouted and glanced at the empty chair next to her own. “Who needs him?” she asked. “Would have crowded us, anyway.”
    But Trixie, holding back an impish grin, kicked Honey’s ankle under the table and winked knowingly. Di was miffed, and Trixie knew it. That came of being so pretty that everybody swooned over her. When they didn’t, it was a blow.
    It was getting crowded in the lunchroom, and everyone was talking louder and louder. Over at the next table, Dan had an audience of three who were hanging on his every word. “Sure,” he said carelessly, toying with his food and waving his fork to emphasize his words, “I helped start our club. Nobody tells us what to do around our neighborhood. We take care of that!” There was a pause, and then he went on. “Switchblades? Not us! The cops get tough when they find ’em on you. We don’t need stuff like that.” He struck a fist into the palm of his other hand forcefully. “Pow!”
    His audience had forgotten to eat. All three pairs of eyes were fixed on Dan.
    Trixie turned to her brother. “How did you get stuck taking him around?” she asked with a nod in Dan’s direction.
    “Aw, he’s okay. Just feeling his way. He’ll calm down.” Mart laughed. “Mr. Maypenny asked Miss Taylor if I could introduce him around.”
    “Hmph!” Trixie snorted. “He seems to be doing pretty well by himself.” She eyed Dan speculatively. “Did she say he was related to Mr. Maypenny?”
    “Yeah,” Mart said, suddenly aware that the other two girls were listening. “I’ll tell you the whole terrible story, gals. Well, it seems that Dan was kidnapped by gypsies when he was a baby, and now he’s the real king of the gypsies, but there’s another band of gypsies who are out to s-s-slit his gullet—” He was whispering, and he made a funny gurgling noise and ran his finger suggestively across his throat as he spoke.
    Di gave a horrified exclamation, and Honey’s hazel eyes looked like saucers,