The Gatehouse Mystery

had just darted around the comer of the long, carpeted hall. She tore after him and collided with Jim when he burst out of his room. Miss Trask appeared then, too, her crisp gray hair rumpled, her bright blue eyes blinking in the light of the hall.
    "Who yelled?" Jim demanded.
    "Me," Trixie said. "I had a nightmare, I guess." Honey joined them, then. "Wh-what on earth happened?" she asked. "Something woke me up, and then I saw Trixie dashing out of the room."
    Trixie forced herself to smile. If only she hadn't yelled! She might have caught the person who was probably at this very moment tiptoeing down the back stairs—or tiptoeing up them to his room on the third floor. "I had a nightmare," she said again. "I'm sorry I woke you."
    Honey laughed. "It was that cold shower, Trixie. I warned you."
    "Well, go back to bed, all of you," Miss Trask said. "It's midnight."
    The big grandfather clock in the downstairs hall was striking when the girls climbed back into Honey's big bed. Honey fell asleep on the eleventh stroke, but Trixie lay awake for a long time, thinking.
    Why hadn't she told Jim and Miss Trask the truth? If she had, Jim might have caught the prowler before he got away. Who was the prowler? The new chauffeur or the new gardener? It would have been easy for Nailor, if he knew that Honey had the diamond, to sneak down from his room on the floor above. And it would have been almost as easy for Dick to sneak into the house through the kitchen door. Trixie knew that when Miss Trask closed up the house on hot nights, she simply hooked the flimsy latches on the screen doors. Anyone could lift those latches from the outside by slipping a knife through the crack.
    Suddenly, Trixie couldn't stand it another minute. She had to know whether or not the kitchen door was latched. If it was, the midnight prowler must have been Nailor. If the latch was not in place, then the man she had frightened away must be Dick.
    She slipped out of Honey's room and tiptoed down the hall to the back stairs. They were only dimly lighted, and she had to grope her way down, clinging to the railing. It was not a pleasant feeling. Suppose the midnight prowler was lurking in the shadows of the hall below?
    At the bottom, Trixie took a deep breath and dashed across the dark hall and through the swinging door into the kitchen. She knew that Miss Trask always left a light burning above the sink, but it was not turned on now. The door swung shut behind her, leaving her in complete darkness.
    A thick wall of blackness surrounded her on all sides, and Trixie felt as though she couldn't breathe. She wanted to turn around and race back to Honey's room, but she couldn't move. She could only stand there, listening, for someone was coming quietly down the back stairs. Whoever it was, was not groping, so he must be carrying a flashlight. Now he was crossing the hall. Now he was pushing open the swinging door. The beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness, and Trixie whirled around, stifling a scream.
    It was Jim.
    "Say, what goes on?" he demanded in a loud whisper. "You're up to something, Trixie. I didn't fall for that nightmare yam of yours." He grabbed her arm. "What cooks?"
    Trixie let out her pent-up breath. She felt like laughing and crying, but she didn't dare do either. She didn't dare make any noise at all. Miss Trask might wake up and hear them.
    "I'll explain everything in the morning, Jim," she whispered. "Honest, I will."
    "It had better be good," he hissed as he held the door open for her.
    Trixie meekly climbed up the stairs ahead of him. They separated outside Honey's room, and Trixie crept silently into bed.
    The next morning she dressed, while Honey was still sleeping, and hurried out of the house. She was starting down the path to the hollow when Jim hailed her from his bedroom window.
    "Wait for me," he said, "and I'll help you feed the chickens. They may need fresh water."
    In a few minutes he joined her, wearing swimming trunks. As they walked down the path together, Trixie told him how she and Honey had found the diamond in the old cottage and why she suspected one of the two new employees.
    "You girls are the limit," he groaned. "You should have turned that diamond right over to Dad."
    "I know," Trixie admitted. She scattered grain in front of the chicken coop. "The mash hoppers are almost empty, Jim. You fill them, please."
    "I will," he said, "but don't try to change the subject. You're insane to suspect Dick, Trixie. I happen