The Gatehouse Mystery

began, and Trixie promptly was overcome by a fit of coughing. Just then Celia appeared to announce lunch.

    "Saved by a dinner bell," Trixie told Honey as they groomed their horses after their evening ride. "Do you realize that you almost told Jim we were working on a case this noon?"
    "I know," Honey admitted shamefacedly. "But I do wish you'd let me tell him about that diamond."
    Trixie led Lady into her stall and slipped off the halter. "Don't mention a word of it to Jim," she said. "We'll solve the mystery ourselves, and then he won't dare make fun of our ambition. Schoolgirl Shamuses, Incorporated," she sniffed. "Honestly, Jim is a worse tease than Mart."
    "But he's so smart," Honey protested, giving Strawberry a good-night pat on the nose.
    "That's right," Trixie agreed. "But girls can be just as smart as boys, and there's no reason why women detectives shouldn't be even better than men. It's a known fact that women notice little things more than men do."
    "That's true," Honey admitted. "I'll bet Jim couldn't tell you what Mother was wearing at dinner."
    "What was she wearing?" Trixie asked. "Let's see how good you are."
    "A long, white linen gown with a jacket and a wide, green sash which matched her slippers and the ribbon in her hair," Honey said. "She wore tiny coral cameo earrings and a ring from the same set."
    "Here comes Jim now," Trixie whispered. "Let's see how good he is." When Jim came into the tack room, she said, "We're playing a game, Genius. Can you tell us what Mrs. Wheeler was wearing this evening before she and Mr. Wheeler left for the party?"
    Jim frowned. "She was wearing a dress," he began. Trixie hooted. "That even I knew although I wasn't here at the time. What else? What color? What jewelry?"
    Jim pretended to be very busy inspecting the throat latch of a bridle hanging on the wall. "A pale blue dress," he said after a while. "A short blue dress with white shoes and no jewelry."
    The girls hugged each other ecstatically, almost hysterical with laughter. "Great," Trixie chortled. "Wonderful, my dear Sherlock. You'll never get a driver's license. You can't see, and you're color-blind."
    "That's right," Honey added with a giggle. "Don't ever call us Schoolgirl Shamuses again."
    "Phooey to you two," Jim said cheerfully. "I'll give you a real test. There's a strange car parked by the garage, and the driver is standing beside it, talking to Regan. Go out and take a good look at the car and the driver and then come back and tell me what you saw. Ill time you," he said, pushing his cuff away from his wristwatch. "One minute!"
    The girls hurried to the stable door and stood there staring as hard as they could. Although it was almost nine, with daylight saving time in effect, it was still light enough to see everything very distinctly.
    "Time!" Jim yelled, and they came back to the tack room. "Sleuth Belden first," he said, pointing to Trixie. "The car," Trixie said, "is an old Buick."
    "I think it's a Packard," Honey interrupted.
    Jim snorted. "It's a Chrysler. Color, model, and year, please."
    "It's about ten years old," Trixie said. "A black four-door sedan."
    Honey gasped. "Why, Trixie! It's a dark-blue coupe."
    "You're both half-right," Jim said with a superior smile. "Describe the driver."
    "That's easy," Trixie said. "He's tall and skinny and pale. Sort of weasel-ish."
    Honey stared at her. "I didn't get that impression at all. He's tall, yes, but slender and very blond. Not pale and skinny. I thought he was very nice-looking, and definitely not 'weasel-ish.' "
    "That's good," Jim said, "because I think he's going to be our new chauffeur."
    "My goodness," Honey said, smiling, "Celia is certainly a fast worker. I told her to ask around the village this afternoon and try to find someone who'd like the job. Do you think Regan will hire him, Jim?"
    "Regan," Jim said, grinning, "loves him. Adores him. The mechanics Dad telephoned to come out and fix the sedan didn't show up, and Regan was still fussing with the motor when the blond guy appeared on the scene. He fixed it in a matter of minutes. It positively purrs now. It and Regan are both purring."
    "Then it's as good as settled," Honey said. "Thank goodness. Maybe, now that he won't have to go near the garage except to climb the stairs to his room on top, Regan won't make us groom the horses and clean the tack every single time. It gets tiresome."
    "Lazy," Jim teased. "And don't count your chickens before they're hatched. Even in the mood