The Marshland Mystery

flashed. “Maybe it wasn’t the gardener, after all, but somebody who was spying on us!” she said loudly, to get their attention. It was annoying how they got all excited about a silly old lawn mower and refused to worry about important things.
    “Oh, sure!” Brian teased her. “It was probably Miss Rachel Martin herself, disguised in a long white beard. Come on, let’s get this over with and bring that bike back to our howling baby brother before he drives Moms wild!”
    They each took an arm and hurried Trixie down to the waiting jalopy.
    “In you go, duchess,” Jim said, ushering Trixie into the rear seat. “Bob-Whites to the rescue!”
    Brian climbed in and took his place at the wheel, and Jim got in beside him. “Lead on, Macduff,” Jim said, with a sweep of his arm.
    “It isn’t ‘Lead on, Macduff,’ at all,” Trixie told him crossly. “It’s ‘Lay on, Macduff,’ and it’s from Macbeth.”
    “ Oh, no! Now she’s going literary on us! I never thought it could happen.” Brian groaned as he put the car in motion and headed toward Glen Road.
    But Trixie glanced back up the driveway as they turned into the road and was almost certain that the figure she saw come out of the stable and stand staring after them was Paul Trent.
    She wondered if she should mention it to the boys. They were already deep in a discussion of things called camshafts and tappets and other weird-sounding names that she guessed were parts of the jalopy. She decided not to mention Paul Trent.
    Even if the person she had seen near the stable had been Paul, it was perfectly natural for him to be there, since he was probably questioning everybody, hoping to get some kind of scoop about Gave for his newspaper. She didn’t like him, but, after all, it was his job.
    And there was nothing to connect him with the mysterious person who had passed the tack room window and disappeared. Jim was probably right that it was only the gardener or one of the grooms.
    So she sat silent while Brian drove swiftly along Glen Road and took the turnoff into the old road that led to Martin’s Marsh.
     

Miss Rachel ● 10
     
    THE OLD ROAD was still muddy and slippery from the noontime rain, and Brian had to slow down his small car as they neared the marsh road.
    “Can’t we go any faster?” Trixie complained, after a glance at the rapidly sinking sun. “We don’t want to be wandering around here after dark.”
    “Cheer up, sis,” Brian called back to her. “There’s a good half hour of light left. If we can’t find Gaye in that time, we might as well give up and go home. We’ll know that your hunch misfired.”
    “I don’t see why you keep calling it a hunch,” Trixie flung at him crossly. “If you had found Bobby’s bike in the ditch and all the rest of the clues, you’d call it evidence, I’m sure.”
    “Hold everything, kids,” Jim chuckled. “Weil soon know what to call it. I see what must be the ruins of the old Martin mansion off there to the right. The cottage should be close now.”
    “It’s just around the next bend. Weil be there in half a sec,” Trixie told him. But at that moment, the small car went into a skid, and she added hastily, “That is, if we ever do get there!” and closed her eyes.
    Brian hung tightly to the wheel and braked with short, sharp jabs until the car was under control. It had turned almost completely around, but it hadn’t hit any of the big trees alongside the road. He carefully guided it back to the proper side of the road. “Phew!” he said as he stopped it. “That was a pretty close one!”
    “Neat work, sonny,” Jim told him lightly.
    Trixie opened her eyes and unclenched her fists. “Are we all here?” she asked with an unsteady grin. “Never a dull moment. It’s a good thing days like this don’t happen often. I simply couldn’t stand the strain!” She pretended to fan herself with her hand.
    “Hoity-toity, madam,” Brian jeered. “You faint, and we make you walk the rest of the way!”
    They were passing the ruins a moment later, when Trixie bounced up suddenly. “Those footprints were Rachel Martin’s. They must have been!”
    Brian groaned. “Now it’s footprints! I was wondering when she’d find some footprints! The gal is footprint dizzy!”
    Jim was more serious. “What footprints, Trix?”
    “The ones Honey and I saw in the rose garden back of the ruins of the Martin place. They had pointed toes, * and we couldn’t decide if a little boy or a