The Mysterious Visitor

laughed. "To win a prize in this game, you can’t be either a goon or a ghoul. You’ve got to have brains. There are all sorts of ways of playing Murder at Midnight, but this is the way we play it at our parties. First you deal out the cards. The person who gets the Queen of Spades is the murder victim. The person who gets the Ace of Diamonds is the murderer. But, of course, he doesn’t let anybody know that. Then you choose up sides. Half of the gang goes out of the room with the Queen and the Ace. The murderer tells his side who he is, and they leave all sorts of clues around, trying to baffle the other side. The person who is smart enough to guess who the murderer is gets first prize."
    Honey giggled. "Who gets the booby prize? The Queen of Spades?"
    "No," Trixie told her. "The ‘detective’ who asks stupid questions and sort of blunders around. There’s always somebody like that at every party." "I’m going to give myself the booby prize right now," Diana said, smiling. "But that game does sound like fun, Trixie, and our house is so big it’ll take practically all evening to find the clues and solve the mystery."
    "You can’t tell," Honey argued. "At every party there’s always somebody who’s awfully smart, too. He or she might solve the mystery very quickly. To be on the safe side we really ought to think up some more games. Got any more ideas, Trixie?"
    "Well, there’s that relay of passing a paper bag and having each person in line eat whatever wrapped article he or she grabs on to," Trixie said thoughtfully.
    "That sounds good," Diana said, laughing.
    "Or how about bobbing for apples?" Trixie asked. "It’s the thing to do on Halloween, isn’t it?"
    "No," Di said emphatically. "Y ou don’t mind getting your hair wet, because it’s naturally curly, but a lot of girls wouldn’t like it."
    "Personally," Honey said, "I think we’re all too old for that kind of game. After Murder at Midnight, if there’s time, I think we ought to play guessing games. You know. A group acts out a line from Shakespeare or something, and the others have to guess what they’re trying to say." "Okay." Trixie agreed. "Charades are always fun. Not that I’d know a line from Shakespeare from a straight line somebody drew with a ruler." "Oh, stop it," Honey protested. "You get very high marks in English, Trixie. Why must you always go around acting as though you were illiterate? I think the theme you wrote yesterday was just wonderful, and I’ll bet the teacher thinks so, too."
    "If she can read my horrible handwriting," Trixie said with a rueful grin. "And that gives me an idea for another game. We can analyze one another’s handwriting. Mart’s got a book on the subject. If things get dull, we can always make a fortune-teller out of him. He’d love it."
    All week, when the girls met at school or on the bus, they added to the list, but in the end it wouldn’t have mattered if they hadn’t made any plans at all.

Lots of Surprises • 7

    THE BOB-WHITES, as assistant hosts and hostesses, were the first guests to arrive at the party.
    Diana greeted them tearfully. "It’s all happened just the way I told you it would. And he did it on purpose just to be mean. I know he did." "Who did what?" Trixie asked in amazement. "Don’t tell me Harrison didn’t take the night off, after all?" .
    "He’s still here, too," Di said exasperatedly. "But I told him flatly he couldn’t answer the door. But I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about Uncle Monty. He’s running everything, and it’s all such a horrible mess that I don’t know what to do!"
    Sure enough, Uncle Monty was running everything. As a "surprise" for Diana, he had persuaded Mrs. Lynch to order caterers, a five-piece orchestra, and even decorators from New York. The walls of the downstairs rooms were draped in black sateen on which weird, luminescent shapes had been painted. Witches, cats with huge fangs and arched backs, pumpkins, and spiders—all done in luminous paint—grinned eerily down from the black drapes hanging near the entrance.
    "Wow, just look at these decorations," Brian said.
    "It certainly looks like a Halloween party, doesn’t it, Trixie?" Jim said.
    "It looks like something out of a movie," Trixie gasped, trying to see it all at once.
    "That’s just it," Diana wailed. "Hollywood! And I planned that everything would be so nice and simple." She led them into the long room which was called the art gallery. You couldn’t see any of