The Mysterious Visitor

assistants in order to keep an eye on her. He started right off by saying that he wanted the hostesses to remove their masks and wigs. Up until then the Bob-Whites, except for the difference in their heights, had looked exactly alike. And after the unmasking, Uncle Monty had hovered close to Trixie’s elbow.
    Even when all the guests had unmasked, and they trooped into the dining room for supper, he stuck to her like a burr. As the boys and girls gathered around the huge table, Harrison switched off the glaring overhead lights. The candle which Trixie had earlier slipped into the pocket of her jacket had been replaced. The butler gave her another cold, suspicious glance as he began to light the candles, using a large package of book matches. Trixie stared longingly at the book, hoping he would put it down on the sideboard after he had finished.
    But he didn’t. Instead he meticulously closed the cover and said to Di, "Will that be all, Miss Diana? Mrs. Lynch said I should have the evening off, but Mr. Wilson thought it best for me to stay until the party had progressed to this point." "It wasn’t necessary for you to stay, Harrison," Di said rather impatiently. "I wish you’d go and take the caterers with you!"
    He bowed. "The caterers were not necessary, miss, if I may be so bold as to say so. I am accustomed to handling small affairs like this without assistance." He coughed. "No arrangements had been made for serving refreshments to the members of the orchestra. I have taken the liberty of turning my sitting room over to them. They are now there partaking of a light repast. I hope that is quite satisfactory to you, Miss Lynch." Now’s my chance, Trixie thought and started for the door.
    As she threaded her way through the crowd, Uncle Monty somehow arrived at the entrance to the hall ahead of her, blocking her way. He crooked his elbow at her and said with a gallant bow:
    "Howdy, podner. It would sure give me pleasure if you would do me the great honor of sitting beside me during supper."
    Trixie hesitated. His small dark-brown eyes were as expressionless as the olive pits they always made her think of, but his thin lips were set in a white line. There was no doubt in her mind now that he knew she suspected him of being an impostor and that he would do everything he could to prevent her from looking at the portraits in the gallery.
    As she stood there, trying to make her own face expressionless, he took her hand and led her back to the dining-room table. Trixie shrugged away from him as fast as she could, because his hand on hers had felt as cold and scrawny as a chicken’s claw. But no matter how hard she tried to mingle with the other boys and girls, she could not evade him. Snakelike, he slithered around after her, attracting attention to her for one reason or another.
    The first time she tried to leave the room, he scolded her loudly because she hadn’t eaten everything on her plate. The second time she rose from her chair, he insisted that she must have second helpings of everything. He brought her a plate heaped so high she could hardly hold it on her lap and could hardly be expected to eat it all.
    Mart came to her rescue, but while she was transferring a turkey leg and a thick slice of ham to Mart’s plate, Uncle Monty clapped his hands for silence. Two waiters came in from the kitchen then, carrying the dessert on a big silver platter. It was orange sherbet in the form of a giant pumpkin head with chocolate eyes, a cherry nose, and a grinning peppermint stick mouth.
    Instead of greeting this surprise with cries of delight, the boys and girls groaned, because they had already eaten far too much. Di’s face flamed with embarrassment, and Uncle Monty looked as though he were going to hop up and down with rage.
    The guests hadn’t really meant to be rude; they had simply groaned without thinking. Now, headed by Honey, they crowded around Di and her uncle, praising the dessert and begging for large portions of it. Trixie slipped unobtrusively out of the room.
    She knew she couldn’t waste time looking for matches, and hoped that the crystal chandeliers in the gallery would shed enough light so she could distinguish the colors in the portraits of Di’s grandparents. Slipping and sliding on the polished floor, Trixie raced across the long room to the black drapery which she was sure concealed the portraits. The luminescent bat seemed to be grinning at her evilly as she reached out for the drapery.