The Mysterious Visitor

"But when Regan says a man has never been on a horse, you can be sure that said man never was." Honey perched on top of the stepladder and frowned down at Trixie. "All right," she said. "Maybe Uncle Monty wasn’t a broncobuster. I’ll admit he exaggerates, and some of those stories he told last night were fantastic. But that still doesn’t make him an impostor."
    "No," Trixie admitted. "But the fact that he came to town ahead of time does."
    Honey gasped. "If you say one word to Di about that awful hotel on Hawthorne Street, Trixie Belden, I—I’ll just never forgive you." Trixie grinned. "What can I say about it? I’ve never been there myself." She added in a lower voice, "The first chance I get I am going there." Honey looked horrified. "Oh, no, Trixie, you wouldn’t dare!"
    "I’ve got to," Trixie answered calmly. "Right now we can’t prove that Uncle Monty ever went near Skid Row. But I’m positive that he did stay there until he suddenly arrived at the Lynches’ the following Monday evening."
    "That doesn’t make sense," Honey objected. "Why didn’t he go straight from the train station to his sister’s home?"
    Trixie shrugged. "Do you know what ‘casing the joint’ means, Honey?"
    "No, I don’t," Honey said rather crossly.
    "You should read more detective stories," Trixie said. "When crooks plan to rob a home, they first case it. In other words, they find out what the family’s habits are, the best time to commit, the robbery, how to get in and out most easily, and so forth. I’m just as sure as sure can be that Uncle Monty came to town ahead of time so he could first contact his friends on Hawthorne Street and find out all he could about the Lynch family." Honey looked impressed. "Then you think he plans to rob them?"
    "Not if he can get a lot of money from Mr. Lynch," Trixie replied. "If Mr. Lynch won’t give him any, I’ll bet he steals as much as he can and then disappears." She leaned forward and added in a whisper, "Did you ever wonder why Uncle Monty came out to your place last Saturday, Honey?"
    "He came out to look at the horses, of course," Honey said.
    Trixie grinned. "That was his excuse. I think he came out here to case your joint."
    Honey climbed down the ladder, nervously winding the tape measure around her slim wrist. "I think you’re crazy, Trixie. Why should he want to rob us when he can steal from the Lynches so easily?"
    "I don’t think he himself plans to break into your house," Trixie said, "but he could pass along any information he picks up to a pal of his. Someone who lives in that hotel on Hawthorne Street. Olyfant, for instance. The man Tom said was a shady character."
    Honey covered her face with both hands. "Please, Trixie, stop using that underworld language. It always gives me the jitters."
    Trixie laughed. "There’s nothing for you to be jittery about. It didn’t take Uncle Monty long to realize that this is not a good place to try to rob. He couldn’t help noticing that, besides your father and Jim, two men sleep at your house. Regan and Tom. Also, he saw Jim’s dog, Patch. Also, that you have a lot of servants. Robbing this place would be about as simple as attempting to break into the White House."
    Honey sighed with relief. "The Lynches have the same sort of place, only more so."
    "Yes," Trixie said, "but Uncle Monty doesn’t have to break into it. He’s there. And didn’t you notice, Honey, that the Lynches have a lot of valuable things lying around? Your home is beautiful, but it isn’t all cluttered up with little knick-knacks. I don’t mean just the silver on their sideboard. I’m talking about those antique bronze and porcelain things that are all over the place. Why, Di told me herself that those china birds in Mr. Lynch’s study are so rare that a museum offered her mother thousands of dollars for the collection."
    Honey nodded. "I know that the dessert service is worth a small fortune. I have seen some of those royal blue and gold plates, that are decorated with tropical birds, in museums. And I’ve seen some of those gold-trimmed goblets in museums." "Don’t forget the paintings in the gallery," Trixie added. "Some of them are museum pieces, too. What’s to prevent Uncle Monty from cutting them from their frames some night and walking out with them?"
    Honey smiled. "That room is always locked, except on special occasions, so he couldn’t take those. Di told me so last night."
    "Oh," Trixie cried in a disappointed tone of voice.