The Mysterious Visitor

and black they seemed to merge with his eyelashes, giving Trixie the impression that he was wearing a black domino. Trixie shuddered as he stared at her.
    And then she realized that he was as startled by the sight of her as she had been by the sight of him. Instantly her legs stopped shaking, and, although she had no idea who this strange and ugly man was, she said, "I guess you must be Mr. Olyfant."
    He glared at her through his mask of eyebrows and eyelashes. "What’s it to you if I am?"
    Too late Trixie realized that she had no answer to this question. She had come to this sordid place without making plans, hoping that somehow she could get some proof that Uncle Monty was an impostor. There were probably lots of clues inside the hotel, but she knew now that she would never have the courage to enter the door, even if she were invited to do so. Weakly she said, "I was just wondering. That’s all."
    Carefully he took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it. "Anything else you want to know?" His voice was both insolent and nonchalant, but Trixie noticed that his hands were trembling.
    Shrewdly she guessed that he wished she would go away just as much as she wished she had never come. As she stared at his hands she realized with a start that the book matches he was holding were exactly like those which Harrison had used when he lighted the candles in the dining room at Di’s party. The flap was royal blue with "The Lynches" printed on it in big, sprawling gold letters.
    Trixie knew that she could not possibly be mistaken. For several minutes on Halloween she had gazed longingly at the matches when Harrison closed the flap, hoping that he would put them down somewhere within reach so she could borrow them. She remembered thinking that the matches must have been very expensive. They were outsize, to begin with, and the gold lettering was very distinctive.
    How had a package of those personalized matches got into the pocket of this ugly man coming out of this clingy building on Hawthorne Street?

A Narrow Escape • 12

    TRIXIE QUICKLY DECIDED that there could be only one answer to the question. As Tom Delanoy had hinted, Uncle Monty had come back to Hawthorne Street after he arrived at the Lynches’. During one of his visits, without realizing it, he must have left behind in the hotel a package of those personalized matches.
    As though reading her mind, the ugly man glanced sharply at the flap and hastily tucked the book into his pocket. Then his hand shot out and closed around Trixie’s wrist.
    "Listen, girlie," he said in a menacing tone of voice, "I guess you and I had better go inside my hotel and have a little talk."
    Trixie was terrified, but she made up her mind that she wouldn’t let him know it. "So you are Mr. Olyfant?"
    He nodded. "And who are you?"
    "Trixie Belden," she told him coolly, although she was sure he could hear the wild beating of her heart. "My father works in the bank."
    Olyfant’s bushy eyebrows shot up. "Peter Belden’s kid, huh? I’ve read about you in the newspaper. Fancy yourself as quite a little detective, don’t you?" The eyebrows came down again. "I’d say you were a snoop, and I don’t like snoops. Are you coming inside with me now, or do I have to drag you?"
    "My mother," Trixie continued just as though he hadn’t interrupted, "expected me home from school an hour ago. She’s probably so worried about me she must have already called the police. You’d better let me go!"
    A disagreeable smile twitched his lips. "So nobody knows where you are?" His grip on her wrist tightened, and he pulled her a step toward the hotel.
    Trixie’s pounding heart missed a beat. Nobody did. She forced her own lips into an impudent smile. "Don’t worry," she said, "it won’t take the police long to track me to your horrible hotel. A lot of people saw me turn off Main Street into that alley back there, and practically everybody in the alley stared at me as I walked down into this street. If you don’t let me go, this place will be swarming with cops in a few minutes."
    He snatched his hand away from her. "Scram," he hissed. "Get out of here as fast as you can, and don’t ever come back."
    Trixie was only too glad to obey his orders. But although she wanted to turn and run as fast as she could, she forced herself to move slowly. She could feel his eyes boring into her back until she mingled with the people in the crowded alley. Now they didn’t seem strange at all; they seemed like the