The Mysterious Visitor

out why she’s mad at you, and do you know what?"
    Trixie carefully closed the door and sank down on her bed. "No, but I can guess."
    "He told her a lot of lies about you," Honey continued in an outraged voice. "After the party Friday night, he said that you said a lot of mean things about her and her mother. He said you made fun of their house and their clothes and just about everything!"
    Trixie sighed. "I hope you told her that I didn’t do anything of the kind."
    "I tried to," Honey said forlornly, "but she wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t very well come out and say that her mother’s brother is a liar." She clenched her slim hands. "If only we had some proof."
    "We have," Trixie said. "At least I think it’s proof." She told Honey about her dangerous adventure on Hawthorne Street that afternoon.
    Honey’s hazel eyes were wide. "You’re right, Trixie. How else could those matches have got into that horrid Olyfant man’s pocket?" She lowered her voice. "I take it you didn’t tell Mart." Trixie shook her head. "He’d say there were a lot of people named Lynch in town. Or he could say that one of the servants left the matches in the dog wagon, and somebody from Hawthorne Street picked them up, or something like that— just a simple explanation. You know how awfully logical the boys always are."
    Honey nodded. "Anyway, I’m on your side now, Trixie. I’m sure Uncle Monty is an impostor. I think we ought to go straight to Mr. Lynch and tell him everything we know about this man." "We can’t do that," Trixie said, "because we still haven’t got any real proof. Not any concrete evidence. He’d probably laugh at that match clue. Worse still, he’d tell Dad that I’d been snooping around Skid Row." Trixie shuddered. "Boy, would I get the dickens!"
    "There’s only one thing to do," Honey said thoughtfully. "Di invited me to spend Wednesday night with her. I’ll ask her mother to show me through the gallery. And if the portraits of her parents show that they had blue eyes, I’ll go straight to Mr. Lynch."
    "Okay," Trixie said sadly. "How I envy you! I wish I could be in at the kill."
    "It’s a shame," Honey said sympathetically. "But maybe there won’t be any kill. Maybe one of the parents had brown eyes. Then what?"
    "Let’s worry about that when it happens," Trixie said. "Personally I can’t wait until you find out for sure on Wednesday night."
    "Neither can I," Honey agreed. "There are phones all over that house. If we get the proof we need, I’ll call you up right after I talk to Mr. Lynch."
    "I don’t think I can live till then," Trixie said. "It’s going to be awfully hard to try and behave as though nothing exciting was going to happen on Wednesday night. That’s more than forty-eight hours away. I can’t bear the suspense." Bobby burst into her room then without knocking. "Hey," he greeted them. "When you gonna give me that bike ride, Trixie?"
    Trixie glared at him. "Bobby Belden! You go right back out into the hall, close my door, and knock. Honestly, you’re getting so spoiled you’ll grow up without any manners at all!"
    He glared back at her. "Won’t! I tried to knock but it hurted, and it didn’t make any noise." He held out his bandaged hands for Honey to see.
    Honey gasped. "Oh, good heavens, Bobby! You haven’t got cuts on every single finger, have you?"
    "Sure," he said proudly. "Thumbs, too." Remembering what a narrow escape he had had earlier that afternoon with the big, sharp kitchen knife, Trixie flushed with shame. "All right, Bobby," she said. "You go bring my bike down from the garage. Then I’ll give you a ride." "Okeydokey," he said and darted off.
    Trixie sighed. "Life must go on, I suppose. I’ll probably be doing something mundane like homework when you call from the Lynches’ with the exciting news that both of Di’s grandparents had blue eyes."
    But although Trixie stayed awake until eleven o’clock Wednesday night, the phone did not ring. When she arrived at school Thursday morning, Di and Honey were waiting for her in the locker ' room.
    Di promptly threw her arms around Trixie. "Oh, I’m so sorry I was mad at you," she cried contritely. "Please forgive me, Trix!"
    "Sure," Trixie replied, embarrassed and pleased at the same time. "But what happened?"
    "We can’t talk about it here," Di whispered. "Can you come home with me after school, Trixie, and spend the night?"
    "I’d love to," Trixie said enthusiastically. "I’ll call Moms during lunch and see