The Mysterious Visitor

done it. That’s why Dad didn’t notify the police. How could they ever find the thief now?"
    "It’s too late for clues." Trixie agreed. "And there are too many suspects. We’ll have to find the portraits, that’s all, and somehow we’ll have to prove that it was Uncle Monty who took them." "But where are we going to look?" Di wanted to know. "Uncle Monty wouldn’t keep them. He must have destroyed them by now."
    "Big oil paintings on heavy canvas," Trixie said, "aren’t so easy to destroy. When do you suppose he cut them from the frames?"
    "I have no idea," Di said.
    "I have," Trixie cried. "It must have been right after your father sent for a locksmith. Until the doors were opened, Monty didn’t have to worry about the portraits. He knew I wanted to look at them, but he’d fixed things so I wouldn’t have a chance to."
    "That’s right." Di agreed. "If it hadn’t been for Honey asking to be shown the gallery, Dad might not have known the key was missing for weeks. And I remember now, Trixie, while we were all in the study waiting for the locksmith to arrive, Uncle Monty disappeared. He said he was going up to his room to have one last look for the key. His room is right above the study, and the floor isn’t carpeted. If he had gone up there I would have heard him moving around, but I didn’t. I wasn’t suspicious then, so I didn’t think much about it." She clasped her knees excitedly. "What probably happened is this: Instead of going upstairs, he left the house by the front door and sneaked into the gallery from the doors that open onto the terrace. The same key fits both locks. That way, nobody inside the house would have heard or seen him. And, Trixie," she finished, "when the locksmith arrived, it was Uncle Monty who let him into the house through the French doors that open onto the terrace."
    "M-m-m," Trixie said thoughtfully. "I wonder what he did with the portraits after he cut them out of their frames. If the locksmith arrived while he was sneaking out of the gallery with them, he didn’t have time to hide them in his room. Oh, I know!" Trixie jumped up. "The fireplace on the terrace! That’s the most logical place. Come on, Di. Let’s go look."
    "Why?" Di settled back on the love seat. "What good are some charred scraps going to do us?"
    "They might not all be charred," Trixie said. "Besides, how do you know they’re scraps? Canvas is hard to tear, and he wouldn’t have dared waste time cutting them up. I think he just crammed them under the logs and set a match to them. And he certainly didn’t dare stand around for a long time to make sure they were burned to ashes. So there’s a good chance whole sections of the faces may still be intact. The eyes, for instance."
    "I think you read too many mysteries," Di said. "In radio and TV shows, detectives are always finding valuable clues in fireplaces. But things like that don’t happen in real life."
    "Oh, yes, they do," Trixie argued. "If you ever read the papers, you’d discover that criminals are often convicted on bits of glass or cloth—even charred scraps of evidence. Please, Di, let’s go look now."
    "We can’t," Di said. "The TV set is on the terrace, and Uncle Monty is glued to it. There are several programs which he wouldn’t miss for anything in the world. One is on now. The others are in the evening." She laughed. "It’s driving Dad absolutely crazy. Since Uncle Monty arrived, he hasn’t been able to listen to any of his own favorite programs. That’s why he ordered a set for Uncle Monty and is having it installed in the Robin tomorrow. He’s already given Uncle Monty the trailer, you know."
    "But why?" Trixie asked, chuckling. "Isn’t this huge house big enough for both your father and your so-called uncle?"
    "I guess I forgot to tell you about the check," Di said. "Dad just can’t stand having Uncle Monty around any longer. As soon as he can sell some bonds, he’s going to give him fifty thousand dollars so he can go and do whatever it is he keeps saying he wants to do way out on the coast." Trixie gasped. "We can’t let that happen, Di. When will your father sell those bonds?"
    "I don’t know," Di said. "I guess it depends on what the stock market does, although I really think Dad wouldn’t mind taking a big loss if it meant getting rid of Uncle—I mean Monty. Dad didn’t say anything to me about it. I heard him tell Mother. I don’t know how she feels about
    Monty’s going away, but I know she’s