The Mysterious Visitor

off.
    "It has to be Monty," Trixie decided desperately. She streaked across the hall into Di’s parents’ room, softly closing the door in the nick of time. She leaned against it, holding her breath as she listened to the footsteps. Someone went into Monty’s room, came right out again, and went back downstairs.
    Trixie let out a long sigh of relief and tiptoed to the banister. The murmur of voices told her that Monty and Mr. and Mrs. Lynch were all in the study. Trixie couldn’t even guess how long Monty would stay there, but she knew that if she was ever going to get the evidence she needed to prove that he was an impostor, she would have
    to search the Robin for clues.
    It was now or never. Trixie flew down the stairs and left the house by the front door. She raced across the terrace and down the steps to the lawn. When her bare feet hit the graveled driveway, she winced with pain but didn’t dare stop. Harrison’s rooms were in the back of the house and overlooked the garage. If he glanced out of a window, he couldn’t help seeing her.
    Trixie shivered as much from cold as from nervousness. The temperature had dropped about fifteen degrees since the sun had gone down, and she wished now that she had put on the warm housecoat which Di had loaned her. By the time she reached the trailer step, her teeth were chattering and her hands were so numb she thought at first the door was locked. As she struggled with the handle, her heart suddenly jumped into her throat, for she heard a click inside.
    "No one’s in there," she told herself sternly. "Monty couldn’t possibly have got here ahead of you, and he’s the only one who ever uses the trailer. It must have been the electric clock." Then the handle gave, and she forced herself to step inside. It was gray darkness in the trailer, and the light from outside cast strange black shadows on the walls. Trixie felt her heart beating faster.
    Suddenly Trixie laughed at herself. "If I’m ever going to find any clues, I’ll have to turn on the light." She felt along the wall for the switch and turned it on. Then she opened the trailer door again. "Just in case I have to leave in a hurry," Trixie told herself.
    Ready to begin her search now, Trixie glanced around the room. She decided to go into the kitchenette to make sure no one was lurking in there. Then she opened the closet. In it was Monty’s topcoat, and she immediately forgot everything else as she searched the pockets. In an inside pocket she found a little black notebook which was held together with rubber bands.
    Trixie yanked the rubber bands off, and a piece of pink paper fell to the floor. Even before she picked it up, she realized that it was a pistol license. In one comer of it was a photograph of Monty, but the name of the person to whom the license had been issued was not Montague Wilson. In that space on the permit the name Tilney Britten had been neatly typed.
    "Drop it!"
    Trixie whirled around to face Tilney Britten, alias Monty Wilson, who was standing in the doorway of the Robin, a pistol in his hand.
    "Drop it," he said again. "Can’t you see I’ve got a gun?"

Prisoners • 17

    TRIXIE LET the pistol permit slip from her nerveless fingers. The boys had been right, after all. This man was a dangerous criminal. He would stop at nothing. And there was nothing to stop him. Now she remembered something she had only noticed subconsciously before. The new tow car was hitched to the trailer. He could leave right now and take her with him. No one would know she was missing until morning.
    Trixie swallowed hard. No matter what happened she was never going to let him know that she was afraid. "So, Mr. Britten," she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her, "you are an impostor, after all."
    He chuckled evilly. "You’re too smart for your own good, little girl. Since I’m going to tie your hands behind your back and gag you in a few minutes, I might as well let you do a little talking now. No one will interrupt us. I have said my fond farewells to that silly Mrs. Lynch and her generous husband. Now I’m ready to leave. My suitcases are outside."
    "That’s why you went upstairs to your room a while ago," Trixie said. "I should have guessed." "You’ve got a lot to learn," he said. "It’s too bad you aren’t going to live long enough to grow up and learn that you should mind your own business."
    "Don’t be silly," Trixie said. The thing to do was to stall for time. Maybe Harrison had seen her.