The Mystery at Saratoga

behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder.
    Dan! Trixie thought, suddenly realizing how selfish she had been not to think about how Regan's nephew must be feeling. Especially since Regan is the only relative Dan has in the world, since his mother, Regan’s sister, died several years ago. Dan had fallen in with a bad crowd in New York City after his mother’s death, but Regan had brought him to live in Sleepyside, and now Dan, too, was a Bob-White.
    As Trixie closed the door behind her, both Honey and Dan started and turned to look at her. Trixie could see that Honey’s huge hazel eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Dan’s face was white and strained under his unruly dark hair.
    Trixie fought to keep her face from showing her own fear. “Where’s Regan?” she asked. “What’s this all about?”
    “We don’t know,” Honey said. “The last time I saw Regan was this morning in the stable when I went for a ride. He scolded me for not exercising the horses yesterday, but that’s not unusual.” Honey smiled wryly, and Trixie smiled back. Regan was a good friend to the Bob-Whites, but his horses came first. That dedication, combined with the fiery temper that matched his red hair, often made him impatient with the Bob-Whites when they found “more important” things to do than giving the horses their morning workout.
    “Then,” Honey continued, “Dan came over this afternoon with the note.”
    “What note?” Trixie demanded.
    “Here,” Dan said, handing Trixie a folded piece of narrow-lined notebook paper.
    Unfolding the paper, Trixie immediately recognized Regan’s large, bold handwriting. She read the note aloud:

“Dear Dan,
“When you find this, I’ll already be gone. I have some things to take care of that may keep me away from the Manor House for quite some time. I wish I could tell you more, but, for the time being, I have to keep ‘seecruds,’ as Bobby Belden would say.
“Please believe that I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then, work hard for Mr. Maypenny, and keep making me proud of you.
“Your uncle,
“Regan”

    Trixie’s voice cracked as she finished reading the note. It was so like Regan, she thought, to want Dan to know how proud he was that his nephew had broken off with the street gang and was now working for Mr. Maypenny, the Wheelers’ gamekeeper, in return for room and board. Yet it was so like him, too, to sign the letter “Your uncle,” instead of “love.”
    “When Dan showed me the note, I asked Miss Trask to let us into Regan’s apartment above the garage,” Honey said. “Everything looked just as it always has—neat as a pin. Only Regan’s shaving things and some of his clothes were missing. There was a note on his nightstand addressed to Daddy. My parents had left for Saratoga this afternoon, so Miss Trask opened the letter.”
    Trixie nodded. Miss Trask was officially Honey’s governess, but since Honey had grown more and more independent, Miss Trask had gradually taken on the responsibilities involved in running the Manor House when the Wheelers were away— which was quite often. “What did the note to your father say?” Trixie asked.
    Honey shrugged. “It was practically the same as Dan’s. He didn’t say anything more about where he was going, or why. He did ask Daddy to try to keep his job for him until he got back, but he said he’d understand if Daddy hired someone else.”
    Trixie suddenly realized that she’d been holding her breath in suspense while she listened to Honey. Now she let it out in a long, helpless sigh. “I wish Jim were here,” she said. “And Brian.” Brian was the oldest of the four Beldens, and his calm, logical mind often saw solutions to problems that Trixie, in her impatience, overlooked.
    “In fact,” Trixie added with a lopsided grin, “right now I’d even be happy to see Mart.” Mart Belden was her “almost-twin.” He was eleven months older than Trixie, but they looked enough alike to be real twins. Trixie delighted in teasing him with the fact that for one month out of the year they were the same age.
    Mart, on the other hand, delighted in teasing Trixie, period. Their constant verbal battles hid the fact that they were actually devoted to one another.
    “But Jim and Brian and Mart aren’t here,” Honey pointed out. “They’re all counselors at camp, and they won’t be back for a whole week. Oh, Trixie, what are we going to do?”
    “We’ll think,” Trixie said firmly. “Our brothers