The Mystery at Saratoga

aren’t the only Bob-Whites who have mastered that skill, in spite of what they try to tell us. Now, try to remember if anything unusual happened today, before Regan disappeared.”
    Dan Mangan immediately shook his head. “I hadn’t seen Regan since yesterday. He seemed fine then. He must have left—left the note—while I was out patrolling the game preserve this afternoon.” Honey shrugged. “I didn’t see Regan this afternoon, either. I was busy helping my parents entertain a guest for lunch, a Mr. Worthington, who’s planning to sell my parents another horse.
    “Wait a minute!” Honey added, raising her head so fast that her honey-blond hair bounced on her shoulders.
    “What is it, Honey?” Trixie asked quickly. “Did you remember something that happened this afternoon?”
    “I certainly did,” Honey replied. “It has to do with our guest, Mr. Worthington. I told Regan this morning that he was coming out here and that he was a very important horse breeder who owned racing Thoroughbreds. But when the time came to show Mr. Worthington through the stables this afternoon, Regan wasn’t around. Tom Delanoy said he’d gone into town to buy some leather to repair a broken piece of tack.”
    Trixie whistled softly. “You mean Regan knew that someone would be coming around to inspect his stable, his tack, and the horses he's in charge of, and Regan wasn’t there to give him the grand tour?”
    Honey nodded solemnly. “That’s right, Trixie. That isn’t like Regan at all.”
    “I’ll say,” Dan agreed. “Regan is a very proud man, and the thing he’s proudest of is the way he keeps up the horses and everything around them. He doesn’t trust strangers not to frighten the horses when he’s not around—even if the strangers are supposed to be ‘experts.’ ”
    “Now that I think about it,” Honey said slowly, “it was right after I told Regan that Mr. Worthington was coming here for lunch that he snapped at me for not exercising the horses yesterday. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, because that’s not really unusual for Regan. But now—well, I just can’t help but wonder if the two things are somehow connected.”
    The three Bob-Whites sat lost in thought for a long moment. Dan Mangan was the first to break the silence that had settled over the clubhouse. “The two things aren’t necessarily connected,” he said. “And neither one is necessarily connected with my uncle’s disappearance. Maybe Regan really did go to town to buy a piece of leather. As I said, Regan’s proud of the way he keeps up the stable. He might have wanted to repair a broken piece of tack before Mr. Worthington came around. In that case, his leaving might have something to do with what happened while he was in town.”
    “You’re right, Dan,” Honey said. “Your explanation is just as good as mine. That leaves us right back where we started.” ’
    “I don’t think so,” Trixie said slowly. “I just have a hunch that Honey is right—that Regan’s disappearance is connected with the appearance of this Mr. Worthington in some way. What else do you know about him, Honey?”
    “Very little,” Honey admitted helplessly. “He has a lot of money, which he got through speculating on stocks and real estate. He owns Worthington Farms, near Saratoga. His horses race at Saratoga, Belmont, and Churchill Downs.” Honey ticked off the points on her fingers as she spoke. “He got in touch with Daddy because he’d heard that Daddy will sometimes buy an injured Thoroughbred, because he’s seen too many horses destroyed when their owners made them run to pay for their keep.
    “That’s really all I know,” Honey concluded. “I’d never met Mr. Worthington until this morning, and I don’t think my parents had, either.”
    “Could we ask your parents about him?” Trixie asked.
    Honey shook her head. “Not until tomorrow morning when they telephone. I told you, Trixie. They went to Saratoga this afternoon. They drove up with Mr. Worthington.”
    “That’s right,” Trixie said. “Well, I can’t wait until tomorrow to try to solve this mystery. If this Mr. Worthington is as rich as you say he is, and if his horses have raced at the biggest racetracks in the country, he’s probably had magazine articles— or even books—written about him. I say we should go to the Sleepyside library tonight and try to find out more about him.”
    “Now, hold on, Trixie,” Dan said sternly. “Jim,