The Mystery at Saratoga

“Never let it be said that I am not cognizant of alimentary considerations,” he said, grinning. “The police are going to meet us at the hotel coffee shop in fifteen minutes.”
    “Yippee!” Trixie shouted, leaping up from the couch. “Let’s eat!”

    Between bites of their food, the Bob-Whites, with help from Regan and Johnny, once again told their story, this time to two plainclothes police officers. The officers listened intently, nodding from time to time and taking occasional notes.
    “Then as far as you know,” Officer Ryan concluded, “these two men, whom you call ‘Scarface’ and ‘Louie,’ have no way of knowing that you three have escaped and warned Mr. Stinson.”
    Trixie shook her head. “I don’t see how they could know,” she said.
    “In that case,” Officer Johnson said solemnly, “we’ll have to ask you girls to do us a favor—unless, of course, you absolutely refuse to work with the police.”
    Trixie and Honey blushed and exchanged guilty looks. “We—We’ll do whatever you say,” Trixie said humbly.
    “Wait until you hear what we’re asking of you before you agree,” Officer Ryan cautioned. “There is a small element of danger involved. We’d like you to go to the track this afternoon, where we’ll position you somewhere near the betting windows. If you see Scarface or Louie placing a bet, you’ll give us a signal. Then we’ll come forward and arrest them.”
    “Couldn’t I do it?” Regan asked. “I hate to see Honey and Trixie taking any more risks.”
    Officer Johnson shook his head. “With your red hair, you’d stand out like a warning flag. Scarface and Louie wouldn’t get within a block of that betting window. Besides, while I can’t say that there’s no risk involved, I can say that we’ll be nearby, ready to intervene as soon as Honey or Trixie gives the signal.”
    “We’ll be all right, Regan,” Trixie assured her friend. “After all we’ve gone through so far because of Scarface and Louie, I’d be downright upset if we didn’t have a hand in their arrest. Right, Honey?”
    Honey nodded. “A few minutes ago, I’d have said I couldn’t even stay awake until race time. But the food has picked me up, and if you’ll just give us a few minutes to shower and change clothes, we’ll be ready to go.”

    Less than an hour later, Trixie and Honey were in their assigned places at a concession stand across from the betting windows. Each girl was holding a hot dog in one hand and a soft drink in the other, and they’d been instructed to eat and drink slowly, so that casual passersby would think they were just having a snack before returning to the stands. “If you see either of the suspects,” Officer Johnson had told them, “don’t act excited. Just throw the remainder of your hot dog into this trash can. That will be our signal to come forward.”
    The girls stood quiet, their eyes searching the crowd for a sign of the two culprits. The claiming race was announced over the loudspeaker as the next event, and still the two men had not appeared. They only have a couple of minutes left to put their bets down , Trixie thought. What if they somehow found out that we escaped and tipped off Mr. Stinson? What if they don’t show up?
    The line at the ticket windows began to dwindle as the field of horses for the claiming race was led onto the track. The crowd of people who had been placing bets or buying refreshments surged forward to take their places in the stands.
    Suddenly Trixie spotted Scarface approaching the ticket window. She looked at Honey, and the two girls tossed their hot dogs into the trash can; they waited breathlessly. Ten seconds went by, then fifteen, and still the two officers had not come forward to make their arrest.
    With the lines of bettors gone, it took Scarface less than a minute to buy his tickets and turn from the window. “He’ll get away, Honey!” Trixie said desperately. Unthinkingly, she ran toward him. “Somebody stop that man!” she shouted.
    Scarface whirled to face her, drawing a gun from his jacket pocket as he turned. A look of surprise crossed his face as he recognized Trixie. “You again!” he snarled. He raised the gun and leveled it at Trixie. Before he had time to pull the trigger, Regan, emerging from nowhere, forced him to the ground.
    Officers Ryan and Johnson came out of the crowd seconds later and hauled Scarface to his feet, fastening a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.
    “Are you all