The Mystery of the Antique Doll

anything!”
    “Then what?” asked Dan Mangan. He had arrived at the clubhouse a bit early, and Trixie had filled him in on everything that had happened so far. Dan knew now exactly how deeply involved they were. “You know,” he said, “just giving the doll back doesn’t solve anything.”
    “It may, and it may not,” Trixie said. But she realized Dan was right. Her plan would work only if Carl Reid did exactly what she wanted him to do—and there was no way to make certain he would play his part. “We’ll wait, and we’ll watch. And if nothing happens tonight, we’ll just have to keep on waiting and watching until something does.”
    Mart groaned so loudly it made Di jump. “Mart!” she scolded. “Anyone listening to you would think someone had stuck a pin in your leg. Try to act in a civilized way.”
    Mart harrumphed, and the rest of the Bob-Whites laughed. But Brian immediately became serious again.
    “Why don’t we call the police?” Brian asked sternly. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought and I still say you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Counterfeiters have a great deal at stake. It might be extremely unwise for us to get any more involved than we already are.”
    “Not to mention unhealthy,” Mart said. He was starting to pace back and forth. “It is my humble opinion that, just this once, we should let Sergeant Molinson of the Sleepyside police do his job.”
    “Sergeant Molinson would only put Carl Reid on the defensive,” Trixie said. “Mr. Reid would never do something incriminating if he thought for one minute a policeman was watching!”
    “The girl has a point,” Mart conceded.
    The rest of the Bob-Whites nodded in assent.
    “Well,” Brian said glumly, “if there’s no other way, then we might as well get on with Trixie’s plan.”
    Gloomily, the group left the safety of their clubhouse. Skirting the edge of the woods, they made their way along Glen Road. They didn’t want to be seen, so it was impossible to take the station wagon. Driving a car up to the antique store would hardly be secretive.
    After a brisk, half-hour’s walk, they could see the lights of Mrs. De Keyser’s house around the bend. Trixie had a difficult moment until she saw that lights were on in The Antique Barn, too. She also saw two long, black Cadillacs parked near the Mercedes-Benz.
    “Whew,” she whistled softly. “That’s a break. The whole plan might have been ruined if Mr. Reid wasn’t there.”
    She motioned the rest of the kids to stand in the shadow of the hedge. No sooner had they all gathered in the chilly dark than a familiar voice was heard speaking—practically in Trixie’s ear!
    “Good evening, mademoiselle,” Marcel Patou said. “And to what do I owe this honor?”
    Trixie almost jumped out of her skin.
    “Is he the French policeman you were telling us about?” Brian asked, as he quickly came and stood next to her protectively.
    Rapidly collecting herself, Trixie introduced Inspector Patou to the rest of the Bob-Whites. Then she explained what they were doing.
    “Oh, Inspector,” she said, as quietly as she could manage, “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely frank with you this afternoon.”
    “This is as I suspected,” he responded with a tight little smile. “And what exactly did you leave out, mademoiselle?”
    “Er,” Trixie stammered, “just one little thing. You see, actually we had the doll at my house. A little dog who lives in the house next door to the antique shop took the doll and gave it to my little brother. Then we, um, discovered these interesting things inside the doll’s dress.”
    “What sort of interesting things, if I may ask?” Inspector Patou said.
    “Well,” Trixie continued bravely, “I guess they were, um, counterfeiting plates for twenty-dollar bills.”
    “And you have these counterfeiting plates with you now?” Marcel asked, his voice suddenly getting even more high-pitched than usual.
    “Yes,” Honey said quickly. “But we can’t show them to you because we had to sew them back inside the doll’s dress. If we take them out, Mr. Reid will know we’ve tampered with the doll and then...”
    “I understand perfectly,” he responded calmly. “And you have now come to return the doll, right?”
    “Right,” Trixie said. “We want to watch and see whether Mr. Reid incriminates himself in some way.”
    “Very clever,” the Frenchman conceded. “Dangerous, but clever. At least now I am here to help