The Mystery of the Antique Doll

save us?”
    “Well, I’m glad to hear you finally admit it, young lady,” Sergeant Molinson said. There was a self-congratulatory smile on his face. “I saved you this time, and don’t you ever forget it! I’ve had this operation under investigation for a long time. This time, I solved the crime for you, Miss Trixie Belden.”
    “This is true?” Marcel asked, stepping out from behind the rest of the Bob-Whites. “I, too, have had this operation under investigation.”
    “Who in tarnation is that?” Sergeant Molinson asked, focusing on the Inspector. It was obvious that, in the heat of the moment, he’d missed the large man completely.
    “Oh, Sergeant Molinson,” Trixie volunteered smugly. “This is Inspector Marcel Patou of the Paris Sûreté—that’s police— special investigations—in case you didn’t know. Anyway, he’s been following us—I mean, he’s been following these counterfeiters for ages, all the way from Paris and everything. He was helping us—I mean, actually, we were helping him catch the counterfeiters.”
    Trixie had to stop to catch her breath and organize her thoughts. As often happened when she was overexcited, her mouth got going faster than her brain and she got a little mixed up. But she had a good excuse, considering all she’d been through in the last three hours! Before she was able to finish her explanation, however, the Inspector began to speak for himself.
    “Sergeant Molinson,” he said, extending his hand. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. If you wish, I have here the identification.”
    Sergeant Molinson carefully scrutinized the papers, then handed them back.
    “Yes,” he continued as Sergeant Molinson stared thoughtfully at him. “I have been on this case for a year. But truly, it all began in Paris many, many years ago. You see, in 1824 Joseph Niepce, the partner of Louis Daguerre, made the first metal engraving by photography. So, you see, it is an obvious conclusion that the highest quality plates should come from Paris. Unfortunately, high quality plates can be used for many things— not all of them legal.”
    He stopped briefly and directed a baleful glare in the direction of the three men. None of them returned his gaze.
    “There is in Paris a little shop which is the conduit for these particular illegal plates. They make engravings of currencies of all nations. I had the good fortune to be assigned to watch comings and goings on the day when these two young ladies came into the store.” He gestured briefly at Trixie and Honey. While Sergeant Molinson looked at them in surprise, the Inspector continued. “I followed them all the way from Paris, and they led me right to these men.”
    “That’s right, Sergeant Molinson,” Trixie managed to get in. “But we didn’t know that you were also investigating. What led you to be suspicious of The Antique Barn?”
    Sergeant Molinson was annoyed at her question. “I don’t have to divulge my sources to a kid,” he snapped. “And furthermore...”
    But just as he began to shake a warning finger at Trixie, the door of the shop burst open once again.
    “Well, thank goodness,” said a distraught Mrs. De Keyser, as she stomped into the room. She was dressed in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, her hair hanging loose down her back. She brandished a crowbar in her good hand. “It’s about time you boys showed up! I called you a good hour ago!”
    Trixie gasped, and Sergeant Molinson’s face turned beet-red.
    “It was a burglary, right?” Mrs. De Keyser continued. “I knew it! All those people sneaking around in the bushes! What in heaven’s name took you so long?”
    “Actually,” Mart said, “he was right on time. The movie let out about five minutes ago.”
    “The movie?” Mrs. De Keyser asked. “What movie?”
    “Oh, Mrs. De Keyser,” Trixie said. “That’s just my brother Mart. Pay no attention to him. It’s a private joke.”
    “Oh, I know Mart,” Mrs. De Keyser said. “And I know these other two nice young men as well.” She looked around the room
    in bewilderment. “But what on earth are all you children doing here? And why have you put handcuffs on poor Mr. Reid? Sergeant Molinson, I assure you that Mr. Reid would hardly burglarize his own shop. Really!”
    “Sorry ma’am,” Sergeant Molinson said, “but I’m afraid that what was going on in here wasn’t exactly a burglary. Unfortunately, I think you’re going to have to find a new tenant. This Mr. Reid here