The Mystery of the Blinking Eye

close, you’ll see the guilty pair.
A lonesome journey, gleaming gun,
Foolish girl, what have you done?
Great-headed man does prostrate lie,
A bright stone in his blinking eye.
All is not lost, though, little friend;
Rejoice, for peril, danger end
Near silver wings, past river’s bend.
Fortune is yours, fit for a king,
And hearts of little children sing.”

    “Jeepers, what on earth could all that mean?” Trixie asked, awed.
    ‘‘It doesn’t mean a single thing to me,” Honey said forthrightly. “I never heard of such a meaningless, mixed-up lot of words in my whole life. I don’t think that paper was ever meant for you, Trixie. I doubt if the Mexican woman even knew it was in the handbag she gave you.”
    “Yes, she did, Honey,” Trixie said positively. “Look at what it says at the top of the paper, Miss Trask.”
    “Hmmm, yes. It does say ‘Trixie, cuidadito!’ The woman meant it for you, all right, Trixie. It’s interesting, isn’t it? That woman was no common fortuneteller.”
    “That’s what I tried to tell all of you.”
    “You’re right, Trixie,” Honey said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn now that she’s a seer and kings and queens consult her before they ever make a move!”
    Miss Trask laughed heartily. “I’d not go that far. That sort of thing happened way back in the time of King Louis XVI of France. This paper is just a little jabberwocky the Mexican woman amused herself with while Trixie was busy at the information desk. It doesn’t mean a thing. If fortune-tellers were ever to foretell anything, don’t you think the President of the United States would have one on his cabinet?”
    “I guess it was a little silly,” Honey admitted slowly. Trixie didn’t admit any such thing. She just said casually, “Thanks so much for translating the note for me. It was thoughtless of me to ask you to do it in the middle of the night. I’ll put it back in the handbag right away.”
    When Miss Trask had gone back to her room, however, and Trixie and Honey had climbed into their beds, Trixie turned on her side before she put out the bed lamp. “That prophecy isn't all foolishness, Honey, and you know it as well as I do. I’m going to go over it tomorrow and try to find out what it’s trying to tell me.”
    A sleepy mumble came from Honey’s bed. “I’ll bet a cookie Mart will make fun of the whole thing.”
    “He won’t have a chance to do it,” Trixie declared fiercely. “I’m not going to tell one soul about it, and don’t you tell anyone, either—unless, maybe—well, if we have to, we can tell Jim.”
    “You’ll end up by telling all the Bob-Whites. I know you, Trixie.”
    The next morning, Trixie and Honey yawned their way through a delicious breakfast Diana and Barbara had prepared while Miss Trask got ready to go to the hospital.
    “You’re the last ones in, and you have to wash the dishes,” Mart said. “Boy, do you and Honey look like zombies, Trixie! Didn’t you sleep well?”
    Honey helped herself to bacon from a platter. “Trixie was thinking about those men who followed us. She couldn’t figure it out.”
    “What an imagination! Why would anyone want to hold us up? There were dozens of likelier candidates going by that antique shop every minute. If they wanted to rob someone, they didn’t have to come way up here.”
    “You’ll sure make a good detective, Trix,” Brian said with a smile. “You don’t let a day pass without suspecting someone of something.”
    “Hold on, there... I’m not too sure it was Trixie’s imagination working last night,” Jim said. “On the other hand, it doesn’t seem logical that crooks would be following us. Dad told us to take cabs when we were out at night. That’s what we’d better do from now on. What’s on the program for today?”
    “Anyone for a ride in Central Park?” Ned asked. He got up from the breakfast table and looked down across Central Park West to the park below. “We could get an eyeful of a lot of places around here if we’d take a hansom cab. Besides, I’ve never ridden back of a horse, just on one. I had to come from the country to the biggest city in the United States to ride behind a horse. That’s a switch!”
    “I guess what Trixie’s father said about New Yorkers never seeing New York must be right,” Honey said. “I’ve never been in a hansom cab in Central Park in all my life!”
    “Neither have we—not any of the Beldens,” Trixie said quickly. “What about