The Mystery of the Blinking Eye

I bought it.”
    The man muttered something in a foreign language. Then he said, “I give you thousand dollars for it.” Trixie could hardly believe what she was hearing. “A thousand dollars! Wow! I surely know where that much money would do a lot of good. You just come up here to our apartment tomorrow, and I’ll hand over the statue.”
    “No!” The word was sharp. “Listen to me now....” A torrent of words followed, and Trixie listened intently as the man gave instructions.
    “I see. You belong to the secret police. Where did you say I should meet you?... By myself? I’m sorry. I surely couldn’t go anyplace tonight by myself.”
    The flow of words began again. From time to time Trixie nodded.
    “Tomorrow in broad daylight? That’s different, but I still couldn’t go anyplace by myself. Why do you want me to go alone?... What?... Is it that secret? Well....”
    There was a note of pleading in the voice at the other end.
    “A restaurant? With lots of people in it? A table in the center of the room?... Heavens, a thousand dollars!... Well, I won’t say I’ll go, but give me the address. I’ll have to think it over.”
    Jeepers, Trixie thought to herself as she slowly replaced the receiver, that’s something for me to think about! Secret police! He said I couldn’t tell a soul. That means I can’t even tell Honey. I would like to get rid of that statue... . A thousand-dollar reward! What will I tell the gang when they ask who called me? I guess I’ll just have to say someone was calling about something I bought. Mart won’t let me get away with that, I’m afraid.
    It was exactly what Trixie told Mart, for he was the first to ask. She was sure he never would have accepted what she answered, without smelling a rat, if they hadn’t all been so busy telling Miss Trask about the wonderful evening.
    That night Trixie tossed from side to side almost the whole night, her mind spinning from one decision to another.

Trixie’s Secret Meeting ● 15

    THE EARLY MORNING SUN streamed through the window next to Trixie’s bed and fell across her face. Startled, she awakened, thought a moment, then slipped quickly out of bed.
    “I’m going to meet those men,” she said to herself determinedly. “If I can only slip downstairs and out of doors before anyone else is up. I can’t let anyone know where I’m going. There’s no danger in it in broad daylight!”
    As she hastily put on her clothes, she tried very hard to convince herself she was right. “I think it’s worth taking a tiny little chance if I can get the thousand-dollar reward. When the Bob-Whites give the money to the fund for the station wagon for handicapped kids, they’ll be all through scolding me.”
    As Trixie cautiously turned the knob of their bedroom door, Honey moved restlessly and sighed. Oh, dear, she just mustn't wake up, Trixie thought and left the door slightly ajar to avoid the click it would make if she closed it. Now, if I can get from here to the hall, I’ll be all right.... Oh! There’s Miss Trask’s shower going! Well, what am I worrying about? She won’t hear me when I open the door to the foyer. It’s a good thing she left the little statue on my dressing table. She’ll be glad to know, when I get back , that we don’t have to go to the studio to show the police a rerun of the videotape. Everyone will be glad when I get rid of the statue, the mystery is solved, and I show them the thousand dollars! Oh, dear, I hope I can get there and back before anyone misses me!
    The taxi driver was an elderly man. He drove skillfully through the morning traffic, north on Broadway until he left the crowded district far behind. Then he speeded up.
    This isn’t a very nice part of the city, Trixie thought. It looks awfully dingy. She stared in pained astonishment at a man asleep on a doorstep. “Are you sure this is the address I gave you?” she asked the driver.
    “I’m sure, miss, but are you?” he answered. He stopped at a dilapidated building with a crooked sign across the front, JAKE’S HAMBURGER PLACE. “This don’t look like a high-school hangout to me. Is this the place?” The taxi driver frowned.
    Trixie looked at the address on the slip of paper in her hand. “It’s the same number they gave me. Is this a bad part of the city?”
    “It ain’t St. Patrick’s Cathedral. What you goin’ to do here, kid?”
    “Meet some people.”
    “People you know?”
    “Yes—well, sort of.”
    “That must be all