The Mystery of the Blinking Eye

could hardly speak. “It’s the statue! Its blinking eye must have hidden a jewel!”
    “It didn’t have a blinking eye. I looked over every inch of it—unless—jeepers, Honey, its eyes were enamel. I’d never call them ‘blinking.’ We never did look at the statue in the bright light, though. Maybe there was a crack in the enamel!”
    “Before we get too carried away with that Mexican woman’s words—” Miss Trask began.
    “I know what you’re going to say,” Trixie interrupted. “But the prophecy has been right so far, hasn’t it?”
    “A person can twist words to get almost any meaning out of them he wants,” Miss Trask said quietly. “Right now you’re endowing that little idol with qualities no one ever noticed before.”
    “Miss Trask is dead right,” Mr. Wheeler said. “Suppose we eat dinner. Let’s descend from fancy to fact, before everything gets cold. We’ll just let the law take its course.”
    “But they’re so poky,” Trixie said impatiently. “What’s so urgent about it?” Mart asked. “I’m with Miss Trask part of the way. There’s a lot of gobbledy-gook in that so-called prophecy. What about toward the end: ‘silver wings’ and ‘river’s bend’?”
    “That may mean we’ll have to wait till we get back to Sleepyside to find out what happened to the statue,” Trixie pointed out.
    “Oh, I hope not!” Barbara cried. “We’ve just got to know how it all turns out.”
    “We may never know,” Mr. Wheeler said realistically. “The police aren’t successful in solving all the cases they undertake.”
    “Trixie is!” Honey insisted.
    “With your help, Honey, and the help of all the Bob-Whites. I think we’re going to know more about this soon. I just feel it in my bones!” Trixie smiled confidently.
    “We’ll all gather up our leg bones and amble back to the apartment if you’ve finished your dinners.” Mr. Wheeler smiled and called for the check.
    “It’s wonderful!” Barbara sighed. “This wonderful café, the wonderful fountain with its wonderful lights, and all the wonderful excitement about Blinky. It’s all been—well, just—”
    “Wonderful,” Bob supplied. “So is your vocabulary, Barb.” He smiled affectionately at his twin.

The Big Search • 17

    DR. JOE was just leaving when Trixie and her group stopped in front of the apartment building. “I wanted to get the latest lowdown on the Belden-Wheeler case,” he told them with a grin. “I don’t dare to go home without a report for Tex and the twins.”
    “Come upstairs, and we’ll give it to you,” Mr. Wheeler invited. “It’ll curl your hair, as Mart says.” Dr. Joe laughed. “I’m afraid I’d find that a major catastrophe. Did something interesting happen? I smell excitement in the air.”
    In the apartment, they told Dr. Joe about the loss of the idol. When Trixie’s fancy started to roam, Mart held her to the bare facts. Dr. Joe listened intently to every word.
    “I’m glad of one thing,” he told Honey’s father, “and that is that you’ve been herding this gang lately. That business of Trixie at the hamburger place still makes my blood run cold. What do you suppose is going to happen next?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine, Joe. Say, there’s the telephone. It may be the police calling.”
    Trixie was on her feet immediately. “I’ll get it,” she said.
    They listened. “Hello.” They saw Trixie’s face redden, and it was easy to see that she was very angry.
    “The police must be blaming Trixie for something,” Honey said with concern.
    Mart agreed. “Someone’s mad at someone, for sure.”
    “Now you just listen to me a minute!” Trixie stamped her foot. “You say I’ve double-crossed you. That makes me laugh. You stole that statue right out from under our feet tonight— Stop shouting! I can’t understand a word you say. The diamond ?” Trixie turned to her listeners and held her finger to her lips to caution them to silence.
    “Diamond!” Bob whispered.
    “Why don’t you and the others come to our apartment and discuss the matter with us?” Trixie continued. “I want to know who really owns the stone. It can’t be very large.... What did you say?... What do I call large?”
    “Bigger than a bread box!” Mart quipped.
    “Be quiet, please,” Mr. Wheeler warned. “Shall I talk to the man, Trixie?”
    She shook her head vigorously, listened some more, then replaced the receiver.
    “Jeepers!” Trixie looked dazed.