The Mystery of the Emeralds

my condition it does make one think, doesn’t it?”
    He paused, then went on, speaking slowly and thoughtfully.
    “My great-grandfather, Jonathan Carver,” he said, “built Green Trees, and his dearest friend, Charles Fields, built Rosewood Hall. They were known as the Twin Houses until the Civil War, when most of Rosewood was burned.”
    “Then there haven’t been any Fieldses living there for many years, have there?” Trixie asked.
    “No. Lee Fields, who brought Ruth Sunderland there as a bride, was killed in the war, and Ruth—” he sighed—“died soon after the birth of their only child, a daughter....”
    Mr. Carver’s voice trailed off, and, seemingly unaware of the Bob-Whites, he gazed abstractedly out of the window. Trixie glanced around the little circle. Even the irrepressible Mart, for once in his life, was silent. Then, taking a long breath, Trixie said softly, “Ruth’s baby, Mr. Carver—whatever became of her?” A gentle smile touched his face. “Ruth’s baby was my mother, Trixie.”
    “Then you and Miss Julie are related,” Trixie said, her eyes shining.
    “Yes, she would be my mother s cousin,” Mr. Carver replied slowly.
    “And what happened to Rosewood?” Trixie asked gently.
    “It was willed to my father, and after the war, the one wing that remained standing was occupied by a succession of poor folks, who couldn’t afford anything better.”
    “I think I met one of them yesterday,” Trixie said, “a Miss Lizzie James, and she said if we saw you, to say hello for her.”
    “Poor old Lizzie.” Mr. Carver sighed. “Life hasn’t been too kind to her. I try to give her what business I can, but her stock is limited, to say the least, and I don’t get to the store very often.”
    Trixie had been waiting to ask about the redfaced man they had encountered the day before at Rosewood Hall. At her question, a scowl came over Mr. Carver’s face, and he pounded the arm of his chair with his fist as he said angrily, “That character! I was forced to sell Rosewood Hall about two years ago, because I could no longer pay the taxes. It’s been years since I’ve even been able to keep up the grounds. The place was on the market for months, but no one was interested until this man Jenkins came along. He wanted to buy it because the stables and some of the outbuildings were still standing, and he had some notion of starting a horse farm. I regret the day I ever met the man. From all accounts, he’s no good at all!”
    “Does he run the place all by himself?” Trixie asked, hoping to find out if Neil was working there.
    “He’s the boss,” Mr. Carver said, “but I’ve seen other men, or boys, exercising the horses. I really don’t know what the setup is. The less I see of Jenkins the better.”
    Silence fell on the little group, and Trixie, looking at her watch, noted that it was twenty minutes past three.
    “Time we should be leaving,” she commented. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am that we can’t go on with the search for the necklace, Mr. Carver, but with old Jenkins owning Rosewood, it looks pretty hopeless, doesn’t it?”
    “No,” Mr. Carver replied thoughtfully, “not necessarily, not necessarily”
    “Why, we can’t even try to find the directions Ruth mentioned,” Trixie pointed out.
    “I think perhaps you can,” Mr. Carver said, a smile beginning to light up his face. “You see, when I divided the two properties and sold Rosewood, I made sure the old family burying ground was on my side of the line!”

At the Cemetery • 9

    OH, NO!” Trixie, jumping to her feet, impulsively took one of Mr. Carver’s hands in hers. ‘Then you don’t mind? We can go on with the hunt?”
    “Of course you may, my dear,” he answered, “although I confess I feel somewhat the same way Miss Julie did. All this happened such a long time ago. But I can see you’re not one to be easily discouraged.”
    “I wouldn’t say Trixie is never discouraged,” Mart broke in, “but she bounces back like a new tennis ball. When do you think we might get started, sir?”
    “You seem to have considerable bounce, too,” Mr. Carver said, sensing Mart’s enthusiasm. “I want you Bob-Whites to feel free to come to Green Trees whenever you like. I’ll help you all I can, but you realize that my contribution must, of necessity, be somewhat limited. It’s a bit difficult for me to get around anywhere, except here in the house.”
    “Don’t you worry about that,