The Mystery of the Emeralds

them her discovery. They took turns looking into the murky space, while Trixie hurried back to tell Mr. Carver more about it. She found him swinging himself into his wheelchair, his face bright with expectation.
    “Oh, Mr. Carver, you shouldn’t be moving around like this!” Trixie cried. “I’ll tell you everything!”
    “No, my dear,” he replied. “This I must see for myself.”
    As they started toward the door, they met Jim coming to ask if there was a flashlight in the house.
    “It’s so dark in that little cubbyhole, we can’t make out a thing,” he said, “except that it doesn’t seem to have a floor.”
    “No floor!” Trixie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
    “There’s a flashlight here in the drawer,” Mr. Carver said, steering his chair near enough to reach it. “This may be the beginning of the end of the mystery.”
    The Bob-Whites stood back to let Trixie have the first real look inside the opening. She felt the familiar pounding in her heart as she bent down and shot a beam of light into the blackness.
    “What do you see, Trix?”
    “Don’t keep us in the dark!”
    “Let us look!”
    The Bob-Whites were all talking at once, now that the first excitement of discovery was over.
    Trixie stood up, her face glowing. “Jim’s right,” she said. “There isn’t a floor, but there is a narrow circular stairway leading down to the cellar!”
    “To the cellar!” Mart exclaimed. “Then how come we didn’t see it when we were down there?”
    “Jeepers! I don’t know!” Trixie said in bewilderment. “Maybe the staircase doesn’t lead to the cellar at all! Wait a minute, and I’ll go down and see where it goes.”
    She stepped gingerly into the narrow opening, and, holding the flashlight in front of her, she disappeared into the darkness below.

A Narrow Escape • 14

    ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, Trixie?” Jim called to her. “Do you want me to come down there, too?” His voice sounded strangely hollow in the confined space.
    Almost like an echo Trixie answered, “I’m all right, Jim. No, don’t come down. There’s barely enough room for me.”
    “Are you at the bottom yet?” Mart called, leaning over Jim’s shoulder. They could not see Trixie because of the curve in the staircase, but the ghostly glow of her light was reflected up to them.
    “No, not yet.” Her voice now sounded even farther away. “It’s funny. I should be near the cellar by now, but the stairs seem to keep right on going. Don’t worry. I’m all right. I’m just getting a little out of breath.”
    “What did she say?” Mr. Carver inquired, leaning expectantly forward in his chair.
    “She said she was getting short of breath,” Jim answered.
    At this Brian jumped up, a worried look coming over his face, and, pushing the others away from the entrance to the stairwell, yelled down to Trixie.
    “Don’t go a step farther, Trixie. Turn around and come right back! The air in there is probably dead. You hear me?”
    “Yes, Brian,” Trixie replied, her voice somewhat weaker than before. “I’m coming. It is—pretty stuffy-down here.” Her words came slowly, too slowly to satisfy Jim, who turned to Brian.
    “I’m going in there! I think she needs help!”
    As Jim descended, there was complete silence in the room. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reappeared, and right behind , him came Trixie, looking paler than any of the Bob-Whites remembered ever seeing her. She dropped into a chair, stretched out her legs, and threw back her head. Brian was at her side immediately.
    “Put your head down between your knees, Trix,” he ordered. “Mart, open the window. She’s faint. Grab hold of the chair, Jim, and we’ll carry her over to where she can get some fresh air.”
    It wasn’t long before the color began to come back to Trixie’s cheeks, and a slow smile spread over her face.
    “Gleeps!” she said, lifting her head. “Another minute of that foul air, and I would have been a goner. If I hadn’t had Jim’s foot to grab on to, I don’t think I could have made it back.”
    “Well, I don’t think we’d better let you try any more descents today,” Mr. Carver said, a look of relief flooding over his face as he saw Trixie revive. “I’ll tell you what I suggest. I’ll hook up an electric fan tonight and leave this window open, so that by tomorrow there should be some air circulating down there.”
    “Could you see any opening at the bottom?” Mart asked Trixie.
    “I