The Mystery of the Emeralds

Neil wouldn’t have the whole responsibility. It should work out very well.”
    Trixie was dying to tell Mr. Carver about the box. Now, with everyone relaxed again after Jenkins’s departure and warmed by the solution of Neil's problem, she knew the moment had arrived.
    “Well, child,” Mr. Carver said softly, “I never got to ask how you and Jim fared this morning. Now I’m almost afraid to press you for an answer.”
    Trixie glanced at Jim, then at the others. She slipped the little silver box from under the chair cushion, stood up, and, taking a step forward, laid it in Edgar Carver’s lap.
    “When you open this, you’ll be the first to know whether we were successful or not,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
    “You mean—” Mr. Carver paused, incredulous. “You mean you haven’t looked to see what’s in here?”
    “No, sir,” Jim said. “I was all for opening it right away, but Trixie said she wanted to wait for you.”
    “Thank you, Trixie, my dear,” was all he said. His voice was barely audible.
    Trixie stood beside his chair, almost afraid to look as he removed the cover from the tarnished silver box. Inside was a piece of black velvet. He carefully lifted out the cloth and, after handing the box back to Trixie, unfolded it. Just at that moment, the rays of the late afternoon sun fell across his chair, lending their light to the dazzling brilliance of the emeralds that lay revealed on his lap. A gasp went up from everyone as they clustered close around Mr. Carver to admire the beautiful necklace.
    His eyes were shining as he lifted up the gems and insisted that each one have a chance to examine them personally.
    “This must be worth a fortune!” Mrs. Lynch exclaimed as she held the necklace up to her throat and admired the effect in the mirror over the mantel. Then, turning to Mr. Carver, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound mercenary. Naturally, a family heirloom’s value to you is wholly sentimental, isn’t it?”
    Trixie waited intently to hear what his reply to this rather casual question might be.
    While everyone’s attention had been focused on the necklace, she had been doing some serious thinking. Whether the plan that had suddenly occurred to her might be possible depended a great deal on Mr. Carver’s answer.
    His reply came slowly. He had been sitting with bowed head, running the palms of his hands over his knees. Then he glanced at Trixie and took a deep breath.
    “I suppose if I had a family, I would be very sentimental about the necklace, Mrs. Lynch,” he said. “I would want the tradition to be carried on. I can see, in my mind’s eye, a festive Christmas here at Green Trees—like the ones when I was a child-complete with mistletoe and holly and someone dear to me wearing the emeralds. But I’m alone, the last of the Carver line, and I feel very strongly that if these stones ever had a charm or a curse, now is the time to break it.”
    Everyone leaned forward as Edgar Carver spoke. Trixie’s heart was pounding as she waited for him to continue.
    “If Alex still thinks it possible for me to walk again, I intend to sell the emeralds right away and have the operation!”
    “Just what I hoped!Just what I hoped!” Trixie cried. “Of course you can walk again, Mr. Carver! I know you can! I’ve never been so happy in my whole life!”
    Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Mr. Carver positively glowed under the warmth of everyone’s encouragement. Di and Honey, half laughing and half crying, embraced each other. Brian and Mart found themselves shaking hands, and Jim and Trixie just looked at each other, Trixie not too far from tears herself. Mr. and Mrs. Lynch surveyed the moving scene with sympathetic approval. It was Edgar Carver who brought them all back to earth again.
    “Alex told me it will take several months after the operation to strengthen the muscles in these old legs,” he said cheerily. “I’ll have to exercise like the very dickens, but I’ll do anything to walk again!”
    “Edgar, what was that you said about walking again?”
    It was Miss Bates. She had come up to the terrace just in time to catch his last words. Trixie ran to the door to meet her.
    “Yes, Miss Bates,” she cried. “We found the necklace, and Mr. Carver’s going to have the operation, and Mr. Lynch is going to—”
    The words tumbled out in wild profusion and stopped only when Miss Carolyn, waving her pink parasol menacingly over Trixie’s head,