The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon

on the last step. The dimly lit lobby was in front of them. Then, as she was about to hurry across it, she heard someone moving on the other side of the office door. She heard the soft click of a light switch.
    Motioning Honey to silence, Trixie pressed herself against the wall and waited.
    The doorknob turned without a sound, and a tall, skinny figure appeared in the opening.
    The man wore a red scarf around his head, and a black patch over one eye. A stubble of gray beard covered his chin.
    This time there was no doubt at all about his identity. The man was Weasel Willis.
    Then Trixie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw what he was carrying in his hands.
    It was a large metal cashbox.

The Crying Lady ● 12

    IN THE NEXT MOMENT, everything seemed to happen at once.
    In spite of Trixie’s warning, Honey took a quick step forward. She put out a hand, as if to stop him. Startled, Weasel looked up and caught sight of the two girls watching from the shadow of the stairs. At almost the same instant, the door to the dining room swung open.
    “Weasel?” a man’s voice called. “Did you find it?” And Gaston, the chef, minus his white cap, stepped out to join them.
    The sudden appearances seemed to be too much for Weasel. The cashbox dropped from his nerveless fingers. To Trixie’s astonishment, a shower of golden coins cascaded to the floor in a shimmering stream.
    One of them rolled to the bottom of the stairs. Honey stared at it. “Golly,” she breathed. “They’re old gold coins!”
    “They’re golden doubloons!” Trixie exclaimed. “Jeepers! They must be worth a fortune!”
    Honey, however, had just taken a closer look. “Oh, Trix,” she said, “it isn’t gold at all. It’s—”
    “—chocolate wrapped in embossed gold foil,” Weasel said wearily.
    Trixie was beginning to feel a little like Alice in Wonderland. Peculiar things happened to her all the time, too.
    “Chocolate?” she echoed. “You mean this is just chocolate?” She watched, disappointed, as Honey peeled off the “coin’s” outer covering. Weasel seemed amused. “Looks real, don’t it?” Trixie said nothing as she went to help him gather up the scattered candy. Of course they weren’t gold pieces. She could see that now. She couldn’t imagine how she had ever thought they were.
    “It is very poor chocolate, because I do not make it myself,” Gaston announced grandly. “It is even worse chocolate now it has been dropped — plop !—on the carpet by the clumsy ox.”
    All at once, Weasel looked angry. “You’d better watch who you’re calling an ox,” he snapped. “I tell you I couldn’t help it. You all popped out of the woodwork at me at once. It made me jump, is all.” He sighed. “This just hasn’t been my day. Not that it ever is.”
    Gaston ignored him. “Monsieur Trask, he buys the chocolate,” he explained to the girls. “He stores it in his office for les enfants —the little children—who come to the inn. They like it because it looks like pirate money. Is it not so?” Trixie was about to agree fervently that at first glance it did indeed look like pirate money. Then she saw the Weasel staring at her.
    “I’ll bet you thought I was about to sneak out of here with a load of cash, eh?” he said. “But the cashbox is just for effect, y’see. It’s kept in the dining room by the cash register.”
    Trixie felt her face grow hot. But before she could answer, Honey said, “We didn’t think you were sneaking off with anything, Mr. Willis.”
    “Of course not,” Trixie said quickly. She glanced longingly at the office. She and Honey would have to search it later. “My friend and I couldn’t sleep,” she added, “so we thought we’d get a breath of fresh air instead.”
    Gaston frowned. “It is very late for two young ladies to be taking the fresh air,” he declared. “It is even late for the Weasel and myself to be working. But in the absence of Monsieur Trask, we have to prepare for the morning customers. But you girls should be getting the sleep of beauty.“
    “My friend doesn’t need beauty sleep,” Trixie said hastily, pulling Honey toward the front door. “Anyway, we won’t be gone long. We’re sorry we startled you, Mr. Willis. Good night.”
    A moment later, they stood on the top step, with the fog swirling around them once more.
    “We lied, Trix,” Honey said. “We did think they were stealing—at least, I did.”
    “I did, too,” Trixie replied, “but we