The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon

greeted them with her usual kind patience, the Bob-Whites could tell she was very worried.
    “Oh, Miss Trask,” Honey said, hurrying to her side, “is there any news?”
    Miss Trask sighed. “I’ve just had a visit from the police,” she said. “They seem to think there’s nothing to worry about. They’ve promised to make inquiries. They’re interviewing the staff now.”
    “Is there anything we can do?” Jim asked, his voice low.
    Miss Trask smiled at the circle of concerned young faces around her. “There certainly is,” she said briskly. “You can go and enjoy yourselves until it’s time to eat again. As I expect you’ve guessed, Gaston is back in his kitchen, so that’s one thing less to trouble us.”
    “We came to ask you if we could see the real portrait of Captain Trask,” Trixie said.
    “You could if I knew where it was,” Miss Trask answered promptly. “It’s funny that you should ask. I’ve looked for it myself, but I can’t find it anywhere.”
    “Things do seem to have a peculiar habit of disappearing around here,” Trixie said without thinking.
    “What a dumb thing to say!” Mart exclaimed when they had left the room.
    “It really was,” Brian agreed. “Miss Trask was already upset. You might not help thinking such a thing, but you didn’t have to say it.”
    Trixie knew that Mart and Brian were still angry with her as the Bob-Whites discussed what they were going to do for the rest of the morning. They ignored her suggestion that they should try searching again for either Mr. Trask or the missing money.
    “Now that the police are on the job,” Brian said, “they won’t want a bunch of amateurs like us getting in their way.”
    In the end, the Bob-Whites spent the balance of that Saturday morning exploring the little town of Pirate’s Point. They wandered along the main street, with its rows of quaint little stores and small houses with pocket-handkerchief-sized front yards.
    If Trixie had not been worried about what they would find when they returned to the inn, she might have enjoyed the visit. As it was, she couldn’t shake off her conviction that something more was about to happen—and soon.
    One anxious glance at Miss Trask’s face, when at last they returned, did nothing to reassure her.
    “No,” Miss Trask said, trying to smile as she met them at the front door, “there’s no news of my brother. The police are still making inquiries, but—” she bit her lip—“they seem to feel that he’s disappeared as some sort of publicity stunt.” Trixie stared. “But why would he do that?“
    “I’m afraid it was something one of the waiters said that gave them the idea,” Miss Trask answered. “I believe it’s quite true that Frank has thought up a lot of ideas recently to promote Pirate’s Inn.”
    “I’ll bet it was Weasel Willis who told the police it was just a publicity stunt,” Trixie told Honey and Di later, as they trudged upstairs after lunch.
    “But maybe he’s right, Trix,” Di said.
    Trixie hoped with all her heart that he was. “All the same,” she said, “I can’t help thinking that if we could only solve that other disappearance—the one where Captain Trask vanished—it might help us figure out what happened last night. When the lunch rush is over, let’s search the dining room again.”
    Honey groaned. “Oh, no! I don’t think I could stand it.”
    “Me, either,” Di announced. “And there isn’t anything you can say that will make me change my mind, Trixie.”

    Thirty minutes later, the three girls were on their hands and knees under the captain’s table, searching for a secret trapdoor.
    Suddenly a familiar voice drawled, “My, my! And what have we here? I was going to say that great minds think alike, except I know one of them is a pea-brain.”
    Trixie stuck out her head and glared up at Mart. Brian, Jim, and Dan stood behind him.
    “Pea-brain yourself!” Trixie snapped, her cheeks red. “And what are you doing here? Don’t tell me; I can guess. You’re here to find out about the disappearing trick. Don’t bother to deny it.“
    “But I don’t have to find out about it,” Mart drawled in an infuriatingly smug voice. “You see, I know how it was done.”
    Honey gasped and scrambled to her feet. “You do? You really do?”
    “Of course he doesn’t.” Trixie was scornful. “He’s just showing off.”
    “Now, Trix,” Di said, crawling out from under the table, “you don’t mean that.”
    Mart