The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

“There was no way he could have done it himself.”
    “But what does it mean?”
    “It means,” Trixie said, “that someone else was here last night, and that someone else locked Harrison in the cellar and left him there. He must know it, but for some reason, he didn’t want to tell us about it.”
    She stared down at Harrison’s derby hat as if she wished it could talk.
    “But why wouldn’t Harrison tell us?” Mart asked.
    “I don’t know.” Trixie led the way back into the living room. “But I’m sure going to try and find out.”
    “What are you going to find out?” Di asked.
    “It’s elementary, my dear Di,” Mart drawled. “Trixie’s uncovered another one of life’s little mysteries. I have never met a female with such a propensity for puzzling problems.”
    “Speaking of puzzles,” Honey said, “will you look at this? I know I shouldn’t have read it, but—well—it is sort of eye-catching.”
    She reached up to the mantelpiece and took down the greeting card that Trixie had noticed before. There was a series of drawings on the front of it.
    The Bob-Whites gathered around to see.
    “Hey!” Mart exclaimed. “There’s a picture of Hoppy, the Town Hall weather vane.”
    “And this next one looks like a drawing of Sleepyside Hollow,” said Di.
    Trixie was looking over Di’s shoulder. “Jeepers! The next picture is a drawing of a hot dog, and the one after that is a flower. I wonder if it’ s supposed to be some sort of secret code?”
    Brian frowned. “Maybe it is. Let’s see. Hoppy the weather vane, Sleepyside Hollow, a hot dog, and a flower. Nope, it doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
    “There’s more,” Honey said and opened the card.
    Inside, in bold handwriting, was a single name: Jonathan.
    “I think we ought to put it back where we found it,” Jim said. “The emergency’s over, and this is somebody’s home.”
    “And I think we should leave a note for Mrs. Crandall,” Honey said, neatly replacing the card on the mantelpiece. “She ought to be told what happened here.”
    While Brian wrote the note, Trixie stood thinking about her experiment with the cellar door. She would have liked to discuss it with the other Bob-Whites. Somehow, though, she had the feeling that Di wouldn’t like to hear that Harrison had not told the truth.
    In the end, she said nothing. I’ll talk it over with Honey later, she thought.
    At almost the same moment, Honey nudged her gently in the ribs. “I have something I want to tell you,” she whispered. “It’s the funniest thing.”
    “Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?”
    Honey laughed. “You sound like Bobby. I meant that it’s funny peculiar. Remember when you were on the front porch calling the others?”
    “I remember.”
    “Well,” Honey whispered, “I could see old Harrison was really worried about something. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he’d let himself into the house with a spare front door key. Mrs. Crandall always keeps it under a flowerpot on the porch.”
    “We ought to put it back then,” Trixie said. “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Harrison wanted me to put it back for him. He was certain he’d left it on the kitchen table.”
    “But I didn’t see any key on the kitchen table when we arrived,” Trixie answered.
    “That’s just it,” Honey said. “It wasn’t there. Harrison had me search everywhere, but I never did find it. It had completely disappeared.”
    “Did you ask the others if they’d seen it?”
    “No,” Honey said slowly. “Harrison asked me not to. First, he said he was sure one of you would mention it if you found it. Then he said he probably hadn’t put it on the kitchen table at all. But I could tell he was positive he had.”
    Before she left with the others, Trixie, still carrying the derby hat, paused thoughtfully in the doorway of the little house.
    What had happened here last night? Why hadn’t Harrison told them the truth? Who was the person who had locked him in the cellar? And where was that door key? Had it really vanished?
    The more Trixie thought about it, the more puzzling it was.
    “It’s just like all the other mysteries,” Trixie said to herself. “It keeps on getting curiouser and curiouser.”

The Missing Vase ● 6

    THE BOB-WHITES were riding home once more when Trixie suddenly called, “Gleeps! I forgot something! I meant to take another look at those alphabet trees. I don’t suppose you guys would wait while