The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

very valuable vase was missing. It had only just been lent for display for a limited time. The owner was very upset at its loss.”
    “Wow!” Mart’s eyes were round with astonishment. “Do you mean to tell us that Jonathan Crandall was a thief?”
    Miss Trask looked uncomfortable. “Many people thought so at the time.”
    “Was the vase ever found?” Brian asked.
    “No, it never was. The insurance company had to pay a great deal of money because of it.”
    “This is the first I’ve heard of any of it,” Trixie declared. “How come we didn’t know about this before?”
    “It was all very quickly hushed up for Mrs. Crandall’s sake,” Miss Trask said slowly. “Even the Sun agreed not to publish anything more about it. Rose Crandall’s family has lived here for generations, you see—almost as long as the Beldens.”
    She smiled at Trixie.
    Trixie stroked Susie’s soft nose. “But if the vase was never found,” she said, “and if everyone thought that Jonathan Crandall stole it—and if no one is allowed to talk about it—” She glanced sharply at Miss Trask. “Why, that means that everyone must still think he’s a thief. Isn’t that right?”
    Miss Trask sighed again. “I’m afraid so. People who really knew him—and I mean the people who were his friends—don’t believe he could possibly have done such a thing. But there it is. The vase was delivered to the museum late one Friday afternoon. Jonathan Crandall did receive it. Someone saw him do so.”
    “But,” Honey said slowly, “when they came to look for the vase after he died, they couldn’t find it? Is that the way it was?”
    Miss Trask agreed that that was exactly how it had been.
    “But how awful for Mrs. Crandall,” Di said. “She must be very upset that people still think such terrible things about her husband.”
    “You’re right,” said Miss Trask firmly, “and I can’t think how we got off on this subject. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. Matters like this are best forgotten. And it was all settled long ago by the insurance company.”
    Trixie said suddenly, “I wonder where Harrison fits into all of this.”
    “Aha, my pretty!” Mart said, pretending to twirl the long ends of a nonexistent moustache. “The plot thickens!”
    Miss Trask smiled at him. “Aha, yourself!” she said. “There’s nothing mysterious about it. Harrison and Mr. Crandall were very good friends, you see. They were also enthusiastic chess players.”
    “Harrison?” Mart sounded astonished again. “He plays chess?”
    “People do, you know,” Miss Trask said dryly. “Harrison often went to Sleepyside Hollow on his evenings off, I believe.”
    It was Brian’s turn to be astonished. “Harrison told you all this?”
    Brian wasn’t the only Bob-White who couldn’t believe that Di’s butler had ever been that informative. Trixie couldn’t believe it either.
    Miss Trask laughed aloud.
    “No,” she said, “Harrison didn’t tell me. Rose Crandall and I have known each other for some time. It was she who mentioned it to me once.” Jim had been listening closely. “Does Harrison now feel, perhaps, that he should keep an eye on things for his friend’s widow? I mean, he went over there to feed the cat. He didn’t seem to think it was at all strange to have been asked to do it.”
    “That’s very perceptive of you, Jim,” Miss Trask said, turning to leave. “Yes, I believe Harrison does still try to help his friend’s widow every chance he gets.”
    After she had gone, the Bob-Whites were silent. Even Patch sat still. His big brown eyes were watching Jim.
    Trixie watched Jim, too. She thought it was just like him to have understood immediately the loyalty that Harrison might feel for his friend. Maybe it was because Jim had been friendless himself, until the Wheelers adopted him.
    Trixie also felt that maybe Jim’s remark had helped her to understand Harrison a little better. Before today, he had seemed to her to be just Di’s butler—a reserved, quiet man who was good at his job. She had never given much thought to the fact that he, too, was a human being with feelings and loyalties of his own.
    All the same , she thought, I still want to tell Honey about that cellar door.

    In spite of Trixie’s eagerness to talk to Honey alone, she had no chance to do so for the rest of the afternoon. There was work to be done.
    When Regan realized that the Bob-Whites had returned, he hurried to the stables. Under his