The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

stuff.”
    Trixie sighed. “You may be right. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such a suspicious mind. I also regret that I was so careless. I still don’t know what I’m going to tell Harrison—or Di, either, for that matter.”
    “Why all this concern about what Di will say?” Jim asked. “Why should she say anything? It’s Harrison’s hat. I’m sorry, too, that we lost it, but it was an old hat, and I’m sure he’s got another one. Besides, you never know. We might find that someone’s donated a derby to the bazaar. If so, you can buy it, present it to Harrison, and your problem’s solved.”
    Trixie didn’t answer. She still had an apprehensive feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was sure that things were not going to turn out to be that easy.
    She was still deep in thought when Jim stopped at the nurses’ station to ask the way to room 116.
    He should have asked Trixie. She was a candy striper and had often brought books to all the rooms on this floor.
    Absently, she walked on, turned a corner, and entered a long corridor. She was just in time to catch sight of a uniformed man and a smartly dressed young woman leave the room at the end of the hall—Harrison’s room.
    Trixie knew she had seen the man before. It was the same policeman she had seen through the window of the station wagon.
    I've seen that lady before, too, Trixie thought, but where?
    Both the man and the woman seemed to hesitate when they saw her. Then they turned quickly and hurried away in the opposite direction down the hall.
    “Did you see that, Jim?” Trixie said. “Harrison’s already had two visitors this morning. I’m glad. Maybe they were able to talk him into staying in bed a while longer. Jim?”
    “What did you say, Trix?” Jim hurried around the corner to join her.
    “Never mind,” Trixie answered, laughing. “I guess I was talking to myself. Harrison’s room is down here. Come on.”
    She led the way and tapped softly on the door. “Harrison?” She poked her head around into the room. “It’s Trixie Belden and Jim Frayne. May we come in?”
    Harrison seemed surprised to see them. For a moment, Trixie thought he was none too pleased about it, either.
    He looked much better this morning. The color had returned to his cheeks, and he was sitting up in bed. The only sign of his accident was an adhesive bandage slanted across his forehead. He also had the beginning of a dark bruise around one eye.
    “Ah, Miss Trixie,” Harrison said at last, “and Mr. Jim. Please come in and sit down. You must forgive my appearance.” He pulled the bedclothes firmly up to his chest.
    Jim said, “We came to see how you are. We came, too, to return your hat—but I’m afraid we have a small confession to make about that.”
    “It was all my fault,” Trixie said in a rush. “You see, Dr. Ferris wanted to talk to us. We hurried off with him, and I forgot to roll the car window up.”
    Harrison frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    “When we got back to the car,” Jim explained, “your hat was gone.”
    “Gone?” Harrison looked astonished. “You mean someone stole it?”
    Trixie nodded miserably. “I’m really very sorry,” she said. “It happened just now—” she waved a hand in the general direction of the parking lot—“out there.”
    Harrison’s hands tightened on the bedclothes. “But who would want to do a thing like that?” Trixie sighed. “Jim thinks that some children might have taken it as a prank. In fact, just lately this town seems to be overrun with practical jokers.”
    “In what way, miss?”
    “Well,” Trixie said, “take the other night, for instance. Brian thinks someone was playing a bad trick on you when whoever it was locked you in that cellar.”
    Instantly Harrison’s face froze. “In that case, Miss Trixie,” he said icily, “I would be greatly obliged if you would promptly tell Mr. Brian that his theory is incorrect. I told you what happened. I locked myself in the cellar.”
    “There were pebbles, too,” Trixie said. “Pebbles?”
    “Outside one of the cellar windows. You said you heard a noise down there, you see. When I looked, I could tell that someone had thrown some pebbles against the cellar window to attract your attention.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Jim said admiringly. “Nor I.” Harrison’s voice was still cold. “In fact, I have no idea what Miss Trixie is talking about. The noise I heard was made by the cat, as I discovered when I went to