The Mystery of the Headless Horseman

came to a reluctant halt. They snorted, tossed their heads, and pawed at the ground impatiently. Their riders held them steady.
    “What is it, Trix?” Jim asked.
    “I want to go over everything again,” Trixie said. “We’re missing something somewhere. I just know we are.”
    “All right,” Honey said promptly. “Where do you want to start?”
    “It all seemed to begin with the Ming vase,” Trixie said, “so let’s start with that. Mr. Parkinson, the vase’s owner, had it delivered to the museum. Somebody saw Jonathan Crandall receive it.”
    “Right,” Mart said. “By the way, who did see that happen?”
    “We never did find that out,” Brian said. “Go on, Trix.”
    “The vase was delivered on a Friday evening,” Trixie continued. “But Mr. Crandall had no place to keep it over the weekend.”
    “The glass case hadn’t yet been delivered,” Honey said slowly. “The safe in the museum’s office had a broken lock. So we figured—you figured, Trixie—that Mr. Crandall took the vase home with him for safekeeping till the following Monday.”
    “But where did he put it?” Di asked. “I don’t understand.”
    “Mr. Crandall had just hidden a birthday present for his wife,” Trixie explained. “He must have thought up a terrific hiding place. Mrs. Crandall still hasn’t found her gift. Honey and I think he hid the Ming vase in with the birthday present.”
    Honey continued with the story. “Mr. Crandall liked puzzles. He gave his wife one clue about where the hiding place was. He said it was ‘elementary.’ But he died that same weekend before he could tell her anything more.”
    “Wait—there’s something else.” Trixie held firmly to her reins. “In the meantime, someone else had figured out all this, too.”
    “Harrison, by cracky!” Mart exclaimed.
    Trixie wasn’t listening. “He’s been trying to find that vase for himself. I’m sure, now that I think about it, that maybe he’s even offered to buy Mrs. Crandall’s house. That way, he could search for the vase until he found it. But Mrs. Crandall wouldn’t sell.”
    “By George, I’ve got it!” Mart shouted, startling Strawberry so much that the horse nearly unseated his rider. Mart struggled to remain upright. “Harrison dressed up as the headless horseman, didn’t he?” he said. “He wanted to scare Mrs. Crandall out of her house, and probably out of town. But Mrs. Crandall didn’t scare so easily. Is that right?”
    Trixie nodded. “I think so.”
    “So he telephoned to say her sister was sick?” Dan asked. “Gee, what a rotten thing to do.”
    “Boy!” Jim said. “He must have been mad when, instead of scaring her away for good, his actions caused Rose Crandall to bring her sister home to stay with her.”
    “I don’t know when my dad has ever been more wrong about anyone,” Di said, her eyes filling with tears. “I suppose he’s really part of a gang. They’ve stolen the goddess from the museum, and heaven knows what else besides.”
    “But where is Harrison?” Brian asked.
    “I don’t know,” Trixie answered. “But I do know what it was I was trying to remember. And it was important. You see, the deserted barn smelled the same as Honey’s stables. That means a horse has been kept there—and recently.” Honey’s mouth dropped open with surprise. “Of course!” she breathed. “The headless horseman had to stable his horse somewhere. Why didn’t I think of that?”
    “Where is this barn?” Jim asked. “Is it far away?”
    “However far it is,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “I have a hunch we ought to go there at once. I think we should search there first.”

Trapped! ● 17

    SOON THE BOB-WHITES were in the woods once more. Trixie smelled again the pleasant scents of the forest. She could hear the soft clop-clop-clop of their horses’ hooves on its spongy floor.
    She sighed. “It doesn’t look nearly as spooky now,” she said to Jim, who was riding beside her. “The other night, when Honey and I got lost, we felt there was a ghost hiding behind every bush. If it hadn’t been for that dog of ours—”
    At that moment, as if he had known they were talking about him, Reddy came bounding through the trees. His ears flapped. His long tail streamed behind him. His coat no longer looked clean—or brushed, either. Trixie suspected he’d been chasing rabbits.
    “No, Reddy!” she yelled, half-standing in her saddle. “You can’t come with us! Go home!” Reddy paid no