The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

grounds last night? Oh, Mart, what is it you know that you’re not telling anyone —even us?”
    Mart was silent for a long moment. Then he raised his head and looked into her worried blue eyes. “All right, Trix,” he said at last. “I guess I’d better tell you. But I warn you, you’re not going to like it. Let’s go on home, and then—”
    He never completed his sentence. His gaze sharpened suddenly as he stared at something over Trixie’s left shoulder.
    She swung around to see what had caught his attention.
    At first, she could see nothing unusual. The usual number of Saturday morning shoppers seemed to be hurrying along the street. Then she noticed that they all seemed to be hurrying in one direction. Their steps slowed as they neared Crimper’s department store. It was an old two-story building that had been there as long as Trixie could remember.
    “What is it?” Honey asked, turning her head to see what Mart and Trixie were looking at.
    Trixie frowned. “Everyone seems to be watching something on top of Crimper’s roof. Come on; let’s go and look.”
    The Bob-Whites raced along the sidewalk and joined others whose necks were craning upward.
    Trixie saw the store’s upper story, where shoppers and salespeople alike were crowded at the windows, trying to peer upward. Her sharp eyes scanned the roof’s eaves. “I can’t see anything,” she said at last.
    “Me, either,” Honey said, pressing close to her friend.
    All along, Mart had been busy scanning the crowd. “I think you’ll find the only thing your orbs can discern,” he announced, with a sudden return to his old manner, “is a certain person playing one of his excruciating jokes. It’s the most ancient trick in the lexicon.”
    “What’s a lexicon?” Di whispered.
    “The theory,” Mart went on, “is that if you stare at something long enough and hard enough, others will naturally think there is something to stare at. Thus a joke has been accomplished.”
    “I don’t understand,” Honey said, bewildered.
    Mart put his hand on her shoulder and pointed at Crimper’s roof. “There,” he said, “is the staree.
    And there,” he swung his arm, “is the star er. ”
    The Bob-Whites saw someone standing on the sidewalk’s edge, convulsed with laughter.
    Suddenly Trixie’s eyes widened as she noticed his bicycle parked at the curb behind him. Strapped to its rear rack was a can of black spray paint, obviously just purchased.
    “And that,” said Mart, “is who I think is causing all the trouble. That, Trix, is the Midnight Marauder.”
    And he pointed straight at Lester Mundy!

Inside Crimper’s ● 6

    MART’S ANNOUNCEMENT took Trixie completely by surprise. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was she’d expected him to tell her, but it certainly wasn’t this.
    Brian obviously hadn’t been expecting this, either. He frowned at his brother. “Are you sure about that statement you’ve just made, Mart?” he asked sharply. “That’s a serious accusation.”
    “And if it’s true,” Dan said, “you ought to turn right around and march back to the police station. Sergeant Molinson will want to know everything about it.”
    “Of course I’m not sure,” Mart retorted. His arm dropped slowly to his side. “If I was sure, don’t you think I’d have told someone about it before now? The thing is, you see, I can’t prove anything. As I told you, I think it’s Lester. On the other hand, it could just as well be Shrimpy Davis —or Marvin Easton—or Ruthie Kettner— or—” Trixie gasped. “Ruthie Kettner? But that’s impossible!”
    “The whole thing’s impossible, Trix,” Mart answered. He watched as Lester, still grinning, suddenly jumped on his bike and sped away.
    Honey looked as bewildered as Trixie felt. “I know Ruthie Kettner,” she said, “but who are those other people you’ve just named? Why do you suspect them? And why are you so worried?“
    “Come on, Mart,” Jim said. “You can tell us. It’ll make you feel better. Why did Sergeant Molinson bring you down here for questioning? Why should he think you were responsible for all this vandalism that’s going on? He can’t think you’re guilty.”
    “I’m afraid he does,” Mart replied, gazing around at the circle of concerned faces. “And what’s more—” he swallowed hard—“he’s right.” Afterward Trixie found that she could remember almost every detail of that morning. The sun, which had shone so brightly at the