The Mystery of the Millionaire

a little guilty as she did so. Time and again, Sergeant Molinson had warned the Bob-Whites—and Trixie especially—against getting involved in potentially dangerous mysteries. Time and again, the Bob-Whites had ignored his warnings, telling themselves that they had no choice but to ignore them. Although the result was usually that cases were solved faster than they might have been otherwise, it was usually Sergeant Molinson who was called at unlikely hours to take criminals into custody.
    “On second thought,” Trixie said with a rueful grin, “maybe you’d just better let me stay lost. I think I’d prefer it to one of the sergeant’s tongue-lashings.”
    The girls were quiet for a moment, each imagining what Sergeant Molinson would say to Trixie if he found her wandering lost through the tiny town of Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson. Gradually, Trixie became aware that Jim was making several turns that weren’t necessary for the trip to the downtown area.
    “Where are you going, Jim?” she asked curiously, leaning forward.
    “Downtown,” he said, as though he were reminding her of their destination.
    “I know that,” Trixie said. “But why are you taking such a funny route?”
    “I thought Laura might like to take the scenic tour of Sleepyside,” he said. His tone was casual, but Trixie sensed an underlying tenseness in it. She also noticed that his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.
    On a sudden hunch, Trixie turned in the seat and looked out the rear window of the station wagon. A small, green car was several yards behind them. “We’re being followed, aren’t we?” she said, facing forward and gripping the back of the front seat with both hands.
    “It looks that way,” Jim admitted. “But I had hoped that I could keep from getting everyone upset about it.”
    Trixie sat back, silenced by the rebuke in Jim’s voice.
    Gradually, Jim slowed the car to a crawl. The green car shot forward and passed them, continuing down the street until it finally disappeared from sight.
    Honey let out a relieved sigh. “There! You see? He wasn’t following us at all,” she said.
    “Yes, he was,” Trixie corrected her. “He just didn’t want to be too obvious about it. When Jim slowed down, he had to pass, to make it look as though he was going somewhere. But I could tell he was following us. I could tell something else, too: That’s the same car I saw pulling away from the boathouse yesterday!”
    Honey gasped, and Laura Ramsey turned in her seat, staring at Trixie in shock.
    “It’s a common make and color, Trixie,” Jim told her.
    “I don’t care if it’s the very commonest make and the very commonest color,” Trixie said defiantly. “It’s the same car. I know it!”
    “All right, all right,” Jim said impatiently. “I don’t want to fight about it. I just don’t want to get everyone all upset about it, either.”
    You don't want Laura Ramsey upset about it, you mean, Trixie thought resentfully. She crossed her arms in front of her stubbornly. She would say nothing more about the green car, but she would not let herself be persuaded that that car was not the one she had seen at the boathouse the day before.
    A mood of grim determination had replaced her lighthearted one. When Jim finally pulled onto the town’s main street and parked, Trixie split off from the others. She stalked from store to store, taking care of her mother’s errands, totally uninterested in browsing along the way. Trixie was accustomed to her friends’ refusal to take her seriously. Many times, she had to admit, they were right not to. But this time, she knew she was right. She knew, too, that Jim’s repeated denials had to do with his desire to protect Laura Ramsey from worry.
    “I think protecting her from danger is more important,” Trixie muttered.
    A salesclerk looked up. “May I help you with something?” she asked.
    “I’m just looking,” Trixie answered automatically. “I mean, no—I mean, yes, I’d like this spool of thread, please.”
    The clerk took it from her hand gingerly, as if whatever were causing Trixie’s confusion might be catching. She rang up the purchase, took Trixie’s money, and handed her the small paper bag containing the thread.
    Trixie took it and put it in her purse, leaving the store hastily to avoid further embarrassment.
    Outside on the sidewalk, she checked the list her mother had given her and discovered that she was finished