The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

reported to him. What do people do to trace missing people?”

    “It’s Janie!” both girls shouted.
    “Shhhh!” the librarian warned.
    “Let’s go outside where we can talk,” Trixie whispered. “Wait. I’ll copy the name and address.” Outside, Trixie found herself trembling. “It’s Janie... I know it is! What shall we do?”
    “Find out how much money we have between us,” Honey said. “If there’s enough, we can telephone to Lakeside.”
    “See how smart you are? And you’re always saying I’m the brains of our agency. Oh, Honey, my fingers are all thumbs.”
    Trixie spilled the contents of her coin purse on the steps between them. “You count it. We’ll have to call person-to-person. That’ll mean more money.”
    “We have a lot.” Honey laughed. “There’s almost two dollars in my purse and... heavens!... nearly four dollars in yours!”
    “Part of that belongs to Moms. I was supposed to pay the laundryman this morning, and he didn’t come. Moms would never mind, I know, if we had to use it. Let’s find a telephone booth—one outside the library. She’d just start shushing us again.”
    “There’s one across the street at the filling station.” Honey put all the money together in Trixie’s purse. “We can try it.”
    They hurried across, leaving their bikes in the library rack.
    “You do the calling, Trixie,” Honey insisted. “You’ll know what to say.”
    “I’m shaking so I can’t even dial the operator. Here, hold this purse and take out the coins so I can drop them in when I get the connection... if I do. Oh, jeepers, Honey, just think—”
    The operator asked for the deposit, heard the correct amount being inserted, then said, “I have your party on the line. Go ahead, please.”
    “Oh, Mrs. Meredith! I’m Trixie Belden, and I live in Sleepyside, New York. You don’t know me, but that’s who I am, and my friend Honey Wheeler is standing right here beside me. Oh, dear... that doesn’t mean anything to you, but I hope 1 know your sister!”
    “Oh, heavens!” the voice answered. ‘‘You think you know Barbara? Wait a minute till I get a chair. I feel faint. Is Barbara all right?”
    “Oh, I do hope so. You see, it was this way....” Trixie told her of Janie’s accident and described her. “She did have long, blond hair before they had to cut it very short because of the bump on her head.”
    “Oh, dear! Please, go on.”
    “She wasn’t seriously hurt. I think it was an accident. Nobody seems to know. Her head is all right now... well, no, it isn’t…”
    “What do you mean? You sound incoherent.”
    “I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that your sister—I hope she is your sister; we call her Janie— she’s completely well, except that she has lost her memory. The doctors don’t think it’s serious. She is well, physically, Mrs. Meredith.”
    “You mean she’s not well mentally? Oh, dear!”
    “No, Mrs. Meredith... please... she is all right. The doctor doesn’t think her loss of memory is serious. She was released from the hospital and is staying at our home, Crabapple Farm, just outside of Sleepyside, New York. I’ll give you our telephone number, but please give me a chance to get back there before you call her. My friend and I just found a copy of your Lakeside newspaper in our library. We saw the interview you gave the reporter, and that’s why we called. Please call this number—” Trixie recited her home phone number— “in about half an hour, will you?”
    “Your three minutes are up... please deposit—” The receiver at the other end of the line clicked. “She hung up,” Trixie said, dejected. “I guess I did sound kind of wild. She must have thought I was crazy. We’d better get home as quickly as we can, Honey, before she telephones our house. Moms won’t have the slightest idea what it’s all about.” The girls fairly ran up the hill from the library, pushing their bikes ahead. Then, on level ground, they pedaled as fast as their feet would fly down Glen Road and into the driveway at Crabapple Farm. They dropped their bikes and ran into the house.
    “Did she call?” Trixie cried. “Did she talk to Janie?”
    “Trixie! Calm down!” her mother ordered. “Did who call whom?”
    “Did Mrs. Meredith call her sister Janie... I mean Barbara?”
    “Janie’s not Barbara,” Bobby said.
    “She is! She is! I know she is. I’m practically certain she is,” Trixie insisted, stumbling over the words in