The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

time/ the way Sergeant Molinson does. You’d move.”
    “Do you want me to go with you now and take a look around that cliff? Not that I’d be likely to find a thing, because investigation really does take time, Trixie, as the sergeant said. I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. We can run out to the woods. Maybe I can stop and see Mrs. Vanderpoel, too.“
    “Would you, Spider? That would be super. Has everyone finished eating? Brian, how about settling with Jim for our hamburgers?”
    “You forgot I said it was my treat, Trixie—on account of Spider,” Jim said. He paid the bill, and they went out.
    “You haven’t seen the new Bob-White bus, have you, Spider? Well, open your eyes and look!” Mart opened the station wagon door with a flourish. “Our name’s on it, and everything.”
    Spider looked, struck his forehead, and fell back, as though dazzled.
    “Have you been picking up some more rewards, you and Honey?” he asked Trixie. “Boy, oh, boy, is it ever snazzy!”
    “Mr. Wheeler gave it to us. They have a new Continental sedan,” Trixie said.
    “I might have known it came from him.” Spider whistled. “I wish all kids had the setup the Bob-Whites have—your own clubhouse, and now your own car. Not that you don’t have it all coming to you, always trying to help people. Let’s see how the Bob-White bus rides.”
    Jim stopped the car on Glen Road where the trail entered the woods, and they all got out. As they neared the end of the bridle path, they could hear the sound of men working, voices shouting, hammers pounding.
    “It’s the men putting up the guard fence my dad ordered, ” Jim said. “It sure didn’t take long to get them going.”
    “Money makes the mare go,” Spider said. “That’s what my old daddy used to tell me when he tried to make me save. No kidding, Jim, when your dad wants a thing done, it’s as good as done. I wish we could have come up here before they got under way, though. There isn’t much chance of finding anything significant now; probably never was.”
    “It’s a ghastly place over there,” Trixie said, pointing to where the shelf of soil was breaking away. “It didn’t used to be that bad when we went down to the marsh for specimens. At least, I don’t remember it being scary. We’ve climbed down that path often enough.”
    “I always thought your stepfather escaped this way, Jim, after your great-uncle’s house was burned. That old river has provided a getaway for many a crook, with all the boats and barges lined up down there. Hey, you!” he called to one of the workmen. “Is this a hole where one of the warning signs was in place?”
    “I don’t know. Ask the county engineer. They’re puttin’ up new signs. We're buildin this fence right across the path where you’re standin’. Can’t nobody go beyond there then. We’re gonna paint KEEP OUT! in red paint on the fence when we’re done.”
    “It seems to me it needs a sign here, too, at the top of this trail down to the river,” Spider said, pointing to the hole, widened and gaping where a sign had been hastily pulled up.
    Absentmindedly he kicked the dirt with his heel, to cover up the hole, and uncovered a tobacco can. He picked it up and tossed it over to the workman. “Here’s your tobacco,” he called. “One of you must have dropped it. Whats the matter, Trixie?”
    “Nothing... I guess. Thats horrible smelhng tobacco, isn’t it? Some of it spilled here.”
    “It wouldn’t be my choice, but that’s why they make all kinds. Well, kids, it doesn’t look as though there’s anything I can do around here. I’m sorry, Trixie. Even if we’d come to this place earlier, we wouldn’t have found clues on all the bushes. A smart cookie covers his tracks pretty well.”
    “We didn’t really expect to find anything incriminating, did we, Trixie?” Honey asked sadly.
    Trixie didn’t answer. Her mind seemed miles away.
    “How about you kids stopping at Mrs. Vander-poel’s house with me for a while. Do you have time to do that—then run me back into Sleepyside?” Spider asked.
    “I suppose we should be exercising the horses for Regan,” Jim said, “but the day’s already pretty well shot.”
    “And Mrs. Vanderpoel always has cookies,” Mart said, smacking his lips.
    “She’s the best cook in Westchester County,” Spider said, “and that takes in a lot of good Dutch cooks. Many a time I’ve wished Tad and I were back at her house and pulling up to that