The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

arriving. Trucks and cars leaving. Men from the telephone company, urged on by the police, repaired the cut lines. Electric power came back to the house. A veterinarian arrived to care for Reddy.
    A bright sun followed the night’s storm. A warm wind blew in from the south.
    Dan, summoned by Jim, arrived from Mr. Maypenny’s cottage. He had stopped for Diana and brought her with him. They were told of the night’s events.
    Mrs. Belden, capable as usual, busied herself getting breakfast.
    “Set ten places at the table, Trixie,” she said. “The girls will help you pour orange juice. Will it be pancakes or waffles or scrambled eggs?”
    “Eggs and bacon,” Mr. Belden said. “Then you can sit at the table with us. It keeps you from hopping from stove to table with waffles or pancakes. Will that be all right, gang?”
    “Anything to fill us up, Mrs. Belden. I wonder what it would take to knock out our appetites.” Jim brought paper napkins from the box over the refrigerator and pushed chairs up to the extended kitchen table.
    “Somebody make the toast,” he said as Diana set mats at each place.
    “Toast coming up!” Brian said. “Jim, you get the telephone. It sounds like long distance—you know, more mechanical, longer rings—”
    “I’ll take it,” Trixie said eagerly. “Maybe it’s a report from the sheriff. Hello? Oh, Mrs. Hendricks. It’s that neighbor next door in the Bronx, next to the De Jongs’ house,” she explained to the others hurriedly. “Yes, Mrs. Hendricks? He did? This morning? Didn’t anyone know he was coming? Oh, Juliana will be delirious when I tell her. Yes, ma’am, she’s been here all this time waiting for some papers. I think they came yesterday. I’ll call her right away. Tell Hans we’ll go with Juliana to meet him at the bus in Sleepyside. Yes, probably in about an hour. We’ll check with the bus station about the time of arrival. I can’t wait till we telephone the news to Juliana.”
    “Now, guess what?” she asked as she returned the receiver to the hook.
    “Juliana’s fiancé must have arrived from Holland. He’s the only Hans connected with Juliana that we’ve heard about,” Mart said. “I’m not as sure as you seem to be that his coming will be so welcome.”
    “Why not?” Honey asked.
    “She’s had this other guy on the string, too.”
    “Mart Belden, you sure don’t keep your ears open. Don’t you remember? Mrs. Vanderpoel explained that Juliana was working on those dolls. That was what took her away from the house all the time. Juliana went to Mrs. Thompson’s house to work, and it was her son or nephew or somebody who came after Juliana in the car. Besides,” Honey added quietly, “I thought we decided not to be imagining everything.”
    “Gosh, Honey, you’re right,” Mart said. “Trixie, are you going to call Juliana?”
    “Trixie’s already on the phone,” Bobby said, “the one in the living room. Listen! Boy! Listen to her! She sounds pretty mad.”
    “Now what can we tell Hans Vorwald?” Trixie sputtered as she came back into the room. “Juliana isn’t there. She left early this morning. That isn’t all. Mrs. Vanderpoel said she took everything she owned with her. So she evidently didn’t intend to come back. She didn’t even say good-bye to any of us—not even Jim. Do you think we should try and reach her fiancé in the Bronx?”
    “He must be halfway here by now,” Jim said. “I can't believe it! Juliana must have intended to see us before she left. I wonder who called for her at Mrs. Vanderpoels house.”
    “The faithful Thompson relative,” Trixie said, “of course— Say... wait a minute... wait!”
    Two things hammered at Trixie’s brain: “Thompson” and “all of her things are gone.”
    A clear, bright light broke.
    With a cry, Trixie jumped to her feet. “I may be the biggest idiot in the world—or the smartest detective in die state of New York!”
    “Is there a choice?” Mart teased. “Say, Trixie, where are you going?”
    Trixie opened the screen door. “Don’t ask any questions, any of you, please. Come with me to the bus station, please! All the Bob-Whites! Jim, drive as fast as you can! There isn’t much traffic. Hurry, please, Jim!”
    The Bob-Whites didn’t ask questions. They followed Trixie. They all piled into the station wagon, and Jim was off, with a screech of tires, down Glen Road toward Sleepyside.
    Just outside the village, Trixie, sitting on the edge of the seat