The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

streets intersect,” Jim told her. “They have a lot of circles and squares, with monuments or parks, in London.”
    “Unequivocally speaking,” Mart spouted happily, “Piccadilly Circus is a circumbendibus plaza near the point that is approximately equidistant from the extremities of the city.”
    A young English girl leaned toward them, looking puzzled but friendly. “Piccadilly’s the next stop,” she said helpfully.
    “Oh, how do we stop the bus?” Honey asked.
    The girl pointed to a sign which read, STRIP ONCE IN ADVANCE.
    “Strip once in advance?” The Bob-Whites were so baffled that the girl pulled the cord for them, grinning broadly, and they all burst out laughing together.
    “English and American are two whole different languages, sometimes,” Mart said.
    The circular plaza turned out to be not only the center of London, as Mart had said, but also its center of activity. The Americans hopped off the bus and stared goggle-eyed at the rushing traffic that swirled around the central statue, and at the sidewalks that were packed with shoppers.
    “It reminds me of Times Square in New York,” Trixie said. “I bet it’s really lit up here at night, with all those neon signs.”
    Big red buses, along with bicycles, vans, and toysized foreign cars, clogged the street. Long-haired youths lounged on the steps of the gilded statue of Eros, the god of love, at the center of Piccadilly Circus. The morning rain had ended, and the glass storefronts were sparkling.
    “Hey, that would be a neat place to eat,” Mart said. “Across the street— The Carvery. I read about it in my gourmet guidebook. They have all kinds of roasts—prime rib, pork, leg of lamb, cold cuts—and you get to carve them yourself. You can eat all you want.” He eyed the building hungrily.
    “It is just about time to eat,” Trixie agreed. “But I wanted to go to a pub. And there’s a place called Tiddy Dol’s. I’m just dying to go there. And—”
    “There are restaurants here with food from every country in the world,” Jim said. “Japan, Armenia, Portugal, Greece—you name it. I’d like to try ’em all.”
    “But there’s one big advantage to The Carvery,” Mart pointed out. “It’s right across the street.”
    “I'm not going to cross that street,” Honey said firmly.
    When the Bob-Whites had sent off their first postcards that morning, Mart had written Di that English food was not as terrible as people said; it was nectareously ambrosial , underlined three times. Trixie had written Dan about the pickpocket. And Honey’s card had read: “Dear Brian, The streets are very narrow and wind-y. The cars whiz by on the wrong side of the street, and we (Americans) are terrified of crossing. The pedestrian has absolutely no rights in this country. Wish you were here, Honey.”
    Mart showed Honey a black-and-white-striped crossing halfway around the circle. “They call ’em zebra crossings,” he said.
    “I don’t know,” said Honey. “Even if we cross with the light, it always seems like as soon as the light changes, the cars shoot forward as if they’re out to get you. And I’m not used to the direction of the traffic, so I always look the wrong way before I cross. I think it’s a national sport—going after pedestrians!”
    “Come on,” said Trixie, linking arms with Honey. “We’ll all stick together. Concentrate on the good food awaiting us at The Carvery.”
    “Oh, woe,” said Honey with a resigned nod. Hundreds of sightseers and shoppers milled around the Bob-Whites as they waited for the light to change. Finally it did, and Trixie stepped off the curb. Despite their best efforts, the Bob-Whites found themselves getting separated from each other. Trixie felt Honey’s arm slip from hers, but it was a few seconds before she was able to reach backward for Honey’s hand.
    Then she saw that somehow, Honey had been shoved off the curb. Trixie plunged desperately after her, but it seemed like a hundred arms held her back. She could hardly move, and a huge red double-decker was lumbering straight toward Honey!
    “Honey, watch out!” Trixie shrieked.

Piccadilly Circus • 5

    STOP!” Trixie screamed, but of course the bus driver couldn’t hear her over the din of the heavy traffic. He drove on, directly over the spot where Trixie had seen Honey.
    Trixie screamed again and waved her arms frantically as she was carried along by the crowd to the opposite side of the street. Jim and Mart plowed