The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

the folks back home, and I’m going to have to get another handbag. Could we do that, too?”
    “Shopping?” the boys asked, incredulous.
    “Nobody asked you to come along,” Trixie assured them.
    “There wouldn’t be time for both,” Miss Trask said, “and I hate to have you split up.”
    “And what if you get lost again?” Jim looked a bit worried.
    “Oh, I know how to get around London now,” Trixie said confidently. “And we won’t have anything pick-able in our pockets, since we’re leaving Honey’s necklace here in the hotel safe.”
    “We don’t even have very much money,” Honey added.
    “Expenses” for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency didn’t include souvenirs. The Wheelers could have given Honey all the spending money she asked for, of course, but she didn’t want any more than Trixie had—which, until McDuff returned her five pounds, was just about zilch.
    “We’ll be careful,” Trixie promised.
    “Very well,” their chaperon decided.
    “You’re such a jolly good sport!” said Honey.
    “I try,” Miss Trask chuckled. “You needn’t be back on the dot of twelve, by the way. When Mr. McDuff gets here with the car, we’ll have to pack it. Then I think we should all have lunch before we leave. You go ahead and eat wherever you like, and then be back here before two. Mr. McDuff says it isn’t far to Stratford—no more than a two-hour drive.”
    Hmm , thought Trixie as the two girls went outside to wait for a double-decker, if McDuff does show up, things are certainly working out conveniently for him. He gets to have lunch with Miss Trask, just the two of them....
    Usually, Trixie talked over her suspicions with Honey, but by then it was clear that Honey didn’t want to hear them. The morning paper had had another headline on tourist rackets, but Trixie knew enough not to bring that up again.
    I'm not going to say any more about it till two o'clock, Trixie resolved. If he hasn't shown up by then, they'll have to believe me.
    “I hear the shops in London are really super,” Honey said, “but I kind of wish we could have gone on the cruise, too.”
    “We can trade notes with the boys later,” Trixie said.
    The girls got off the bus in Mayfair, the fashionable shopping district Miss Trask had recommended. After they picked out a red leather handbag for Honey, they went window-shopping. Here and there,
    between the large department stores, were small, hole-in-the-wall stationery stores, which sold magazines, sweets, and souvenirs. Honey lent Trixie some money, and Trixie treated herself to a bag of sweets.
    “This has got to be the best candy in the world,” she sighed, selecting several luscious chocolate bars with gooey raspberry or orange fillings, some pieces of real English toffee in all different flavors, and a few bright-colored gumdrops that tasted much better than American gumdrops.
    “It probably has the most calories, too,” said Honey, not that she ever had to worry about her weight.
    Trixie didn’t worry either, even though people were always calling her things like “sturdy.” Then she remembered that Mart sometimes called her worse things than that, and she turned away from the candy section.
    “Ohhh, look!” Trixie cried. “I just have to get that for Bobby.”
    On a crowded shelf stood a miniature London policeman, leading a police dog on a red leash. About three inches high, he wore a dark blue uniform and a round black felt hat with a strap under his chin.
    “Oh, Trix, he’s darling,” Honey agreed. “Look, he even has a tiny necktie.”
    “Bobby will flip,” Trixie said. “I can’t wait to tell him that English cops are called bobbies.”
    “Now we have to find something for Di and Brian and Dan,” Honey reminded her.
    Before they found just what they wanted, Trixie noticed that it was past twelve. “Do you think we could eat at Tiddy Dol’s?” she begged.
    “What’s this thing you have about Tiddy Dol’s?” Honey asked.
    “I don’t know,” Trixie said. “I just like the name!”
    It turned out that Tiddy Dol had been an eighteenth-century gingerbread peddler, and that the specialty of Tiddy Dol’s Eating House was still gingerbread. The girls ate it warm, with butter, honey, and cream, and they had so many helpings that they had to rush in order to get back to the hotel in time.
    “We can go shopping again in Stratford,’ Trixie said as they scurried through the front door of the hotel, right on the dot of two