The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

had been planning on spending the day in the Bodleian Library at nearby Oxford University, but Miss Trask had apparently thought better of it.
    “Gordie and I will head over to Oxford by ourselves,” she said. “The Bodleian Library is an excellent old library, and it does have some genealogical material on the Harts, as well as an exhibit of Elizabethan jewelry. But we’ve decided that it would be a shame for you youngsters to spend a whole day in research when there are so many interesting things to do here in Stratford.”
    “Yes, ye simply must visit the Stratford Market,” said McDuff with an emphatic roll of his r’s. “Stratford’s always been mainly a market town, ye know, and it’s quite an attraction for the tourists.”
    “To market, to market!” Mart said good-naturedly. To buy a fake Scot, Trixie thought to herself with a toss of her sandy curls.
    After McDuff described the market further, Honey said politely, “It sounds like what we would call a farmer’s market back home. It’ll be fun—we have lots of shopping for souvenirs to do, anyway.”
    The Bob-Whites decided to head for the market in the afternoon, because Anne and Gregory had offered to entertain them at Hartfield House that morning. The two Harts were too busy running the house to spend more than a few hours at a time having fun. Andrew Hart appeared to avoid any menial labor, and there didn’t seem to be enough servants for all the work. Gregory’s apprenticeship at the theater kept him busy, also. Both Anne and Gregory looked wistful whenever any of the Bob-Whites mentioned anything about their club or their friends back home.
    First the Bob-Whites helped the Harts clean up the stables, and then Gregory asked Jim to go riding.
    There were only three horses in the large stables, and Andrew Hart had already galloped off on a handsome black stallion. Anne let Jim use her mare—a prancing roan with a star on her forehead.
    “Let’s play tennis,” Anne said to the others. “We can play some doubles if you like.”
    “Anne is a tournament player,” Gregory told them before he cantered off with Jim. “She’s too bashful to mention it herself, but she got to the semifinals at Junior Wimbledon this year.”
    “Gleeps,” groaned Trixie. “She’d better not pick me for a partner. I’m the pits as far as tennis is concerned. I never seem to find the time to practice.”
    “Tennis takes patience,” Mart said, “a virtue foreign to Trixie’s tempestuous nature.”
    The Bob-Whites hadn’t brought their tennis gear, but Anne had enough rackets to go around, and they took off their shoes and played barefoot. The Harts had a grass court that felt cool and soft to their feet.
    “You’re not so terrible,” Anne told Trixie once they started playing. “You just need more confidence, that’s all. You’re a jolly good partner!”
    Trixie and Anne proceeded to trounce Mart and Honey for several games until Jim and Gregory came back from their ride.
    “You played great, Trix,” Honey said that afternoon as the Bob-Whites set off for the market.
    “Anne’s a wonderful partner,” Trixie said. “Not just because she’s so good, but she made me feel like I was playing super, so I played better.”
    Everybody laughed at Trixie’s garbled explanation, but they knew what she meant.
    “Feeling confident helps in any sport,” Honey agreed.
    “I wouldn’t have missed that grass court for anything,” Trixie said. “I’m just as glad we didn’t go to that library.”
    “Me, too,” Jim said. “I think I’m in love—with a horse!”
    “And we really do have to get some presents today,” Honey added. “We don’t have much time left.”
    “True,” Trixie said. “But what we really have to do is solve our mystery—in two days.”
    “We do have some leads,” her partner reminded her. “Those charts Anne’s mother made, and whatever it is Anne’s going to show us at the castle. And then there’s the information Miss Trask finds out today in Oxford.”
    “If any,” Trixie scoffed. “I doubt if she gets any work done with that Transylvanian or whatever hanging around all the time. I just can’t help wondering—”
    “What he is,” Mart interrupted understandingly. “Why would he pretend to be Scottish if he isn’t?”
    “And what’s he buttering up Miss Trask for?” Trixie added, surprised to have Mart on her side for a change.
    “What makes you so sure he doesn’t mean what he says to Miss