The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

paneled in oak, and heavy timbers arched across the ceiling. The floor was a huge checkerboard of red and white marble. Along the wall opposite the doorway was a large collection of weapons and shining silver armor, but two of the suits of armor were only an arm’s length from the Bob-Whites, within the ropes.
    “I hope those tin suits are empty,” Trixie giggled.
    “Oh, look at the little one,” Honey cried, pointing to a child-sized coat of mail.
    “It’s just about big enough for Bobby,” Trixie said.
    “It belonged to the son of the Earl of Leicester,” Mart informed them. “He was nicknamed ‘The Noble Imp.’ ”
    “I bet he was a cute little boy,” Honey said.
    “Somebody didn’t think so.” Mart grinned ghoulishly. “He died—probably by poison—before he was even a youthful eight years old.”
    “Please, spare us the details,” Honey implored. “Hey—come over here,” Jim called. He was standing by one of the windows in the castle wall, outside the roped-off area, looking down at the river far below.
    “It’s beautiful!” Honey exclaimed.
    The rough water of the falls frothed and sparkled in the sunshine. Even Trixie was spellbound for a minute—until she remembered their quest.
    “Did anybody see anything in the Great Hall that reminds you of the necklace?” she asked. “Oh, I wish Anne would get here!”
    “Let’s look hard,” Honey suggested.
    “It couldn’t be anything connected with the collection of armor, could it?” Jim asked.
    “Let’s see.” Mart consulted his booklet, “They have the supposed sword of the redoubtable Guy of Warwick, and the Saddle and Cloth in the Tudor colors of green and silver that belonged to Queen Elizabeth. Also, the helmet of a crusader, a knight in fifteenth-century German armor on a horse in English armor, the helmet of Oliver Cromwell, the leg piece and gauntlet of the Black Prince—”
    “It couldn’t be anything like that,” Trixie said impatiently. “What else is there?”
    “Well—there’s that huge metal caldron called Guy’s Porridge Pot. It was used to cook up meals for all the troops back in the fourteenth century—”
    Trixie shook her head gloomily.
    “The marriage chest of Isaac Walton?One of those wood carvings?”
    “No, no. Even if there was any jewelry, we couldn’t get close enough to see it.” Trixie wrinkled her forehead, thinking hard.
    “Something in one of the tapestries, or a painting?” Honey asked. “Maybe it was a picture of a necklace that reminded Anne of mine?”
    “Honey, you’re a genius!” Trixie spun her around with a big hug. “Look!”
    She pointed excitedly at a portrait of Queen Elizabeth the First on the wall directly opposite them, hanging above the collection of armor and carved chests. She wore her crown and coronation robes of brocade and ermine, and carried a scepter in her left hand and the jeweled globe called the Queen’s Orb in her right.
    “So? She’s wearing the crown jewels,” Mart said. “We saw them already in the Tower of London.”
    “Strain your eyes and look around her neck,” Trixie squealed.
    A heavy gold necklace, glittering with huge jewels, hung in a wide circle around the royal shoulders.
    “It looks exactly like mine,” Honey said incredulously. “Oh, Trix, it can’t be!”
    “I wish we had some binoculars,” Mart grumbled. “This must be what Anne was talking about,” Trixie said. “She knows this castle inside and out.”
    “Watch out, Trix,” Jim said suddenly.
    Trying to get a closer look, Trixie was pressing up against the rope that cordoned off the furnished area of the Great Hall. Before she knew what was happening, the old rope broke, and Trixie crashed into the nearest knight in armor. With a loud clank, they both landed on the checkered marble floor!
    Her face flaming, Trixie scrambled up with as much dignity as she could muster. The others asked her if she was hurt, and she shook her head.
    “Trixie strikes another blow for international relations,” Mart sighed.
    The stout, red-faced castle guard who appeared didn’t see anything funny about Trixie’s little spill. Trixie expected a stern lecture, but the guard merely glowered at her and began setting up the armor.
    A crowd of curious tourists had gathered, accompanied by the tall Englishwoman who was giving them the tour and who was properly indignant at Trixie for leaving her group.
    Her freckled face was still pink, but Trixie forgot all embarrassment at the