The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace

that’s what it was for!”
    “It was just an idea,” Gregory cautioned. “But the curator at the museum is rather keen on getting a look at the piece. If the fake necklace is a duplicate of the queen’s, it could have been copied from the portrait in Warwick Castle, if not from the actual necklace.”
    “What are we waiting for?” Trixie demanded. “Let’s go get the necklace.”
    “Good-o!” Anne’s eyes were shining. “I’ll open the safe for you, since Father isn’t here.”
    “I’ll be with you in a jiff,” said Gregory. “I just have to finish grooming the horses.”
    “Need any more help?” Jim asked hopefully.
    Jim decided to stay with Gregory, and Mart followed the girls to the rear hallway of Hartfield House, where the safe stood behind the check-in counter. Anne had no trouble with the combination, but just as the heavy iron door swung open, the housekeeper came hurrying out of the kitchen.
    “Did you find Mr. Hart?” she asked anxiously.
    “Oh, yes, Mrs. Hopkins,” Anne assured her. “He went riding, after all. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.” Ignoring Mrs. Hopkins, the three Bob-Whites were staring incredulously into the open safe.
    It was empty!

At the Castle Gate ● 17

    WHILE ANNE RANG up the constable, Mart tore up the stairs to tell Miss Trask, and Trixie and Honey raced to the stables to get Jim.
    “We’ve got to get Miss Trask to take us to the station before the bus leaves,” Trixie told Honey breathlessly.
    “The bus? You mean—”
    “Of course! It had to be McDuff. There’s nobody else it could be,” Trixie panted as they sped across the field.
    There was no sign of Jim or Gregory at the stables.
    “Where could they be?” Honey was bewildered. “If they’re not here, we should have met them on their way back. I hope nothing’s wrong.”
    “This is very strange,” Trixie said slowly. “Black Prince is in his stall. I thought they said he was gone.”
    “He was! That’s how they figured out where Mr. Hart was,” Honey said. “And now the other two horses are gone instead. But Trixie, what did you mean about Mr. Me—”
    “Can’t talk now,” Trixie interrupted. “Can’t wait either.”
    Even Honey’s long legs could hardly keep up as Trixie fairly flew back to the house. Mart was just coming downstairs with Miss Trask, and Anne was still talking to the constable.
    “You say the necklace is missing?” Miss Trask was asking in her no-nonsense way. “I’m sure there’s some explanation. Where’s Mr. Hart?”
    “He’s missing, too,” Trixie announced, catching her breath.
    “He went riding,” Honey said.
    “Only his horse is back, and now we can’t find him or Jim—”
    “Or Gregory or their horses, either,” Honey said anxiously.
    “The boys must have gone for a ride, but we’ve got to get to that bus station before McDuff gets away,” concluded Trixie.
    “Since when have you decided that we couldn’t get along without Mr. McDuff?” Miss Trask asked a bit sharply. Trixie couldn’t quite look at her.
    “Trixie thinks he did it.” Honey’s voice quavered. “Took the necklace, I mean.”
    “And whatever else was in the safe,” Trixie added. “Come on—let’s hurry!”
    “Trixie Belden, I don’t follow your logic,” said Miss Trask sternly. “Whatever else he may be, Gordie McDuff is certainly no thief.”
    “In any case,” Mart said diplomatically, “we sure could use his help right now, couldn’t we, Trix?” He threw her a warning look.
    “Uh, right,” Trixie hastily agreed. “He must know something about what’s going on. It can’t do any harm to catch up with him and see what he knows.”
    “You probably have a point there,” said Miss Trask. “Although, well—to be totally honest, I was rather counting on never seeing that man again.” Trixie, Honey, and Mart stared at each other in astonishment.
    “He was a nice enough man,” Miss Trask went on, “and I am fond of a Scottish brogue. But frankly, he and his accent were beginning to wear on my nerves. I had no intention of seeing him once we were back in New York.”
    It was not Miss Trask’s habit to confide in the Bob-Whites, but Trixie wasn’t marveling at that. Something else was clicking inside her brain.
    “Miss Trask, please trust me,” she cried. “We haven’t got time for any more explanations—we have to get to the station immediately!”
    “Very well,” agreed Miss Trask.
    Anne stayed behind to wait for the constable,