The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

to do is to keep talking to Miss Darcy about costume design while we look through the catalog. I also want to get a look at the prices of some of those costumes.”
    “Okay,” Honey answered nervously.
    “And don’t be afraid,” Trixie reassured her. “We aren’t doing anything wrong. We’re just being—” she stopped, searching for the right words—“interested students.”
    They arrived at the drama club office and knocked. “Come in,” Miss Darcy called.
    “Hi,” Trixie said casually, poking her head in the door. “I told Honey about the costume catalog, and she was anxious to see it. We had a few minutes, so we thought we’d stop in.”
    Eileen Darcy looked at them curiously. “Of course,” she said. “Please come in. Here is one on eighteenth-century costumes.” Miss Darcy selected a book from the shelf and handed it to Honey. “And here’s another one on Early Am—”
    “Where is the catalog?” Trixie interrupted. Then she stopped, regretting that she had spoken so quickly.
    “The catalog?” Eileen Darcy asked.
    “I—I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Trixie stammered. “It was the one with all the beautiful Shakespearean costumes. I saw it on top of the bookcase this morning.”
    “I’d rather not lend that one to you right now,” Miss Darcy said coldly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have only a few minutes to eat my lunch before rehearsal time. If you’d like to borrow these two books for now, next week you can stop in after class someday and look at the Shakespearean catalog.” Her tone was firm, dismissing them.
    “We’re sorry to bother you,” Trixie apologized. “I know you must be worried about your father. Has there been any news yet?”
    Eileen Darcy turned pale and began rearranging some papers on her desk.
    “No, nothing yet,” she said quietly.
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Trixie said.
    “So am I,” Honey added. “I guess we’d better be going. Thank you for lending me these books.” She gave Trixie a gentle nudge.
    Trixie thanked Eileen Darcy, too, and the two girls left the office.
    “Why did you start asking her about her father?” Honey whispered as they hurried toward the cafeteria.
    Trixie looked at her friend in surprise. “Don’t you see? There is something about that catalog. Didn’t you notice how nervous she was when I asked about it? And how she changed the subject? I was kind of testing her to see how she’d react if I mentioned her father right after we talked about the catalog. You see, if—”
    “Trixie!” Honey exclaimed. “You really do plot, don’t you? I mean, I never would have thought of that!”
    Trixie laughed. “Sometimes you have to make clues, not just stumble on them the way we usually do. I’m disappointed, though, that she wouldn’t let us see the catalog. We’ve just got to get a look at it. I have another lead to track down, too. I want to talk to Bill Morgan.”
    “Why?” Honey asked. “I’d rather stay clear of the Morgan family altogether.”
    “I want to know more about those pictures Peter Ashbury wanted copies of,” Trixie replied, “and I’d like to get a look at the costumes again. If those pictures have been developed.... In fact,” Trixie mused, “I think I’ll run up to the newspaper office right now. Why don’t you go on ahead to the cafeteria and eat? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    Before Honey could open her mouth to protest, Trixie had turned and was hurrying down the hall.
    She ran up two steps at a time to the third floor of the school building, and arrived at the door of the Campus Clarion offices. The door was open, so she poked her head in.
    “Hi!” she said to the blond girl sitting at one of the editorial desks. “Is Bill Morgan around?“
    “He was just here,” the girl answered. “He said he had an errand to do but he’d be right back.”
    “Mind if I wait a few minutes?” Trixie asked. “No, sit down.” The girl smiled pleasantly. “I’m Monica Anderson. You’re Trixie Belden, aren’t you?”
    “Yes,” Trixie answered. “I’m surprised—”
    “Don’t be,” Monica interrupted. “Lots of kids in this school know about your detective work. You’ve become something of a celebrity, actually.” Monica laughed as Trixie blushed. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “I’m a big mystery fan myself. I read every detective story I can get my hands on. Are you working on a case now?” she asked, leaning across the desk eagerly.
    “I