The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

concentrate on following him. I don’t want to lose him.”
    The two girls crossed the street, all the while keeping an eye on Peter Ashbury.
    “He’s turning down Madison Avenue,” Trixie said. “Let’s wait until he turns the corner.”
    Honey and Trixie continued to follow the group at a safe distance. Peter Ashbury and the woman strolled casually, occasionally glancing into store windows or holding up one of the children to point out something interesting in a display. At one point, Trixie feared that Peter Ashbury had seen them, and she and Honey dropped farther back, slowing their pace and speaking only occasionally.
    Finally, at an intersection, Ashbury whirled around and looked straight at Trixie. He leaned over and said something to the woman, then turned and stalked angrily toward the two girls, a scowl disfiguring his handsome face.
    Honey’s first impulse was to run, but Trixie had gripped her arm and was holding it tightly. “Smile!” Trixie hissed under her breath as Peter Ashbury approached them.
    “Hello, Mr. Ashbury.” Trixie smiled with more confidence than she felt.
    “So it is you!” he snapped. “What do you think you’re doing, following me?”
    “W-We’re not following you!” Trixie stammered, her courage fading in the face of his anger. “We were—we were just window shopping....” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
    Trixie’s response seemed to confuse Ashbury, and he hesitated. He's beginning to believe me, she thought with relief. He must not have seen us at his apartment building.
    Just then, Honey spoke up. “Yes, Mr. Ashbury,” she said, affecting a slightly puzzled tone. “We thought it seemed like too nice a day to spend in a museum, so here we are. We were just wondering if that was you.” Honey glanced at the woman and children, then quickly looked back at Ashbury, her hazel eyes innocently wide.
    Trixie silently applauded her friend’s performance. She could see that Honey’s words had convinced Peter Ashbury.
    “Yes, it’s turned into a nice sunny day,” he said, a little too heartily. “Very pleasant, for January. My... sister and I thought it would be a good day to take her children for an outing. Well, well. Nice seeing you girls.” Then he turned and hurried away.
    “Whew!” Honey sighed and seemed to melt under Trixie’s still-firm grip on her arm. “I knew he was going to see us.”
    “You were great!” Trixie exclaimed enthusiastically. Then she frowned. “But do you suppose that really was his sis—”
    “Trixie!” Honey cried in alarm, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost eleven-thirty! We’ve got to get back to the museum.”
    The two girls quickly hailed a cab and were soon on their way.
    “I didn’t realize we’d walked so far,” Trixie said, as the meter clicked off another ten cents on the fare. When they arrived, Honey hurriedly paid the cabbie, and the two girls bounded up the steps to the museum entrance.
    The guard who had given them directions earlier that morning spotted them entering the door. “I’ve never seen two girls so anxious to get into this museum,” he chuckled. “Everything in here has been around for a long, long time, young ladies. It won’t disappear in the next few minutes. Take your time—enjoy!” He smiled.
    Trixie and Honey laughed and slowed their pace slightly. The first display was of ancient musical instruments, and they walked briskly up and down the wide aisles.
    “Okay.” Trixie took a deep breath. “We’ve just had a music lesson. Do you think we should tackle seventeenth-century art in the ten minutes we have left?” she asked, glancing at the panel describing the next exhibit.
    “This is ridiculous!” Honey wailed, but before she had a chance to protest, Trixie was dragging her by the coat sleeve past paintings by Rembrandt and Velazquez.
    “Try to remember at least one of these paintings,” Trixie said urgently. “We’ve got to have something to tell Miss Trask.”
    Exactly at noon, the girls hurried back to the museum entrance. Miss Trask, always punctual, was waiting there for them. She didn’t seem to notice Honey’s sheepish look when she enthusiastically asked the girls about what they had seen.
    Trixie, sensing Honey’s guilt, chattered on about how much they had enjoyed the museum, and then she asked Miss Trask about her sister.
    “She’s feeling a little better,” Miss Trask answered. “I’ll call her tonight to check and see how she’s doing, but