The Mystery of the Velvet Gown

sound of Bobby’s screams. Mart was close behind them. Up ahead, they could see a car, its rear wheels sunken deep in the snow-filled ditch beside the road. The beams of its headlights cut through the dark night at a crazy angle.
    They arrived at Glen Road to find Eileen Darcy bent over Reddy, who was lying in the snow, trembling and whimpering softly.
    Bobby was sobbing hysterically. “I w-w-wanted to c-c-come with you, Trixie! An’—an’ so did R-R-Reddy! An’ now he’s d-d-dead!”
    Trixie knelt down and wrapped her arms around the terrified little boy. “Hush, Bobby. It’s okay. Reddy’s okay,” she crooned, looking questioningly at Brian.
    Brian was examining the Irish setter’s front leg, which was bent and bloody.
    “I think it’s just a broken leg,” he said, “but we’d better get him to the vet right away.”
    Brian removed his coat and gently wrapped it around the shaking dog. “He’s in shock,” Brian explained. “We’ve got to keep him warm. Trixie, you get in the backseat and guide him in. Mart, help me pick him up. Then you and Honey take Bobby home. Trixie will come to the vet’s with me.”
    Quickly, efficiently, everyone did as they were told. Miss Darcy stood there helplessly, wringing her hands and crying, “I didn’t even see him. I’m so sorry. I can’t....”
    “Please, Miss Darcy,” Brian said firmly. “I think he’s going to be all right. Do you think you could drive us? If not, I could drive.”
    Honey, often queasy at the sight of blood, held Bobby, trying to soothe him and quiet his cries: “He’s dead, and it’s my fault!”
    “He’s not dead, Bobby. Brian’s here now, and he’s going to take him to the doctor. Everything will be all right.” But Honey’s voice was shaky and unsure.
    Eileen Darcy handed Brian the car keys. He started the engine, carefully pulled the old car forward onto Glen Road, and headed east toward town and the veterinarian’s.
    In the backseat, Trixie held Reddy’s head gently in her lap, stroking him and softly whispering words of reassurance. But her heart was beating rapidly, and she kept thinking, Please , Reddy , you’ve got to be all right!
    Brian gripped the wheel firmly and drove in silence. Eileen Darcy, who had been frantically apologizing, was now strangely quiet. Finally, Trixie broke the silence.
    “What happened, Miss Darcy?” she asked quietly.
    There was a rush of words, as if the woman had been waiting for someone to confront her with the question. “Oh, Trixie, Brian, I’m so sorry! I—I was driving out to see Miss Trask. My father—”
    “We heard about your father,” Trixie interrupted gently, “and we’re sorry.”
    Eileen Darcy went on, speaking rapidly. “1 felt so helpless being in my rooms alone, and Miss Trask had offered to let me spend the night with her. Then, when I got the letter, I—”
    “What letter?” Trixie asked.
    “From—from a friend in England. She had seen my father recently, and she wrote that he was in good spirits, but that he missed me. And now—oh, I should never have left home!” she cried and buried her face in her hands.
    After several minutes, she cleared her throat and began again. “I suppose I should not have even attempted to drive out here tonight, but the snow had stopped, and the driving was quite all right. I’d just realized that I’d missed the turn for Manor House, when suddenly I hit an icy patch in the road, and your dog ran toward the car. I didn’t see him until it was too late. I tried to swerve and miss him, but.... I’m so sorry.” Her voice was shaking as she turned and spoke to Trixie. “How is he?”
    “He seems to have stopped trembling so much,” Trixie answered, “but his breathing is very heavy. It’ll be okay, Reddy,” she whispered to the Irish setter, stroking his silky fur. “We’re almost there.”
    Brian finally spoke. “I really do think it’s only a broken leg, but we’ll soon know.”
    “It’s a good thing you were there, Brian,” Trixie said. “He plans to be a doctor,” she added to Miss Darcy.
    “Here we are,” Brian said, pulling into Dr. Samet’s driveway.
    The old veterinarian had lived in the same large, white clapboard house for as long as Trixie could remember. He not only tended sick family pets, but also cattle, horses, and other large animals in the area. The first floor of his house was devoted to his practice, and he lived on the second floor. An additional room in the back of the