The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

“Aye, there ain’t much that goes on around here I don’t know about,” he said, almost to himself. “What was it this time? Did Sarah make an appearance?” He stared from one to the other of them. “I’ll tell you straight, someone’s doin’ something to upset Sarah. Someone’s calling her back from her grave. I don’t like it, I tell you. I don’t like it at all....”
    Fay looked as if she was about to faint.
    “We’re going home,” Trixie said firmly. “Come on, Fay, Honey. Good night, Mr. Collins.”
    Zeke Collins didn’t move. “It’s almost like it was in the old days,” he muttered. “There’s black magic around, and that’s bad news.”
    Trixie swung open the gate and pulled her friends after her. “Good night,” she called again over her shoulder. She could sense that the old man was still staring after them.
    “You mark my words,” he shouted suddenly. “Whoever it is who’s disturbing the haunt—aye, and there is a haunt to disturb—is going to be sorry. There’s an evil spirit in that house, and her name is Sarah Sligo. You hear me?”
    By the time Trixie and her friends had reached Glen Road and were hurrying along it, some of the night’s terrors seemed to be nothing but a bad dream—a nightmare from which they had at last awakened.
    The streetlights threw the girls’ shadows ahead of them, making them appear as if they were giants out for a stroll. The shadows shortened, vanished under their feet as each lamp was reached, then lengthened again behind them.
    Trixie could hear the small sounds of the night life around them as tiny creatures scurried through wild underbrush searching for food. In the distance, getting fainter with each step, the marsh frogs kept up their plaintive croaking.
    Trixie could hear Honey and Fay talking in low tones beside her. But she wasn’t listening. Her mind was busy, trying to recall every detail of the horrifying night’s events. She remembered, too, the confession Fay had been about to make when it was all over.
    What had she meant when she’d said she was possessed? Was it possible that Sarah Sligo had somehow taken over Fay’s body and was now trying to work her evil once more?
    Trixie had no answers to any of these questions. “But just wait till morning,” she muttered to herself, “and then I’m going to try to find out everything there is to know.”
    All the same, she couldn’t help wondering where the knowledge would lead her.

Dark Suspicions 7

    IF YOU REALLY WANT to know what I think about your mind-boggling and mystifying adventures last night,” Mart said for the third time, “I think that with a small amount of cogitation—if you are still capable of it, Trix—you’ll come to the same sane and sensible conclusion that I have reached myself.” He took a deep breath. “In other words, sister mine, you were dreaming.”
    Trixie glared at him across the breakfast table. “We weren't dreaming, my dear little twin brother. You can ask Honey.”
    Mart reddened and looked annoyed, as he always did when Trixie reminded him that he was only eleven months older than she was.
    He forked up the last bite of blueberry waffle from his plate and popped it into his mouth. “Me mmf mewy wiff monk merfy,” he said.
    “If you wouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Trixie told him, “maybe I could understand what you’re saying.”
    Mart chewed, swallowed, took a long sip from his milk glass, and leaned back in his chair. “Ah, that’s better,” he announced, patting his stomach. He cocked an eyebrow at Trixie. “What I said was that I can’t very well ask Honey. She took Fay over to Manor House to show her around there. So until I receive definite confirmation of your hair-raising tale, my considered opinion, previously stated, remains unchanged.” He looked across the table at Brian. “What do you think?”
    Brian had been listening quietly to their conversation. “You have to admit, Trix,” he said at last, “that the whole thing sounds crazy. You woke Mart and me up in the middle of the night to let you in. You promised to tell us all about it this morning—”
    “Which I’ve done,” Trixie put in.
    “—but it still doesn’t make sense,” Brian continued. “Mart and I were talking about it after you three had gone upstairs to bed.” He stared at her curiously. “How did three of you ever manage
    to fit into two beds, by the way?”
    “Very carefully,” Trixie answered absently.
    Although