The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

story about that stupid mouse you said you saw in the hallway last night,” she replied. “I could see that Fay believed you, but then, she doesn’t know you the way I do. Trixie Belden? Scared of a mouse? That’s the silliest thing I ever heard of!”
    Trixie grinned at her. “It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment.”
    Honey leaned toward her. “Well, now you’ve had time to think about it. And now I want the truth! What was it you saw? It was something that scared the daylights out of you, wasn’t it? You should have heard yourself, Trix. I’ve never heard such a bloodcurdling scream in all my life!”
    “Except for the scream we heard later outside Fay’s bedroom door,” Trixie told her, her face grim. “And I’ve got an explanation for that, too.” She hesitated, then told Honey everything she knew. Trixie told her about the whispering voice she’d heard when she was alone in the kitchen, after Brian had left the house. She told her of the strange figure she’d seen later, when she had gone to check the lock on the back door.
    “It wore a black cloak, Honey,” Trixie said slowly, “It had a tall hat on its head. I tried to see its face, but I couldn’t. It was in the shadow, somehow. Then, as I looked, its outlines got all faint and wavy. Then it said, ‘Beware,’ and then it was gone.”
    Honey’s eyes were enormous as they stared at her friend. “Was it the witch’s ghost?” she breathed.
    “I thought it was,” Trixie admitted. “The more I thought about it, you see, the more I realized that I’d been able to see right through it. It was transparent!”
    Honey gasped. “Then it was the ghost!”
    Trixie shook her head. “It was a clever trick to make me think so,” she declared. “I almost believed it, too. Then Di told me something, just as we got home this afternoon, that changes everything, Honey! I know what’s behind this weird haunting of Lisgard House.”
    Honey stirred uneasily. “I don’t think I understand what you mean, Trix. Mr. Gregory and Mr. Hunter are sure the place really is haunted.”
    “But it isn’t,” Trixie said. “You see, there’s someone they haven’t even thought about. It’s someone who’s been trying all along to scare everyone away from Lisgard House. And do you know why? Ever since old Caleb died, he’s been stealing the antique furniture, Honey. He’s had clever fakes made, and he’s put them in place of the real stuff. He’s been selling that original furniture, probably for pots of money. It’s fooled everyone— even Mr. Gregory.”
    Honey sat back and gasped. “Why—why, Trixie! Who is it you’re talking about?”
    “Zeke Collins,” Trixie announced triumphantly, “that’s who!”
    “I still don’t understand,” her friend said, frowning. “I get the bit about the furniture and selling it and everything. But I don’t understand at all about any of the other things. Why did he pretend the house was haunted?”
    Trixie leaped to her feet as if she couldn’t bear to sit still any longer. “Figure it out, Honey. Everything was fine after old Caleb died and after Mr. Gregory moved in. Mr. Gregory wasn’t at the house much. He kept on going to New York City on business.”
    “I get it,” Honey said. “That left Zeke with a clear field to do what he wanted when he wanted. He could remove one piece of furniture and move another back in again in nothing flat. And then, when Mr. Gregory came home again, he never noticed anything, because he isn’t an expert on antiques, anyway.”
    “Exactly.” Trixie moved to the windows, pushed aside one of the organdy curtains, and stared out at the gray November landscape.
    To her surprise, storm clouds were gathering high overhead, and as she watched, the first gentle drops of rain plopped into the puddles that remained from the storm of two nights before.
    “It’s raining again,” she said to Honey over her shoulder.
    But Honey wasn’t interested in the weather. “Tell me what Zeke did when the Franklins moved in,” she demanded.
    Trixie turned from the window. “Zeke must have wondered how he could get rid of them,” she said flatly. “Then he had a bright idea. He remembered all the stories that had ever been told about Lisgard House. The ones he didn’t remember, he made up. He started spreading rumors and gossip, Honey. It wouldn’t have been hard to do. There’re always people who are willing to believe that a place is