The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

business going around scaring honest people out of their wits. Him and his silly tombstone! Witches and ghosts! Great heavens! I’ve never heard such nonsense.”
    Trixie’s mind seemed suddenly to have snapped to attention. “What do you mean, silly tombstone?” she asked. “What is so silly about a tombstone?”
    “Nothing at all, if it’s a genuine one,” Miss Trask answered promptly. “But if it’s Sarah Sligo’s tombstone we’re talking about—and we are—then that’s another matter. I know for a fact that Zeke Collins made it himself.”
    Trixie gasped. “Then that isn’t the witch’s grave—where the headstone is, I mean?”
    “Of course not,” Miss Trask said briskly. “No one ever found out where Sarah Sligo was buried.” Brian stirred. “And did she die on Thanksgiving night?”
    “Oh, yes, that’s common knowledge. But no one can be sure when she was born, or where she was born, for in those days it was unusual for any kind of record to be kept.” Miss Trask turned to leave.
    “Jim tells me you’re going out, Honey. As you youngsters will be all together, I won’t worry about you. Don’t be late, however.”
    There was silence after the door had closed quietly behind her. Then everyone began talking at once.
    “So Trixie was right!” Dan exclaimed.
    “It was Zeke who was spreading all those rumors about the witch!” Di added.
    Brian climbed to his feet. “Good for you, Trixie!” he said warmly.
    “It really looks as if Ms. Sherlock Belden has struck again!” Mart put in.
    Then everyone laughed as Jim gave Trixie the thumb’s-up sign from across the room. The Bob-Whites guessed that even if Trixie’s theories turned out to be incorrect, Jim would still believe that everything she did was right.
    Trixie could feel her face getting red. She was about to Smile back at him, when all at once she noticed something else.
    The large portrait of Honey’s mother hung over the fireplace. Blond and frail, Mrs. Wheeler was smiling at Trixie, too.
    Trixie stood looking up at her. Suddenly she remembered Lisgard House as she had last seen it. She remembered the overgrown bushes outside the living room windows where Zeke must have crouched, listening. She remembered the mansion’s interior, with its gloomy walls and stuffed animal heads. She remembered the antique furniture—all of it fake. Something had been missing — something important....
    Then suddenly, she knew everything!
    She heard Mart exclaim, “Watch out, Brian! Methinks our sibling’s gone off into a daydream!”
    Then Honey’s voice said, “Trix? Is anything wrong?”
    To Honey’s astonishment, Trixie didn’t answer right away. She raced for the door—and only then she turned to gaze at the startled faces turned toward her.
    “Oh, don’t you see?” she cried impatiently. “Everything’s wrong, and there isn’t a minute to lose! Quick, Honey! I’ve got to use your phone!”

    Five minutes later, Trixie was leaning forward in the front seat of the big station wagon, as if to urge it to go faster. With Jim at the wheel, the car sped toward Lisgard House with its load of puzzled passengers.
    “Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?” Mart demanded from his seat behind his sister.
    “Whatever’s going on,” Brian remarked, “we won’t get there at all if Jim doesn’t slow down.”
    “There is a speed limit along here, Jim,” Dan put in. “It would be too bad if we got a ticket.”
    “Especially with the Bob-White treasury flat broke at the moment,” Di said, laughing.
    “What I want to know,” Mart put in, “is which of our many acquaintances did Trixie call?”
    Trixie didn’t seem to be listening, and Fay sat quiet, as intent on the road as Trixie was.
    The rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun, though the very air around them was hushed, as if the storm were waiting only for the right moment to begin again.
    Trixie could hear nothing but the tires singing on the wet road and the purr of the powerful engine under the car’s long hood.
    “This is it,” Jim muttered, pulling up in front of the entrance gates. “I wonder if we should go in this way or around the back?”
    Trixie didn’t wait for Fay to answer. Already she had scrambled out of the car and flung the gates open. When the station wagon had passed through, she swung them shut and jumped back into her seat once more.
    She peered toward the dark mass that was the front of Lisgard House. She couldn’t help