The Mystery off Glen Road

Trixie said airily. “I feel I’m going to faint. I’d best take a shower right away. It’s the only thing that’ll revive me.”
    “Okay, you win,” they said in unison. “We have to get rid of this mess before we do anything.”
    “However,” Mart added, shaking a stern finger at Trixie, “let it be strictly understood, my dear sibling, that you are not to eat everything before we manage to drag our weary bodies up to the Manor House.”
    “I’ll do my best,” Trixie replied. “Let’s see now, what did you say? The ham bone for Patch and the turkey carcass for Reddy. When I’ve finished with the drumsticks, I’ll wrap them in waxed paper and treasure them for you.” She scampered off, chuckling to herself.
    But, as it turned out, all of the Beldens were among the early arrivals at the reception. Guests came not only from the immediate neighborhood and from Sleepyside, but also from towns up the river. Some of those in the latter group, friends and relatives of the bride and groom, were delayed by the Sunday traffic and arrived long after Brian and Mart appeared.
    Celia, looking prettier than ever in her white gown of lace over satin, and Tom, looking like a movie star in his rented cutaway, greeted the guests. Trixie was surprised to find Mr. and Mrs.
    Wheeler were not in the receiving line, as had originally been planned.
    “Daddy was called away on business at the last minute,” Honey said in answer to Trixie’s question. “To Florida, and so Mother just couldn’t resist going along. All planes have been grounded on account of this terrible wind, so they’re driving as far as Washington and taking a plane from there.”
    “I keep telling you it’s a hurricane,” Trixie said. “We’ve already lost a crab apple, and Dad says we’ll probably lose more before the wind dies down. Some of them are more than a hundred years old. Moms is in tears about it. They’re so beautiful in the spring when the blossoms ‘snow’ all over the place.” She stopped suddenly and grabbed Honey’s arm. “Oh, woe! Some of those evergreens down by the clubhouse are ancient, too. Suppose one of them crashes into the cottage!”
    Honey covered her face with her slim hands. “Let’s not even think about such a horrible thing. The walls aren’t really much stronger than those toothpicks you were going to give Celia and Tom as a wedding present.”
    “But there must be something we can do,” Trixie cried. “Now that the boys have eaten just about everything in sight, I suggest we have an emergency conference.”
    “You all go ahead,” Honey said. “I can’t leave Miss Trask to cope with everything by herself. She has to take not only Mother’s place as hostess, but also Celia’s place as the downstairs maid! You know what a good sport she is, Trixie. I’ve got to help her now.”
    Miss Trask, who had originally been Honey’s governess, ran the whole huge estate, together with Regan, the redheaded groom. Honey’s mother, who looked exactly as Honey would in another twenty years, was not very strong, and, as she often said herself, she couldn’t boil water without burning it. Mr. Wheeler was called away so frequently on business trips that he was only too glad to leave the management of the Manor House in the capable hands of Miss Trask and Regan.
    “I don’t know what your parents would do without Miss Trask and Regan,” Trixie said to Honey. “But what about that cross-looking gamekeeper your father just hired? It doesn’t seem like him to hire someone without Regan’s approval. What cooks, anyway, Honey?”
    Honey sighed. “It’s all so involved. Ever since summer, Daddy has been buying up land on both sides of Glen Road, so now he has a sanctuary of about three hundred acres. You know how he loves to hunt and shoot and fish. Well, it’s stocked with all sorts of creatures like deer and pheasant and partridge and trout and bass, which cost a small fortune—more even than the land itself, I guess. So, when one of Daddy’s friends recommended Mr. Fleagle as the best gamekeeper in the world, Daddy snapped him up.”
    “Oh, well, I suppose he’s all right,” Trixie said cheerfully. “But you can see that Regan doesn’t like him. They’ve been glowering at each other ever since Fleagle arrived.”
    “Regan,” Honey confided in a whisper, “despises him. And since they have to share the apartment above the garage, the situation is impossible. They squabble from morning till