The Mystery off Old Telegraph Road

tires. And Ben and his friends may talk a lot, but we haven’t seen them actually do anything awful yet.”
    “That’s true,” Trixie had to admit.
    “What should we do?” Honey asked.
    “I don’t think we should do anything,” Di said firmly. “If you tell anybody what you suspect, it will just cause hard feelings if word of it gets back to Nick or Ben. I think we should just wait and see what happens.”
    Honey and Trixie looked at each other for a moment, each wondering whether something worse would happen if they said nothing. Both girls knew, however, that they had no real evidence on which to base their suspicions.
    “Di’s right, Honey,” Trixie said finally. “All we can do is wait and see what happens.”
    “And hope we were wrong,” Honey added gloomily.

At Mrs. Vanderpoel’s • 11

    ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, after the Beldens had finished their weekly chores, Jim and Honey came by in the station wagon to pick them up and drive once more along the bike route, to decide where the directional arrows should go.
    Di Lynch was on a shopping trip with her mother, and Dan Mangan was helping Mr. Maypenny patrol the game preserve. But the Bob-Whites had all agreed to meet at the clubhouse later that night to finish their plans for the bikeathon.
    Honey had brought along a notebook and pencil so that she could record each of the locations they decided upon for the signs.
    “I think the easiest way to keep track will be with the odometer readings,” Jim suggested. “What’s an odometer reading?” Trixie asked. “For the information of those Bob-Whites who are not familiar with the mechanics of the automobile, the odometer is the row of numbers above the steering column that indicates mileage,” Mart informed her. “What Jim means is that Honey should write down the exact mileage of every point that we decide should have an arrow.”
    “Right,” Jim said. “When we turned onto Glen Road from the Belden driveway, the final digits on the odometer were three-one-six-point-two. Write that down, Honey. All we have to do is write down the other mileage numbers at each place we choose, then drive the same distance between stops when we put up the signs.”
    “That is easier,” Honey agreed. “I was thinking I’d have to write an elaborate code, like ’third maple tree from fourth mailbox from comer,’ or something.”
    “I thought we could use woodsman’s symbols,” Trixie said, “like the ones Jim taught us when we first met him—bent twigs or piles of pebbles that—”
    “That we could only see if we got out of the car and walked the full length of the route,” Brian concluded. “Your way would be much more romantic, Trixie, but I think Jim’s is more efficient.”
    “Here’s our first spot, gang,” Jim said. “Right here where the bikers will leave the school parking lot on Saturday morning.” He read the mileage off to Honey, who wrote it down in her notebook.
    Jim continued to drive slowly out of town and down Old Telegraph Road, looking for places where arrows would be easily seen by the riders.
    “Wasn’t it somewhere around here that you found that German deutsche mark, Trixie?” Honey asked.
    “Right over there against that hedge,” Trixie said, pointing.
    “Has Sergeant Molinson told you whether or not they’ve found the counterfeiters yet, Trixie?” Jim asked.
    Trixie wrinkled her nose. “No, he hasn’t, which probably means they’re still on the loose. I just wish there were something more that I could do. If Sergeant Molinson hadn’t taken the bank note away from me, I could show it to people who five around here and ask them if they had seen any others like it. That way—”
    “That way you could scare off the counterfeiters, and they’d quietly pack up and move away and set up their operation somewhere else. Let’s face it, Trixie. You don’t know enough about the international currency market to be able to solve this case. Neither do the rest of us,” Brian said.
    “I guess you’re right, Brian,” Trixie said. “I’d just assumed, since there was nothing about the bank note in the Sleepyside Sun, that nobody was working very hard at finding the forgers. It never even occurred to me that Sergeant Molinson could have good reasons for keeping it quiet. I guess I still have a lot to learn about the detective business. But how am I supposed to learn when all I’m ever told is to ’stay out of the way’?”
    Honey had continued to copy down