The Mystery on the Mississippi

talks to anyone when he’s driving,” his wife explained.
    “He doesn’t talk much any other time, does he?” Honey asked, laughing. “I guess he keeps his mind on his business. Have you been in detective work very long?”
    “Years,” Mrs. Aguilera answered, “in one form or another. Trixie seems to be a natural-born detective herself.”
    Oh, don't let Honey tell her we are detectives , Trixie prayed, and her prayer was answered. Her friend started to speak, then smothered her voice with a cough. She was silent after that.
    The speeding car passed everyone on the road, weaving in and out of traffic skillfully and surely as it sped northward in the dark night.
    Trixie was almost sure they were on the same road their car had followed on their return from Hannibal. That seemed a million light-years ago. Oh, if the boys were only with them now!
    As the car passed another familiar place along the highway, Trixie grew more and more apprehensive. Ahead of them, a junction of two highways loomed. Red and blue neon lights indicated a filling station or, perhaps, a roadside cafe.
    “Mr. Aguilera,” Trixie said purposefully, “please stop the car at this junction ahead. I want to try and telephone back to the motel to tell the boys where we are.”
    “No.”
    “He means he hasn’t time now,” Mrs. Aguilera explained.
    “I just have to telephone to them,” Trixie insisted, “because we have promised one another always to report our whereabouts..I must telephone,” she repeated, her hand on the door. “It’s right ahead now. You have to stop at the junction, anyway. I’ll rush the call through. It won’t take five minutes.”
    “No.” Mr. Aguilera hesitated only a second at the stop sign, then put his foot down hard again on the accelerator.
    “Why, Trixie,” Mrs. Aguilera said in a soft voice, “I do believe you may still be distrustful. Surely that note from Chief Otway should have convinced you that we are friends—”
    “Chief Otway?” Trixie repeated, terror shaking her voice. “The name on the note was Ogilvie. I remember it well.”
    “Of course!” Mrs. Aguilera trilled. “There was an officer called Otway. How silly of me. Ogilvie is the chief’s name. James N. Ogilvie.”
    “The note said ‘Leighton N. Ogilvie,’ ” Trixie said in a weak voice. “Did you hear that, Honey? ‘Leighton N. Ogilvie’—not ‘Otway’ and not ‘James N. Ogilvie.’ Did you hear that, Honey? Did you?”
    “Yes, I did,” Honey answered. “I heard it. It would be a hard name to remember, Mrs. Aguilera.”
    “Shut your traps, the whole bunch of you!” Mr. Aguilera called savagely. “That means you, Elena, too. Of all the dimwits I’ve ever known, you’re number one on the list... can’t even remember your own name. Hold tight, dear young ladies, for I’m slowing down to turn!” He whirled the steering wheel to the right and reeled into a dirt road.
    Trixie shaded her eyes and looked into the darkness. She was sure she saw the arm of a sign and sickeningly sure that it said “St. Peter.” They were back on the road that led to that old house! The Aguileras were going to stop there and maybe kill both her and Honey. Something terrible was bound to happen. Involuntarily she reached across Mrs. Aguilera’s lap to find Honey’s comforting hand.
    On the car went. Not quite so fast now, for the dirt road was narrow and the shoulders were high. A dense wood closed in on each side. The bulk of the old house lay ahead in the darkness.
    “Why are you taking us here?” Trixie asked, scarcely able to form the words, for cold terror gripped her. Her mind went back to the map of the river, the map that was among the papers Lontard left in the room at the motel. They're following that same route , Trixie thought. They’re in cahoots with Lontard! That’s certain!
    “Where are we?” she asked again defiantly, her voice stronger. “Why are you taking us here?”
    A low growl answered her from the front seat, and Mr. Aguilera glanced back.
    “Because this is the road that leads to the rendezvous we have with the authorities,” Mrs. Aguilera answered slowly. “If you will be patient, you will find that out in a very short time now. We are nearing our destination. Try to trust me, Trixie.”
    “That awful old house!” Trixie cried. “We’re near it. We’re going to stop there , Honey. We’re going to stop there, and I just know something awful is going to happen to us.”
    “We’re not