The Red Trailer Mystery

hesitated, and Honey, from the other side of the car, whispered, "Can you see his face, Trixie? Is it blue? Is he breathing?"
    Just then the man raised his head a little and uttered a faint sigh. He looked pale and ill, but in another moment he was sitting upright, staring dizzily around him and rubbing the back of his head. Gradually his color came back as fresh air circulated through the car. He looked at Trixie and then at Honey and managed a weak smile. "What happened? Where am I?"
    "You’re on a side road not far from Autoville," Trixie told him. "And thank goodness you’re still alive. A perfectly awful man hit you on the head and stole your trailer. Then he came back and shut you up in the car with the motor running so you’d stay unconscious."
    The man stared at her in amazement. "I remember now," he said after thinking for a minute. "I picked up a hitchhiker who said he knew a shortcut to the trailer camp. I thought at the time that this road went in the wrong direction, but that’s the last thing I remember."
    "You were lucky," Honey put in. "I guess not very much of the exhaust gas leaked into the car. If it had, we might not have discovered you in time."
    The man grinned, still dazed. "I don’t know exactly what happened yet, but I seem to owe you thanks for saving my life. My name is Currier. I’m a trailer salesman. I was delivering one to a Mr. Whitsun, who was to meet me for lunch in Autoville." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Good heavens, it’s nearly three. He’ll be furious, and I may lose my job." He turned on the ignition. The motor caught, then sputtered and died.
    "I’m afraid you’re out of gas," Trixie said. "So we really didn’t rescue you, after all. The motor itself would have saved your life in the end."
    Mr. Currier sighed. "I’m terribly confused, and the ringing sensation in my ears isn’t making matters any better. Perhaps you’d better begin at the beginning."
    "Surely you have heard about the trailer thefts," Trixie began.
    "Why, yes." Mr. Currier nodded. "We’ve been warning our customers not to leave the main highways—" He stopped and clasped his forehead in his hands. "Oh, I see it now. I walked right into a trap. That hitchhiker was one of the gang!" He glanced behind him and saw for the first time that his trailer was gone. "But this is dreadful! They’ve taken Mr. Whitsun’s trailer. He paid us eight thousand dollars for it, and it was completely equipped—even had a television set."
    "Don’t worry," Trixie interrupted hastily. "The troopers have found it already and captured the
    gang-"
    An expression of relief mixed with disbelief spread over Mr. Currier’s pale face. "How do you know all this?"
    "There were two men," Trixie explained. "They got jobs at Autoville with forged references. They stripped the stolen trailers of valuable equipment and hid it in an old barn not far from here. We were hiding in the barn when the troopers arrested the men about half an hour ago."
    "Not so fast," Mr. Currier begged with a bewildered grin. "How do you know Mr. Whitsun’s custom-built coach is safe? That’s what worries me."
    "Because," Honey put in, "a friend of ours let the air out of a tire on the thieves’ van. It’s still attached to your trailer and stuck in the woods near here— unless the troopers have taken it away by now. After our friend fixed the van so it would have a flat, he notified the police where to look for it."
    "Well, your friend is also my friend and deserves a fat reward, which, I assure you, my firm will be very glad to give him." Mr. Currier started to get out of the car. "But right now I’d better give Mr. Whitsun an explanation of what happened. Is it a very long hike from here back to the trailer camp?"
    "Only a stone’s throw," Trixie told him. "And you can get gas there, too, or send somebody from the garage for your car."
    "I’ll do that," Mr. Currier said with a smile. "I hope I see you two again so I can thank you properly." He waved and hurried down the road toward the main highway.
    They watched him until he disappeared from sight. "I wouldn’t be in Al’s shoes," Trixie said, "when Mr. Currier tells the police how he shut him up in this car with the motor running."
    "Neither would I," Honey agreed. "I guess both Al and Jeff will get long prison sentences."
    "And it serves them right," Trixie said. "What worries me is that they’ll tell the troopers about Jim and start them looking for him so he can be a witness.