The secret of the Mansion

member of his family, but so far without success. There was a nephew, I remember; but he died about five years ago, and nobody knows what happened to his widow." He walked slowly beside Trixie to the house. "It’s too bad, because there’s no mortgage on that property and it’s worth at least ten thousand dollars. The widow and her children, if there are any, would inherit it."
    "Where are they looking for her, Dad?" Trixie asked.
    "Mainly in Rochester, where she was living at the time of her husband’s death; but, so far, all the Fraynes we’ve contacted in New York State do not belong to the same family."
    It was on the tip of Trixie’s tongue to suggest that maybe the widow had married again, but she thought better of it and said nothing. Such a trail would lead straight to Jonesy, which was the one thing Jim wanted to avoid.
    Trixie did her chores early the next morning and then raced up the hill, anxious to bring Jim the latest news.
    "He’s dead, Jim," she said quietly. "I’m awfully sorry. I wish there were something I could do."
    Jim stared down at the toe of his moccasin.
    "They’re trying to find your mother," Trixie said uncomfortably.
    "Then that settles it," Jim said. "Sooner or later, Jonesy will appear on the scene. I’d better be on my way now."
    "Jim, please." Trixie thought she couldn’t stand it if Jim went off by himself. "It’s all so unfair. This place belongs to you now, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have the money from the sale of it. She stopped as a heavy droning sound filled the air, and, looking up, she saw a squadron of airplanes approaching from the north.
    As they stared up at the sky, one of the planes dropped out of formation and began flying very low. "Looks like it’s going to land somewhere," Jim said. "Golly, it’s turning over and over! That doesn’t look like a stunt to me! I wonder if the pilot’s having trouble."
    As he spoke, there was the deafening sound of an explosion and the plane burst into flames. It hurtled though the air, careening dangerously close to the Wheelers’ house; then, shooting flames and roaring like a dozen fire engines, it crashed into the woods on the other side of Glen Road.
    Trixie was so horrified that she didn’t realize that she had clutched Jim’s arm and was yelling at the top of her lungs. Then she saw something white up in the sky and realized, with relief, that the pilot had bailed out before the plane exploded.
    "The wind’s blowing in this direction," Jim said. "He’s bound to come down somewhere near here."
    Already the parachute was floating just above the trees on the wooded hill, and in a minute it passed over their heads so close to where they were standing that they could see the tense face of the young pilot. Then the folds of the chute became entangled in the branches of a tall tree on the east side of the Mansion. Jim and Trixie raced across the clearing and through the field. The pilot was perched on a branch of the tree, unbuckling his chute.
    Trixie gazed up at him. "Are you hurt?" she called breathlessly.
    His face was pale, but he grinned as he climbed to the ground. "No, but, boy, oh, boy, I thought I was going to be. I don’t know what happened to that engine, but I bailed out just in time." He leaned weakly against the tree trunk. "I am a little shaky. Where am I, anyway?"
    "You’re on the Frayne place," Trixie told him. "I’m Trixie Belden, and I live down in the hollow. This is—" She turned around to introduce Jim. "Why, he’s gone."
    "The redheaded kid?" The young lieutenant pulled off his helmet and mopped his face. "He disappeared in those bushes over there. Maybe he doesn’t like pilots." He laughed. "But a lot of others seem to be interested." He pointed down to the road.
    As if by magic, Glen Road had suddenly become packed with cars and trucks, and people were already swarming up the rutted driveway. Two policemen reached the clearing first and began questioning the pilot, while Trixie ran around to the back of the house to bring him a drink of water. When she returned from the well, reporters were scribbling in their notebooks, and a news photographer was taking a picture of the pilot with the old Mansion in the background. Then she saw Mr. Lytell climbing up the shortcut from the hollow, though how he got there so quickly Trixie didn’t know. Regan and Honey came galloping through the woods on horseback, and in a few minutes ihe clearing was filled with a crowd of