The secret of the Mansion

money, and I’m glad we found it for Jim." She stopped. "Oh, heck, somebody’s coming, Honey. I can hear Reddy barking."
    Together the girls crept to the open window and saw Reddy racing in angry, threatening circles around a man who had a camera strapped to one shoulder.
    "It’s another newspaper photographer," Trixie whispered. "Boy, I hope Reddy scares him away."
    "I heard the policeman tell them not to go inside the house," Honey whispered back. "He won’t dare come in, will he, Trixie?"
    "That man wasn’t here this morning," Trixie told her. "He’s probably from the city. Oh, gosh, he’s not the least bit afraid of Reddy. Look, he’s patting his head, and Reddy’s eating it up."
    "We’d better hide somewhere," Honey said in a frightened voice. "Oh, where’ll we go, Trixie?"
    "In the cellar," Trixie hissed. "Quick!"
    As they darted through the kitchen, Trixie suddenly remembered the gaping hole in the dining room. "I’d better put that picture back in place," she whispered. "If a photograph of that secret hiding place appeared in the papers and Jonesy saw it, he’d think Jim found the money and would never stop looking for him."
    She raced back and slammed the big oil painting against the wall as the photographer climbed in through the living-room window.
    "Who’s there?" he called out as he heard the bang. Trixie dodged through the pantry into the kitchen and drew Honey quickly behind her down the cellar stairs. She had left her flashlight in the alcove, so it was pitch black with the door closed.
    "I’m too scared to move," Honey breathed. "We’ll break our necks on these rickety old steps." She pitched forward then against Trixie and let out an involuntary scream.
    Trixie groped wildly in the darkness for the railing and found it just in time to prevent both girls from falling to the stone floor below. "We’ve got to go down and hide behind something now," Trixie said desperately. "If he heard you scream, he’ll open the door and find us on the stairs."
    Somehow, they found their way down, and in the shaft of light from the small, cobwebby window, they located the furnace and knelt behind it. Just in time, too, because, in a minute, the kitchen door swung open, and a man s voice called out:
    "Anybody home?"
    A spider scurried across Honey’s arm, and she had to set her teeth to keep from crying out. She let out a long sigh of relief when the man finally moved away, closing the door behind him.
    They crouched behind the furnace, listening to the footsteps on the floor above for what seemed like hours. At last there was a long silence, and Trixie groped her way back up the stairs. With the additional light from the kitchen, Honey followed her, and together they tiptoed into the hall. From there they could see into both the dining room and living room and felt reasonably sure that the photographer had gone.
    "He may be taking pictures of the outside," Trixie whispered. "I’ll climb out and look around." A taxi was just pulling out of the driveway at the foot of the hill and Trixie called, "He’s gone, Honey. Come on. Let’s go home."
    Reddy was waiting for them in the clearing, and then they saw Queenie, proudly marching from the underbrush, clucking to five little newly hatched chicks. Reddy circled around them with great interest but kept at a safe distance.
    "Oh, aren’t they darling?" Honey gasped. "She’s really a wonderful mother. I don’t blame her now for flying at me the other day. I must have almost stepped on her nest."
    Trixie chuckled. "Even Reddy has sense enough to stay away from her when she has chicks." She patted her pocket to make sure the ring was safe. "I’m glad we have something for Jim, anyway. And let’s try to keep him from worrying the rest of the time. I can hardly wait for our ride tonight. Regan was swell to let us go."
    "He said he wouldn’t worry about us if Jim was along," Honey said. "But I had an awful time talking Miss Trask into letting me stay with you tonight. At first she wanted to come, too, or invite you up to our place."
    "I was afraid of that," Trixie admitted. "How’d you ever make her give in?"
    "I honestly don’t know." Honey smiled. "She was arguing with me when suddenly she stopped in the middle of a sentence. ‘Why, Honey Wheeler,’ she sort of gasped, ‘you’re getting fat! And you’re as brown as a berry. Your parents will be very pleased when they get back and see you looking so well.’ And then she said, more to herself than