The secret of the Mansion

at the top floors as though debating whether or not he should search them before departing. Finally, after lighting another cigarette and with several backward glances at the old Mansion, he disappeared down the rutted driveway.
    They waited breathlessly until they heard the motor of the car on the road below turn over, and then they stood up, stretching to watch it drive away toward the village.
    "That settles it," Jim said as they moved into the clearing. "I’m going to stay up here tonight and keep an eye on this place."
    "But, Jim," Honey objected, "suppose he comes back and catches you while you’re asleep?"
    "He won’t," Jim assured her. "I’ll sleep in the summerhouse. If I sleep." He vaulted in through the window and came back quickly with the mug and the Bible. "At least, he didn’t take these with him. But he knows now that I’ve been living here." He lifted the overhanging vine which hid the entrance to the old arbor and began to crawl along to the summerhouse. "Good night, girls," he said. "You’ll be perfectly safe down at Trixie’s. He doesn’t want to see you any more than you want to see him. Don’t worry."
    Reluctantly, Trixie and Honey started down the hill to the hollow.
    "He’s crazy to try to sleep in that stuffy little house," Trixie complained. "But there’s no sense in arguing with Jim. He’s redheaded and stubborn." The moonlight threw long black shadows across the path, and Honey edged closer to Trixie. "Do you think that awful man will come back?" she asked, tucking her arm through Trixie’s as they came out of the woods behind the garage.
    "I don’t think so," Trixie told her. "At least, not tonight. Anyway, he won’t bother us, as Jim said. He has no way of knowing that we’re all alone."
     

The End of the Mansion • 19
     
    HONEY SHIVERED as they hurried across the moonlit lawn to the terrace. "I won’t be able to sleep a wink. I'll dream all night of Jonesy’s horrid face peering at me through that broken window. He looked so mean."
    Trixie wasn’t at all sure that she herself wouldn’t have similar nightmares, but she forced herself to laugh as she unlocked the kitchen door and whistled to quiet Reddy’s frantic barking. She let Reddy out for one last run, and then, at Honey’s insistence, they locked all the downstairs doors and windows. By that time, they were so exhausted they fell into bed without bothering to brush their teeth.
    In spite of her worries, Honey dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Trixie couldn’t close her eyes. Her whole body ached, but her imagination kept her thoughts whirling round and round, reenacting all the exciting events of the past week. She tossed and turned, trying to keep her face out of the bright path of moonlight which streamed in through the window, and finally she sat bolt upright in her bed.
    "It’s no use," she told herself. "I just can’t sleep. I’m too worried about Jim. He’s not going to stay in the summerhouse. He’s going to run away again tonight. I know he is. I could tell by the way he talked."
    She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window to stare wide-eyed up at the old Mansion, sharply silhouetted against the starlit sky. "He won’t dare stay there another minute now that Jonesy knows where he’s been hiding." Hot tears welled up in her blue eyes. "We’ll never see him again. If only that mean stepfather could have stayed away."
    She rubbed away the tears which had momentarily blurred her vision. "Gosh," she whispered to herself, "I’m like Honey, seeing things. I could have sworn I saw a ghost floating out of that open living-room window."
    She rubbed her eyes again. Something white and feathery was seeping up around the roof of the Mansion. As she watched, it disappeared into space, but then, as a puff of wind blew up from the hollow, she could see another pale, ghostlike form take shape on one side of the house.
    It looks like ghosts, she thought with a nervous giggle. I guess the moonlight’s playing tricks on me, and I must be sleepier than I thought I was. She turned to go back to bed when, with a start of horror, she remembered the glow of Jonesy’s cigarette as he moved from room to room. "It’s not a ghost," she cried out loud, wheeling back to the window. "It’s smoke. Honey! Honey," she shouted, sticking her bare feet into her loafers. "The Mansion’s on fire!"
    Honey opened her eyes sleepily and nestled firmly under the covers. Trixie reached across the bed and shook