The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

“Of course, it’s not the way it was when my husband was alive. Then we sold large volumes of flowers and produce. Now... well, there’s one flower shop in White Plains that takes some blossoms. Most people around here have their own gardens, so I sell only special arrangements occasionally. I need that income to eke out what Social Security doesn’t cover.”
    “That reminds me,” Honey said, taking the envelope from the pocket of her jeans. “Mother asked me to give this to you.”
    “Thank you.” Mrs. Elliot put a hand to her forehead and looked at the concerned faces of the group of youngsters. “And thank you for what you all did.”
    Max Elliot came running past the cottage. His dark eyes flashed, and there was an angry glow under the tan of his unshaven cheeks. “Did he get away?”
    “Yes,” Trixie answered. “I guess that’s my fault. I yelled at him as we rode down the hill.”
    “It’s a good thing you did,” Jim reassured her. “If you hadn’t, he would have started the fire. By the time the fire department could get out here from Sleepyside....”
    Max Elliot turned to Trixie. “Did any of you get a good look at him?”
    “Only from a distance,” Trixie said.
    “I almost saw him,” Di said. “After we rode to the cornfield to tell Max, I saw a car racing down the lane on the other side.”
    “What kind of car?” Jim asked.
    “I couldn’t see that much of it—only the top.”
    “What color was it?” Brian asked.
    Di shook her head. “The sun was too bright, reflecting in my eyes. All I saw was the glare.” Max looked at his stepmother. “Guess we’ll never know.” He stepped toward the gasoline can.
    “Don’t touch it!” Trixie cried out. “We should call Sergeant Molinson. There may be fingerprints.”
    “Of course there will,” Max said. “Mine. This is my gasoline can. Our can,” he corrected himself, glancing at Mrs. Elliot. “It’s one we keep in the pickup.”
    “Are you sure?” Trixie asked.
    He pointed to a metallic spot where the red paint had been chipped away. “It’s ours,” he said dourly.
    “Well,” Mart commented, “that shoots down what I said. An arsonist would probably have brought his own gasoline.”
    Trixie moved determinedly to the gasoline can. “Let’s call Sergeant Molinson,” she suggested to Mrs. Elliot.

    Ten minutes later, the police car came up the Elliot lane. Sergeant Molinson got out and frowned at the B.W.G.’s, particularly Trixie. “What are you kids involved in now?”
    “We’re witnesses,” Trixie replied.
    Mrs. Elliot spoke to the sergeant. “Someone tried to set a fire here. These young people saw the attempt and prevented it.”
    Molinson sighed. “All right, tell me about it.” Trixie, Honey, and Jim all started to talk at once.
    “One at a time!” Molinson snapped.
    Honey and Jim looked at Trixie. Ignoring
    her, Molinson gestured to Jim. “You first. Then the others, if I think it’s necessary.”
    Jim told how, as they were resting the horses on the hill, they had seen the man pouring gasoline around the shed.
    “How could you tell from up there that it was gasoline?” Molinson inquired.
    “We couldn’t for sure, of course,” Jim replied. “But it was a red can—that one over there —and he was wearing a suit, not dressed for gardening. So we assumed—”
    “Assumed,” Molinson repeated.
    “We assumed correctlyl” Trixie declared. “It was gasoline. And the man’s fingerprints will be on that can.”
    “He wasn’t wearing gloves?” Molinson queried sharply.
    Trixie felt deflated. She hadn’t looked at the man’s hands. Neither had the other B.W.G.’s.
    “I thought so,” Molinson remarked.
    “But you’ll still check that can?” Trixie asked timidly.
    “Of course,” Molinson replied. “And I’ll probably find all your prints on it.”
    “Just Jim’s and Max’s that we know of,” Trixie told him.
    “Good,” said Molinson. “Jim and Max will have to stop by the station as soon as possible so I can take their prints. Then we’ll know which ones to eliminate on the can. That’s all I need from you kids.” Sergeant Molinson produced a handkerchief and picked up the gas can by slipping it through the handle. He, Max, and Mrs. Elliot headed for the driveway.
    Trixie caught Honey’s eye, then handed Susie’s reins to Mart. Honey gave Lady’s reins to Brian.
    “Now what are you up to?” Mart murmured.
    Trixie didn’t reply. Instead, she led Honey through