The Indian Burial Ground Mystery Read online

  “We still have the hardest fish to hook,” Honey said. “In the eyes of Miss Trask and Regan, this may be a crazy plan.”

  “Oh, they’re bound to go for it. It won’t be difficult for them, will it?”

  “No-o-o,” Honey said cautiously, “but I still don’t know. By the way, where are Di and the boys?”

  “Waiting for us at the clubhouse, of course,” Trixie replied breezily. “Just where they’re supposed to be. We’re all going to lay this trap together. Ooooh, I can hardly wait for tonight!”

  The girls’ first stop was Regan’s apartment. Honey told him all about Professor Conroy. Then Trixie told him the plan. “All you have to do is shut your lights off early and stay by the phone,” she said convincingly.

  Bill Regan looked at the eager girl with a puzzled expression on his face. “You know, Trixie, sometimes you do the strangest things.”

  “But it isn’t strange, Regan. It’s going to work.”

  “Knowing you, I’m sure it is,” Regan replied with a rueful smile. “I don’t know how you talk me into these things, though.”

  Trixie smiled. “Thanks, Regan. You’ll see. This plan is foolproof.”

  Trixie and Honey clambered down the stairs that led from Regan’s apartment, and headed to the main house.

  “Now for Miss Trask,” Trixie said excitedly. “I hope she’ll do it.”

  “If she doesn’t,” Honey said, “the plan won’t work.”

  “I know,” Trixie said uneasily. “You’ll have to help me convince her. Miss Trask isn’t the kind of person who plays games.”

  “You have to admit, this is hardly a game.”

  “I know. That’s the problem. I’m sure she’d rather call the police and let them catch the burglars.”

  “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t caught as many burglars as you have,” Honey laughed.

  The two girls went up the front steps and into the house. Miss Trask was just coming out of the library.

  As always, she listened carefully and with interest to what Trixie and Honey proposed. But she didn’t like the idea.

  “It seems awfully silly,” she said, cocking her head to one side. “And you say that Regan has agreed to this?”

  “He sure did,” Honey said emphatically. “All you have to do is spend the evening in Regan’s apartment, and keep a lookout from his window,” Trixie said.

  “But how can you be sure the burglars are going to come back at all?” Miss Trask asked. “And why tonight?”

  “Let’s just say it’s one of my hunches,” Trixie replied confidently.

  “Humph,” Miss Trask grumbled. “It sounds as if I’m going to spend the evening sitting around in the dark, and all because I know how much you two enjoy playing cops and robbers.”

  “It won’t be so bad,” Honey said. “You can always talk to Regan.”

  Shaking her head, Miss Trask finally agreed. “I don’t know how those two do it…” she muttered as she went back into the library.

  Convincing Bill Regan and Miss Trask to go along with the plan was only the beginning. Next came Celia Delanoy, the Wheelers’ cook.

  Trixie asked Celia to make the Bob-Whites a picnic supper which they would eat at the clubhouse. Celia readily agreed. The night promised to be hot and muggy, and she welcomed the opportunity to prepare a cold supper and get out of the kitchen early.

  Now the plan was really taking shape. By dusk, Celia and her husband, Tom, would be safely tucked away in their trailer. The Manor House would be darkened as early as possible.

  Later, Miss Trask joined the Bob-Whites for supper at the clubhouse. When it was almost dark, they went to the Manor House and took up their positions. Miss Trask and Regan went to Regan’s apartment. Honey, Trixie, and Di hid behind a clump of magnolia bushes just outside the French windows.

  Brian, Mart, Dan, and Charles shut off all the lights in the house, and then hid. Brian and Charles stood on either side of the front door. Mart stood behind the huge double doors that led from the foyer to the living room. Dan hid behind the door to the library.

  Then they waited. It felt like hours to Trixie. After all the planning and excitement of the day, she could hardly keep still.

  Just as Trixie was about to give in to an attack of the fidgets, she heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel. She watched as a car slowly came up the driveway. As it rounded the curve, the headlights were shut off. Then the car continued slowly in the darkness.

  Instead of pulling up to the front door, it continued across the lawn and parked in front of the veranda—only a few feet from where Trixie, Honey, and Di were hiding. The car doors opened slowly, and two men stealthily crossed the veranda and opened the French windows.

  Trixie immediately gave the Bob-White whistle, long and low: bob, bob-white. She hoped that Regan would hear it. Suddenly the girls heard a yell and a growl from inside the house.

  Bolting out from under the bush, the three girls ran for the French windows. Trixie gave the whistle again, this time loud and shrill: bob, bob-white.

  Honey turned on the lights as they rushed into the house. The sight that greeted the girls was enough to make them burst out laughing. Brian and Mart were sitting on Professor Conroy’s back, twisting his arms behind him. Dan and Charles were holding a large, blue-satin upholstered chair across Harry Kemp’s chest, pinning him to the floor. Charles’s knee was pressed into Harry’s stomach. Both men had angry, red faces.

  Moments later, Regan burst in holding a heavy wrench in his hand. Miss Trask was right behind him.

  “Did you call the police?” Trixie asked.

  “Yup,” Regan said, brandishing the wrench in Professor Conroy’s face. “I called them when I saw the car’s headlights go off as it came up the driveway. Only an unwelcome visitor would pull a stunt like that.”

  It didn’t take long before the scream of sirens was heard as a police car roared up the long driveway. Trixie gave a sigh of relief. She suddenly realized how dangerous her plan had been. The two angry men pinned to the floor might have been carrying guns! They might even have hurt one of the Bob-Whites in the scuffle! She was glad to see Sergeant Molinson come into the room.

  He took one look around at everyone, then put his gun back into its holster. “Looks like you didn’t need us,” he grumbled when he saw how effectively they had subdued the two men. “I presume these are the suspects?”

  “You presume right,” Charles Miller said happily. Then Regan, Charles, and Trixie all started talking at once.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Sergeant Molinson finally said, throwing up his hands. “One at a time, and down at the station house. We need to take these two in for booking.” He shot a grim look at Trixie. Then he snapped handcuffs on Professor Conroy and Harry Kemp.

  14 * The Real Treasure

  “I can’t believe it,” muttered a graduate student after Trixie had explained the events of the night before. “If that doesn’t beat everything I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what does!” The Bob-Whites were seated under the shade trees around the edge of the dig site. The late-afternoon sun shimmered on the meadow. But the usual feeling of busy activity was gone. Now the students just sat around, looking disheartened. They listened as Trixie told about the morning she’d spent at the Sleepyside police station.

  “And not only that,” Trixie added proudly, “it turns out that Kemp and Professor Conroy are the ones who committed all the other burglaries in the area, too.”

  “The thing I can’t figure out,” Brian said thoughtfully, “is how you knew the professor would come back to the Manor House last night.”

  “That was the easy part,” Trixie answered. “I figured that after Honey told him that she had to leave the dig because she and Miss Trask were going to Europe, he’d figure that he and Harry could rob the Manor House in complete safety. And I had a feeling they’d act quickly, too.”

  “What I find amazing,” Charles said, “is that Conroy wasn’t an archaeologist at all!”

&nb
sp; “He just wished he was one,” muttered another student. “What incredible nerve!”

  “Well, he was pretty good,” Charles admitted. “He sure had us fooled.”

  There was a low undercurrent of grumbling as the students thought about how easy they’d been to fool.

  “I can’t believe how much trouble Conroy went to, just to get money for archaeological research,” Mart said wonderingly.

  “Sometimes the urge to be an archaeologist can be overpowering,” Charles said with a sad smile at Trixie. Trixie smiled back. She understood what Charles meant.

  “He pretended to be a friend of the family, too,” Honey said. “And he wasn’t even a friend of Professor Ingles.”

  “Conroy was just a clerk in the archaeology department at Oxford University,” Trixie explained. “He took the job so he could get Oxford stationery, which he used to write phony letters of recommendation from Professor Ingles.”

  “He knew how hard it would be for the Wheelers to get verification from Ingles,” Charles explained. “Remember, Ingles was in the Sudan, and very hard to get hold of—even in an emergency.”

  The young people sat in silence for a while, digesting the amazing events of the past day. Charles Miller looked around the dig site mournfully.

  “And did you hear what Conroy said down at the police station?” he said. “He thinks he knows where the lost continent of Atlantis is located.”

  “What’s that?” asked Di.

  “Atlantis was a great, ancient civilization,” Brian said. “We know about it only through the writings of Plato. It was supposedly destroyed by an earthquake, and then sank into the sea. Many people believe that Atlantis was a perfect democracy. Conroy believed that it was also a very wealthy land, but no one in academic circles would help him finance an expedition. So he got the money another way—by stealing it.”

  “I’m not a bit surprised,” Charles said. “Who would spend all that money on a madman’s dream? Of course, he could have made it all back—and plenty more—if he’d actually found some treasure.”

  “It sounds as if he thought he was Heinrich Schliemann,” Brian said.

  “That’s true,” said Charles. “Schliemann had absolutely no credentials as an archaeologist. All he had was a lot of money, and a good idea about where the ancient city of Troy was located. Academics thought Schliemann was a fool because he based his research on ancient legends, not on archaeological evidence. But he found Troy and really cleaned up!”

  “If Heinrich Schliemann could do it,” Honey said, “why couldn’t Conroy? No one believed Schliemann, either.”

  “In a way, it’s too bad he didn’t get funding,” Charles said thoughtfully. “It would have been fantastic to go on an underwater excavation—even if we never found Atlantis!”

  “Now we should have a discussion about the lack of funding for worthy research,” said a graduate student. “That’s always good for a few laughs.”

  “You know what Mark Twain said,” Mart explained. “ ‘Rich or poor, it’s good to have money’!”

  “What about the ghost?” Di asked. “What was that all about?”

  Trixie and Charles exchanged knowing glances.

  “A ghost?” Mart said. “How could you forget to mention a thing like that, Trixie?” Trixie pouted. She knew Mart was teasing her about ghosts. “Oh, it was nothing. The night of the burglary, Charles was running around in the woods wearing a funny costume. He thought he could scare us. Hah!”

  “It was a practical joke,” Charles said, looking embarrassed.

  “I knew there couldn’t be a ghost,” Trixie said as nonchalantly as she could. “So I decided not even to mention the incident.”

  “Not a ghost!” Di gasped. “I thought I was going to faint!”

  “I wasn’t scared at all,” Trixie said smugly.

  Honey coughed loudly, trying to cover her laughter.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Dan said. “How did Conroy manage to attend a burglary if he was in the hospital with a concussion?”

  “Easy,” Trixie said. “He faked the concussion. It’s not so hard to do. The doctors kept him under observation for ten days, but that didn’t keep him from climbing out the window after the last nurse check. They found the rope in his room.

  “Harry would wait for him down below, and then bring him back to the hospital very early in the morning. He’d spend the rest of the day looking pale and sick. It was the perfect cover.”

  “Who wouldn’t look pale and sick after being out all night!” Di joked.

  “It was a clever cover,” Brian admitted.

  “And you know what?” Trixie added. “I bet they were planning to set Charles up, just in case the police got too close.”

  “Those beasts!” Honey exclaimed. “They were trying to make it look as if Charles were the burglar. How awful.”

  “Thank goodness it’s all over,” Di said. “What a week!”

  “And what a day! We’d better get back home,” Brian said, standing up. “It’s getting late.”

  “We have to start packing up,” said a student. “The dig is obviously over.”

  “Yeah,” another student said glumly. “The dig is over, but the summer isn’t. We won’t be able to get any other jobs, and we won’t get any course credit, either.”

  “What bad luck,” Charles said. “The summer is ruined, and all because I answered a fantastic-sounding ad on the bulletin board at school.”

  “Maybe not,” Di put in hopefully. “You never know. Maybe things will work out.”

  “I don’t see how they could,” he replied sadly.

  “Charles, why don’t you pack later,” Brian said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Moms wants you to come back and have dinner with us tonight.”

  “Sure,” Charles said. “I’d like that.”

  “Wait till you taste Mrs. Belden’s wonderful cooking,” Honey said. She had also been invited for dinner.

  “Great,” said Charles. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”

  The Bob-Whites and Charles said good-bye to the students, and walked down the road leading out of the dig site. Trixie could see that Charles was upset. She wished there was some way to help him.

  For dinner, Mrs. Belden made her special hamburgers, potato casserole, and a big tossed salad with avocado dressing. There was strawberry shortcake for dessert.

  Everyone was seated around the big diningroom table when Mr. Belden came in the front door.

  “Hey, Dad,” Mart said, reaching for a platter, “you made it in the nick of time. We were about to eat everything up. You know us!”

  “I know you, you mean,” Mr. Belden said with a fond smile at his exuberant and ever-hungry son.

  “How was your day, dear?” Mrs. Belden said

  as she took his jacket and his briefcase. “Sit down and tell us about it.”

  “I have a nice surprise,” Mr. Belden said with a wide grin, “but I want you young people to tell me about your day first. I gather it was pretty exciting.”

  Trixie told him all about their morning at the police station, and everything that Sergeant Molinson had found out about Professor Conroy. There was so much to say, she hardly touched the food on her plate.

  “And they found the Renoir in Professor Conroy’s tent,” she continued at breakneck speed, “and they traced the rest to a warehouse in Brooklyn. It was full of all the things they’d stolen.”

  “That’s right,” Brian put in. “Also, Harry Kemp had found out about a hidden cache of gold that Charles was looking for. He was probably planning to steal it from Charles, if he ever found it.”

  “By the way,” Charles said, “did they ever find Edward Palmer’s diary?”

  “They sure did,” answered Brian. “It’s back in the archive room, safe and sound.”

  “But where was it?” asked Honey.

  “Harry Kemp had it,” Trixie said. “Apparently Charles told Harry that he’d found the diary with the map
in the archive room.”

  “I had to,” interrupted Charles. “He was pestering me day and night to get hold of that diary.”

  “Anyway, Harry wanted to see the treasure map for himself,” Trixie continued. “That afternoon when Charles was busy at the dig, Harry went to the Historical Society. Jake Hanson told him that I was there, so Harry decided to wait in his car for me to leave. I guess he didn’t want me to know he was interested in buried treasure. Harry saw me leave, all right, but I saw him, too.”

  “But I still don’t understand why he took the book,” Brian said. “After all, he’d made a copy of the map for himself. He didn’t need to steal the book, too.”

  “That was just an accident,” Trixie said. “After I was gone, Harry went down, found the book, and copied the map on his yellow pad. When he heard Honey and me clattering down the stairs, he panicked. The only way for him to leave the room without being seen was through the window.”

  “I get it,” Brian said. “And as an afterthought—just to keep you and Honey from getting a copy of the map, too—he stole the book.”

  “Right,” answered Trixie. “But he made one mistake. He forgot to take his yellow pad. That’s how I managed to make a pencil rubbing of the treasure map.”

  “Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. Belden. “So many people think there’s gold hidden around this neck of the woods. I’ve always wondered where they get the idea that hidden gold would stay hidden for very long at the rate people look for it.”

  Charles turned beet red, and looked down at his plate.

  “I think you have to live around here,” Brian said, seeing his friend’s embarrassment, “to know how impossible finding gold really is.”

  “I bet Professor Conroy and Harry would have stolen the gold from Charles—that is, if he ever found it,” Trixie said.

  “You’re probably right,” Honey added. “Well,” Mr. Belden said, clearing his throat, “I think it’s time for me to tell you what my surprise is.”

  Trixie clapped her hand over her mouth. She was so engrossed in her explanation of the day’s events that she’d forgotten all about her father’s surprise.