The Mystery of the Queen's Necklace Read online

  Trixie heaved a sigh of relief, but there were tears in Honey’s eyes. Honey and I probably never will agree about that man, thought Trixie as they all went back into the house.

  Miss Trask went straight to her room. “I must get a letter off to my sister,” she said. “I’ve been so frightfully busy, but I did want it to have a Stratford postmark.”

  “She’s as bad as my brother,” Trixie whispered to Honey. “Ten days in England and he’ll never talk the same. And anyway, I figured she’d be taking McDuff to the bus station, to see him off.”

  “She probably just wants to be by herself for a little while,” Honey said.

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Hopkins, entered and informed Honey that she had a telephone call.

  “It was Mother,” Honey said when she came back moments later. “She won’t be arriving till late afternoon, and she’d like to spend the night here tonight. She could probably have McDuff’s room, I told her. Then we’ll meet my father in London tomorrow morning and fly back to New York.”

  “One more night in England,” Trixie said happily. The Bob-Whites decided that there was time for a cruise on the Avon that morning. Gregory was still at the theater, but to everyone’s surprise, Anne was free to accompany them.

  “Here go my last two shillings,” said Trixie as the Bob-Whites and Anne paid their admissions and boarded the Swan of Avon.

  It was a lovely ride—through a canal, under the old stone bridge, past private estates with beautiful gardens that sloped down to the river. At one of the woven wood fences, a little boy stood all alone, watching wistfully as the merry boatload passed by under huge chestnut trees and weeping willows.

  “Poor little rich boy,” Honey murmured. “I used to be lonesome like that, before we moved to Sleepyside and I met Trixie, and we found Jim, and started the Bob-Whites—”

  “And here we are chugging along on the Swan of Avon,” Trixie marveled. “Can you believe it?”

  When they got back to Hartfield House, Gregory was there. He had news for them about the necklace, he said, but he seemed worried about something else. “Where’s Father?” he asked Anne.

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” she said.

  The housekeeper had been expecting Mr. Hart to go over her shopping list with her. “I’ve searched the house from top to bottom,” she said. “ ’Tisn’t like him to go off like that.”

  “Could he have decided to go riding, after all?” Jim asked. “Have you checked the stables?”

  Jim grinned modestly when Gregory clapped him on the back. “Bully for you, old fellow,” Gregory said. “That’s exactly where he’ll be.”

  Sure enough, when they reached the stables, Mr. Hart’s handsome black stallion was missing. The Bob-Whites decided to stay and help Gregory with some chores he had put off when he’d gone to inquire about Honey’s necklace.

  “Well, what did you find out?” Trixie burst out at the first possible moment.

  “Come now,” Mart said, “don’t pop your blooming cork!”

  “What’s the bloke talkin’ about?” Gregory dead-panned back. When everybody had finished laughing, he told them that he had consulted with the curator at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre Museum. “It occurred to me that Honey’s necklace might have been used as costume jewelry in Shakespeare’s plays,” he said.

  “Gleeps,” Trixie cried immediately, “so that’s what it was for!”

  “It was just an idea,” Gregory cautioned. “But the curator at the museum is rather keen on getting a look at the piece. If the fake necklace is a duplicate of the queen’s, it could have been copied from the portrait in Warwick Castle, if not from the actual necklace.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Trixie demanded. “Let’s go get the necklace.”

  “Good-o!” Anne’s eyes were shining. “I’ll open the safe for you, since Father isn’t here.”

  “I’ll be with you in a jiff,” said Gregory. “I just have to finish grooming the horses.”

  “Need any more help?” Jim asked hopefully.

  Jim decided to stay with Gregory, and Mart followed the girls to the rear hallway of Hartfield House, where the safe stood behind the check-in counter. Anne had no trouble with the combination, but just as the heavy iron door swung open, the housekeeper came hurrying out of the kitchen.

  “Did you find Mr. Hart?” she asked anxiously.

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Hopkins,” Anne assured her. “He went riding, after all. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.” Ignoring Mrs. Hopkins, the three Bob-Whites were staring incredulously into the open safe.

  It was empty!

  At the Castle Gate ● 17

  WHILE ANNE RANG up the constable, Mart tore up the stairs to tell Miss Trask, and Trixie and Honey raced to the stables to get Jim.

  “We’ve got to get Miss Trask to take us to the station before the bus leaves,” Trixie told Honey breathlessly.

  “The bus? You mean—”

  “Of course! It had to be McDuff. There’s nobody else it could be,” Trixie panted as they sped across the field.

  There was no sign of Jim or Gregory at the stables.

  “Where could they be?” Honey was bewildered. “If they’re not here, we should have met them on their way back. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  “This is very strange,” Trixie said slowly. “Black Prince is in his stall. I thought they said he was gone.”

  “He was! That’s how they figured out where Mr. Hart was,” Honey said. “And now the other two horses are gone instead. But Trixie, what did you mean about Mr. Me—”

  “Can’t talk now,” Trixie interrupted. “Can’t wait either.”

  Even Honey’s long legs could hardly keep up as Trixie fairly flew back to the house. Mart was just coming downstairs with Miss Trask, and Anne was still talking to the constable.

  “You say the necklace is missing?” Miss Trask was asking in her no-nonsense way. “I’m sure there’s some explanation. Where’s Mr. Hart?”

  “He’s missing, too,” Trixie announced, catching her breath.

  “He went riding,” Honey said.

  “Only his horse is back, and now we can’t find him or Jim—”

  “Or Gregory or their horses, either,” Honey said anxiously.

  “The boys must have gone for a ride, but we’ve got to get to that bus station before McDuff gets away,” concluded Trixie.

  “Since when have you decided that we couldn’t get along without Mr. McDuff?” Miss Trask asked a bit sharply. Trixie couldn’t quite look at her.

  “Trixie thinks he did it.” Honey’s voice quavered. “Took the necklace, I mean.”

  “And whatever else was in the safe,” Trixie added. “Come on—let’s hurry!”

  “Trixie Belden, I don’t follow your logic,” said Miss Trask sternly. “Whatever else he may be, Gordie McDuff is certainly no thief.”

  “In any case,” Mart said diplomatically, “we sure could use his help right now, couldn’t we, Trix?” He threw her a warning look.

  “Uh, right,” Trixie hastily agreed. “He must know something about what’s going on. It can’t do any harm to catch up with him and see what he knows.”

  “You probably have a point there,” said Miss Trask. “Although, well—to be totally honest, I was rather counting on never seeing that man again.” Trixie, Honey, and Mart stared at each other in astonishment.

  “He was a nice enough man,” Miss Trask went on, “and I am fond of a Scottish brogue. But frankly, he and his accent were beginning to wear on my nerves. I had no intention of seeing him once we were back in New York.”

  It was not Miss Trask’s habit to confide in the Bob-Whites, but Trixie wasn’t marveling at that. Something else was clicking inside her brain.

  “Miss Trask, please trust me,” she cried. “We haven’t got time for any more explanations—we have to get to the station immediately!”

  “Very well,” agreed Miss Trask.

  Anne stayed behind to wait for the constable, but the others headed
out to the Maroon Saloon, which was conveniently pointed toward town. Mart got in beside Miss Trask in the front, and Trixie and Honey climbed into the backseat. Miss Trask turned the key in the ignition.

  The motor gave no response.

  “I don’t understand,” said Miss Trask. “It’s been running like a charm all week.” She got out, lifted the hood, and peered around in the engine.

  Trixie would have been racing around the grounds, trying to find another car, but she knew as well as anyone that there were very few machines that fazed the versatile manager of the Wheeler estate.

  Ten minutes later, the Maroon Saloon was purring again.

  “A disconnected wire,” Miss Trask said as she steered the car out of the driveway.

  Trixie leaned forward. “Do you think it was sabotage?”

  “Wires normally don’t disconnect themselves,” Miss Trask replied shortly.

  Honey looked miserable, and even Trixie couldn’t bring herself to accuse McDuff aloud. Everyone was silent while Miss Trask drove the car over the old stone bridge and into the parking lot of the bus station. The last morning bus for Glasgow was revving up for departure, and a few late passengers scurried aboard as Trixie and Mart jumped out of the car.

  It occurred to Trixie that she had absolutely no idea of what she was going to say to McDuff when they caught him, but she brushed the thought away. I'll think of something, she assured herself.

  Ignoring the bus driver’s demand for tickets, the two Beldens hopped on board and began making their way through the narrow aisle of the bus. Passengers were still stowing their luggage in the compartments overhead, and it seemed to take forever for Trixie and Mart to reach the rear of the bus. They saw no sign of their former guide.

  “How could I be so stupid?” Trixie cried. “He’s conned us again!”

  “He must have never had any intention of taking this bus,” agreed Mart.

  “Or of going to Scotland,” Trixie said. “But now I know where he is going! Come on, Mart!

  “If we hurry,” she told Miss Trask as she and Mart scrambled back into the Maroon Saloon, “we can still get to the castle before the gate opens.”

  “The castle?" Everyone except Trixie was bewildered, and Trixie’s mile-a-minute explanation wasn’t that helpful. Fortunately, Miss Trask took one look at Trixie’s face and set off for Warwick.

  “Now, suppose you start from the beginning,” Miss Trask said once the car was speeding past old brick farmhouses and flocks of woolly sheep.

  Trixie took a deep breath. “You see, it had to be McDuff who stole Honey’s necklace,” she began. “He’s the only one besides the Harts and their housekeeper who was there this morning. Mr. Hart is not exactly my favorite person, but I can’t imagine Anne’s father being a thief. He doesn’t even want to take people’s money for staying in his house—he’s too proud. And it couldn’t have been Gray Cap this time, because he was locked up in the castle.”

  Miss Trask pressed her lips into a thin line and kept her eyes on the road. “Your logic leaves much to be desired,” she said. “If Mr. McDuff is the culprit, why are we going to Warwick Castle? Won’t he be heading straight for London, where he can disappear?” Trixie shook her head violently. “He has to go to the castle first.”

  “But why?” Honey persisted. “You don’t think he’d have the nerve to try to steal the queen’s portrait, too, do you?”

  “No, no, no!” Trixie’s curls bounced with every word. “Remember, Honey, I told you this morning that more than one person is involved in this case?” Honey nodded, and Trixie went on. “McDuff was in Oxford, for example, when the Rose Room was ransacked, but we know Gray Cap was in Stratford that day! And I haven’t told this to anyone yet because I knew you would think I was crazy, but I heard voices on the battlements when I followed McDuff up the tower after we saw Gray Cap go in there. McDuff must have been telling the pickpocket to lie low till he could get the necklace when he checked out at Hartfield House this morning. Don’t you see? They’re in cahoots!”

  “But you didn’t actually see them talking to each other, did you?” Mart asked. “Did you ever see Gray Cap up there on the parapet?”

  “No, but McDuff wouldn’t let me look around. He practically forced me down the stairs—”

  “But how would Mr. McDuff get the necklace?” Honey interrupted. “That safe wasn’t cracked.”

  “That’s what I’ve been worried about,” Trixie admitted. “You know that big fat roll of bills he asked Anne to put in the safe for him when we all checked our valuables?-Well—”

  “Somebody had to open the safe for him when he checked out!” Mart slapped his knee. “Trixie, you’re a whiz!”

  “But in order to steal the necklace and clean out the whole safe,” Trixie said soberly, “he must have had to pull a gun or something.”

  “Oh, Trixiè,” Honey protested.

  Miss Trask pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. “You don’t think anything has happened to Andrew Hart?”

  “That’s the part I can’t figure out.” Trixie frowned. “The housekeeper couldn’t find him—that was after McDuff checked out—but then we figured he’d gone riding, since his horse was gone. But now Black Prince is back, and all three of them have disappeared—Jim, Gregory, and Mr. Hart.”

  “So McDuff has to stop by the castle to pick up the pickpocket, right, Trix?” Mart said. “And if we catch up with him, he’ll have to give us some answers.”

  “Right. He’s probably hired another car,” Trixie said. “Won’t he be surprised when we drive up in the Maroon Saloon—which he thought he had put out of commission!”

  “He was certainly lying about being an experienced mechanic,” Miss Trask sniffed. “Now, if he had removed the rotor from under the distributor cap, that might have stumped me.”

  “But—if he has a gun—” Honey shivered.

  “I do wish Jim and Gregory were here,” Trixie said. “But it’s still four against two. And we don’t really know that he has a gun. He could have found some other way to threaten Mr. Hart.”

  “We have five minutes before the gate opens,” Miss Trask said briskly, parking the Maroon Saloon in a lot around the corner from the castle. In thirty seconds, she and the Bob-Whites had joined the long queue of Sunday afternoon tourists.

  “I don’t see anything of Mr. McDuff,” Miss Trask said. “Trixie, perhaps there’s some other explanation for the disappearance of the necklace. Something quite innocent.”

  Honey brightened visibly. “Maybe Mr. Hart, Jim, and Gregory took it to show to that curator of the

  Royal Shakespeare Museum.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mart muttered under his breath. “Shrink into the crowd, everybody, and look over there!”

  McDuff was getting out of a black car he had just parked across the street from the castle. Not seeming to notice the Bob-Whites or the Maroon Saloon, he strode toward the castle, whistling “And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.”

  Trixie’s blue eyes shot sparks. “Oh, ye will, will ye?” she whispered.

  McDuff’s gaze was fastened on the heavy timber gate as the porter swung it wide. A crowd of tourists poured in, but Trixie put her finger on her lips and motioned the others to hold back. McDuff bought his ticket and walked through the arch.

  “We’ll stop them on the way out,” she said. “Both of them.”

  “Good thinking,” Mart agreed.

  Honey was hanging on to Miss Trask’s arm, and they both looked unhappy. Trixie was sorry that they were being disillusioned, and she was still worried about Anne’s father, but nothing could suppress the feeling of exhilaration that always came over her whenever the Bob-Whites were closing in on a criminal like Gordie McDuff. If only Jim were here, she thought. We really need him.

  It was Miss Trask who suggested a thorough search of McDuff’s new car for any evidence that he might have inadvertently left behind.

  “Not the jewels, of course,” she said. “He wouldn’t leave them in the
car. But there might be something we could use to persuade the police he should be arrested. Otherwise he’s likely to talk them right out of it. You three keep your eye on the exit. I'll be right back.”

  “What a super idea!” Trixie exclaimed.

  “Sure is,” said Mart, turning back to the gate. “Are you sure you don’t want to call it the Trask-Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency?”

  It seemed like hours, but Trixie’s watch said one-thirty when McDuff and Gray Cap finally appeared around a bend in the winding, stone-walled drive. The gray, scar-faced man wasn’t wearing his cap, but Trixie would have known him anywhere, from that furtive, sidling walk with which he slipped through crowds. At the moment, however, the crowds were all inside the castle. Trixie, Honey, Mart, and Miss Trask were alone except for the young English porter.

  “There they come!” Trixie told the porter.

  “Trixie, you are not to take any chances,” Miss Trask said crisply. She was the first to step forward as McDuff and the pickpocket approached the only public exit from Warwick Castle.

  McDuff’s black eyes wavered for a fraction of a second as they met her furious blue ones. Then he broke into a grin. “Marge,” he said heartily. “Sure, and I thought I had seen the last of ye—that is, ah”—he floundered at the expression on her face—“till we meet again—in America.”

  Miss Trask’s short gray hair fairly bristled as she held out her hand, palm up. “Now, if you’ll give me Honey’s necklace,” she said tersely.

  McDuff hung his head like a schoolboy caught throwing erasers. He reached into his pocket, but the sparkle of silver that flashed as his hand came out was no necklace.

  “Watch it!” Trixie screamed. “It’s a knife!”

  Gray Cap produced another, and the two men motioned the Bob-Whites and Miss Trask over to the porter’s station.

  “I dinna want to hurt anybody,” McDuff assured them. “But just to make certain that ye give us a good start, we’ll take one of ye along with us. How about the bonny lass, eh, Ferdie?” he asked Gray Cap.