The Mystery of the Headless Horseman Page 3

  “Harrison,” she called uncertainly, “is that you?”

  No one answered, but all at once, Trixie had the feeling that someone was there, watching her from inside the room. Then, before she could move, something leaped at the window, straight toward her face!

  Trixie screamed and jumped, falling hard against the porch railing.

  “What is it?” Honey shouted. “What did you see?”

  Trixie shuddered. “It—it was a terrible black hairy thing! It—it had long white fangs! Oh, Honey! There’s a monster in that house!”

  To the Rescue • 4

  HONEY NEVER WAS ABLE to explain what she did next. She knew what she meant to do. She meant for them both to leap on their horses and ride far, far away, never to return.

  What she actually did first was to turn and peer through the window. What she did after that was to stand there, quite still.

  After a few seconds, Trixie saw Honey’s shoulders shaking and heard her making muffled, snuffly noises.

  “Is—is the monster still there?” Trixie asked, her voice trembling. “Can you see it?”

  Honey turned away from the window. Her face was scarlet. Her lips were pressed tightly together. She looked as though she were about to collapse, and then she did—with laughter!

  “Oh, Trixie,” she cried, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand, “I’m truly sorry! I tried so hard to hold it in. Yes, your monster’s still here, but you’d better come and meet him. I think he’s cute.”

  A cute monster? What in the world could Honey be talking about? Reluctantly, Trixie walked to the window and forced herself to look.

  There, sitting on the window seat and looking back at her, was not a monster but a very large, very fluffy, very beautiful black Persian cat. As she watched, he opened his mouth wide and yawned.

  “At least you were right about the teeth,” Honey said, still trying to control her giggles. “They are very long.”

  Trixie felt relieved, ashamed, and amused, all at the same time. She scratched on the windowpane with her fingernails. The cat came closer and tried to rub his head against her hand. She could almost hear him purring from where she was standing.

  “I don’t know how I could have been so silly,” she confessed, “and I suppose he wasn’t really jumping at me at all. He was just jumping onto the window seat. Wait till the boys hear about this; they’ll never let me forget it.”

  “Then we simply won’t tell them,” Honey declared loyally. “But what are we going to do now?”

  “I suppose we’d better leave,” Trixie said. “Maybe that isn’t Harrison’s bike, after all.” Honey was disappointed. “I guess you’re right—” She stopped. “What was that? Am I hearing things?”

  But Trixie had heard it, too. The noise came from somewhere inside the house. Thump, thump, thump! It sounded as though someone were beating on a wall or on a door.

  Trixie shouted at the top of her lungs, “Is that you, Harrison?”

  A faint voice answered her.

  “Did you hear that?” Honey exclaimed. “He said the front door’s unlocked.”

  The front door, which they had not thought to try before, was indeed unlocked. Trixie and Honey ran at top speed through the little house, which smelled strongly of—was it lavender?

  They found themselves standing in a sunny kitchen whose walls were hung with gleaming pots and pans.

  “Why,” Honey remarked, “it reminds me of the kitchen at Crabapple Farm.”

  But Trixie’s attention had wandered. She saw a not-quite-empty dish on the floor, containing what were obviously the remains of the cat’s supper. She saw the door to the cellar, with its old-fashioned heavy key turned in its lock. She also saw the iron bolt—which had been pushed home and which she and Honey now struggled to release. In another second, the door was open.

  An almost unrecognizable figure staggered into the kitchen. Trixie had seen scarecrows that looked better than this!

  The man’s graying hair stood on end. His black jacket was torn, his striped trousers wrinkled. A faint stubble of gray beard showed on his chin—and one side of his pale face was covered with dried blood.

  Trixie and Honey took one horrified look before rushing forward to help him to a kitchen chair.

  “Thank you, Miss Trixie. Thank you, Miss Honey,” the man said politely. “I was beginning to think no one would ever come.”

  Harrison was found!

  Fifteen minutes later, the Bob-Whites were together again. It had been Trixie who had summoned them urgently to Sleepyside Hollow. She had stood on the front porch and whistled their

  very special signal to the wooded hills: bob, bob-white-, bob, bob-white. First Brian and Jim and then Mart and Di appeared, as if by magic, through the trees.

  Brian and Mart were as surprised as Trixie had been at having found the unexpected shortcut to Sleepyside Hollow. Then Brian, concerned as always when anyone was ill or injured, had taken charge.

  He had immediately telephoned Dr. Ferris and had listened to crisp instructions. Now both the doctor and the ambulance he had promised to send would be here at any moment. Harrison, pale and more shaken than he cared to admit, lay covered with a blanket on the living room couch. There was nothing to do but wait.

  The Bob-Whites gathered by the window, their heads close together, quietly talking over all that had happened.

  “Harrison looks better since you washed the blood off his face,” Honey told Brian. “Even that gash on his head doesn’t look so bad.”

  “Do you think he’s seriously hurt?” Di asked, sounding anxious.

  “It’s hard to say,” Brian said. “I think he’ll need stitches, at least. And, of course, he’s had a bad shock. Spending the night in that cold cellar didn’t help, either.”

  Di put a hand on his arm. “But he will be all right, won’t he?” She tried to laugh. “I know it sounds silly, but with Dad away, I—I feel sort of responsible for seeing that the servants are—you know—”

  “Comfortable and happy?” Mart asked. “Something like that,” Di agreed. She wrinkled her pretty forehead. “I still don’t understand what Harrison was doing here in the first place, but— Why, Brian, what’s the matter?” Brian, with a sudden exclamation, had left them abruptly and was striding toward the couch. He bent over the injured man. “Harrison?” he said urgently. “Can you hear me?”

  A faint smile crossed Harrison’s pale face. The eyes, which had only just closed, now opened and looked at him. “I can hear you.”

  “I’m sure you don’t want to, but I think it’s best if you keep talking to us,” Brian said. “You may have a concussion. It’s very important that you don’t fall asleep.”

  “Are those doctor’s orders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well.”Harrison sighed. “I have to admit there is something I would like to tell you.” Trixie had been standing silent, deep in thought. The smell of lavender was even stronger now. What could have happened here? She crossed the room and stood by the couch. She motioned to the others to follow.

  “Are you going to tell us about last night?” she asked gently.

  “Trixie!” exclaimed Di. “I really don’t think we ought to bother Harrison with questions now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Trixie said, startled. “I only thought—”

  “If you don’t mind my saying so,” Di said stiffly, “I think that sometimes you let your bump of curiosity get the better of you. I’m sure there’s nothing mysterious about the happenings of last night.”

  Trixie glanced at her sharply. What was wrong with Di? She had a funny lah-di-dah tone in her voice that Trixie had never heard her use before. It was almost as if—that was it—as if Di were playing a part on the stage.

  And the role she’s playing is Lady Diana of the Lynch estate, Trixie thought. She was not sure she liked it.

  Di was still talking. “I’m sure Harrison had reasons for coming here last night. Those reasons are definitely his own business, and he certa
inly doesn’t have to tell us anything.”

  Mart laughed easily. “Why, Di,” he said, “there’s no need to sound so defensive. Of course Harrison doesn’t have to let out even one little peep if he doesn’t want to. What made you think we were about to give him the third degree?” Harrison seemed primly amused. “There is really nothing to give me the ‘third degree’ about,” he said. “In fact, what I had on my mind to tell you had nothing to do with the events of last evening.”

  Trixie thought it was funny that Di had been bossy for nothing. She couldn’t help it. She giggled.

  Di flung her an annoyed glance. “Of course, Harrison, if you want to tell us something, that’s quite all right.”

  “I was only going to say that you may count on me for tomorrow’s festivities,” Harrison said mildly. “I will be there, Miss Diana.”

  Brian made a sudden movement, as if he were about to say something. He changed his mind and contented himself instead with watching his patient closely.

  Di leaned toward the couch. “You really mustn’t worry about it,” she said in her normal tone of voice. “All of us just want you to hurry up and feel better.”

  There was an immediate murmur of agreement from the circle of young faces around the figure on the couch.

  Harrison seemed to relax almost at once. Trixie watched the faint color creep back into his cheeks. She heard him take a deep breath and saw him close his eyes, as if with relief.

  Jeepers!she thought. He’s really concerned about the bazaar tomorrow!

  “Harrison!” Brian called sharply. “Don’t fall asleep! Trixie, Mart! All of you! Keep him talking! I’m going to see if there’s any sign of that ambulance.”

  When he had gone, Di looked as though she were trying desperately to think of something to say. All she finally managed was a hesitant “We were very—well—worried about you when you didn’t come home last night.”

  There was no answer.

  The black Persian cat jumped down from the window seat and came and rubbed himself against Trixie’s ankles. She bent down and picked him up, then began to tickle him under his chin.

  “I’ll bet his name is Fluffy,” she said.

  Harrison’s eyes opened. “No, his name is Henry the Eighth. It used to be just plain Henry, but we—that is, his owner and I—think he’s got a lot of wives, you see.”

  “His owner?”

  “Mrs. Crandall. Mrs. Rose Crandall. Henry is her cat. This house belongs to her, too. She—she was called away unexpectedly yesterday. She should be home soon....” His voice faded.

  Trixie didn’t look at Di. “You came here last night to give Henry his dinner, didn’t you?”

  Di opened her mouth to protest, but something in Harrison seemed to have snapped to attention. “Now, how did you know that?”

  “Keep talking, Trix,” Jim whispered.

  Trixie said, “There was a' cat’s dish on the kitchen floor and a freshly opened can of cat food on the counter. You didn’t even have time to put it away in the refrigerator, did you?”

  Harrison seemed to be choosing his words with care. “No. I—I thought I heard a noise in the cellar, you see. I went down the stairs. I shut the door behind me and accidentally locked myself in.”

  “And your cranium?” Mart asked, trying to help Trixie keep the conversation going. “How did you come to smite your pate?”

  “Ah, that was very foolish of me,” Harrison said, “very foolish. I was trying hard to reopen the door, and I slipped and fell down the stairs.” He met Trixie’s gaze blandly. “And that’s really all there is to tell, miss—except, of course, to thank you for rescuing me. By the way, how did you know I was here?”

  “We followed the marks made by your bicycle tires,” Honey said. “When we saw the bike on the front porch, we guessed we were on the right track.”

  “You may leave the bicycle here,” Harrison said, “and I’ll retrieve it later. It will be quite safe.” He paused. “It was very fortunate for me that you did follow my trail. This house was solidly built many, many years ago. The cellar is in the rear, and I feared no one would hear my cries for help.”

  “We almost didn’t.” Honey had to raise her voice above the wail of a siren.

  “Hooray!” Mart cried. “The medicinable conveyance is here at last.”

  “And so is the doctor,” Jim said on his way to open the front door.

  Suddenly everyone seemed to be busy at once. Mart and Jim hurried outside to soothe the horses, who were frightened by the unexpected noises. Di rushed to give earnest instructions to the ambulance attendants. Even Brian ran out briefly to report to Dr. Ferris, who was climbing out of his car.

  Without a specific task to do, Honey became restless. As Trixie watched, her friend wandered around the room, almost absentmindedly closing the drawers of a desk. Then she tidied some disarranged books and straightened a greeting card that stood on the mantlepiece.

  Only Trixie remained by Harrison’s side. She glanced down at him and realized that he had been watching her as intently as she had been watching Honey.

  They looked at each other in silence.

  “There’s more to tell, isn’t there?” Trixie said quietly.

  Harrison only shook his head. “No, miss,” he said. “You’ve heard the whole story. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  But Trixie knew that he hadn’t.

  Curiouser and Curiouser ● 5

  IT SEEMED as if it were no time at all before the ambulance was on its way to the hospital. The Bob-Whites could still hear the wail of its siren long after it had disappeared around the bend in the road.

  “Well, that’s that,” Jim said, staring after it. “Now I suppose we’d better get back in the house, put everything to rights, and then get on home.”

  Brian dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “You may as well know,” he said, “there’s no chance that Harrison will be well enough to look after that bazaar tomorrow. I had guessed as much, and Dr. Ferris just confirmed it.”

  “Will they keep him in the hospital a long time?” Honey asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Brian answered cautiously, “but I can’t be sure. They’ll have to take X rays, and he may have a concussion, as you know. In that case, there’s simply no telling when he’ll be released. I’m sorry, gang, but that’s the way it is.”

  The Bob-Whites had been expecting this news, of course. It had been obvious from the moment Trixie and Honey had found the injured man.

  Di looked as if she were about to cry. “I—I’m sorry,” she faltered. “I f-feel as if somehow it’s all my fault. Oh, if only Harrison hadn’t come here last night!”

  Trixie hurried to put her arm around Di’s shoulders, her earlier irritation with her friend now completely forgotten. “Of course it isn’t your fault, Di. You mustn’t take everything so seriously. You don’t need to feel responsible for what happened. Don’t worry.” She appealed to the others. “We’ll think of some way we can go ahead with our plans for the bazaar, won’t we?”

  “Sure we will,” Jim muttered, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Absolutely!” Mart tried to grin.

  Brian said nothing. He scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his boot.

  Di wasn’t comforted. “I wanted everything to be so perfect tomorrow,” she whispered. “With Dad away, I felt I was sort of in charge of everything. I wanted my parents to see that I could handle the responsibility. And now this has to happen—”

  “Miss Trask!” Honey said suddenly.

  Trixie was puzzled. “What about her?”

  “Don’t you see?” Honey’s hazel eyes sparkled with excitement. “We could ask Miss Trask if she’d take over in Harrison’s place at the bazaar tomorrow.”

  “Hey!” Mart yelled. “That’s a superbly splendiferous notion!”

  “Oh, Di,” Trixie breathed, “do you think your father would agree to it?”

  All at once, Di was as excited as the others. “I think he might,”
she said. “In fact, I’m almost sure he would. I’d have to call him and find out, but Dad knows how very reliable Miss Trask is. Oh, how perfect! My goodness, she’s been in charge of parties—”

  “And weddings,” Trixie added. “Don’t forget the weddings. Remember when the Wheelers’ maid Celia married Tom Delanoy?”

  “How could we possibly forget it?” Jim asked, laughing. He thought also of the time when his cousin, Juliana, had married her Dutch fiancé.

  On both occasions, Miss Trask had handled all the arrangements very efficiently indeed. It hadn’t been her fault that Trixie and the rest of the Bob-Whites had been busy solving mysteries then,too.

  “The question is,” Brian said, “will she do it?”

  “I’ll ask her as soon as we get home,” Honey promised. “In fact, we’ll all ask her. If we look sorrowful enough, how can she refuse?”

  Their hopes high once more, the Bob-Whites reentered the house.

  “We have to put everything back where we found it,” Brian ordered. “Honey, will you refold that blanket? It belongs over there in that closet. Mart, if you could just empty this bowl of water and put this towel somewhere. Trixie, Harrison was concerned about his hat. It’s still in the cellar, I guess. I promised him we wouldn’t forget it.”

  Trixie left him organizing his willing workers. She was glad of the chance to take a look at that cellar.

  Mart walked into the kitchen with the bowl of water just as she was poised at the top of the cellar steps.

  “Take care, squaw,” he said, grinning. “We don’t want another tragedy on our hands. Watch your nethermost appendages as you descend those stairs.”

  “I’ll watch my step. You just see that your graceful fingers don’t drop that bowl,” Trixie said, annoyed.

  The cellar was dark and cold, and Trixie shivered as she looked around. Judging by its thick stone walls and its two barred windows, she guessed it must have been a wine cellar at one time.

  A single unshaded bulb hung from the ceiling. When she switched it on, Trixie could see shelves of jams and jellies and canned fruits.