direction of the marshland. “Oh, do hurry before it gets really dark. Others—” Miss Martin’s voice grew suddenly so soft it was almost a whisper—“others have been lost in there.” She stared off, with a shiver.
“We’re on our way right now,” Brian said hurriedly. “And thanks'!” He motioned Jim and Trixie to follow him as he turned away. Trixie hesitated and tried to think of something polite to say, but Miss Martin was still looking off, with a strange expression on her face, so, after a moment, Trixie turned and followed Jim and Brian down the narrow brick walk toward the gate.
“I wonder why she’s lived here so long, when she’s so afraid of the swamp. I wouldn’t,” Trixie stated flatly as she caught up with the boys. She spoke softly, because Miss Martin was still standing in the doorway.
“Maybe when the old family mansion burned down, she had no other place to go,” Jim guessed quietly. “I imagine that this cottage was the servants’ quarters originally.”
“Uh-huh.” Brian nodded, but he was frowning. “I suppose so. I was trying to remember something Dad told me about the Martins one day after he’d been out here on bank business. He said there’d been some kind of family tragedy a long while ago—about the same time that the big Martin place burned down.”
“Let’s ask him about it tonight,” Trixie said quickly. From a long way off they heard the sound of a car siren. “Hey, listen!” Jim said suddenly. “Police!”
“Chasing a speed bug on the highway, probably,” Brian guessed. “Sound carries a lot farther at night.”
Both boys stopped to listen, but Trixie plucked at her brother’s sleeve. “Come on, Brian. Let’s go to the swamp. Can’t you see how dark it’s getting? If Gaye finds herself alone in there in the dark....” She gulped as her voice trailed off.
But she didn’t have to finish. They knew what could happen.
They started through the gate but stopped suddenly as the police car siren became louder.
“Headed this way.” Jim frowned. “That’s strange!”
“Did you tell anyone about Bobby’s bike?” Brian asked hastily.
“Only the two of you,” Trixie assured him. Then she remembered something. “Oh! That reporter from the Sun!"
“What about him?” Brian scowled.
“I saw somebody watching us from the stable just as we drove away from Wheelers’, and I’m sure it was Paul Trent. And the person who was sneaking around outside the tack room could have been Trent, too. He could have phoned the police and told them where we were coming to look for Gave.”
Headlights came into sight at that moment, and they saw the blinker light of a police car. It slowed down as it came up.
“We’ll know in a minute,” Jim said quietly as they stood waiting.
“Look! I knew it!” Trixie exclaimed indignantly. The first person to jump out of the police car was Paul Trent. He saw them and came swaggering over.
“Did you find her?” he called out importantly.
Trixie glowered at him and so did Brian. It was Jim who answered casually, “Find whom?”
In the background, Miss Crandall was being helped out of the police car by Sergeant Rooney.
“Gaye, of course!”Trent snapped.
“What makes you think we were looking for her here?” Jim asked coldly.
“Why, I heard—I mean—” Trent was stammering as they stared woodenly at him. “That is—uh—”
Trixie stuck her chin out at him. “You mean you sneaked around listening to a private conversation!” she snapped. “Well, it won’t do you much good, because she just isn’t here!”
Sergeant Rooney and Miss Crandall hurried up to them. “Where’s the kid?” he demanded.
“We haven’t found her,” Brian told him. “Miss Martin says she hasn’t seen her around.”
The sergeant wheeled on the young reporter. “I thought you claimed they had proof she was out here! What’s the idea? Giving false information to the police is a misdemeanor!”
“But I
“We’re on our way right now,” Brian said hurriedly. “And thanks'!” He motioned Jim and Trixie to follow him as he turned away. Trixie hesitated and tried to think of something polite to say, but Miss Martin was still looking off, with a strange expression on her face, so, after a moment, Trixie turned and followed Jim and Brian down the narrow brick walk toward the gate.
“I wonder why she’s lived here so long, when she’s so afraid of the swamp. I wouldn’t,” Trixie stated flatly as she caught up with the boys. She spoke softly, because Miss Martin was still standing in the doorway.
“Maybe when the old family mansion burned down, she had no other place to go,” Jim guessed quietly. “I imagine that this cottage was the servants’ quarters originally.”
“Uh-huh.” Brian nodded, but he was frowning. “I suppose so. I was trying to remember something Dad told me about the Martins one day after he’d been out here on bank business. He said there’d been some kind of family tragedy a long while ago—about the same time that the big Martin place burned down.”
“Let’s ask him about it tonight,” Trixie said quickly. From a long way off they heard the sound of a car siren. “Hey, listen!” Jim said suddenly. “Police!”
“Chasing a speed bug on the highway, probably,” Brian guessed. “Sound carries a lot farther at night.”
Both boys stopped to listen, but Trixie plucked at her brother’s sleeve. “Come on, Brian. Let’s go to the swamp. Can’t you see how dark it’s getting? If Gaye finds herself alone in there in the dark....” She gulped as her voice trailed off.
But she didn’t have to finish. They knew what could happen.
They started through the gate but stopped suddenly as the police car siren became louder.
“Headed this way.” Jim frowned. “That’s strange!”
“Did you tell anyone about Bobby’s bike?” Brian asked hastily.
“Only the two of you,” Trixie assured him. Then she remembered something. “Oh! That reporter from the Sun!"
“What about him?” Brian scowled.
“I saw somebody watching us from the stable just as we drove away from Wheelers’, and I’m sure it was Paul Trent. And the person who was sneaking around outside the tack room could have been Trent, too. He could have phoned the police and told them where we were coming to look for Gave.”
Headlights came into sight at that moment, and they saw the blinker light of a police car. It slowed down as it came up.
“We’ll know in a minute,” Jim said quietly as they stood waiting.
“Look! I knew it!” Trixie exclaimed indignantly. The first person to jump out of the police car was Paul Trent. He saw them and came swaggering over.
“Did you find her?” he called out importantly.
Trixie glowered at him and so did Brian. It was Jim who answered casually, “Find whom?”
In the background, Miss Crandall was being helped out of the police car by Sergeant Rooney.
“Gaye, of course!”Trent snapped.
“What makes you think we were looking for her here?” Jim asked coldly.
“Why, I heard—I mean—” Trent was stammering as they stared woodenly at him. “That is—uh—”
Trixie stuck her chin out at him. “You mean you sneaked around listening to a private conversation!” she snapped. “Well, it won’t do you much good, because she just isn’t here!”
Sergeant Rooney and Miss Crandall hurried up to them. “Where’s the kid?” he demanded.
“We haven’t found her,” Brian told him. “Miss Martin says she hasn’t seen her around.”
The sergeant wheeled on the young reporter. “I thought you claimed they had proof she was out here! What’s the idea? Giving false information to the police is a misdemeanor!”
“But I
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