thought—” Trent squirmed unhappily. He broke off under the sergeant’s glare. Sergeant Rooney turned his back to the reporter.
“Okay, kids,” he said a bit grimly to Trixie and the two boys. “What’s the story here?”
Trixie explained in a few words about finding the bicycle in the ditch and why she thought Gaye might have left it there and be somewhere around the old cottage.
“We were just on our way to the swamp to try to find her, when you arrived,” Brian added.
The sergeant looked grim. “I’m glad you didn’t. There’s a lot of dangerous quicksand in there, and some of it is close to the footpath. It’s no place to wander after dark.”
“I know I’ll never see my darling niece again! Oh-h-h!” Miss Crandall leaned on young Trent’s shoulder and sobbed.
Trixie had a sudden idea. “Miss Martin might know someone who could guide you through the swamp at night,” she told the sergeant. “There she is at the door, watching us.”
“Might be a good idea to ask her,” the sergeant agreed, and he started up the walk.
Paul Trent called out after him, “While you’re at it, you’d be smart to take a look around inside the house. It still could be a kidnap plot, and the kid could be stashed away in some back room and held for ransom!”
Miss Crandall gave a loud moan at the word “ransom,” but the sergeant glared disgustedly at Trent. “That tune of yours is getting on my nerves, buster,” he snapped. “Forget it! Miss Martin’s respectable. Her folks owned half of Westchester County when Indians owned the other part!”
“Okay, okay!” Trent lapsed into sullen silence, but the look he gave Trixie as she hurried after the sergeant was angry and accusing.
“Why, Officer Rooney!” Miss Rachel put out an frail white hand in greeting to the young policeman. “I haven’t seen you since the road went away from here!”
Sergeant Rooney grinned and touched his cap. “It’s Sergeant now, ma’am. And I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve got to find someone to guide us into the swamp so we can look for that little girl the Beldens told you about.”
“The swamp?Tonight?” Miss Rachel’s face looked drawn. “Oh, no! It’s too dangerous.”
Trixie felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Miss Rachel’s eyes looked enormous, and, even in the half-light, Trixie could see that she seemed frightened.
Sergeant Rooney spoke soothingly. “Now, Miss Rachel, we’ll be careful. Just tell us somebody who can show us through.”
But Miss Rachel shook her head firmly. “There’s no one. After a hard rain like today’s, even the one path that’s usually safe would be under water. You must wait till daylight.”
“Too late,” the sergeant said grimly. “We’ll have to get in there and find her before she panics.” He touched his hat and strode back to the police car.
Miss Rachel shook her head as she watched him go.
Trixie said impulsively, “I’m sorry we bothered you, Miss Martin, but you do see how important it is to find Gaye as soon as we can.”
“If you can,” Miss Rachel sighed, with another nervous look toward the swamp. Then as Trixie started to turn away, the elderly woman stopped her. “Did you say the little girl had yellow curls?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Oh, yes,” Trixie nodded. “Very pretty golden ones, practically down to her waist.”
“Emily’s curls were like that, and her hair looked just like spun gold when the sun shone on it,” Miss Rachel said. She had a faraway look and spoke almost in a whisper.
Trixie was startled. Emily? Who was Emily? She opened her lips to ask Miss Rachel, but before she could speak, the noise started.
It was coming from inside the barn. Someone was pounding on the closed door. A voice was crying hysterically, “Let me out! Let me out!” and a small dog was barking shrilly.
Trixie recognized that voice, and she knew that sharp little bark.
Gaye and her poodle puppy had been found.
Someone Named Emily •
“Okay, kids,” he said a bit grimly to Trixie and the two boys. “What’s the story here?”
Trixie explained in a few words about finding the bicycle in the ditch and why she thought Gaye might have left it there and be somewhere around the old cottage.
“We were just on our way to the swamp to try to find her, when you arrived,” Brian added.
The sergeant looked grim. “I’m glad you didn’t. There’s a lot of dangerous quicksand in there, and some of it is close to the footpath. It’s no place to wander after dark.”
“I know I’ll never see my darling niece again! Oh-h-h!” Miss Crandall leaned on young Trent’s shoulder and sobbed.
Trixie had a sudden idea. “Miss Martin might know someone who could guide you through the swamp at night,” she told the sergeant. “There she is at the door, watching us.”
“Might be a good idea to ask her,” the sergeant agreed, and he started up the walk.
Paul Trent called out after him, “While you’re at it, you’d be smart to take a look around inside the house. It still could be a kidnap plot, and the kid could be stashed away in some back room and held for ransom!”
Miss Crandall gave a loud moan at the word “ransom,” but the sergeant glared disgustedly at Trent. “That tune of yours is getting on my nerves, buster,” he snapped. “Forget it! Miss Martin’s respectable. Her folks owned half of Westchester County when Indians owned the other part!”
“Okay, okay!” Trent lapsed into sullen silence, but the look he gave Trixie as she hurried after the sergeant was angry and accusing.
“Why, Officer Rooney!” Miss Rachel put out an frail white hand in greeting to the young policeman. “I haven’t seen you since the road went away from here!”
Sergeant Rooney grinned and touched his cap. “It’s Sergeant now, ma’am. And I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve got to find someone to guide us into the swamp so we can look for that little girl the Beldens told you about.”
“The swamp?Tonight?” Miss Rachel’s face looked drawn. “Oh, no! It’s too dangerous.”
Trixie felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Miss Rachel’s eyes looked enormous, and, even in the half-light, Trixie could see that she seemed frightened.
Sergeant Rooney spoke soothingly. “Now, Miss Rachel, we’ll be careful. Just tell us somebody who can show us through.”
But Miss Rachel shook her head firmly. “There’s no one. After a hard rain like today’s, even the one path that’s usually safe would be under water. You must wait till daylight.”
“Too late,” the sergeant said grimly. “We’ll have to get in there and find her before she panics.” He touched his hat and strode back to the police car.
Miss Rachel shook her head as she watched him go.
Trixie said impulsively, “I’m sorry we bothered you, Miss Martin, but you do see how important it is to find Gaye as soon as we can.”
“If you can,” Miss Rachel sighed, with another nervous look toward the swamp. Then as Trixie started to turn away, the elderly woman stopped her. “Did you say the little girl had yellow curls?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Oh, yes,” Trixie nodded. “Very pretty golden ones, practically down to her waist.”
“Emily’s curls were like that, and her hair looked just like spun gold when the sun shone on it,” Miss Rachel said. She had a faraway look and spoke almost in a whisper.
Trixie was startled. Emily? Who was Emily? She opened her lips to ask Miss Rachel, but before she could speak, the noise started.
It was coming from inside the barn. Someone was pounding on the closed door. A voice was crying hysterically, “Let me out! Let me out!” and a small dog was barking shrilly.
Trixie recognized that voice, and she knew that sharp little bark.
Gaye and her poodle puppy had been found.
Someone Named Emily •
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