The Mystery on Cobbett's Island (20 page)

“And let's get out of these slickers,” Diana added, stripping off her jacket. “I'm simply dying of the heat!”

“Where, oh, where are you, red nun?” Trixie wailed as she sat down on one of the stone benches, shading her eyes with her hand and looking all around.

“The only red thing I see around here is that rambler rose over by the statue,” said Mart, “and there's nothing southeast of here except the vegetable gardens and the wall.”

“Gleeps!” cried Trixie, jumping to her feet. “The statue! Doesn't she look something like a nun with that veil on her head? I'll bet she's the gal we're looking for!”

“Or the buoy,” punned Mart, elated at having provided a clue to the course.

“That climbing rose is years old,” commented Peter,
“so it could have been here when Ed and Mr. C were alive. Good work, Trixie; let's get going.”

Everyone soon forgot the uncomfortable humidity and eagerly started out again behind the lily pool.

“This is the longest leg of the course if the distances between marks on the chart mean anything,” Trixie commented.

“And it's the last one, thank goodness,” Honey added, “but there aren't any clues to help us this time; just the word
Finish
.”

“Any ideas, Pete?” Jim asked. “What are those buildings way down at the far end of the field, near the woods?”

“The big gray one is the stable. The funny-shaped one on the right is the corncrib, and that one over there is the base of the old windmill. The wings got blown off before we came,” Peter said as he pointed out the various structures.

“Well, the stable is right plumb in our path if this compass is right, so we'll have to look through it. But where do you start in a big old ark like that?” said Trixie, throwing up her hands in despair.

“It's like hunting for a needle in a haystack,” said Mart, scratching his head in perplexity as they approached the stable.

They pushed open the wide double doors to get as much light as possible and stepped into the murky interior of the old building. As their eyes got used to the half light, they saw harnesses and halters still hanging on their pegs along one side, and in the back of the stable Honey discovered an old sleigh.

“Look at this adorable old sleigh,” she called to the others as she climbed in.

Brian jumped in beside her and, pretending to take the reins, started to sing. “ ‘Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh!' ” The others joined in lustily.

On the other side of the main room of the stable were the stalls, three for regular sized horses, and another smaller one which Jim guessed was for a pony or a colt. The names of the long-ago occupants were painted in quaint letters above the stalls: “
GALLANT BOY
,” “
DIAMOND
,” “
POP-CORN
,” and over the fourth, “
NOEL
.”

“I'll bet Noel was a Christmas present for one of your great-aunts or uncles,” mused Trixie. “I wonder what color she was?”

“Look at this cute little food box in here, just high enough for a little pony to feed from,” called Diana who had been looking around inside the smallest stall.

“That's called a manger, not a food box, silly.” Mart laughed. “It comes from the French verb
manger
, ‘to eat.' ”

“Okay, ‘manger,' ” Diana answered good-naturedly. “Away in a manger, Noel ate her hay,” she sang, parodying the old Christmas carol.

Just then, Trixie let out a shriek, and repeated the first bar. “Da-dum-da-da-dum-dum. Honey, wasn't that the tune on the chart?” she asked breathlessly.

When Honey and Mart whistled the melody again, it was obvious that Trixie was right. Dashing into the stall, she flashed the light into the manger and started pulling out the hay which still remained in it. She noticed that one of the boards on the bottom had two holes bored in it, and sticking her fingers in them, she was able to lift it out easily. Underneath was a small black tin box!

Everyone was so tense with expectancy that it was not until Trixie had gingerly carried the box over to the light and lifted the cover that anyone made a sound. But when they saw a neatly tied bundle of bills, their excitement erupted and they whooped and hollered as they danced around the box on the floor.

Their elation was abruptly cut short when they heard a loud thud and a voice yelling at them from the rear of the stable. “Okay, wise guys, pipe down. Do you want the whole island to get wise?”

Whirling around in the direction of the voice, they
saw a sullen-looking boy advancing toward them, a gun in his hand. His face was distorted. His T-shirt was torn and filthy, and Trixie noticed, as her eyes swept from his head to his feet, that his arms and legs were badly scratched, and that he was wearing dirty white sneakers.

“Now just line up there along the wall, sailors, and we'll talk this whole thing over, like one big, happy family,” he continued with sarcastic politeness.

Mart started toward him, fists doubled, but Peter, yelling, “Get back, all of you!” pushed him back before he had time to protest. The others silently lined up as they had been commanded. There seemed no alternative, not with a revolver covering them!

“Attaboy, Pete,” snarled the stranger, “you've got sense enough to know I ain't foolin', and the rest of you better get wise, too.” He spun the revolver around on his index finger a couple of times, then deftly brought it back into shooting position.

“Now, like I was sayin',” he continued, striding up and down in front of them, “I seen you steal that box from the stall. I was up in the loft and had a good view right through that there hole in the ceiling where they pitch the hay down for the horses. Looks like there's quite a nice little bundle here,” he said as he took the
money out of the box with his left hand, “and, man, that's what I need. I'm gonna make a deal with ya!” His eyes narrowed, and he looked from one to the other. “What d'ya say, chums?”

“Let's hear your offer, pal,” Trixie quickly answered, tossing her head and trying to look tough.

“I ain't gonna spill nothin' unless I know your buddies here'll go along,” he snarled.

Jim took a swaggering half-step forward, hitched his thumbs in his belt, and in a voice which he desperately hoped sounded as tough as the other boy's, he cracked, “We'll go along with anything Trix says. She's the boss of this pack.”

“Yeh, I thought that phony Bob-White stuff was just a cover-up for your gang. Real high class, ain't ya? Living rich, and trying to steal a lousy grand from a poor widow,” he sneered.

“Cut the moralizing,” Trixie snarled at him, “and get on with your big deal.”

“Okay, sis. It happens I need dough real bad. So you count out half of that loot for me and half for you, and we'll both forget all about our little treasure hunt. I won't squeal on you for stealing the dough or breaking the buoy lights, and you won't squeal on me. Ain't that fair enough?”

“Breaking the buoy lights!” Trixie cried. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, knock off the innocent act, sister. Don't think I ain't heard about you and the Coast Guard. You can take the rap for that as well as me. I've got plenty of pals who'd swear they saw you busting them lights. See?” he leered.

“Yeh, I see what you mean,” Trixie said slowly, smiling beguilingly at him. “Okay, let's count the dough. Here, sit down on the floor so we can divvy it up easier,” she suggested as she plopped down right in front of Jim and Brian. “You count it first, and then I'll check it. Not that I don't trust you, you understand,” she said. “And now that we're all such good pals, and you seem to know
us
, how about telling us who
you
are?”

“Why not? What harm'll it do?” he said with a trace of a smile. “I'll be halfway across the country this time tomorrow, and maybe by then I'll have a new name. Who knows? Around here they call me Slim, Slim Novarski.”

As he talked, he knelt down near Trixie ready to count the money. As she had hoped, he found that holding the revolver was something of a handicap in untying the bundle, so he laid it down close beside him. As he bent over the pile of bills, Trixie glanced up at Jim
and imperceptibly shook her head as she sensed his plan to grab the gun.

“You know, Slim, you and I'd make a good team,” Trixie said in a confidingly low voice. “You're smart. How'd you get onto what we were doing?”

“Sure, I'm smart,” Slim said, his face beginning to light up, “but most folks don't think so. Like that Coast Guard outfit.” He looked ugly again, and after a short pause continued, “I could teach you a thing or two, Trix. You don't go around leaving letters and charts where every Tom, Dick, and Harry can see 'em. Not when it means big money, you don't.”

“Like when?” asked Trixie, pretending deep interest.

“Like when you and your pals had that fancy breakfast at Pete's place and left the letter lying out there on the table,” he answered with a smug smile.

“How come you saw it? What were you doing around there?” Trixie asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Just checking up on you and your fancy friends. I got caught over here in the storm and couldn't get back to Greenpoint, so me and my pal slept over the tool shed. When I couldn't get my outboard started, I decided to stick around and case this joint, just in case—” he said with a harsh laugh. “My pal got chicken and
went home on the ferry next morning, the bum!”

“You mean you slept in the shed for two nights?” Trixie asked.

“Yeh, all I had on me was a soggy sandwich, and no dough, so when I smelled that breakfast, I figured maybe I could sneak me something to eat. No luck on the food, but I sure struck it rich when you blabbed about the hidden money!”

So it was Slim I heard that morning near the terrace
, thought Trixie to herself,
and not a tame deer!

“At first I figured all I'd have to do was keep an eye on you and let you do all the work, but then when Pete here got careless and left that copy of the chart in the shed, I said to myself, ‘I'll have a go at this alone.' ” Slim continued to count out the money slowly, stacking it into two piles in front of him as he talked. “That Pete, he ain't very smart, is he?” Slim asked, looking up at Trixie. He was getting friendlier by the moment.

“No, but he'll learn,” Trixie readily agreed. “He's new at this game, you know.” She gave Peter a condescending smile, and he squirmed appropriately at her pretended rebuke.

“What was that you were saying about the Coast Guard?” Trixie casually asked Slim.

“Oh, them!” he snorted. “When I quit school, I tried
to join up with their outfit. I had to take a lot of crazy tests and talk to some of the big brass, and then they told me I wasn't Coast Guard material. Me, the best shot around here!” He spat the words out angrily.

“I should think the Coast Guard would have jumped at the chance of having a bright boy like you.” Trixie beamed at him. “The way you can read a chart and all.” She paused, hoping he'd rise to her bait.

“Yeh, that was pretty good, wasn't it? I got the jump on you that night when you were all hashing it over on the porch, when you decided the chart didn't have anything to do with the sea.”

“Where were you?” Trixie asked, taken completely by surprise by what she had heard.

“I ain't never been very far away from you and your gang. You're a cinch to trail. I was hiding in the bushes right by the side of the porch and heard the whole thing.”

“How long have you been out here in the stable?” Trixie asked.

“I got here a little while before you barged in. When I heard your gang heading for the smokehouse, I figured it wasn't healthy to hang around, so I scrammed out through the backwoods and hid up in the loft. I didn't
know this was the end of that crazy course,” he admitted. “It just seemed the best place to hide until I could figure out where you were heading.”

By now Slim had completed the slow business of counting the money. The Bob-Whites and Peter watched him without saying a word as he prepared to tie up the two stacks of bills. They had amounted to exactly a thousand dollars in varying denominations. Finally he sat back on his heels, his hands on his hips, gloating over the treasure.

“A grand!” he gasped. “A whole grand! One thousand beautiful bucks!”

He looked up at the faces around him, at Trixie, and again at the money. Trixie, fearing he might try to get away with both piles, slowly stood up and asked for her half. She glanced at Jim and Brian, hoping against hope they would see she was preparing for action. Slim hesitated and then reluctantly handed up the money. As she reached out to take it, Trixie kicked the gun on the floor with all her strength, and with her left hand caught Slim by the wrist.