“Why,” she gasped, bewildered, “you were right all along, Trix. But what does it mean?” Trixie was gazing at the lady, too. “It means,” she replied slowly, “that I’ve just realized those tears are really fluorescent paint, Honey. That’s why we can’t see them in ordinary light.”
“I still don’t understand,” Honey said. “What are you looking for now?”
Trixie was searching the grass close to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “I’m looking for signs of a ghostly visitor,” she said at last.
“What?” Honey’s eyes were wide.
“I mean the footprints we saw last night,” Trixie explained. “They should be here somewhere, too.” She pounced. “They are! Look,
Honey, they’re faint, but we can still see them.” Her friend stared. “Are you trying to tell me that these are just fluorescent paint, too?”
Trixie nodded. “I’m sure of it. I’m also sure of something else. Someone’s been on that boat— and recently! Honey, we’re going down there to take a look.”
Before Honey could say another word, Trixie was already moving toward the steps and hurrying down them. Honey groaned as she quickly followed.
Soon the two girls were once more standing on the tiny beach.
“Listen, Honey,” Trixie said. “Last night before dinner, we saw the ship, right?”
Honey nodded.
“Do you remember the figurehead?” Trixie asked. “I saw it, and the lady wasn’t crying. Then later, after Mr. Trask disappeared, Gaston showed us the ship, and suddenly the lady had paint running down her face. Where did it come from?”
“Maybe one of the workmen—” Honey began uncertainly.
“But there weren’t any workmen here,” Trixie said, moving gingerly toward the jetty. “Come on, Honey. There’s something funny about all this, and it’s up to us to find out what it is.”
Honey saw the signs that said: DANGER! KEEP OUT! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
She hoped the words would make Trixie pause, but her friend rushed right past them as if they didn’t exist. Her gaze was fixed on the huge, shining bulk of the galleon, and soon it loomed above them.
They could hear tiny waves lapping quietly around it. They could see every detail of its wooden hull. A gangway led to its upper deck, and in no time at all, Trixie was running toward it. After a moment’s hesitation, Honey followed.
Once on board, the two girls stood looking around them. They could see the repairs that were being made. Part of the deck was obviously being replaced. Long timbers were stretched across gaping holes, and cans of paint stood waiting, like rows of tin soldiers.
Above their heads, the tall masts creaked and swayed in the evening breeze. The sails were neatly furled against the yardarms.
“Jeepers!” Trixie breathed. “How wonderful it is. I almost wish I were a pirate. Imagine setting sail in a galleon like this.”
For a moment, Trixie and Honey forgot why they were there. They picked their way carefully across the deck. Then they stared, enchanted, at the twinkling lights on the opposite shore. They imagined that they were just arriving at some exotic foreign land.
Lost in daydreams, neither of them noticed the figure, dressed in a pirate’s costume, watching from the cliffs behind them. They didn’t see him suddenly hurry down the wooden steps. Undetected, he raced along the jetty.
Then, just as he reached the top of the gangway, some small noise made Trixie swing around.
She gasped. He was rushing toward them across the deck, his hands outstretched. “You nosy kids!” he snarled. “So you found out we kidnapped Frank Trask, huh? Well, we got rid of him! Now I’ll get rid of you, too! You should’ve stayed home where you belong!”
Almost without thinking, Trixie pushed Honey away from her, to safety. She stood facing the pirate alone.
As she gazed at him, her heart thumping, she wondered how he had ever fooled her for a moment. His lips were twisted in a triumphant sneer as he reached for her.
Honey stood horrified. In another second, his hands would close around Trixie’s throat.
Then, instinctively, Trixie ducked away. After that, everything happened at once.
The pirate was moving so fast that he couldn’t stop. He stumbled over a long, loose, wooden plank that stuck way Out over the side of the ship. He tottered for a few steps and tried to regain his balance. He failed.
With his arms and legs vainly flailing the air, he walked the plank! Then he dropped straight over the side. He hit the water with a mighty splash, and the Hudson River closed over his head.
As he surfaced a moment later and swam away with powerful strokes, Honey let out her breath in a long, shaky sigh.
“Why,” she said, staring after him until he was out of sight, “I simply don’t believe it! The villain all along was Smiley Jackson!”
“Don’t feel bad about it,” Trixie said as they moved unsteadily away from the side of the ship. “He fooled me, too. I thought he was such a nice man.”
“So he was the spy, after all,” Honey exclaimed.
“He sure was,” Trixie answered. “I’m sure he’s been the cause of all the inn’s troubles these last few months. Twice he tried to steal Mr. Trask’s money, and I’ll bet we’ll find he was the one who unlocked Mr. Appleton’s door with a master key and set the fire yesterday.”
“But what did he mean when he told us he’d got rid of Mr. Trask?” Honey asked.
“I think he meant just that,” Trixie said. “I told you I suspected something. Mr. Trask didn’t mean to disappear. Smiley Jackson kidnapped him. He took advantage of all the confusion when Weasel Willis dropped the cake.”
“I remember now,” Honey said slowly. “Smiley was missing from the dining room for a long time last night. Do you think he had it all planned?”
“I don’t know,” Trixie confessed. “Maybe Weasel dropped the cake on purpose. Or maybe Smiley did it all on the spur of the moment. Anyway, I think Mr. Trask is right here on this ship. It’s the only place that makes any sense.”
Honey watched as her friend gazed uncertainly toward the bow.
“Mr. Trask?” Trixie shouted. “Can you hear me? Where are you?”
A low moan answered her.
In another instant, the two girls were racing toward a shapeless bundle that lay under a tarpaulin in the ship’s bow.
“I should have known it long before this,” Trixie said as she gently pulled the cover away.
There, right above the figurehead of the ship, lay a bearded man, bound and gagged. Frank Trask had been found!
While Trixie untied him, Honey picked up a can of fluorescent paint that had lain on its side next to him.
“I managed to kick the paint can over,” he explained later, breathing hard. “It happened just as they were tying me up. I hoped it would attract someone’s attention.”
“It sure did,” Honey answered. “Trixie noticed it at once. The spilled paint ran down the figurehead’s face, you see. It made us think the lady was crying.”
“I am awfully glad you were curious about it,” Mr. Trask told Trixie as he rubbed his wrists. “I still don’t know who kidnapped me or why they brought me here. But I do know that I’m mighty obliged to you.”
Trixie’s face was red with embarrassment. She never liked to be thanked for the things she felt were simply right to do. She was just extremely thankful that he had been found.
“Why do you say ‘they’ brought you here?” Honey asked. “How many of them were there?“
“There were two,” Frank Trask answered promptly. “And once I get my hands on the pair, I’m going to make ’em into yesterday’s hash! They jumped me as I walked into the kitchen after all that commotion with the dropped cake. I was going to lend a hand, y’see, to help clear it up. But someone dropped a tablecloth over my head—and the next thing I knew, here I was!”
“I still don’t think any of this was planned,” Trixie said, thinking hard. “If it had been, they’d have rushed you away
to some other hiding place.” She went on to explain to Mr. Trask all that had happened since the previous evening.
Mr. Trask was astonished when he discovered that one of his assailants was none other than his trusted waiter, Smiley Jackson.
“I think I know who the other man is,” Trixie murmured, “but it would help a lot if you could identify him.”
Mr. Trask was unable to help her. He said he hadn’t seen anyone at all.
Honey couldn’t help smiling. “I expect the kidnappers were hoping to transfer their prisoner somewhere else,” she remarked. “But what with all the excitement around here last night, we didn’t give them the chance.”
Soon Mr. Trask felt well enough to move. “So some people think I don’t have the money to pay back my loan, eh?” he said at last. “But let me tell you, me hearties—I do! And it’s in a safe place.”
Trixie helped him to his feet. “I don’t want to hurry you,” she said, “but it’s almost seven o’clock. Mr. Morgan will be waiting for you.” Honey, remembering, gasped. “Jeepers! And if
we don’t get there pretty fast, Miss Trask will hand over the deed to Pirate’s Inn.”
“What’s that you say?” Mr. Trask roared. “No one’s going to hand over anything! Quickly, ladies, we’ve got to get to the inn at once!”
Impetuously, he raced toward the head of the gangway.
“Oh, Mr. Trask, be careful!” Trixie cried.
It was too late!
In the next moment, as the girls watched, unbelieving, disaster struck. He tripped over a workman’s toolbox left carelessly in the middle of the deck. As Smiley Jackson had done minutes before, he tried and failed to regain his balance.
Then, before the girls could take even one step to help him, he fell heavily to the deck and lay quite still.
A Villain Unmasked • 19
GLEEPS!” Trixie cried. “He knocked himself out!” Honey dropped to her knees beside the unconscious man. “Oh, Trixie,” she whimpered, “what are we going to do? I thought we’d won. In another few minutes, we’d have been at the inn. But now the Trasks are going to lose everything they own!”
“Wait!” Trixie said excitedly. “I’ve just had an idea. Honey, will you stay here while I run for help?”
“Of course I will,” her friend answered at once. “But it’s too late to save Pirate’s Inn. Even Brian can’t revive Mr. Trask in time. And we don’t know where he’s hidden the money, anyway. Oh, why did this have to happen now?”
Trixie was already picking her way across the deck. In no time at all, she was racing along the jetty. When she had almost reached the inn, she looked up at the windows on the second floor. In another instant, she was sounding the Bob-Whites’ secret call for help. Bob, bob-white.Bob, bob-white.
A window flew open immediately. Trixie could almost have fainted with relief when she saw Mart’s blond head gazing down at her. In an emergency, Trixie knew there was no one else she would rather have by her side—unless it was Jim.
My almost-twin and I are alike in so many ways, she told herself. Maybe that's why we're always arguing. She made up her mind right then to be more patient when he teased her.
She wondered if this weekend had also taught Miss Trask a lesson. Trixie suspected that she, too, had discovered that a brother was often a pretty nice person to have around.
Breathlessly, Trixie explained to Mart all that had happened. He didn’t need to be told twice how serious the situation was.
Moments later, the rest of the Bob-Whites had gathered to listen to Trixie’s plan. Then, as they were talking, they saw Mr. Morgan’s shiny black limousine driving toward Pirate’s Inn. There wasn’t a second to lose!
Brian and Dan raced toward the galleon to help Honey with the injured man.
“We’ll be back to help you as soon as we can,” Brian yelled over his shoulder.
Di, too, didn’t hesitate. She rushed indoors to call for an ambulance and for the police. Mart was right on her heels.
Jim and Trixie also hurried inside. There was only one more thing left to do. Trixie knew that if she had guessed wrong, her mistake would affect the Trasks for the rest of their lives.
Jim knew it, too. “Are you sure this is going to work, Trix?” he asked her.
“It’s got to,” Trixie answered grimly. “Oh, Jim, it’s simply got to!”
The inn’s old-fashioned clock showed exactly one minute to seven when Mr. Nicholas Morgan walked into the dining room.
What he saw there made him stop dead. The captain’s table was set for dinner, as it had been the evening before. Seated around it was a group of people, staring at him. He could see Trixie, Jim, Di, and Mart. Miss Trask, tight-lipped, was sitting beside a man dressed in a very familiar costume.
Although the man’s back was to the door, Nicholas Morgan could tell that his clothes were those of a pirate chief. In front of him on the table lay neat stacks of money.
Frank Trask was about to pay off his loan, after all!
The pirate chief didn’t turn around. “Come in, Nick,” he said gruffly. “We’ve been waiting for you. It’s too bad your plan didn’t work. I managed to get here in time, as you can see.”
Mr. Morgan took a step toward him. “Frank?” he said incredulously. “B-But that’s impossible! You’re supposed to be—”
“Kidnapped?” Miss Trask asked icily. “Is that what you were about to say, Nick?”
Nicholas Morgan tried to gather his scattered wits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
“Oh, I think you do,” Miss Trask snapped. “My brother just told me all about it. Smiley Jackson caused a great deal of trouble here at Pirate’s Inn, but he was just following your orders, wasn’t he? You are the one who wanted Frank to lose this place so that you could sell it to the hotel chain. You really did need the money, didn’t you? Well, your plan failed!”
Mr. Morgan looked at the circle of grave faces watching him. “What is this?” he sneered. “I’ve never heard such a lot of nonsense! If Frank told you I kidnapped him, he’s simply telling you another one of his stories. Why, even the police think he disappeared as a publicity stunt!”
“It won’t work, Nick,” the pirate chief answered. “Last night you came to the inn early to see if Smiley Jackson had been successful in his second robbery attempt. When I walked into the kitchen unexpectedly, you took advantage of a golden opportunity, kidnapping me and holding me prisoner on board the galleon.”
“But I wasn’t anywhere near the galleon last night,” Mr. Morgan blustered. “In fact, I’ve never been anywhere near it.”
“That’s not true,” Trixie said quietly. “You see, I saw your shoes. You had fluorescent paint all over them. When Honey and I met you near the picnic tables, your shoes glowed when Mart turned on the lights. You made footprints in the grass, too. I remembered tonight that the only place you could have picked up the paint was on the ship, where Mr. Trask spilled it.”
There was silence. Then Nicholas Morgan snarled, “You’ll never prove this in a court of law. I’ll destroy those shoes before anyone else can see them. And when I’ve done that, I’ll sue you all for slander. I’ll—”
He reached to the table to grab the money. But in the next instant, he stood horrified. The sleeve of his coat had brushed against the pirate chief’s shoulder—and Frank Trask’s head fell off!
Completely unnerved, Nicholas Morgan spun around and started to run toward the door.
“Stop him!” Trixie cried. “Don’t let him get away!”
Immediately, Mart and Jim rose to their feet and rushed toward him, but they didn’t see Weasel Willis, who had been making his way slowly toward them. In his hands he was carrying Gaston’s latest creation—another beautiful three-tiered cake.
Then Mart stumbled and lurched sideways. He clutched at Jim. Jim clutched at Weasel. And no one ever quite believed what happened next.
Weasel’s feet shot out from under him. The cake soared high into the air. While every
one watched, speechless with astonishment, it landed on Nicholas Morgan’s head.
Half-blinded by the sticky mess, he tried to grope his way toward the dining room exit—and walked straight into the arms of the police.
Gravely, Trixie picked something up from the floor. It was this that had so fortunately tripped Mart. Sticking it back on the pirate chief’s shoulders, where it belonged, she grinned.
“I’m glad it was only Clarence who lost his head,” she told her delighted audience.
Then she joined in the happy laughter that followed.
“I don’t know how you ever thought of using the dummy to trick Morgan into a confession,” Mr. Trask said, two hours later.
He sat in his place at the captain’s table, surrounded by his friends. Marvin Appleton had also joined them. After all, it had been his dummy who had helped capture the villain!
Apart from a slight bump on the head, the doctor had pronounced Mr. Trask none the worse for his adventure.
“Trixie solved the whole mystery herself this time,” Mart announced. “For once our schoolgirl shamus was really clicking along on all four cylinders.”
Trixie’s face was red. “It wasn’t anything,” she mumbled, “and it wouldn’t have worked if Mart hadn’t made Clarence talk.”
“But it was something,” Di insisted. “If you hadn’t guessed where Mr. Trask had hidden the money, the inn would belong to that awful Mr. Morgan right now.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Trask boomed. “How did you know where to find it, Trixie?”
“I got to remembering that old riddle,” Trixie replied, “where a rooster lays an egg exactly in the middle of a gabled roof. One side of the roof is painted red, the other blue. So—on which side of the roof did the egg fall?”
Honey frowned. “What do gabled roofs have to do with where you found the money?”
“The answer to both problems is very simple once you’ve figured it out—” Trixie began.
Before she could finish, Weasel Willis was by her side. “Gaston wants you to have this as a reward,” he announced, presenting her with the largest hot fudge sundae she had ever seen.
The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon Page 12