The Gatehouse Mystery

Cameo with the rest of us and then gone right out again. There still would have been time for him to have walked home and hidden in your closet." Nervously, she unknotted her handkerchief, in which she had put some change—the girls' share of the taxi on the return trip. "Here's a dime," she told Honey. "Call your house. If Jim's there, I won't worry about anything. Hurry. It's quarter to nine."
    Honey hurried to the booth and dialed her number. Then she stood there, waiting.
    It seemed like hours to Trixie, and she couldn't stand it. "No answer?" she asked. "What's the matter?" Honey put the receiver back on the hook. "The line's out of order, Trixie. It must be thundering and lightning like anything."
    "I don't believe it," Trixie cried impatiently. "A bad electric storm couldn't have come up so quickly. You probably dialed the wrong number."
    Honey meekly took the dime out of the returned-coins box and put it back it the slot. This time, she dialed the operator. "I'm trying to get Sleepyside six-oh-three-oh-three," she said. "Could you tell me, please, if the line is out of order?"
    After a minute the operator said something Trixie couldn't hear, and the dime jangled in the box. "It is out of order," Honey told Trixie. "Electric storms do come up quickly along the river." She slipped her slim fingers in for the dime and started out of the booth.
    Trixie pushed her back inside. "Try Regan's number. Both lines can't be down. They just can't be." Honey sighed, but she dropped the dime in the slot for the third time and dialed another number. In a few seconds Trixie heard the operator's voice. She had crowded as far into the booth as she could to listen. "Sor-ree, that line is out of order."
    Honey hung up, and the dime jangled in the box. "Oh, Trixie," she cried, "please don't worry about Jim. Maybe he's right here in the theater sitting with Brian and Mart. They were going to sit near the back and keep an eye out for him. Maybe Jim came in right after we did."
    "Maybe he did," Trixie admitted as she led the way out of the rest room. "Let's go ask Tom Delanoy." Outside, they found Tom sitting on a folding chair which he had placed on the sidewalk in front of the theater. The sidewalk, Trixie noted, was dry. "Did Jim come in?" she asked Tom.
    He shook his head. "Nobody's come in since the feature started," he said.
    "Has there been much thunder and lightning?"
    "Are you kiddin'?" he demanded. "We're not going to get rain. We're not even going to get a breath of cool air. The storm passed right over us."
    "It's awfully dark for so early in the evening, with daylight saving and all," Honey said. "Maybe there was an electric storm out in the country where we live."
    "Honey Wheeler," he said exasperatedly. "I'm neither blind nor deaf. If there was any turbulence over Glen Road, I would have known about it. You don't live that far out."
    Trixie moved closer to him. "Tom," she said, "I've got to go right home. Will you please get me a cab and lend me fifty cents?"
    He stood up, grinning as he reached into his pocket for two quarters. "Anything for Brian and Mart Belden's kid sister. But what's the hurry, Trixie?"
    "I can't explain now," Trixie said. "Oh, there's a cab. Grab it for me, please, Tom."
    Tom went to the curb, whistling through his fingers. "I'm going with you," Honey said, frowning. "I don't understand why both lines are out of order. Remember? Miss Trask called Mr. Lytell just before we left."
    "You're not coming with me," Trixie said determinedly. "You stay right here and interview Tom about the job. When I get to your house, I'll probably find that everything's all right. There's no sense in both of us going."
    "But suppose you don't find that everything's all right," Honey said nervously. "Suppose you—"
    "Never mind," Trixie interrupted. "There'll be an intermission soon, and a lot of people will leave. Brian and Mart will come out here looking for us, so we can all sit together for the second feature. You'll have to be here, so you can explain why I left."
    "We-ell," Honey said dubiously, "I guess you're right, Trixie, but I'd rather go with you. Not that I'd be much help if you did run into trouble."
    The taxi, on the other side of the intersection, had come to a halt when Tom Delanoy whistled, but as the driver turned and headed toward the Cameo, the traffic light changed to red.
    "Just my luck," Trixie moaned as she and Honey joined Tom at the curb. "It never fails. Whenever you re in a hurry the