The Gatehouse Mystery

for a moment. He looked so angry that she almost wished she could give him the diamond. Thunder rumbled from across the river.
    Trixie swallowed her fright. "You haven't much time, Dick," she said, in as cold a voice as she could muster. "Miss Trask will be back to close the windows at the first drop of rain. She's only a five-minute ride away. At Mr. Lytell's."
    "Don't try to be funny," he said harshly. "She's in town at the Cameo. And I siphoned most of the gas out of the station wagon, so she'll get stuck midway between here and Main Street."
    "Very bright of you," Trixie said, forcing her taut lips to smile. "Very bright. And I suppose you did something to the gauge, too, so that it wouldn't register. But Miss Trask happens to be smart about cars. She stopped on the way into town and had the tank filled when she saw the gauge wasn't working. She's extra careful about things like that."
    "Stop gabbing," he said. "Where is the rock?"
    Trixie thought for a minute. If she could keep him here until it started to rain, Miss Trask would be back. But what could Miss Trask do to keep this thin, ugly man from running away? If he had already knocked out Jim, he wouldn't hesitate to strike anyone who interfered with his plans. And the first thing Miss Trask would do when she returned would be to run right upstairs to close the windows in Mrs. Wheeler's lovely room. She would run right into Dick's clutches.
    "No, she wouldn't," Trixie decided quickly. "Because I'll scream the very minute I see headlights on the driveway. I'll scream and scream, and then she'll get Regan before she comes into the house."
    "The rock," Dick was hissing close to her ear. "Where is it?"
    Trixie pursed her lips and tossed her head. "I'll tell you," she said coyly, "if you tell me how you got the black eye. The pal you tried to double-cross came back Thursday night and saw you sneaking into the house, didn't he? He hid in your room over the garage, and when you came back, he beat you up."
    He shook her arm roughly. "You know too much, Miss Nosy. When I go, I'll take you with me for a nice, long ride. But first, where is the rock?"
    Trixie smiled sweetly. "You and your pal had engine trouble down on the road Tuesday night, so you spent the night in the cottage. You and he had a fight, dividing up the loot, huh? You knocked him out, fixed the motor, and drove away. When you discovered the diamond was missing, you came back. That's when you listened in the thicket and heard Honey tell me where she had put the diamond."
    "That's right," he said. "That's right, Smarty. But the point is, where is the rock now?"
    "Then," Trixie went on, just as though he hadn't interrupted, "you lurked around in the woods near the stable and heard Honey mention how much the Wheelers needed a chauffeur. You drove up to the garage Wednesday evening and applied for the job."
    He pointed the pencil of light at her face and stared at her. "You sure do get around, don't you? I've got to hand it to you. I suppose you figured out that when I found I had to have references, I stopped off at the mailbox long enough on my way out to borrow a few letters. Only one of them had a signature worth copying, but it sure worked—the signature on that check made out to Matthew Wheeler."
    Trixie laughed, although her throat was so dry it hurt. "Of course I figured all that out. Anyone can buy tracing and carbon paper and rent a typewriter. Did you put the letter from Mr. Whitney back in the mailbox Thursday afternoon as Bobby was showing you around the place and telling you which windows on this floor were Honey's?"
    "Natch," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Think I want to get mixed up with G-men?"
    "You're already mixed up with the FBI," Trixie told him, "if you swiped that diamond in another state. And don't worry; they'll catch you. They probably already have your pal. What's his name, anyway?"
    "Louie," he growled, his fingers tightening on her wrist. "What makes you think the coppers have nabbed Louie? What do you know about him?"
    "I don't know anything," Trixie retorted. "I just guessed that after he beat you up Thursday night he took the rest of the loot out of your suitcase. You did keep it in your suitcase, didn't you? That's why you almost had a fit when Regan offered to carry it up to the top of the garage for you." He merely nodded, glaring, and she went on, hoping it would start to rain soon. "You used the black eye as an excuse, so you could go off yesterday and try to find