The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

after.
Okay?”
    “Okay,” Bobby answered, a big smile brightening his face. “Day after
tomorrow— and don’t forget!”
    “I won’t,” Trixie said. “I promise.”
    Trixie dashed down the stairs and out the front door. Honey was waiting
for her outside.
    “Next stop, the dig,” Trixie said gleefully. The two girls headed across Glen Road on their bicycles. Trixie was whistling merrily as they rode.
    Fortunately, they arrived at the dig during a lunch break. Trixie was
glad. Now everyone would hear what Honey had to say. Harry Kemp was there, too. So much the better, Trixie thought.
    Honey mournfully said good-bye to all the graduate students, explaining
that she and Miss Trask were joining her parents in Europe .
    No one seems very upset, Trixie
thought. I guess they never got a chance to know us, so they probably
won’t miss us. But Harry Kemp smiled broadly—much more broadly than the
occasion warranted—and he wished Honey a pleasant summer.
    “Another fish,” Trixie chortled happily as they made their way back to
the Manor House. “Hook, line, and sinker!”
    “We still have the hardest fish to hook,” Honey said. “In the eyes of
Miss Trask and Regan, this may be a crazy plan.”
    “Oh, they’re bound to go for it. It won’t be difficult for them, will
it?”
    “No-o-o,” Honey said cautiously, “but I still don’t know. By the way,
where are Di and the boys?”
    “Waiting for us at the clubhouse, of course,” Trixie replied breezily.
“Just where they’re supposed to be. We’re all going to lay this trap together. Ooooh , I can hardly wait for tonight!”
    The girls’ first stop was Regan’s apartment. Honey told him all about
Professor Conroy. Then Trixie told him the plan. “All you have to do is shut
your lights off early and stay by the phone,” she said convincingly.
    Bill Regan looked at the eager girl with a puzzled expression on his
face. “You know, Trixie, sometimes you do the strangest things.”
    “But it isn’t strange, Regan. It’s going to work.”
    “Knowing you, I’m sure it is,” Regan replied with a rueful smile. “I
don’t know how you talk me into these things, though.”
    Trixie smiled. “Thanks, Regan. You’ll see. This plan is foolproof.”
    Trixie and Honey clambered down the stairs that led from Regan’s
apartment, and headed to the main house.
    “Now for Miss Trask,” Trixie said excitedly. “I hope she’ll do it.”
    “If she doesn’t,” Honey said, “the plan won’t work.”
    “I know,” Trixie said uneasily. “You’ll have to help me convince her.
Miss Trask isn’t the kind of person who plays games.”
    “You have to admit, this is hardly a game.”
    “I know. That’s the problem. I’m sure she’d rather call the police and
let them catch the burglars.”
    “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t caught as many burglars as you have,” Honey
laughed.
    The two girls went up the front steps and into the house. Miss Trask was
just coming out of the library.
    As always, she listened carefully and with interest to what Trixie and
Honey proposed. But she didn’t like the idea.
    “It seems awfully silly,” she said, cocking her head to one side. “And
you say that Regan has agreed to this?”
    “He sure did,” Honey said emphatically. “All you have to do is spend the
evening in Regan’s apartment, and keep a lookout from his window,” Trixie said.
    “But how can you be sure the burglars are going to come back at all?”
Miss Trask asked. “And why tonight?”
    “Let’s just say it’s one of my hunches,” Trixie replied confidently.
    “Humph,” Miss Trask grumbled. “It sounds as if I’m going to spend the
evening sitting around in the dark, and all because I know how much you two
enjoy playing cops and robbers.”
    “It won’t be so bad,” Honey said. “You can always talk to Regan.”
    Shaking her head, Miss Trask finally agreed. “I don’t know how those two
do it…” she muttered as she went back into the library.
    Convincing Bill Regan and Miss Trask to go along with the plan was only
the beginning. Next came Celia Delanoy , the Wheelers’
cook.
    Trixie asked Celia to make the Bob-Whites a picnic supper which they
would eat at the clubhouse. Celia readily agreed. The night promised to be hot
and muggy, and she welcomed the opportunity to prepare a cold supper and get
out of the kitchen early.
    Now the plan was really taking shape. By dusk, Celia and her husband,
Tom, would be safely tucked