The Mystery of the Midnight Marauder

collar.
    “You’ve got to listen to me!” she cried desperately. “If you don’t—” her mind searched wildly for an effective threat—“I’ll turn my dog loose on all of you. And I’ve got to warn you, he’s a killer!”
    Immediately, Reddy stopped growling. His back legs collapsed under him,' and he sat there, wagging his tail. He gazed warmly at Sergeant Molinson and looked the picture of innocence.
    Mart didn’t notice. “I didn’t do anything, Trix,” he said. “I heard young Mr. Crimper telling the police about the letter he’d received, that’s all. I decided to try and catch the Midnight Marauder myself. I must have left home just before you did. I came here on my bike. Reddy followed me, but I didn’t notice him till I was almost into town. We’ve been hiding in one of the storage cupboards back there.”
    Trixie didn’t give Sergeant Molinson a chance to say anything. Hurriedly, with a worried look at the large clock on the wall, she told the sergeant her suspicions.
    Even Mart was surprised when he realized that his sister had worked out the identity of the Midnight Marauder. \
    “So you see,” Trixie finished at last, “we haven’t got a moment to lose. We’ve got to get over there at once , before the next robbery takes place.”
    Sergeant Molinson’s face turned redder than ever. “And you expect me to swallow that yarn?” he asked, grinning over his shoulder at his men. “Nothin’ doin’, kid. Come on, now, you’re coming to the police station with me. And if that dog so much as moves—” He made a threatening gesture toward the gun still clenched in his beefy fist.
    Reddy was oblivious to the danger. He sat, still thumping the floor with his tail, and gazed soul-fully at all of them.
    Afterward, Trixie wasn’t sure what would have happened if there hadn’t been a sudden disturbance at the entrance.
    In the next moment, young Mr. Crimper was striding toward them. “What is all this?” he demanded. “Why are you holding these kids?“
    “We caught them in the act of robbing the store,” Sergeant Molinson announced with pride.
    “But we weren’t!” Trixie cried. “Oh, Mr. Crimper, maybe you’ll listen. You’ve got to listen! There’s almost no time left!”
    Quickly, Trixie told her story for the second time that evening. At the end of it, young Mr. Crimper looked appalled.
    “What?” he gasped. “And who is the Midnight Marauder?”
    Trixie told him.
    After that, things moved more rapidly than Trixie would have believed possible.
    Young Mr. Crimper insisted that the police should take immediate action. “If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll make sure the story is given out to all the newspapers.”
    “And what a fine story it would make,” a voice said softly.
    Turning, Trixie saw the Sun reporter, Vera Parker, notebook in hand and ready to take down in shorthand everything that was said.
    When Mr. Crimper pointed out that Sergeant Molinson could still arrest the three Bob-Whites if Trixie’s theory was wrong, there was no more argument.
    Soon Trixie found herself with Honey, Mart, and Reddy huddled in the back of a police car, speeding back along Glen Road.
    “You wanna drop the dog off at your house?” the young policeman who was driving asked Trixie. He had a hopeful note in his voice, and he slowed down as he neared Crabapple Farm.
    “No,” Trixie answered firmly, her hand on Reddy’s collar. “Something tells me that Reddy’s going to be a big help—”
    “For a change,” Mart broke in, staring down at the dog. “He almost got me arrested.”
    “How is Reddy going to help us?” Honey asked. Trixie sighed. “Up till now,” she said, “no one has seen the Midnight Marauder except Lester Mundy—”
    “And Reddy and Patch!” Honey exclaimed, her eyes wide. “And since Lester and Patch aren’t here, that leaves only Reddy to identify the thief.“
    “I still don’t understand,” Mart said, shaking his head in puzzlement.
    “Figure it out for yourself, Mart,” Trixie said. “There is no way our suspect has ever seen Reddy—except on the night that Wimpy’s was burglarized. I’m certain now that Reddy saw the thief hide the hamburger meat in that old shed. The Marauder didn’t need it, you see, and couldn’t afford to be caught with it. It would have been a dead giveaway. Reddy, on the other hand, thinks he’s made a new friend—a friend who feeds him good, raw hamburger. That’s why Reddy’s been acting so