The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

either light the pilot and wait awhile or keep the pilot going all the time, which, of course, is a fire risk.
    “And even before I lit the pilot light, I had to make sure there was water in this boiler here. Then I pumped up pressure in these tanks, which hold kerosene for the main burner and gasoline for the pilot light.
    “Then I came around to the front here and put the flame from an acetylene torch up to the pilot jet. Once it started to smoke, I opened the pilot valve a little, to let some gasoline in.
    “Now I open this other valve here to let gasoline into the main burner to heat it up, just for thirty seconds or so. Then I turn off the gas and open this valve to supply kerosene to the burner. See the blue flame? That means she’s burning just fine. All we have to do now is wait for the steam pressure to build up a little. Two hundred pounds will be plenty for us today. If we were going out on hills, we’d need more.”
    Mr. Burnside climbed into the driver’s seat. “Brian, you first,” he said.
    Brian Belden crawled into the passenger seat with an awed look on his face, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening to him.
    The other Bob-Whites watched as Brian and Mr. Burnside circled the vast yard in the Stanley Steamer. Mr. Burnside was talking continually, pointing to gauges and levers. Brian listened, his head turned attentively toward his host.
    Trixie shook her head. “It doesn’t even sound like a car, does it? I mean, it doesn’t make any sound at all.”
    When the Stanley Steamer returned to the garage, the Bob-Whites gaped in surprise as Mr. Burnside climbed down and Brian took his place behind the wheel!
    “Who’s next?” Mr. Burnside said. When everyone hesitated, he took Trixie, who was closest, by the arm and almost lifted her into the seat.
    Trixie swallowed hard, feeling a bit nervous perched on the high, open seat. But as the car started off, she forgot her nervousness. “It’s like floating on a cloud!” she exclaimed.
    Brian nodded. “There’s no clutch and no gearshift. There’s just this throttle lever. The farther you move the lever, the faster you go. Not having to shift is what makes it so smooth.”
    After a turn around the yard, Trixie reluctantly gave up her place in the passenger’s seat to Jim and went back to stand by Mr. Burnside.
    “I can see why the Model A seems less exciting to you, now that you own the Stanley Steamer,” she said.
    “I’m hooked, all right,” Mr. Burnside told her.
    “You know, my wife has been an antique collector for years. It started with an old rocking chair her mother gave her, and it took off from there. Now she scours flea markets and antique shops all over the country.
    “I used to laugh at her. Then, two years ago, I bought this Model A. Now I’ve traded up to the Stanley Steamer. I’m not kidding myself that I’ll stop there. Why, some of the other people in my antique car club have two or three old cars, and they paid incredible amounts of money for them.”
    “What does the car club do? I mean, do you have regular meetings and all?” Honey asked.
    “Oh, sure,” Mr. Burnside said. “We meet once a month at someone’s house. We trade information on where to find replacement parts and what kind of car just brought what price at an auction. Mostly, though, the meetings are merely an excuse to show off our cars.”
    “You all must enjoy that,” Honey said.
    “We certainly do,” Mr. Burnside told her. “The thing is, these old cars really aren’t useful as everyday transportation. They’re too temperamental, for one thing. They’re also too valuable to risk having an accident or exposing them to dirt and rust. So most of us have lots of money—and incredible amounts of time and work—tied up in our old cars. Of course we want to show them off, but except for our annual ear show and our monthly club meetings, we don’t get much chance to.”
    Honey murmured something sympathetic to Mr. Burnside, but Trixie drowned her out with a shout of “Gleeps! Mr. Burnside, you just gave me the most terrific idea!”

Trixie’s Idea ● 2

    OH, WOE!” MART BELDEN GROANED. “My sibling’s sagacious conceptions invariably discommode all who enter into concurrence, Mr. Burnside. Heed my admonition!”
    “Nothing worthwhile is achieved without some trouble, Mart,” Mr. Burnside replied calmly. “I’d at least like to hear what Trixie’s idea is.”
    Trixie flashed a look of triumph at her almost-twin,