The Mystery of the Emeralds (13 page)

“Take heart, Trixie,” Mr. Carver said. “Just because
I
am ignorant of any such passage, doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“But certainly you would have heard about it, wouldn’t you?” Trixie asked despairingly.

“Not necessarily,” he answered. “You see, after the untimely death of my mother and father, I was raised by a succession of nurses and governesses who were hired by the executors of my father’s estate. The chances are they would not have known anything about any such secret passage. And I was much too young to remember anything about it, even if I had been told by my father.”

“And you haven’t
any
idea where it might be?” Trixie asked, grasping at straws.

“I’m sorry, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find it.” Mr. Carver was obviously trying to encourage her. “With all the Bob-Whites to help you,” he went on almost tenderly, “and with your own talent for solving knotty problems, I’m sure you can work this one out, too.”

The others tried to be just as reassuring, and it wasn’t long before Trixie, taking a deep breath, stood up and said in a confident voice, “All right. I’ll try, but we’ve just got to find something specific to work on.”

“Such as?” Mart asked earnestly.

“That’s a good question,” Trixie said ruefully. She thought a long minute, and then went on, “Maybe if we go over all the facts we already have, something will occur to us. First, we have to assume there
is
a passage between the two houses, and since it’s nowhere above the ground, it must be a tunnel. Right?”

“Right!” Honey echoed. “And it must start on the side of Green Trees nearest Rosewood Hall. That would be this side of the house, and it would end up over there on the left, where Rosewood stood.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Jim laughed. “And the chances are, being a tunnel, it is reached via the cellar, wouldn’t you say?”

“Another brilliant deduction, Jim,” Brian applauded.

“Well, Green Trees has a cellar, all right,” Mr. Carver interpolated, “but you know, I’ve never in my whole life been in it. Perhaps you should have a look, although I know when the house was being restored, the cellar was gone over very carefully. They wanted to be sure there weren’t any weak places in the foundations.”

“They might have overlooked the entrance to the passage if it were concealed in any way,” Trixie meditated. “We’ve got to examine every inch of it. Do you think the historical society would mind, Mr. Carver?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, the floor plans of the house which they drew up might be of some help to you.”

“Gleeps!” Trixie exclaimed. “Things are suddenly looking up again. Could we see them—the plans, I mean? We’ll be going home in three days, you know, so we can’t waste a minute.”

“It’s a bit late today,” Mr. Carver reflected, glancing at his watch. “However, I’ll phone Miss Bates—she’s the head of the historical society—and see if she can come over tomorrow. We can tell her you suspect there is a passage between the two houses, but for the time being, we won’t say anything about the necklace. It seems best
to keep that to ourselves until we’ve gone a little further with this investigation.”

“Jeepers!” Trixie cried. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait until tomorrow to explore the cellar, but you’re right, Mr. Carver; it’s getting late, and Di’s parents will begin to wonder what’s keeping us so long. I’ll try to be patient for once in my life!”

“Well, come as early in the morning as you like.” He smiled as they once again made their farewells. “I always wake up with the birds.”

There was no one in sight at Rosewood Hall as the Bob-Whites passed it on their way back to Williamsburg.

“I’d sure like to know what goes on in there,” Mart said, looking down the driveway. “I wonder if Neil and Jenkins are doing any more digging in the ruins? You know, it could be they might stumble on the passage before we find it. And if
that
happened they could just as easily find the X-marked brick.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that,” Trixie moaned. “I’ll
die
if we don’t discover it tomorrow!”

The Bob-Whites decided they should tell Mr. and Mrs. Lynch something about their search for the passage. “It isn’t fair not to let them know why we are continually running out to Green Trees,” Trixie said.

“You’re right,” Di agreed. “Daddy and Mummy have been marvelous about letting us go on our own, but I’d feel better, too, if they were in on part of the mystery, at least.”

“The idea of a charmed necklace might seem so preposterous to them,” Jim said, “that I agree with Mr. Carver, we’d better keep that under our hats for a while.”

That evening at dinner, Trixie told Mr. and Mrs. Lynch about finding the locket in the cemetery, taking it to Edgar Carver, and discovering the reference to a secret passage.

“So that’s what’s been occupying you young folks!” Mr. Lynch said with a smile when she had finished. “I must admit I was on the point of asking what you had all been so busy about, but Mother, here, reminded me you were old enough to keep out of trouble, so I didn’t interfere.”

“You’ve been wonderful, Mr. Lynch,” Trixie said. “It’s really been exciting, and if we only find the passage, no knowing what it might lead to.”

“These old houses are often full of surprises,” Mr. Lynch said. “Why, just the other day I heard of one with a secret room that no one knew existed until a library wall was torn out in the process of remodeling.”

“Did they find anything exciting in it?” Di asked her father.

“No, not a thing,” he laughed. “It was as empty as the proverbial drum.”

“Well,” Trixie said, “I hope tomorrow we’ll be able to find the passage without having to tear out any walls.”

“I wish you luck,” Mr. Lynch said. “Don’t forget we plan to leave for home in a few days, so you don’t have very much time.”

“Oh, I know,” Trixie sighed, “but Mr. Carver told us we could come out as early as we like in the morning, so we’ll have the whole day.”

“We could take lunch with us,” Mart suggested, “and if the weather’s good, eat out in the garden.”

“Trust Mart to remember the food detail!” Di laughed. “But actually, it’s a good idea. Mart won’t be the only hungry one in the crowd, I know.”

“I’ll have some box lunches packed for you here at the restaurant,” Mrs. Lynch volunteered. “You can pick them up tomorrow after you’ve had breakfast.”

“Oh, wonderful, Mummy!” Di exclaimed. “And please order an extra one for Mr. Carver. He’s been so kind to us. Then we can all eat together.”

Trixie awoke almost before dawn the next morning, but she didn’t waken Di or Honey right away. She lay in bed, her head cradled in her arms, mulling over
the events of the last few days to see if there were any loose threads she had overlooked. She recalled what Mart had said the previous day about the possibility of Jenkins and Neil stumbling on the passage on the Rosewood side, and the idea made her almost sick with apprehension.

I’ve
got
to find out what’s going on over there
, she thought to herself,
but
how?

She could think of no way to revisit Rosewood without being accused of trespassing. And Jenkins was no one she wanted to risk angering again.
At least
, she consoled herself,
even though he and Neil may know about the necklace, they don’t know where it is hidden. They must still be searching in the dark, if they’re searching at all—

Her reflections were interrupted by Honey calling softly to her from her bed.

“Di never seems to let anything interfere with her beauty sleep, does she? I’ll bet she’d sleep till eleven if we didn’t get her up. How long have you been awake, Trix?”

“Practically the whole night!” Trixie said wryly. “My mind has been spinning like a top.”

“Mine, too,” Honey said, “but I can’t say I came to any earthshaking conclusions. How about you?”

“Me, either,” Trixie answered. “Let’s start to wake Di up. You know how long it takes her to get going in the morning.”

By the time the girls had showered and dressed, they heard the boys outside and went to join them.

“Do you think it’s too early to start out?” Jim asked Trixie.

“Oh, by the time we have breakfast and pick up the box lunches and drive out there it will be close to nine o’clock,” Trixie replied. “I think that’s okay, don’t you?” She looked to the others to see how they felt.

“Sure, it’s okay,” Mart agreed. “Let’s not waste time talking about it. We’ve got work to do!”

They all shared Mart’s sense of excitement and expectancy as they drove toward Cliveden. Because of the early hour they decided against stopping to see Lizzie James this trip.

As they drove into the Green Trees driveway, Trixie suddenly seized Jim’s arm. “Look!” she cried. “Over there beyond the terrace! That man on horseback—isn’t it Jenkins?”

“It sure is, Trix,” Brian agreed. “And look at him beating that poor animal! Why on earth is he in such a hurry to get back to Rosewood?”

Jim slammed on the brakes and they all piled out of
the car and started around the house toward Mr. Carver’s study. Trixie, who had been in the front seat, got a head start and was the first to reach the French doors. Sensing something was wrong, she raced inside. What she saw made her heart miss a beat. On the floor beside the large mahogany desk was Mr. Carver, his forehead covered with blood. His legs were thrust out at an unnatural angle from the wheelchair, which was lying on its side, the back completely broken away from the seat.

Jim and Brian, who were close behind Trixie, rushed around the desk and knelt beside the fallen man, and from the look on their faces Trixie knew the situation was serious. She motioned the others to stay back until Brian had had a chance to examine the injured man.

“Trix, bring me some clean cloths and water. Quick!” Brian ordered tensely. “And you, Mart, come and help Jim get this broken chair out of the way.”

At first Trixie couldn’t think where to look for water and cloths, but suddenly she remembered seeing a small sink in Mr. Carver’s studio. She ran into the solarium and washed out a small pitcher she found on a shelf near the sink, filled it, and quickly grabbed up some cloths he apparently kept for cleaning his brushes.

“Good girl,” Brian said when she returned. “These aren’t sterile, but they’ll do to get the worst of the blood cleaned up so we can see how much damage has been done.”

By this time Mart and Jim had succeeded in extricating the wheelchair, and after Brian had assured himself that none of Mr. Carver’s bones was broken, they lifted him onto the sofa and covered him gently with his lap robe.

“He got a bad blow when he fell, but his pulse is pretty good and so is his respiration. We want to keep his head elevated a little in case he may have a concussion.” Brian adjusted the pillows on the sofa with professional skill.

“Do
you
think it was the fall that hurt him?” Honey whispered to Trixie. “Or did Jenkins hit him?”

“I’m pretty sure he struck his head as he fell,” Trixie answered under her breath, at the same time drawing Honey aside, toward the desk. “I noticed traces of blood on the corner of the desk here, just where he would have fallen.”

“You’re wonderful, Trix!” Honey said as they rejoined the others. “Even in an emergency you keep your head level and your eyes open.”

When Brian had finally cleaned the wound as best he could he took a freshly laundered handkerchief from his pocket and flipped it open, being careful not to touch the part that would come in contact with the ugly abrasion on Mr. Carver’s forehead.

“This is the closest thing to a sterile dressing I can manage,” he explained as he deftly adjusted the makeshift bandage. “Ironing half-sterilizes cloth, and I folded it as carefully as I could.”

Honey had been following Brian’s every move, as had the others, but at the same time she had seen to it that Mr. Carver was kept covered. Trixie smiled to herself, for well she remembered how her friend used to quail at the sight of blood. Now Honey seemed just as able to help in an emergency as any other Bob-White.

As a matter of fact
, Trixie thought,
I’ll bet she’d make a first-rate nurse, as well as a detective
.

Di and Mart, in the meantime, had been sponging up the spot on the floor and getting things in order again. It was not too long before Mr. Carver began to respond. His eyes slowly opened and he looked around as though not quite sure of his whereabouts. Then, seeing the Bob-Whites nearby, he smiled weakly and tried to raise his head.

“You had an accident, sir,” Brian told him, “but you’ll be all right. Just try to relax and lie still.”

“What happened?” Mr. Carver asked weakly, putting his hand to his brow. “My head is splitting.”

It was on the tip of Trixie’s tongue to tell him about seeing Jenkins riding away from the house, but she decided against it. It would be better to wait until he had had a chance to regain his strength before attempting to find out just what had happened.

“You fell out of your wheelchair,” she said, “and it looks as though you gave yourself a terrific knock on the edge of the desk.”