The Mystery of the Emeralds (3 page)

Reading between the lines of your letter, which finally reached me, I know that you are aware of the situation and what is being done about it. Hence my decision to write you about the emerald necklace. This afternoon I hid it, and with Lee’s consent and approval I am sending Rufus, whom I’m sure you will remember, to you with this note. He has served this family since before Lee was born. Now he is old and not too well. We want to assure his well-being. He is leaving tomorrow with someone who will know the proper “lines” to take. His journey will be precarious, I know, and all we can do is hope and pray he reaches you safely. In case anything should happen to him en route, however, I am not divulging in this note where I have hidden the necklace. I have put directions for locating it in the place where we spent the last afternoon you were here
.

My heart is filled with sadness and a great desire to see you again, but my duty is with my family. Where will we all be next Christmas? Will one of us be able to wear the
emeralds, or will their proverbial curse visit us if they are not worn on that day? I pray not, but time alone will tell
.

Your devoted sister
,
Ruth

There was dead silence as Trixie finished reading, and the three looked at one another with solemn faces. They slid off the fence and walked slowly up the road toward the feeding horses.

Finally Jim said, “Trix, you’ve hit upon something pretty mysterious and a little eerie, but it was so far away and long ago, I don’t see how you can ever hope to do anything about it.”

“She’ll find a way, Jim, if I know Trixie,” Honey said, rising to her friend’s defense, “and you can be sure every one of the Bob-Whites will help her—you included.”

“Oh, simmer down, Honey, you know I’ll help her,” Jim answered with a smile. “But how in heaven’s name can you go about unraveling a mystery as old as this one?”

Trixie’s brows were furrowed with thought as she said, “I don’t know
how
, Jim, I only know that I’ve
got
to try.”

They had been so preoccupied with the letter that no one had noticed the minutes slipping by. Suddenly, Trixie looked at her wrist watch and cried, “Gleeps, we
had better step on it. It’s after four thirty now. We’ll have to pay a fine for being late.”

“Well, the club coffers need some replenishment, I guess.” Honey laughed. “I haven’t paid my dues in weeks.”

The clubhouse originally had been the gatehouse on the Wheeler estate. It had been unoccupied for years and consequently in a very run-down condition when the Bob-Whites decided to use it for their meetings. The boys had put on a new roof, floored the interior, and partitioned one side to store their various sports equipment—skis, skates, tennis rackets, and camping gear.

Honey, who sewed beautifully, had made gay curtains for the windows which, with the simple furniture they had collected, made it a very attractive room. They not only had many good times here but had also planned several projects to help those less fortunate than themselves.

Mart, Brian, and Diana were busy sweeping and dusting when the others arrived. All but one of the windows were wide open.

“Leave that one down, Trix,” Brian warned his sister as she started toward it. “A robin has built her nest on the sill. Look, there are four very hungry babies in it, and Mr. and Mrs. Redbreast are being run ragged trying to fill them up.”

“Just like people!” Mart said. “But how about getting started? Would our
late
president like to call the meeting to order? You were in an awful hurry a little while ago. What slowed you down, Sis?”

“If you will all sit down, I’ll tell you,” Trixie said seriously. She took her place with Jim, the club’s co-president, at the head of the table, the other Bob-Whites gathering quickly around, sensing that something unusual was in the wind.

Diana, looking pretty as always in a soft lavender dress that set off her dark hair and violet eyes, suggested that they skip the regular business of reading the minutes and roll call. “Let’s hear what Trixie has to say,” she urged, and everyone agreed.

They leaned forward expectantly as Trixie read the letter again. When she had finished she related how she had found it in the attic at Crabapple Farm. She was more explicit now about her discovery of the hidden compartment under the roof. “The letter fell out of a tattered pair of trousers I found in the little room, and Moms doesn’t know how they got there, and
I
can’t even guess,” she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Unless—”

“Unless what, Trixie?” Honey asked breathlessly. “What do you think?”

“Remember last year when we were studying about the Civil War, and slavery and secession and everything?” Trixie asked. “Well, isn’t it possible that Rufus may have stopped at our house on his way to Croton where Helen Sunderland lived?”

“By Jove, I think you’ve got something there, Trix,” Brian said. “He could have been hidden up there in the crawl space. Maybe our house was part of the Underground Railroad. Let’s ask Dad about it when he gets home tonight.”

It was inevitable that, with the letter on everyone’s mind, the Bob-Whites found it difficult to get down to the business of the White Elephant Sale. But, after a good deal of speculation about the mystery of the hidden room, Trixie reminded them that they had to come to some decision about their list of contributions to the sale.

Before they adjourned, they had compiled quite a list of things to donate. “And why can’t we offer to pick up articles for people who have no way of delivering their stuff?” suggested Mart.

“Good idea, and we might offer to help sell, too,” Honey added.

After a vote was taken and everyone agreed to the plan, Trixie asked Di to write to the Heart Association offering their services. Di was the quietest member of
the group, and Trixie liked to give her things to do whenever possible to make her feel that she was really an important member of the Bob-Whites.

As the meeting broke up, Trixie told Honey and Di that she would phone them later. “In the meantime, you all might be doing a little quiet research on the Underground Railroad, especially to see if it ever ran through Sleepyside.”

“You talk as though you thought it was a real railroad,” Mart said jestingly. “Do you think it was kind of like the New York subway system?”

“Of course not. I’m not quite such a lame-brain, dear brother, even if I’m not as brilliant as you.” Trixie shot the words at him with a toss of her head, the color rising in her cheeks. She adored Mart, but sometimes his teasing got just the result he hoped for—it made her boiling mad!

Brian broke the mood. “I think we all agree,” he said seriously, “that Trix has uncovered a real mystery—one that is really going to require everything we’ve got if we’re going to find the answer to it.”

Trixie looked at her older brother gratefully. “Thank you, Brian,” she said softly. “I know it looks hopeless right now, but”—she clenched her fist—“we’ve just got to try!”

Bobby was helping Mrs. Belden shell peas on the back porch when his brothers and sister returned. Mart grabbed a handful from the bowl on his mother’s lap as he went past.

“Go easy, Mart, these are the first of the season, and there aren’t too many big enough to pick yet,” she admonished him.

“I know,” laughed Mart, “that’s why I helped myself. I remember last year, I got cheated.”

“That’ll be the day when
you
don’t get enough to eat,” Trixie said. “Is Dad home yet, Moms?”

“No, but he should be here any minute now. Reddy’s nose is beginning to quiver, and that’s always a sure sign your father’s coming. I do believe that dog knows exactly when he leaves his office,” Mrs. Belden said.

“He’d make a wonderful hunting dog, but I’m glad we never trained him for that,” Brian commented. “I like to think of the woods creatures living without fear of man or dog.”

“Reddy hasn’t been trained to do anything, but the
old boy is faithful,” Mart said. “I don’t think he’d let anyone get near Bobby if we weren’t here. And remember how he came for help when you were lost in the blizzard?”

Reddy sensed that he was being praised and his tail thumped the floor in appreciation. Suddenly, he let out a big woof, leaped off the porch, and raced up the driveway. Almost immediately, the Belden station wagon turned into the yard and Mr. Belden got out.

“Hello, everybody! Is dinner ready? I’m starved!” he called out as he came up the porch steps, lifting Bobby and kissing him.

Bobby wiped his cheek on his sleeve as he mumbled, “I’m too big to get kissed. You don’t kiss Mart and Brian. Only girls get kissed. I’m a big boy now.”

“Okay, Bobby.” His father laughed. “I’ll kiss two of the prettiest girls in Sleepyside—that is, if they have my dinner ready.”

“Coming up, sir,” Trixie answered, bowing low and following her mother into the house to help set the table.

It was not long before the family was seated around the big kitchen table where they preferred to eat most of their meals. After everyone had been served the roast lamb, mashed potatoes, and peas, Trixie turned to her
father and, trying to make her voice sound casual, said, “Dad, have you any idea how an old canteen and some other stuff got up in that space over the kitchen?”

“What space over the kitchen, Trix?” her father asked, obviously puzzled by her question.

“Well, I sort of backed into it today.” Trixie giggled as she thought how ridiculous she must have looked sitting on the floor with a drawer full of clothes on top of her and that old bonnet on her head. “While Moms and I were up in the attic, I was trying to get a drawer open and I fell and broke into a funny little space, and there was this canteen—”

“This canteen?
What
canteen, Trixie?” Mr. Belden interrupted.

“Oh,” Trixie laughed ruefully. “I’m going too fast, as usual. I’ll start at the beginning and go get it—the canteen, I mean.”

She sprang up from the table and ran out of the room, returning a moment later with the old canteen. Mr. Belden laid down his fork, pushed himself back from the table, and took it in his hands.

“Hmmm, that’s an old one, all right,” he said as he turned it over and over. “I’m sure I don’t know about the room over the kitchen or how this got in it, but I’ll take a look at it after dinner.”

“Couldn’t you come up now and see it?” Trixie urged.

“And miss your mother’s chocolate cake? We’ll go up as soon as we’ve finished eating,” he promised.

Trixie managed to control her excitement and ate two pieces of cake herself before she got the flashlight and, followed by her father, Mart, and Brian, went up to the attic.

Mr. Belden crawled through the broken board and examined every corner of the hidden room. He found that Trixie hadn’t overlooked a single thing. There was nothing there now except cobwebs, the dust of years, and an accumulation of nut shells left by many generations of mice.

“What do you think, Dad? Could it have been a secret hideaway?” Trixie asked.

“Yes, it
could
have been,” Mr. Belden answered slowly. “You know, while I was in there something began to come back to me, something my grandfather used to talk about when I was a little boy. I’d forgotten all about it until now.”

“Jeepers, Dad, you’ve just got to remember!” Trixie cried. “Think hard!”

“Why all the interest in an old canteen, Trixie?” he asked, looking at her quizzically.

“Oh, I suppose she thinks if she rubs it hard, like Aladdin’s lamp, a mystery may pop out of it,” Mart teased.

Trixie was grateful to her brother for emphasizing her interest in the canteen, because she didn’t want anyone but the Bob-Whites to know about the letter, at least not until she had had more time to investigate it.

“I guess I’m turning into a Civil War fan.” Trixie laughed. “Tell me what your grandfather said, Dad.”

“Well, when I was about Bobby’s age, I used to love to climb up on his lap. He had a fascinating gadget on the end of his gold watch chain, and while he talked to me, he would take it out of his pocket and clean his pipe with a little silver spoon and scraper, and then after he’d filled the pipe with wonderful, sweet-smelling tobacco, he would press it down with the little tamper and light it. I was more interested in watching this ritual than in hearing about a war I wasn’t old enough to understand. I vaguely recall, however, his telling me about slaves coming to this house for refuge and being hidden during the day and going away secretly at night, and I seem to remember one in particular who was nursed by my great-grandmother when he fell ill.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” Brian asked.

“I don’t remember,” Mr. Belden answered, frowning, as he tried to recall the end of the story. “Maybe it will come back to me later. It all happened before my great-grandfather went off to the Civil War.”

Trixie was fascinated. Crabapple Farm
must
have been a stop on the Underground Railroad! She spent the rest of the evening looking among her father’s books for any that might have something on the subject. One of them described the system in some detail—how the houses where people were hidden were called “stations,” the various routes were called “lines,” and how those who were passed along were referred to as “packages” or “freight.” Trixie remembered the use of the word “lines” in the letter she had found, and how the writer had put it in quotation marks.
Surely
, Trixie thought to herself,
she must have meant that Rufus was being sent north along the Underground
. She decided to go the next morning to the Sleepyside library. Maybe there she could find something more about the actual routes and discover if any ran up the Hudson Valley. She called Honey and Di to tell them about her father’s half-remembered story and to ask them to go with her. Di couldn’t, because she had to go to New York with her mother, but Honey was free and they made a date to meet at ten the following day.