The Mystery of the Missing Heiress (20 page)

“It’s Jim’s stepfather!” Trixie gasped. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

Why didn’t
someone
turn on the lights in the house?

Why didn’t
someone
hear their cries?

Oh, why didn’t
someone
come to catch that man before he got away?

Had he drugged everyone?
Was... everyone... in... that
...
house....

In her agony, Trixie heard the sound of a starting motor, saw a red taillight disappear down Glen Road, and saw the car swallowed up in tree-shrouded darkness.

Simultaneously the commotion inside the house became bedlam... a combination of falling furniture, cries of “Where are the lights?” Bobbys shrieks, doors slamming, and rushing feet.

“Where are you, Trixie?” her father s voice called.

“Trixie!"” Brian echoed.

Mart’s and her mother s voices, high with fright, called, “Trixiel”

“Here!” Trixie and Honey called. “Turn on the garage lightl”

“The lights are all out, all over the house. What
is
happening?”

“He must have cut the wires!”

“Who? Stop muttering, Trixie, and pull yourself together.” Mr. Belden held his daughter dose to stop her shaking. “There, now, tell me...
who cut the wires?”

“Jim’s stepfather. We saw him. He came here to harm Janie. He was... going... toward... her window! Oh, Daddy!”

“Harm Janie?Jones? Why?”

“I don’t know. Daddy,
where is Janie?”

“I’m here, Trixie. Who is Jones?”

“Thank heaven you’re all right, Janie. Daddy, where’s Reddy?”

“Here,” Brian said grimly, “not twenty feet from the garage. Asleep... drugged.”

“Here’s the thing that did it!” Mart cried, from near Janie’s window, holding up a shiny object. “Jim’s stepfather was going to drug Janie. Why?”

“The sheriff will have to find out,” said Trixie, her voice shaking.

It was almost daylight before the sheriff arrived. The telephone lines to Crabapple Farm also had been cut, so Mart and Brian ran to Manor House. Soon the whole area was alerted.

Lights flashed on in houses.

Jim, Brian, and Mart took off down Glen Road. Their search was in vain, for Jones had been clever. Cut wires had given him a start that would be impossible to overcome.

Voices, voices everywhere.Trucks and cars arriving. Trucks and cars leaving. Men from the telephone company, urged on by the police, repaired the cut lines. Electric power came back to the house. A veterinarian arrived to care for Reddy.

A bright sun followed the night’s storm. A warm wind blew in from the south.

Dan, summoned by Jim, arrived from Mr. Maypenny’s cottage. He had stopped for Diana and brought her with him. They were told of the night’s events.

Mrs. Belden, capable as usual, busied herself getting breakfast.

“Set ten places at the table, Trixie,” she said. “The girls will help you pour orange juice. Will it be pancakes or waffles or scrambled eggs?”

“Eggs and bacon,” Mr. Belden said. “Then you can sit at the table with us. It keeps you from hopping from stove to table with waffles or pancakes. Will that be all right, gang?”

“Anything to fill us up, Mrs. Belden. I wonder what it would take to knock out our appetites.” Jim brought paper napkins from the box over the refrigerator and pushed chairs up to the extended kitchen table.

“Somebody make the toast,” he said as Diana set mats at each place.

“Toast coming up!” Brian said. “Jim, you get the telephone. It sounds like long distance—you know, more mechanical, longer rings—”

“I’ll take it,” Trixie said eagerly. “Maybe it’s a report from the sheriff. Hello? Oh, Mrs. Hendricks. It’s that neighbor next door in the Bronx, next to the De Jongs’ house,” she explained to the others hurriedly. “Yes, Mrs. Hendricks?
He did?
This morning? Didn’t anyone know he was coming? Oh, Juliana will be delirious when I tell her. Yes, ma’am, she’s been here all this time waiting for some papers. I think they came yesterday. I’ll call her right away. Tell Hans we’ll go with Juliana to meet him at the bus in Sleepyside. Yes, probably in about an hour. We’ll check with the bus station about the time of arrival. I can’t wait till we telephone the news to Juliana.”

“Now, guess what?” she asked as she returned the receiver to the hook.

“Juliana’s fiancé must have arrived from Holland. He’s the only Hans connected with Juliana that we’ve heard about,” Mart said. “I’m not as sure as you seem to be that his coming will be so welcome.”

“Why not?” Honey asked.

“She’s had this other guy on the string, too.”

“Mart Belden, you sure don’t keep your ears open. Don’t you remember? Mrs. Vanderpoel explained that Juliana was working on those dolls. That was what took her away from the house all the time. Juliana went to Mrs. Thompson’s house to work, and it was her son or nephew or somebody who came after Juliana in the car. Besides,” Honey added quietly, “I thought we decided not to be imagining everything.”

“Gosh, Honey, you’re right,” Mart said. “Trixie, are you going to call Juliana?”

“Trixie’s already on the phone,” Bobby said, “the one in the living room. Listen! Boy! Listen to her! She sounds pretty mad.”

“Now what can we tell Hans Vorwald?” Trixie sputtered as she came back into the room. “Juliana isn’t there. She left early this morning. That isn’t all. Mrs. Vanderpoel said she took everything she owned with her. So she evidently didn’t intend to come back. She didn’t even say good-bye to any of us—not even Jim. Do you think we should try and reach her fiancé in the Bronx?”

“He must be halfway here by now,” Jim said. “I can't believe it! Juliana
must
have intended to see us before she left. I wonder who called for her at Mrs. Vanderpoels house.”

“The faithful Thompson relative,” Trixie said, “of course— Say... wait a minute... wait!”

Two things hammered at Trixie’s brain: “Thompson” and “all of her things are gone.”

A clear, bright light broke.

With a cry, Trixie jumped to her feet. “I may be the biggest idiot in the world—or the smartest detective in die state of New York!”

“Is there a choice?” Mart teased. “Say, Trixie, where are you going?”

Trixie opened the screen door. “Don’t ask any questions, any of you,
please.
Come with me to the bus station,
please!
All the Bob-Whites! Jim, drive as fast as you can! There isn’t much traffic. Hurry, please, Jim!”

The Bob-Whites didn’t ask questions. They followed Trixie. They all piled into the station wagon, and Jim was off, with a screech of tires, down Glen Road toward Sleepyside.

Just outside the village, Trixie, sitting on the edge of the seat next to Jim, ordered, “To the bank first! Oh, I hope we’re in time! Wait for me!”

In a few minutes she was back, her face grim with disappointment.

“Juliana cashed that check for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars less than an hour ago. She
had
to have made arrangements days ago for that big a sum of money to be ready. How dumb I’ve been!”

“So that’s what my stepfather has been hanging around this vicinity for. Trust him to try to get in on that kind of money! He may even have kidnapped Juliana!”

Trixie didn’t answer. “To the sheriff’s office now, please, Jim,” she directed. She stopped but a moment there, ran out, jumped back into the car, and said, “To the bus station now, please, Jim. Keep the engine running, and I’ll go in and meet Hans.”

“You?” Mart asked. “What’s all the high-handed business about, Trixie? Don’t you think we’re smart enough to be in on it?”

“Mart,” Trixie begged, “for a little while longer, please trust me. I don’t have time to say anything else, but I’m right! I know I’m right! You wait and see. Now, Jim, park right here and keep the engine running. I hope Hans is on that bus that just arrived. Keep your fingers crossed!” Trixie was out of the car like a flash.

In a few minutes she came back with a tall, handsome, blond young man.

“This is Hans,” she explained and motioned him into the seat next to Jim. Then she crowded in after him.

“Whirl around, Jim, and go back to our house!”

“Our house?” Mart asked, bewildered.

“Oh, Mart,” Trixie begged. “Our house,” she repeated to Jim, “and fast!”

Jim stepped on the gas, backed around, and was off. Trixie, from the front seat, tried to introduce the Bob-Whites to the dazed young man from Holland. Then, when he didn’t seem to be making sense out of anything, she shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of frustration and said, “Wait! That’s all I ask of any of you. Wait! In about three minutes you’ll know the score.”

Up the road the Bob-White station wagon flew, turned into the driveway at Crabapple Farm, and screamed to a stop.

Mr. and Mrs. Belden and Bobby, with Reddy at his heels, ran out. Janie followed slowly.

Trixie got out of the front seat. The young man from Holland followed.

When Janie saw him, a blazing smile swept over her face. With a cry of joy she rushed into his arms. “Hans!”

“Juliana!”

Hans caught her close to him, spun her off the ground, set her back on her feet, looked at her searchingly, and asked, “Juliana,
why
didn’t you write to me? I was crazy with worry. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to come to the States to find out what kept you from writing. Why didn’t you write, Juliana?”

“
Juliana
?” Jim echoed. “She’s Juliana?”

“Juliana?” the confused Bob-Whites repeated, looking to Trixie for an answer. “Janie is Juliana?” Exultant, clapping her hands, Trixie nodded toward Hans and Janie. “Just listen to what she’s saying,” she cried.
“She is Juliana.
She’s been Juliana all the time. She’s telling him about her accident on Glen Road and how she lost her memory. Listen!
Janie's memory has come back!”

Janie Remembers! • 18

IN THE LIVING ROOM, with the Bob-Whites, Trixie s mother and father, and Bobby listening, Janie told Hans her story.

“I wrote to you from the De Jongs’ home about seeing my mother’s name in a newspaper article. It told of some land in Sleepyside, owned by Betje Maasden, my mother. I was all ready to go to the Poconos with the De Jong family for a vacation. Instead of going with them, I decided to go first to Sleepyside, find out about the land, then join them later.”

“You didn’t write me about your change of plans, Juliana,” Hans said. “The last I heard from you was the letter about the article in the New York City newspaper.”

“I didn’t write because I fully expected to send a letter to you from Sleepyside and tell you what I had discovered here.”

“When I didn’t hear, and didn’t hear... oh, Juliana, I’ve been desperate. I tried calling on the transcontinental telephone, but there was no answer.” Hans’s voice was troubled. “Your wrist is bandaged! Your face is scratched. Did you fall?” Trixie sat on the edge of her chair, listening.
This is Janie remembering!
she thought.

“I drove my own car, my blue Volkswagen,” Janie hurried on, aware of Hans’s concern. “It was when I reached the outskirts of Sleepyside, after I left the highway. I remember thinking what a pretty little city it was, but what a lonesome stretch of road! I... I…”

Janie shivered, hesitated.

Oh, don’t let her stop remembering now,
Trixie prayed, eyes closed.

“Go on,” Hans urged and put his arm around his fiancee’s shoulders. “Go on, Juliana!”

“I hadn’t gone far, when a man stepped in front of me... an evil-looking man. I’ll never forget his face as long as I live. Shiny black hair and a cruel, crooked mouth, tobacco-yellowed teeth—”

“My stepfather!” Jim groaned.

That terrible smelly tobacco,
Trixie thought.

How could I ever forget it?

“He held out his hand to stop me. I
had
to stop, or I’d have run right into him. I remember twisting the steering wheel to pass him, but I lost control of the car and headed straight for a tree....”

Janie paused, her voice choked with tears. Then she went on. “That’s all I remember, Hans, till I awakened in the hospital. Oh, Hans, everyone has been so good to me. I couldn’t remember my name. I couldn’t even remember
you,
till I saw you get out of the station wagon.”

“She tried so hard,” Trixie said. “Every time she tried, that phony Juliana—I wonder where she came from and who she is—every time Janie was on the edge of remembering, that awful girl tried harder to keep her from remembering.”