Free The Mysterious Code by Kathryn Kenny Page A

they all worked hard getting ready for the show. The oil heater kept them cozy and warm, and the new electric lights made it possible to work after dark. Also, Regan had installed an alarm system attached to a wire leading to his apartment over the stable at Manor House. It hadn’t buzzed once, and there had been no disturbance since the night the two men were trying to look into the clubhouse.
    “It must have been the same ones who stole the lap desk,” Honey said. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to find out any more about that or get the desk back?”
    “Not unless we try harder than we’ve been trying,” Trixie said and told them what Mrs. Vanderpoel had told her about the boy who ran off without being paid.
    “He might have been one of them,” Jim said thoughtfully. “He was, of course. Brian and I have tried to locate Spider half a dozen times to ask him about it. We haven’t been able to find him.”
    “That seems strange,” Trixie said, worried. “It’s almost as though he’s trying to keep out of our way.”
    “Why would he want to do that?” Diana asked.
    “He’s been acting so queer lately,” Trixie said.
    The next day, instead of meeting the others in the school cafeteria for lunch, Trixie started out to try to find Spider. Until they could discover who the thieves were, everything they had in the clubhouse was in danger.
    Trixie’s intuition led her directly to where Spider was having a break for lunch, to Wimpy’s Diner where they had seen him the night of the school board meeting. Trixie climbed up on a stool next to Spider and nudged his arm.
    “Hello, there,” Spider said. “How’s the head of the Intelligence Department today?”
    “Spider,” Trixie said seriously, ignoring his sarcasm, “we’re having trouble, the Bob-Whites are. Someone was looking into the clubhouse one night. We had been having a meeting. They must have waited till they saw us leave, then tried to get in one of the windows.”
    “How did you know?” Spider asked.
    “I went back suddenly and saw them leaving,” Trixie told him.
    “Did you recognize any of them?” Spider asked anxiously.
    “No, but that isn’t all.” She told him about the masked men who dumped Bobby into the snow and stole the desk.
    “What do you want me to do about it?” Spider asked. “I think you might as well forget it.”
    Trixie, amazed at his attitude, insisted, “We
can’t
forget it, Spider. They’ll keep on doing things like that.”
    “It was probably some kids playing a trick on you and now they’re afraid to return it. We find that all the time,” Spider said. “The desk will turn up one of these days in some out-of-the-way corner where they’ve hidden it.”
    “Spider Webster!” Trixie said. “Those men who took the desk had masks on. They were real crooks.”
    Spider waved his hand nervously. “Forget it, Trixie. There are half a hundred things more important that are bothering the police.”
    “Well, they’re going to get a chance to bother once more,” Trixie said vehemently. “I don’t understand you, Spider. I’m going to march myself right down to the police station and report it now.”
    “Don’t do it!” Spider warned.
    Trixie hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean just this,” Spider said, his face reddening, “that you’ll get your club into more trouble than Mr. Stratton caused. Who do you suppose complained to him and to the board about secret societies in the first place?”
    “The police?” asked Trixie.
    “Figure it out yourself,” said Spider. “Since that business came up with the school board there hasn’t been any more vandalism at the school, has there?”
    “No,” Trixie admitted. “I’d give a good deal to know who did that damage at the school. What do you mean when you say the vandalism stopped after the talks we had with Mr. Stratton?”
    “I mean just this: Maybe it
was
an inside job at the school. Maybe some kid did it