Free The Mystery of the Antique Doll by Julie Campbell

I’m arguing with you,” Brian said, “but we should clarify a few things first. Why do you think the store in Paris was so suspicious? Mr. Reid must know people besides antique dealers. Perhaps his friendship with this André is entirely unconnected to business.”
    “I suppose...” Trixie said, her voice trailing off.
    “But someone was definitely following them, don’t you think?” asked Di. She hunched her shoulders and leaned forward. Her worried gaze never left Brian’s face.
    “Well, I was about to get to that,” Brian said. “There is always room for coincidence, you know. Americans and Europeans travel back and forth across the ocean every day. Besides, the man never said anything to you, did he?”
    “No,” Trixie admitted. “But why was he everywhere we went?”
    “Could it be that your hyperactive imagination made you think you saw the same red-haired man everywhere you went?” Mart asked reasonably. “For example, people often say that I remind them of a certain person.” He smiled mischievously at Trixie. “Maybe you just saw someone who looked like the man.”
    Jim agreed with Mart. “It could be that, since you were frightened by the man waiting outside the store in Paris, you thought you saw him everywhere else.”
    “I suppose it’s possible,” Trixie said, “but that still doesn’t answer the doubts I have about Carl Reid.”
    “Well, until he does something really dreadful or illegal,” said Jim, “I’m afraid we have no reason to suspect him of anything.”
    “Innocent until proven guilty,” Mart put in. “One of the great tenets of American law.”
    “Trixie,” Honey said quietly, “I did see the man you pointed out in New York, but I’d never seen him before that. Remember, you were the only one who saw him in Paris. Until someone else sees him following us, too, there’s no way we can be sure we’re actually being followed.”
    “I know you’re right, guys,” Trixie said disconsolately. “It’s just that I was so sure!”
    “Well, try not to worry about it,” Brian reassured her. “And if you see anything else, come and tell me right away.”
    “All right, Brian,” Trixie said. “I suppose I’d better eat before the lunch period is over, huh?”
    “Don’t worry, Trixie,” Mart said, eyeing her lunch hungrily. “Anything you can’t finish will be taken care of instantly by yours truly over here.”
    “I wasn’t worried,” Trixie said, laughing at the expression on Mart’s face. “Maybe we should tell Moms to pack you a boxcar-sized lunch instead of that measly little lunch-boxful.”
    “I’m going to run up to the library,” Honey said. “I have a few last notes to collect for my paper in English. But I’ll see you later on the bus. We’re going to help Mrs. De Keyser again this afternoon.”
    “Oh, thanks for reminding me, Honey,” Trixie said. “I’ll see you later.”
    Trixie finished her sandwich, and rushed to her math class, trying not to think about the red-haired Frenchman. But all through the math class he stayed in her mind.
    After school, Trixie and Honey went to Mrs. De Keyser’s. They helped make a kidney-bean-and-ham casserole, then went upstairs to clean. While they tidied up, they talked.
    “I think Mrs. De Keyser is feeling a little better,” Trixie said. “There hasn’t been as much to do here lately.”
    “Perhaps she’s getting more used to doing things with one arm,” Honey said. “And it probably doesn’t hurt her as much as it did at first.”
    Suddenly, they heard a cry of dismay from downstairs. They quickly ran to the top of the stairs, and saw Mrs. De Keyser standing at the open front door, calling frantically.
    “Willy! Willy, you naughty dog!” Her voice was shrill with worry. “Willy, you come back here this instant!”
    “We’ll bring him back,” Trixie called down, figuring out what had happened.
    “Oh, I feel so careless for letting him out like that,” Mrs. De Keyser moaned. “I