Free The Indian Burial Ground Mystery by Julie Campbell Page B

mystery. I’ll bet that silly ghost was doing the same thing. But who was
it?”
    “I don’t c-care,” Di said, her voice quavering. “I’m scared. What happened
to Mart and Dan, anyway? Why aren’t they here?”
    Lost in trying to figure out who the ghost could have been, Trixie had
forgotten all about the boys. But now, shaking herself out of her musing, she
became aware of a commotion coming from the direction of the Manor House.
    “I wonder what’s happening at the Manor House?” Trixie asked. Without
waiting for an answer, she started running up the driveway. Honey and Di
followed right behind her. As they rounded the bend, they saw lights blazing.
The big front door was wide open, spilling light onto the veranda and the
circular drive. People were moving about inside, and the girls could hear the
faint whine of a police siren heading their way.
    “What the...” Trixie began. But before she could voice the question, Mart
came bounding down the steps to meet them.
    “You girls missed everything,” he said. “Out in the woods chasing phony
treasure, while we were here with the real action!”
    “What happened?” Honey asked, her voice heavy with dread. She started
for the house. “I’d better see if Miss Trask is all right.”
    The three young people quickly followed Honey into the house. There was
Miss Trask, standing in the middle of a pile of silver and haphazardly
scattered paintings.
    “Honey,” she said with a weak smile. “Thank heavens you’re here!”
    “What happened?” Honey asked softly as her eyes took in the mess in the
foyer. “Why is all this stuff here on the floor?”
    “Someone tried to rob the house,” Miss Trask said, sounding shaken. “I
was upstairs in my room, reading, and the house was dark. I guess they thought
no one was home. I heard footsteps downstairs and I thought it was you, so I
opened my door and called you—-just to let you know I was awake.
    “Suddenly there was all this thumping, then the sound of a car starting.
I started to go downstairs, because I thought that you might be in some kind of
trouble. But when I flipped on the light switch, there was no one here, just
this pile of things. I started to scream and then I heard the sound of
crunching metal, as if a car had hit something.”
    “I know,” said Regan. He was wearing his pajamas, and had just come out
of the dining room. “That’s when I woke up. I heard the crash and I heard Miss
Trask screaming, so I ran up to the house. It looks as if she interrupted the
burglars. They left before loading up all these valuables.”
    “That’s when we came in,” Dan said, looking around grimly. “We were just
coming out of the woods when a car shot out of the driveway.”
    “It was probably the getaway car,” Mart said helpfully.
    “I do hope nothing’s missing,” said Miss Trask. Her voice sounded
worried and frightened as she gestured to the glittering array in the hall.
“But I just can’t go through it all now. There’s so much.”
    “Here come the police,” Bill Regan said. “That sure was quick!”
    The sirens came screaming up the driveway, then the noise was abruptly
cut off. The sound of car doors slamming was followed by heavy footsteps as
Sergeant Molinson and two other policemen came striding
into the house.
    “It looks like you stopped them before too much was taken,” Sergeant Molinson said, looking around. “Have you touched anything?”
    “No, sergeant,” Regan answered quietly. “This is exactly the way we
found it.”
    Miss Trask had been looking suspiciously at the pile, when suddenly a
smile of relief crossed her face. “Well, at least the Renoir wasn’t in the
group of paintings they planned to take,” she said. “Maybe they didn’t see it.
It is rather small, you know.”
    “And who was in the house at the time?” asked the sergeant, glancing
briefly at the crowd of young people in the room.
    “Only me,” said Miss Trask. “Regan and the boys heard me