Free The Mystery of the Emeralds by Julie Campbell

in the field behind it had been recently cut. Two horses, their noses poking through the fence, were browsing on the taller grass outside.
    “There’s a living example of the old saying about the grass on the other side of the fence,” laughed Brian. “I wonder who owns this farm. Looks prosperous, doesn’t it?”
    A little farther on they came to a break in the fence; instead of a gate, there was a heavy chain across the opening.
    Jim stopped the car so they could look down the driveway beyond. Suddenly Trixie, who had got out of the car with the others, called out, “Way back there in that clump of trees! Don’t you see something white?”
    “You’re right, Trix,” Jim said, craning his neck to get a better view. “I’ll bet it’s Rosewood Hall.”
    “Well, if it’s in ruins, certainly no one is living there now,” Trixie said. “If we don’t bother the horses, I don’t think anyone would mind if we walked in and looked at it, do you?” She turned to the other Bob-Whites for reassurance.
    “Of course not. Come on,” Mart urged. “There’s not apt to be anyone around. Except for the horses, this place looks absolutely deserted” He jumped over the chain and headed for the ruins.
    The others quickly followed What had once been a sweeping driveway was now little more than a path, barely wide enough for a car. A tangle of rhododendron and laurel bushes grew on either side of the winding road, with magnolia trees and pines behind them. The air was redolent with a scent which none of them recognized.
    “It must be jasmine,” Honey conjectured. “Books about the South always talk about the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle.”
    Their conversation was interrupted as they rounded a wide curve and suddenly came upon a sight that held them all breathless. There, in the wilderness of green, was what looked to be the remains of a Greek temple. Five white Doric columns rose from a stone veranda, their stark lines softened now by wisteria which had grown around them for years. Two others had fallen and lay cracked and broken on the ground.
    “What a beautiful place this must have been,” Trixie sighed as she picked her way through the vines and climbed the wide steps. “Can’t you just imagine girls in crinolines and elegant young men sitting here?”
    “You’re so romantic!” Mart teased. “You sound like Scarlett in Gone With the Wind, but I’ll admit it’s beautiful.”
    “Let’s go around back and see if any of the foundations of the house are left,” Jim suggested. “We may get a better idea of what the place looked like.” He started to make his way through the underbrush behind the columns.
    Jim was right. Not only were the outside foundations clearly visible, but the supporting posts in what had been the cellar also gave an indication of the way the rooms had been laid out.
    A sudden yell from Trixie brought them all over to where she stood.
    “Look! Someone has started clearing around here!” she cried. “See where all those vines have been cut back? And some of these stones have been moved recently; you can see fresh dirt on top of them.”
    The Bob-Whites were so busy examining Trixie’s find that they failed to hear approaching footsteps until a rough voice snarled, “Hey, you! Get out of here, or I’ll have the law on you!”
    They wheeled around to see a man on horseback brandishing a heavy riding crop. Trixie couldn’t be sure whether his face was so red because of sunburn, natural coloration, or anger, but she strongly suspected the last. His coarse black hair, growing low on his forehead, looked as if it had never known a comb, and it was hard to imagine that the small eyes, glaring from under heavy brows, had ever smiled. Jim took a step forward, a move which only served to make the man raise the whip again, but Jim was undaunted.
    “We beg your pardon, sir. We certainly meant no harm. My friends and I were curious about the house that used to stand here.”
    “Curiosity