Read The Mystery of the Headless Horseman for Free Online Page B

wasn’t long before Miss Trask, her bright blue eyes twinkling, held up a protesting hand. “Stop!” she cried, laughing. “I can’t hear myself think! I gather something has happened, but what can it be?”
    She listened quietly while the Bob-Whites, one by one, related the events of the afternoon. When the entire story was told, she was silent for a long moment.
    “I’m very sorry to hear that Harrison has been hurt,” she said quietly at last. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “Oh, yes, Miss Trask—dear Miss Trask,” Mart said promptly. “Could you—would you—?”
    “Supervise the arrangements for the bazaar tomorrow?” Miss Trask finished for him.
    The Bob-Whites held their breath.
    Slowly, Miss Trask nodded. “I don’t see why not. You must get Mr. Lynch’s permission, of course—”
    “Oh, we will! We will!” Di’s violet eyes were shining.
    “And,” Miss Trask continued smoothly, “I’ll have to ask Honey’s parents if they would mind if I—”
    “I’m sure they won’t,” Honey said quickly.
    “Very well, then.” Miss Trask smiled. “The cause is such a worthy one that, yes, I’ll be glad to do what I can.”
    After that wonderful announcement, Miss Trask could not hear herself think again for another five minutes. She was surrounded by noisy Bob-Whites, each trying to outdo the other in expressing fervent thanks.
    When some of the excitement had died down, Miss Trask said, “I hope you left everything just as you found it in Mrs. Crandall’s home.”
    “We did,” Brian answered, “and we also wrote a note explaining everything.”
    “I’m very glad to hear it,” Miss Trask said. “That poor lady has had many worries in these last few months. I wouldn’t want to think that any of you had added to them.”
    Trixie picked up Susie’s brush and turned to the little mare’s smooth black flank. “What kind of worries?” she asked.
    Miss Trask sighed. “I’m afraid it all began when Rose Crandall’s husband died,” she answered. “He used to be the curator of Sleepy-side’s Fine Arts Museum, you know.”
    “Of course!” Honey exclaimed. “Jonathan Crandall! Why didn’t I recognize the name before?” She looked across Lady’s broad back at her adopted brother. “Remember, Jim? He came to the house a couple of times to see Dad. We thought he was such a nice man.”
    “Now I remember,” Jim said thoughtfully. “Mr. Crandall died quite unexpectedly, if I recall the circumstances correctly.”
    Brian had been busy brushing Starlight. He paused to ask, “What did he die of?”
    “I think it was a heart attack,” Jim said.
    Miss Trask nodded agreement.
    “Anyway,” Jim continued, “the notice of his death was in all the newspapers at the time. In fact, I think The Sleepyside Sun had quite an article about him. And there was something else, too. Now, what on earth was it?”
    “Immediately after he died,” Miss Trask said reluctantly, “the museum discovered that a very valuable vase was missing. It had only just been lent for display for a limited time. The owner was very upset at its loss.”
    “Wow!” Mart’s eyes were round with astonishment. “Do you mean to tell us that Jonathan Crandall was a thief?”
    Miss Trask looked uncomfortable. “Many people thought so at the time.”
    “Was the vase ever found?” Brian asked.
    “No, it never was. The insurance company had to pay a great deal of money because of it.”
    “This is the first I’ve heard of any of it,” Trixie declared. “How come we didn’t know about this before?”
    “It was all very quickly hushed up for Mrs. Crandall’s sake,” Miss Trask said slowly. “Even the Sun agreed not to publish anything more about it. Rose Crandall’s family has lived here for generations, you see—almost as long as the Beldens.”
    She smiled at Trixie.
    Trixie stroked Susie’s soft nose. “But if the vase was never found,” she said, “and if everyone thought that Jonathan