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edge of Fay’s bed. “One minute I was sound asleep, and the next minute, I thought the roof was falling in.”
    “You still haven’t told us why you screamed like that,” said Fay, who was seated beside Trixie. “What happened? What frightened you? Was it—” she hesitated—“something you heard?” Trixie wished that she could stop trembling and made another valiant effort to do so. “N-No,” she said uncertainly. “It—it wasn’t what I heard—or, at least, not just what I heard. It was something I thought I saw.” She frowned and pressed her hands together to try to prevent them from shaking. They felt as though they’d turned into two lumps of ice. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Of course, I couldn’t have seen what I thought I saw. What I thought I saw was something that nobody in their right mind could see. So I couldn’t have seen it, do you see?”
    “No,” Honey said flatly. “I haven’t got the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” She moved to Trixie’s armchair-bed, sat down, and tucked her legs under her. “Begin with why you were out of bed in the first place.”
    Trixie shot an apologetic look at Fay, who was, she thought, looking as upset and as apprehensive as Trixie felt.
    “I went to see if the back door was locked,” Trixie said in a rush.
    Fay looked surprised. “Why, thank you, Trixie,” she said. “That was thoughtful of you. But you didn’t need to worry, you know. That door works on a spring lock. Mother and I don’t bother about bolting that one because we know it can only be opened with a key. If only I’d known you were worried about it, I could have told you.
    Naturally, we always make sure the other outside windows and doors are safe from intruders. We don’t want anyone bursting in on us unannounced, either.”
    Trixie sighed. Why didn’t she ever give anyone else credit for a little common sense? Why did she always assume that she was the only one who had the bright ideas?
    One of these days, Trixie Belden, she thought gloomily, you're going to realize that you're not nearly as smart as you think you are. Next time Mart calls you a pea-brain, don't be so quick to disagree with him. He might be right!
    She jumped to her feet and began pacing up and down in the small space between the two beds. “I should have known there was nothing to worry about,” she said at last. “Anyway, I’d got as far as the kitchen when I noticed we’d left a light burning there. It must have happened when we were making that hot chocolate, I think. So I was about to go in and turn off the light, when—”
    She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of her new friend. Fay’s face was white as she looked up at Trixie. Her dark brown eyes looked anxious and fearful.
    Trixie was about to rush on impulsively with her story, when she noticed that, unconsciously, Fay was wringing her hands. She couldn’t help herself. She was actually wringing her hands!
    Trixie had often read about fictional characters who did that, but she didn’t remember ever seeing a real, live person do it.
    Fay’s hands clutched each other nervously. Their fingers intertwined, then released their grip. Each hand “washed” the other, then clutched at the other once more. Fay did it over and over.
    Trixie thought back over the events of the evening. She recalled how hard Fay had tried to conceal her worry about her mother’s accident. She remembered Fay’s reaction to that small room off the living room that had been the scene of the long-ago tragedy. She remembered Fay’s intense, almost unnatural, interest in Sarah Sligo’s story.
    “Yes?” Fay prompted her. “You were about to go into the kitchen and turn off the light when you saw—what?”
    “A mouse,” Trixie said, crossing her fingers behind her back. Surely it wouldn’t matter if she told another small lie if, by doing so, she would protect a friend in trouble.
    Honey stared. “You—you saw a mouse? Do