Secret of the Stallion Read Free

bags. Hamilton,” she said to the driver, “can you help them stow the luggage in the boot?”
    Hamilton tipped his hat and the trunk lid slid open. He started taking suitcases.
    As Stevie handed her bag to Hamilton, she looked at Veronica. Veronica was still waiting for the car service her father had ordered, looking impatiently over the sea of cars and taxis. Then it came.
    A small, once red car that looked as if it had seen better days—many of them—pulled up to the curb. A scruffy, unshaven man stepped out. He pulled a piece of cardboard out with him. It said “diAngelo” on it. He spotted the group from Pine Hollow and walked over, partly in response to a wave from Stevie.
    “Miz doy Hangelo?” he asked Stevie in a very thick accent she assumed was what the English called Cockney.
    “No, not I,” said Stevie. “This is Miss diAngelo.” She pointed to the pale Veronica.
    “Royt this whoy, miss,” he said, picking up Veronica’s suitcase. She had nothing to do but follow him. The look on her face as she headed to the old beat-up car while her friends climbed into a spacious limousine was worth every bite of soggy pizza that Stevie had suffered while cramped in the economy section of the airplane. Stevie sighed with contentment.
    None of the group started laughing until after the limousine’s doors had shut and the windows had been raised. Then even Max couldn’t contain himself.
    They agreed that they would be sure to call her “Miz doy Hangelo” only on very special occasions.
    A FEW HOURS later, The Saddle Club felt like different people. They’d had a chance to check into their hotel, unpack a few things, and take a nap. They were refreshed and ready to see the world by noon when Tessa showed up to take them on the grand tour.
    Again Hamilton was there with the car. The girls invited Veronica to join them, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist the limousine. Stevie thought it was too bad that Veronica was so impressed with Tessa’s car that Veronica never seemed to notice what a nice person Tessa was. That was just like Veronica, too.
    “First stop—the Tower of London,” said Tessa.
    They took off.
    The Tower was an old castle in the center of what was now London’s business district—like Wall Street in New York. It had stood on the banks of the Thames River (Tessa pronounced it “the Tems”) for a thousand years. Kings and queens had been beheaded there, and nobody knew how many had suffered torture and death in its infamous dungeon.
    “This place gives me the creeps,” said Carole.
    “Me too. Isn’t it wonderful?” Stevie remarked.
    “Can you imagine all the history this place has seen?” Lisa sighed.
    “Where are the crown jewels?” Veronica wanted to know.
    They saw the creepy parts, the wonderful ones, the historic places, and, of course, the crown jewels. It gave them all a start to realize that, as even a distant cousin to the queen, Tessa was probably related to some of the people who had ruled, and suffered, within the walls of the Tower of London.
    “
Very
distant relatives,” Tessa explained, laughing.
    Even Veronica couldn’t resist laughing when Tessa said silly things like that.
    Their next stop was Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. It was a collection of wax statues, very real likenesses, of famous people, all dressed in costumes of their times. In some cases, like the one of Elvis Presley, the wax statues were wearing clothes that had actually belonged to the real people.
    “Oh, look at the gowns!” Veronica remarked, admiring some of the clothes the wax royals were wearing.
    “I don’t know,” said Stevie. “In some ways, this is creepier than the Tower of London. At least there, I could just imagine the people. Here, I have to see them—in wax.”
    Carole sat down on a seat next to another tired tourist. A second look at her seatmate revealed that it was actually another wax statue! She laughed and called her friends over.
    “Maybe they’ll make