The Mystery Of The Fiery Eye Part 9

Charlie repeated the message into the walkie-talkie and signed off.

"There," he said. "That does it. Pretty smart of you, Joe, buying these walkie-talkies.

I think they've just paid off big. Now, kid " he shoved his grinning face up close to Jupiter's "we'll all just wait and see what happens."

Chapter 13.

Bob takes the Trail BOB HAD WAITED as long as he dared for Jupe and Pete to come back. The "ghost" had said to hurry if he wanted to get the bust of Octavian, and here it was late afternoon and no sign of First and Second. Maybe they were following up some new line of investigation, but he couldn't wait any longer, he finally decided. He would have to handle this himself.

He got permission from Mrs. Jones to use the smaller track, with Hans to drive it.

He also w.a.n.gled five dollars advance pay for future work he would do around the yard.

Finally, explaining that a customer wasn't satisfied with one of the busts but might be willing to exchange it for another, he was allowed to take the bust of Francis Bacon along, too.

Hans lugged it over to the truck and laid it down on a bed of canvas. Bob added a heavy cardboard box and a lot of newspaper to pack around the precious bust of Octavian when they got it. Then they started out.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the address in the outskirts of Hollywood. Their route took them on well-travelled roads through attractive residential sections. There was so much traffic that neither Bob nor Hans noticed that following them was a dark blue sedan with two men in it, both wearing large horn-rimmed gla.s.ses and black moustaches.

Presently Hans slowed down and Bob began inspecting the numbers on the houses they pa.s.sed.

"That's it!" he yelled after a moment. "Stop here, Hans."

"You bet," Hans rumbled.

He pulled the truck to a stop and Bob hopped out. Half a block behind them, the blue sedan stopped, the two occupants watching intently every move they made.

Hans climbed down beside Bob and picked up Francis Bacon. Carrying him under his arm, he followed Bob to the front door.

Bob's ring was answered by a girl with pretty, freckled features.

"You're one of The Three Investigators!" she exclaimed, and Bob was pleased at the slight touch of awe in her voice. "And you want my mother's bust of Octavian for some strange and probably secret reason, don't you? Come in. I had a simply terrible time keeping her from giving Octavian away and I finally had to tell her it was made of a deadly radioactive plaster and you were security agents coming to get it to keep it from doing any harm."

All this came out in such a fast burst of words that Bob had a little trouble following it. Hans just blinked. But the girl was already leading them round the house into an attractive tiled patio with a little fountain in the middle. Bob's heart gave a leap. In one corner stood the bust of Octavian, looking rather silly under a tall rose bush.

A slender woman was clipping the rose bush. She turned, but already the girl was talking.

"Mother, these are The Three Investigators I was telling you about. At least this is one of them and his helper. He's come to take back Octavian and relieve you of the anxiety of harbouring a dangerous plaster bust."

"Don't mind Liz." The woman smiled. "She lives in a world all her own, full of mysterious spies and sinister criminals. I didn't believe a word she said about Octavian being radioactive, but he doesn't look well in the patio and I was going to give him away. I waited for you because Liz said it was very important for you to get him back."

"Thank you, ma'am," Bob said. "Octavian was sort of sold by mistake. If you'd like another bust instead, we've brought Francis Bacon along."

"No," the woman said. "At first I thought it would be a cute idea to have a bust in the patio, but I see it doesn't look as well as I expected."

"Then we'll refund your money," Bob said. He dug the five-dollar bill from his pocket and presented it.

"That's certainly very fair," the woman said. "Now you can take Octavian away. I think I'll get an Italian vase to decorate the patio instead."

"Can you carry both busts, Hans?" Bob asked.

"I got two hands, can carry two busts," Hans said. "Easy like pie." He scooped up the precious Octavian and held him under his left arm. "Now what, Bob?"

"We'll take him out and pack him in the box," Bob said. "Tie it up tight. Then "

"Do you have to go right away?" Liz asked. "I mean, this is the first time I've ever met a real investigator, and there are just millions of things I want to ask you."

"Well " Bob hesitated. It was rather fun hearing Liz talk. Besides, if she was so interested in mysteries and investigations ... "You go on and pack Octavian, Hans," he said. "I'll be right there. Do a good job."

"Sure thing, Bob," Hans said. He tramped off with a bust under each arm, leaving Bob talking or rather listening, for Liz was firing questions at him without waiting for answers.

Hans carefully kid the two busts in the back of the truck and began the thorough packing job Bob had ordered. Every move he made was watched by the two men in the car. The one named Hugo kept up a continuous report to his two accomplices across the hills at Horatio August's house.

"The big guy is packing the bust now," he said tensely into the walkie-talkie. "It has to be Octavian the kid wouldn't come here for any other bust. He's still inside the patio. There the box is all tied up, nice and neat, and the big guy is waiting for the kid to come out."

Tied to the kitchen chair, Jupiter could hear every word as the two men listened. The one named Joe barked back instructions.

"Get that box off the truck!" he said. "Listen, I have an idea. Stage an accident.

Hugo, you walk in front of the truck when it starts up, and pretend it's. .h.i.t you. Scream and yell. The man and the boy will hop down to see how badly you're hurt and "

"Hold it, hold it!" interrupted the voice of the distant Hugo. "That won't be necessary. The big guy is going back into the patio. The truck is unguarded. Frank and I are on our way."

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The walkie-talkie was silent. Inwardly, Jupiter groaned. Just as Bob had regained Octavian, they were going to lose the bust again!

Hans walked back into the patio. Bob and Liz were still talking, or at least Liz was talking and Bob was answering when she gave him a chance.

"Look, don't you ever need a girl operative?" Liz was asking eagerly. "I'm sure you must on some of your investigations.

There are times when a girl would be a big help. You could call on me. I'm a terrific actress. I can use make-up to disguise myself, and I can change my voice and "

"Excuse, Bob," Hans rumbled. "Just to remind you, Mrs. Mathilda said not to stay away with the truck too long."

"Oh, sure, Hans!" Bob exclaimed.

"Sorry, Liz, I've got to go. Maybe we might need a girl operative some time. If we do, I'll call you."

"Here's my telephone number." Liz was following him, scribbling on a card in her hand as she walked. "There. Liz Logan, that's the name. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Golly, I can hardly wait to take part in a real investigation!"

Bob took the card and climbed into the truck beside Hans, not even noticing the blue sedan that pa.s.sed them. He was thinking that Liz seemed like a pretty nice sort, and maybe a girl could help them sometime. It was true Jupiter had little use for girls, but if the right occasion ever arose, he'd suggest they call Liz Logan.

She waved good-bye and he waved back, not even glancing into the back of the truck. He and Hans headed back for the salvage yard, unaware that they had lost Octavian almost as soon as they had recovered him.

Jupiter knew, though. The walkie-talkie began to crackle and then speak. He heard Hugo's voice.

"Got it!" Hugo was saying. "The big lug went inside the patio and Frank and I grabbed that box from the truck the second he was out of sight. I don't think they even know it's gone."

"Good work!" Joe snapped back. "Take it to the hideout and don't open it until we get there. Over and out."

"Roger. Over and out."

The walkie-talkie was silent. Joe gave Jupiter Jones a one-sided grin.

"Well, kid, I guess that does it," he said. "We've got the stone. So we don't have to question you anymore. But just to be on the safe side, we're going to leave you three kids safe here until we've got the stone and covered our tracks. Don't worry, we'll phone your buddy to come and get you but later, maybe tonight."

He and his companion went out the kitchen door, taking Mr. Jackson with them.

Mr. Jackson gave Jupiter a last long glance, as if to say he was sorry he couldn't help.

Then all three got into a car that had been out of sight behind the house and drove away.

As soon as they were gone, Jupiter raised his voice.

"Pete! Gus! Can you hear me?"

"Is that you, Jupe?" Pete's m.u.f.fled voice came from beneath him. "What's up? Can you let us out of here? The batteries in the light are going dead!"

"Sorry, Second," Jupe called back. "I'm in a fix myself. I'm wrapped up like a mummy. We're stuck here and the Black Moustache gang has Octavian."

Chapter 14.

A Startling Discovery JUPITER sat tied tightly to the chair and pondered. In stories, when someone was tied up there was always a convenient way to get loose. You could find an old knife and saw the ropes against the blade to cut them. Or there was a piece of broken gla.s.s that could be used the same way. There was always something.

But he had nothing. Oh, there was his knife, all right. It was lying on the window-sill.

But he couldn't reach it. If he could have reached it, he couldn't have got it open. If he could have got it open, he couldn't have sawed the ropes against the blade because his arms were tied separately to the arms of the chair.

Jupiter sat and thought, trying to figure out some way to get loose. He wasn't exactly afraid of starving to death, because someone would come eventually, but it might take a long time.

Underneath him he heard b.u.mps and thumps. Pete and Gus were flinging themselves against the bolted door, trying to break loose. Presently he heard their voices.

"Hey, Jupe, Jupe! Can you hear me?"

"Very clearly, Second," Jupiter answered loudly. "What success?"

"None. This door is solid. All we've done is bruise our shoulders, Say, it's awful dark down here."

"Have patience, Second. I'm trying to think of some way to escape."

"Okay, First. But think fast! I think there are rats down here."

Jupiter bit his lip to help his thinking processes. He wriggled impatiently in his chair.

It creaked and groaned as he s.h.i.+fted his weight around.

Outside the kitchen window he could see time pa.s.sing. It was as if he watched a clock. The tall, thin peak on the west side of the canyon threw a shadow across the lawn, and he could almost see that shadow grow longer and longer as the sun moved down in the west.

He moved some more, testing his bonds. They were tight, but the chair creaked and groaned again.

Then an electric light bulb seemed to go off in Jupiter's brain. Once he had sat on a creaky old chair and it had collapsed under his weight. If he could make this chair collapse He began to fling his body back and forth as violently as he could. The back of the chair moved. The arms wobbled. But they refused to break apart. Deliberately he threw himself sideways. He fell over with a thump on the floor. A leg of the chair splintered the one his right leg was tied too.

He kicked hard and the leg of the chair slid out of the ropes, leaving them loose around his own leg. He had one leg free! Now he used this leg to lift himself up and slam the back of the chair to the floor again. He rolled over and put his full weight on the loose arms of the chair. They groaned, and the left arm pulled loose from the back.

He jerked again and the whole chair arm came free.

Now he could reach over to move the right arm back and forth. As he struggled with the chair, thumping and b.u.mping on the floor, Pete's alarmed voice came up from the cellar.

"Jupe! What's wrong? Are you in a fight or something?"

"I am fighting an enraged chair," Jupe puffed back. "And I think I'm winning. Give me another couple of minutes."

He strained, pushed, kicked. Now the chair was almost apart. Back, seat, arms, legs all separated from each other. Most of the chair parts were still tied to him, but they were loose. He could crawl to the window, get his knife now, get it open. He could move his right arm enough to saw the ropes that tied the pieces of chair to his other arm. In a minute more he was able to stand up and kick himself free from the ropes and the broken chair.

With a feeling of triumph he stretched his aching muscles.

"It's all right, Second!" he called out. "I'm coming now."

Stairs from the kitchen led down to the cellar. He unbolted the wooden door. Pete and Gus blinked up at him in the light that came down the stairs.

"Gos.h.!.+" Pete said fervently as they came up. "I'm glad to see you, Jupe. How'd you get loose?"

"It was merely a case of mind over matter," Jupiter said, somewhat loftily. "Now we'd better get away from here. I don't expect Joe and his friend to come back yet, but they might. In any case, we want to get back to the salvage yard. Bob recovered the bust of Octavian "

"He did? Terrific!" Pete exclaimed.

"That's very good news!" Gus chimed in.

"But the Black Moustache gang got it away again," Jupiter finished. "I'll tell you all about it as we ride home."

They scrambled out of the house and found their bikes. In a moment they were pedalling back towards Rocky Beach. As they rode, Jupiter told them all that had happened while they were locked in the cellar, ending with how Bob had apparently recovered Octavian, and how the Black Moustaches had taken it from him.

"Golly, to have it right in our hands and lose it again," Pete mourned. "That bust is jinxed!"

"I hope it isn't the bad luck that follows The Fiery Eye," Gus suggested soberly.