The Secret Of The Terror Castle Part 5

"Disembodied spirits," said his partner, "are not known to use telephones. Neither are spooks, phantoms, or werewolves."

"That was in the old days. Why shouldn't they change with the times and be modern, too? That voice last night didn't sound like a human voice to me."

Jupiter scowled, his round features showing puzzlement.

"I agree," he said. "The whole problem is made more perplexing by the fact that, except for us and Worthington, not a living soul knew of our visit to Terror Castle last night."

"But what about souls who aren't living?" Pete asked.

"If Terror Castle is actually haunted," Jupiter told him, "we wish to prove it. It will be a feather in our caps. We ought to learn more about Stephen Terrill. If he is the one who put a curse on the castle then presumably it is his ghost haunting the place now."

"Well, that sounds reasonable," Pete admitted.

"Our first line of action, then, is to locate someone who knew Stephen Terrill in the days when he was a silent-picture star, and who can tell us more about him."

"But that was a long time ago!" Pete protested. "Who'd we find?"

"It seems a long time to us because of our youthful years. There must still be many people in Hollywood who knew Mr. Terrill."

"Oh, sure. Name two."

"Our best bet," Jupiter said, "would be Mr. Terrill's business manager, The Whisperer."

"The Whisperer?" Pete exclaimed. "What kind of name is that?"

"That was his nickname. His real name was Jonathan Rex. Here is a picture of him."

The First Investigator pa.s.sed over a photograph of a newspaper picture and story.

Bob Andrews had copied it at the library on the duplicator machine. It showed a rather tall man, with a totally bald head and a long, ugly scar on his neck, shaking hands with a smaller, pleasant-looking, brown-haired man with a rather wistful smile.

The tall man had slitted, ferocious-looking eyes.

"Wow!" Pete exclaimed. "So that was what Stephen Terrill looked like! He didn't have to do any acting to scare people. That scar and those eyes would freeze a guy in his tracks."

"You're looking at the wrong one. Mr. Terrill is the smaller man, the one who looks so friendly and harmless."

"Him?" Pete said. "He's the one who played all those ferocious monsters? That nice-looking guy?"

"He had a very average face, but he could twist it to represent any diabolical individual he desired," Jupiter explained. "The story says, in case you haven't read it "

"I was concentrating on the ghostly parts," Pete confessed.

"Well, the story says that off the motion-picture set, Stephen Terrill was so shy, because of his lisp, that he could hardly talk to people. So he hired The Whisperer to handle all his business affairs. The Whisperer had no trouble getting people to agree to the terms he desired."

"I'll bet he didn't!" Pete declared. "He looks as if he'd draw a knife the minute anyone said no."

"If we can locate him, I'm sure he can tell us all we need to know."

"Oh, sure if if. Maybe you have an idea?"

"The telephone books. He may still be living in this region."

It was Pete who found the name.

"Here he is!" he exclaimed. "Jonathan Rex. Nine hundred and fifteen Winding Valley Road. Shall we telephone him?"

"I think it would be better if our visit were unannounced. But we'll telephone for the car."

"That was a stroke of genius, winning that car," Pete said, as Jupiter telephoned.

"I hate to think what we'll do when the thirty days are up."

"I have certain plans," his partner told him. "However, that's for the future. We'd better tell Aunt Mathilda we'll be late for supper."

Mrs. Jones agreed she would keep supper for them. But when Worthington and the big, gleaming car drove up to the gate of The Jones Salvage Yard, she shook her head.

"My sakes," she said, "I never know what you'll be doing next, Jupiter. Riding round in an automobile made for some Arabian sheik! You'll be spoiled, mark my words."

Just how her nephew would be spoiled, she didn't say. Jupiter did not seem worried by the prospect as he settled back on to the leather upholstery.

Worthington was forced to examine several maps before he announced he had found Winding Valley Road. It apparently started quite some distance away, on the other side of the range of mountains. As they started over the hills, Jupiter had one of his frequent inspirations.

"Worthington," he said, "I believe this road will pa.s.s within a mile of the entrance of Black Canyon."

"Yes, Master Jones," the chauffeur replied. "Just before we start over the hills to the valley."

"Then let's pay a quick visit to Black Canyon on the way. There's something I want to ascertain."

It took them only a few moments to reach the mouth of the narrow canyon they bad visited the night before and fled from so hastily. By daylight it looked better but only a little better. As Worthington reached the spot where the rotted crossbars and rock slide had closed off the road, he gave an exclamation.

"Look!" he said. "Tyre tracks over the ones we made last night! I hesitated to say it at the time, Master Jones, but I had an impression we were being followed. I could not be sure, however."

Followed? Pete and Jupiter stared at each other.

"Another mystery to ponder," Jupiter said. "But it must wait. Right now I want to look round the outside of Terror Castle."

"Fine!" The Second Investigator said. "Just as long as we stay on the outside it's okay with me."

By daylight they made rapid time, scrambling up the rock-choked, narrow road, until Terror Castle loomed above them.

"To think we went into that place after dark!" Pete said. "Wow!"

Jupiter led him all round the outside of the building, exploring even the rear of the castle and the steep slopes above it.

"We are looking for any evidence that human beings may be using this place as a hide-out," he said. "If they are, they are bound to leave some evidence a trail in the dirt ... a carelessly discarded cigarette. ..."

But an extensive search found nothing. At last they stopped to rest at one side of the building.

"Definitely no trace of any humans coming or going here," Jupiter said with satisfaction. "If the castle is inhabited, it can only be inhabited by ghosts. Which is what we want to prove."

"I'm satisfied to believe it without any proof," Pete told him.

At that moment, some very human shrieks made them whirl round so they could stare down at the front entrance of Terror Castle. While they watched, two figures came running through the door, yelling with terror, and raced madly down the road out of the canyon. One suddenly stumbled and went sprawling. Something s.h.i.+ny flew from his hand and fell beside the road. Ignoring it, he leaped up and raced after his companion.

"Well, those certainly weren't ghosts," Pete said, as his initial surprise diminished.

"But they acted as if they had just met a couple."

"Quickly!" Jupiter was starting down the slope with surprising speed. "We must try to identify them."

Pete raced after him. Already the two runners were out of sight. Jupiter came to the spot where the one had fallen and picked up an expensive torch with a nameplate on it. Engraved on the nameplate were the letters E.S.N.

"E.S.N.," Jupiter read. "Who does that make you think of?"

"E. Skinner Norris!" Pete exploded. "Skinny Norris! But it couldn't be! How could he be here?"

"Remember what Bob told us about Skinny hanging round him in the library, and about losing one of our professional cards? And what Worthington said about being followed last night? It would be just like Skinny to try to find out what we were up to, and then either beat us to whatever we were after or mess up the case for us."

"Yes," Pete agreed thoughtfully. "Skinny would do anything to get ahead of you for once. But if he and one of his pals went into Terror Castle, they certainly came out in a hurry!"

He chuckled, but Jupiter looked serious as he pocketed the torch.

"We came out in a hurry too," he reminded his partner. "The difference is, we're going back in, and I'm positive Skinny never will. In fact, I've decided to go back in right now and have a look round by daylight!" came out in a hurry too," he reminded his partner. "The difference is, we're going back in, and I'm positive Skinny never will. In fact, I've decided to go back in right now and have a look round by daylight!"

Before Pete could protest, a cras.h.i.+ng sound far above them made them look up.

A large boulder was plunging down the steep canyon wall towards them!

Pete started to duck, but Jupiter grabbed him.

"Wait!" he said. "It will miss us by some yards."

It did, hitting the road with an ominous crash ten yards away, splintering the concrete, and rolling on down the slope.

"If that had hit us," Pete said fervently, "Terror Castle would have had some new ghosts tonight!"

"Look! " Jupiter grabbed his arm. There's somebody up on that slope, hiding behind bushes. I'll bet Skinny Norris climbed up there and rolled that stone down on us!"

"If he did," Pete said wrathfully, "we'll teach him better manners. Come on, Jupe, let's get him!"

Both boys began to scramble up the rough rocky slope of the canyon, hampered by loose stones and many scrub bushes. Above them a moving figure was disappearing in the distance. They rounded a sharp outcrop of rock and paused for breath. In front of them, going into the hillside, was a narrow, ragged crevice. At some time in the past, an earthquake had shaken these hills and split the rocks apart along a natural fault line.

As they stared at the opening, a sudden sc.r.a.ping sound above them drew their startled attention. Higher up on the slope, a ma.s.s of rocks and boulders was sliding down towards them.

Pete froze. But Jupiter acted without an instant's hesitation. He grabbed his partner's arm and yanked him forward, as deep into the narrow crevice as they could get. A moment later, with a thunderous roar, the sliding rocks and dirt pa.s.sed over the mouth of the opening. A few rocks stumbled in. Enough others piled up on the flat spot in front of the crevice to make a solid wall, effectively entombing them inside the hill. The rest of the boulders roared on down to the road below.

Chapter 8.

The Man with the Scar AS THE ROAR of the landslide subsided, the boys found themselves in pitch darkness. The air was full of dry, gritty dust.

"Jupe," Pete said, coughing, "we can't get out. We're trapped! We'll suffocate."

"Breathe through your handkerchief until the dust settles," Jupiter advised him.

He felt round until he found his partner in the darkness, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about the air. This crevice must go a long way into the hillside, so there's plenty of air in here for now. Thanks to Skinny Norris, we at least have a torch."

"It's thanks to Skinny Norris we're here!" Pete exclaimed wrathfully. "Wait till I get my hands on him. I'll wring his skinny neck!"

"Unfortunately we can't prove it was he who rolled the rocks down upon us,"

Jupiter said.

As he finished speaking, a broad beam of light from the torch displaced the darkness. Jupiter slowly moved the beam round the entire crevice in which they found themselves. It was a kind of rough natural cave, about six feet high and four feet wide.

To the rear it rapidly narrowed to a mere crack which, though it seemed to extend into the hillside for a long distance, could not be entered.

Where the mouth of the crevice had been, a huge rock was jammed. Other boulders topped it and surrounded it, and s.p.a.ces between these were filled with dirt.

"Our exit," Jupiter remarked, "is effectively barricaded."

"Even at a time like this you use long words!" Pete complained. "Why don't you just say we can't get out? We're stuck."

"I won't say we can't get out because that fact remains to be proved," Jupiter said.

"Help me push against these boulders ... If they can be moved "

But they couldn't. Both boys thrust against the barricade with their full weight, to no avail. Panting, they paused to get their breath.

"Worthington will eventually come looking for us," Pete said gloomily. "But naturally he won't be able to find us. Then he'll call in the police and the Boy Scouts and they'll look for us. But n.o.body will be able to hear us yell through all this rock, and if they do find us, it'll be about next week. And then What are you doing?" he broke off to ask.

Jupiter Jones was down on his knees, staring towards the rear of the crevice and using the torch to illuminate the area.

"I see ashes of a camp-fire under the dust," he said. "Obviously in the past some wayfarer used this crevice for a shelter."

He reached out, brushed loose dirt off something, and pulled free a stick about four feet long and two inches thick. One end had been whittled to a point. It was charred and burned, the point broken.

"And here," he said, "is the stick he used to hold his food over the fire. This is a very fortunate find."

Pete looked at the stick dubiously. It had been there a long time, and was old and fragile.

"That isn't strong enough to pry any rocks loose," he said, "if that's what you're thinking of."