The Mystery Of The Singing Serpent Part 3

Only Jupiter remained calm enough to concentrate on the scene before them. He noticed that no one had moved in the dining room. Hugo Ariel's face was turned toward the ceiling. He had not stirred.

At last Allie backed away from the patio. The boys went with her, retreating rapidly up the drive, the weird singing following them like some evil, living thing.

When they reached the back court, Allie leaned against the house. The boys felt the fear slowly drain from them.

"That was what Marie heard?" asked Jupe.

Allie didn't speak. She only nodded.

Pete ran his hand through his hair. "I'd leave, too," he said.

Allie breathed deeply. "I can't leave," she said finally. "It's my house, and it's my aunt.

That Ariel has to go!"

"But it couldn't be Ariel," said Jupe quickly. "He couldn't make a noise like that without moving a muscle!"

"He couldn't make a noise like that at all, but he did it," said Allie flatly.

In the garage, the Appaloosa kicked against its stall and whinnied.

"Queenie!" cried Allie. "Someone's in there!"

Jupiter leaped to the garage door, threw it wide and was knocked flat on his back by someone who rushed out, struck wildly in the dark and fled, cras.h.i.+ng through the lot next door.

"Jupe?" Pete knelt on the bricks.

"I'm all right." Jupe got up slowly. "Did you see who that was?"

"Chunky guy," said Bob. "Not too tall. Had a bushy moustache. Maybe a walrus moustache."

Allie regarded them with some respect. "You don't miss much. How could you tell in the dark?"

"There is a moon," Jupiter pointed out. "And investigators must have quick powers of observation," he added pompously. "For instance, have you noticed that the singing has stopped?"

A light came on in the kitchen, and the boys slid into the shadows beside the garage.

The kitchen door opened. "Who's out there?" called Pat Osborne.

"It's only me, Aunt Pat," said Allie. "I was checking on Queenie."

"You do fuss about that horse," said Miss...o...b..rne. "Come in, right away." The kitchen door closed.

From the front of the house came the sound of a car starting.

"The party's breaking up," whispered Bob.

"Come back in the morning," said Allie softly.

"We will," promised Jupe, and Allie's sneakered feet whispered off across the bricks to the house.

"Let's scram," said Pete. "And if I never hear that sound again, it will be okay with me!"

Chapter 5.

The Mysterious Fellows.h.i.+p THE NEXT MORNING, The Three Investigators leaned on the fence and watched Allie Jamison's Appaloosa browse in its private meadow. "Some people don't have it that good,"

remarked Pete.

"Most people don't eat gra.s.s," said a voice behind them.

The boys turned to see Allie, clad in her usual faded jeans, but wearing a freshly ironed s.h.i.+rt. If she had been frightened the night before, she had recovered. The look she sent them was challenging. "Well?" she said. "Any bright ideas?"

Jupiter Jones glanced at the Jamison house. "Did anything happen after we left last night?"

"Nope," said Allie. "No crazy singing. No mysterious intruders with moustaches.

Nothing." Allie climbed up to straddle the fence. "What about that man who was hiding in the garage? What do you think he was up to?"

Bob smiled at her and shook his head. "We don't know a thing about him, and without any facts, we can only guess. He might be an ordinary sneak thief looking for a way to get into the house, or he might be a tramp looking for a place to bed down for the night."

"Or he might have something to do with that weird sound," suggested Jupiter Jones.

"Hugo Ariel spoke of the voice of the serpent coming across the miles."

"But serpents don't sing," said Allie. "They hiss."

"You never heard the noise before Ariel came to the house," reasoned Jupe, "so Ariel must be responsible for it in some way. Yet last night, when the singing began, he was sitting in your dining room in plain view and he wasn't making a move. In fact, he seemed to be in some sort of trance. He couldn't be the singer. The noise must be produced in some other fas.h.i.+on."

"How about a tape recording?" put in Pete. "They're doing terrific things with sound now. If Ariel's using taped sound, the man in the garage could be an accomplice. He could have planted the equipment near the dining room. He could have been waiting until the session was over, planning to get it back, only we scared him off."

"That's possible," said Jupe, "but we'd better not leap to any conclusions. Ariel may have no connection with the moustached intruder. He wouldn't really need an accomplice if he was using tape."

Allie hunched her shoulders. "So we're back where we started, and Ariel continues to get free room and board here. I don't care much for some of Aunt Pat's other friends, either."

"The other guests last night?" said Jupe. "That man Noxworth looked like an odd character."

"You might say that. How can he possibly run a delicatessen? He ought to be exterminated by the Board of Health!"

"He is slovenly," said Jupiter in his precise way. "Yet from what Ariel said last night, he and your aunt are members of the same fellows.h.i.+p, whatever it may be. And last night the guests were all united in wis.h.i.+ng that someone named Compton would be called away during the week of the twenty-first so that your aunt could obtain a crystal ball."

"Crazy!" exclaimed Allie. "Absolutely crazy!"

Jupiter permitted himself a somewhat superior smile. "I think I know which crystal ball it is."

"You do?"

"On the twenty-first, there will be an auction of the estate of the late Ramon Castillo, the movie star. Among the things to be sold is the crystal ball he used as a prop in the film The Vampire's Lair The Vampire's Lair. My aunt and uncle were discussing it the other day. Your aunt collects items used in famous films. Wouldn't she want that crystal ball?"

"Her mouth must be watering at the idea!" said Allie.

"And she wants a person named Compton to be away from the city at the time of the auction."

"Aunt Pat and Margaret Compton hate each other's guts," said Allie.

"Is Margaret Compton also a collector?"

"She's a collector, all right, a very successful one. She's a rich widow and has much more money than Aunt Pat. If she wants that thing, she can bid it up so high that Aunt Pat won't be able to touch it."

"And Hugo Ariel, by lighting candles and making strange sounds, is going to prevent the Compton woman from attending the auction."

"Nice of him," said Allie, "but why is he doing it? It can't be for money. Aunt Pat has a little income from stocks, but that's all. If she has to fuss about a high bid on a crystal ball, she isn't going to have much to give Ariel, is she?"

"So we don't know the motive," said Bob.

"But we do have an objective," countered Jupiter. "We want to get Hugo Ariel out of Allie's house. We can't be sure that Ariel has an accomplice, so let's a.s.sume that he doesn't. If we could search the house, we might find the equipment he uses to produce his night songs. We could then demonstrate this to your aunt, Allie. I think this should cause her to lose faith in him."

Allie grinned wickedly. "She'd toss him out on his ear. Great idea! And searching the house will be a cinch, because today Ariel got a phone call."

"Is that unusual?" asked Jupiter.

"It is. He never gets any calls. He never goes anywhere. But this morning the phone rang and a man asked for Ariel. I had to bang on his door to get him up."

"I'm sure you got to an extension and listened," said Pete slyly.

"No time," said Allie. "He was only on the phone for a couple of seconds. He said, 'Very good,' and hung up, and he told Aunt Pat that tonight there will be a meeting of the entire fellows.h.i.+p."

"Haven't you asked your aunt anything about this fellows.h.i.+p?" said Bob.

"Of course I asked her, and a fat lot of good it did. She says it's a nice club she belongs to. She says it's sweet of me to take such an interest in her social life. And she's all excited.

She's going out tonight, and Ariel's going with her. So if we want to search the house for the gizmo Ariel uses to make that sound, we won't have any interruptions."

Jupiter mused, pulling at his lip. "He might carry the thing on his person," he said. "In that case, we'd find nothing."

"Aren't you even going to try?" demanded Allie. "It could be under the rugs or in the drapes or ..."

"Yes, it could," admitted Jupe. "How are you at searching houses?"

"Well, I've never done it," admitted the girl, "but it isn't the kind of thing you have to take courses for."

"Fine. Tonight, you search. Don't forget the garage, in case there is an accomplice.

Look for anything unfamiliar - a fine piece of machinery, a miniature tape recorder, anything like that."

"I'm so glad I hired you," said Allie. "I get to do all the work."

"Look everywhere," Jupe instructed her. "It could be under the table or the sideboard or ..."

"In the wisteria, maybe?" suggested Allie.

"Yes, in the wisteria. Don't fall off the trellis."

"Don't worry. And while I'm climbing around on that trellis, what are you going to be doing?"

"We will be following your aunt and Ariel to the meeting of the fellows.h.i.+p."

Chapter 6.

The House at Torrente Canyon "It was nice of you to bring your own car, Worthington," said Pete warmly.

Worthington smiled. He was piloting his trim Ford sedan down the Coast Highway, several hundred yards behind the purple Corvette that belonged to Pat Osborne. "A gold-plated Rolls-Royce is not the ideal automobile in which to tail anyone," said Worthington.

Some time before, Jupiter had entered a contest sponsored by the Rent-'n-Ride Auto Rental Company and had won the use for thirty days of an antique Rolls-Royce with gold-plated trim. With the car had come Worthington, the perfect English chauffeur. He had driven The Three Investigators during several of their cases. After the thirty days had elapsed, a grateful client had arranged for the boys to have unlimited use of the Rolls-Royce. By now, Worthington had become so interested in the work of Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews that he considered himself a part of the firm - an unofficial Fourth Investigator. When Jupiter had called the auto rental agency that morning, the chauffeur had gladly offered to use his own car to follow Miss...o...b..rne and Hugo Ariel to the meeting of their mysterious fellows.h.i.+p.

Now, "She's turning onto Sunset Boulevard," said Worthington.

"Don't get caught on that traffic signal," warned Jupiter Jones, who sat next to Worthington.

"I shan't." Worthington nicked his turn signal and slid through the intersection just as the light clicked to orange. "I hope she reaches her destination before it gets too dark," he said, and he guided the Ford up the steep hill away from the ocean. Sunset Boulevard wound ahead, past trim homes and gardens bright with geraniums. The boys lost sight of the Corvette from time to time when the road curved, but it always came into view again.

At last, the little car slowed.

"Torrente Canyon," murmured Worthington. "We can't lose her now. That's a dead-end road."

The Corvette turned into the canyon road, and an orange sports car spurted down Sunset and followed it. "Aunt Pat's hairdresser," said Jupiter.

"Just follow her red hair, Worthington," said Pete. "It probably glows in the dark."

Worthington chuckled and turned into Torrente Canyon Road. He followed the orange car until it pulled over and stopped on the gra.s.sy bank beside a high brick wall. There were other cars parked beside the road. The boys crouched low in the Ford as Worthington drove past the purple Corvette. Miss...o...b..rne and Hugo Ariel were getting out.

Worthington looked into his rear-view mirror. "The woman in orange is waving to Miss...o...b..rne."

Bob and Pete twisted around to look out the back window. "I see the tan car that was in front of Allie's house last night," said Bob.

"The delicatessen man," guessed Pete. "There sure are a lot of people here tonight."