Only Jupe didn’t have a copy of the book, didn’t know what book it was, and in any case only had half the page and word numbers!
But he had done enough for one night. He put the messages back in the desk and was about to let himself down into Tunnel Two when the phone rang. Surprised, he picked it up.
“Three Investigators, Jupiter Jones speaking,” he said.
“Jupe!” It was Bob’s voice and he sounded scared. “Jupe, I’m in a bad jam. I need help!”
“Bob!” he called.
Bob put on his brakes in surprise. It was Harry, and he looked very upset. Bob jumped off his bicycle and walked it up to Harry.
“What is it, Harry? Something wrong?”
The rear door of the van opened and a small wiry man jumped out.
“There’ll be plenty wrong unless you obey orders,” he growled. “Don’t try to make a break for it.”
“I’m sorry, Bob!” Harry’s face twisted with unhappiness. “They made me stop you. They’ve got Mom locked up back at the house.”
“Never mind the long explanations,” the man snapped. “Just give me your bicycle and climb into the van. Move, now!”
Bob looked around quickly. There was no one on the street to call to for help. And it wouldn’t be any use running — he couldn’t run fast enough to get away.
The man grabbed his bicycle and gave him an impatient shove.
“Get into the van!” he said. “You, Harry, get in with him.”
Bob climbed up into the dark van and Harry followed. The man pushed the bicycle in after them. The rear door slammed and locked. They were prisoners in the van.
“They swore they wouldn’t hurt us, Bob,” Harry said in a low voice. “All they want is information. About the messages and the clock. I couldn’t tell them enough so they came to get it from one of you. They’ve been watching the salvage yard for a chance to grab one of you alone.”
“But who are they?” Bob asked as the van rocked along towards some unknown destination.
“Mr. Jeeters is one of them. There are two others. One is a tall man named Carlos, and the other is the little man you saw. His name is Jerry. He used to be a jockey.”
“Carlos and Gerald!” Bob exclaimed. “They’re the two Pete and Jupiter saw yesterday afternoon, the ones who got part of one message from them.”
“Yes, and that’s stirred them up. They want to know what the message means,” Harry said unhappily. “They’re looking for something valuable and they’re determined to find it. They think we have the clue to where it’s hidden.”
“If we do we don’t know it,” Bob said “Jupe said, though, that he was sure something valuable was involved.”
“Carlos and Jerry came to see Mr. Jeeters this afternoon. They had a long talk. Then they grabbed hold of me and made me tell them everything I knew. Gee, I’m sorry, Bob, but I had to. They’re tough. They said that if I didn’t co-operate in everything they wanted, my mother would suffer for it.”
“You had to do it,” Bob said. “Don’t blame yourself. You say they’ve got your mom locked up?”
“Yes, back at Mr. Hadley’s — that is, Mr. Clock’s — house. They all call him Mr. Clock now. I heard them talking and learned that all the time Mr. Jeeters has been living in the house he’s been hunting for a secret hiding place of some kind. Please promise to tell them everything you know, Bob, so they’ll let us go and Mom will be all right.”
“The trouble is, I don’t know anything,” Bob told him. “That is, we solved one message. But all it said was to see some book, and we haven’t any idea what book. That’s as far as we got.”
“They’ll be awfully angry,” Harry said “They were sure you’d have solved the messages by now. They’ve been checking up, and they think you three guys are pretty smart.”
“Jupe’s the one who’s smart,” Bob sighed. “Maybe if I convince them I don’t know anything they’ll let us go. After all, it won’t do them any good to hold us if we don’t know anything, will it?”
On that hopeful note they fell silent The van rolled along, making occasional turns, but they had no idea in which direction they were going. Finally, after what seemed a long time, it stopped. They heard a big door, like an overhead garage door, roll up. The van moved forward a few feet and stopped again. The door rolled down. Then the back of the van was unlocked and the little man, Jerry, spoke.
“Come on now, climb out, both of you,” he said. “Act nice if you know what’s good for you.” Bob went first, with Harry following. He stepped down on to a concrete floor and looked around him. They were inside a big double garage. The doors were tightly closed and the two windows, one on each side, had shades pulled down over them. A bare light bulb illuminated the place. The van was the only vehicle in the garage, but the other half of it was fitted up as a workshop, with a workbench, a blow-lamp and other tools scattered about.
There were several chairs beside the workbench, and Jerry pointed at them.
“Sit down,” he said with an ugly grin. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
They sat down. Mr. Jeeters, his long face pale and unpleasant in the overhead light, stepped out of the front of the van, followed by the dapper, smiling Carlos.
“A rope round them to hold them securely,” Mr. Jeeters ordered Jerry. “Then we’ll talk.”
Deftly Jerry looped some rope from the workbench round their chests and tied them to the backs of the chairs. Mr. Jeeters drew up another chair, lit a big cigar, and puffed smoke at them.
“I assume Harry has told you what we want?” he asked Bob.
“He said you wanted to know the meaning of the messages,” Bob said, his voice slightly shaky.
“That’s just what we want. Those messages are the clue to the hiding place of something rather valuable,” Mr. Jeeters growled “We know all about how you got them — how you traced the screaming clock to Bert Clock and then to Rex King and tracked down the others with the messages Bert Clock sent them. Now we want to know what the messages say.”
“Personally,” Carlos put in, “I’d like to know the meaning of this nonsense of sending a screaming clock to Rex King, and messages to the others. What was Bert up to?”
“He’s the only one that knows that,” Jerry spoke up. “Bert has a very twisty kind of mind, believe me. He was always great at making a plan, then letting other people carry it out and take the risks. We’ll never know exactly what he was up to until we find him, and he seems to have disappeared without any trace.”
“Jerry’s right,” Mr. Jeeters growled. “No use wondering what Bert was up to. Let’s concentrate on finding the loot. Now boy, no more fooling around. What did those messages say?” Bob swallowed hard.
“Well, the first message,” he said, “was,
“I don’t know. The message didn’t say.”
“The second message probably did.” Mr. Jeeters was getting impatient. “What did the second message say?”
“I don’t know,” Bob gulped. “We didn’t work on it. Everybody was tired so we decided to wait until tomorrow.”
“Careful, boy!” Mr. Jeeters said, and his tone was menacing. “Don’t lie to me! I want to know what that second message said!”
“I tell you I don’t know!” Bob answered.
“We didn’t work on it. We were going to tackle it first thing tomorrow.”
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Carlos suggested.
“Maybe,” Mr. Jeeters agreed darkly. “It’s possible. All right, boy, let’s get on to the third message. The one that’s all numbers. I have part of it, the part that Carlos got from your fat friend.”
He took a torn sheet of paper from his pocket and held it in front of Bob’s face.
“What do these numbers mean?”
“I don’t know,” Bob had to say. “Jupiter didn’t have any idea.”
Mr. Jeeters was looking very ugly. However, he seemed to realize Bob was telling the truth, and so did the others.
“We should have waited,” Carlos said. “But if we had, and these interfering boys had led the police to the hiding place, we could have done nothing about it. The question is, what do we do next?”
“Obviously,” Mr. Jeeters growled, “we need the other messages. If these boys can solve them, so can we. All we have to do is get our hands on the messages and we’re set. Who has them, boy?”
“Jupiter Jones has them put away,” Bob said. “And Jupiter is in bed by now.”
“Well, he’ll just have to get out of bed,” Mr. Jeeters said grimly. “An idea is coming to me. We’ll just have your fat friend bring the messages to us and we’ll all solve them together.”
“How do you propose to get him here?” Carlos asked, looking thoughtful.
“He’s fond of his friend, isn’t he?” Mr. Jeeters asked, gesturing at Bob. “He wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to bring us the messages. Don’t you think so, boy?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bob said miserably. He had been hoping that when Mr. Jeeters and the others learned he didn’t know anything more about the messages, he and Harry would be released. Now they were planning to get their hands on Jupiter instead!
“I think he will,” Mr. Jeeters said. “We’ll get the same result, only it will take us a little longer. First we have to make sure your parents aren’t worrying about you. You’ll telephone them to say you are spending the night with your friend Jupiter. Then you’ll phone your fat companion and tell him that if he wants to see you again, he’ll have to follow orders without telling anyone.
“Jerry, hand him the telephone!”
The little man picked up the phone that sat on the workbench and thrust it at Bob.
“Take it, kid!”
“I won’t!” refused Bob stubbornly. “I won’t telephone anybody. I’ve told everything I know and — and — ” He swallowed hard, then finished, “And that’s that!”
“Jerry.” Mr. Jeeters glance went to the workbench. “I see a blow-lamp over there. Light it and hand it to me.”
The small man did as requested. In a moment Mr. Jeeters held the blowlamp in his hand, a bright yellow flame hissing from it. He brought it towards Bob, until Bob could feel the heat on his face and had to close his eyes against the brilliant light.
“Now, my boy,” Mr. Jeeters said very softly, “would you rather telephone or would you rather have a blow-lamp haircut? You have five seconds to make up your mind.”
“So! We meet again. And this time I think I have the advantage,”
The voice had a slight French accent. Jupiter recognized it instantly. It was Hugenay, the international art thief! The Three Investigators had encountered Hugenay, the debonair, clever European, once before, in an earlier case and Jupiter would never forget him. He still remembered with a little chill the fog-shrouded old graveyard where Hugenay had made him and Pete prisoners.
“I deduce,” Hugenay whispered into his ear, “that you remember me. You know then that I am not a man to be trifled with. If I release you, will you remain quiet for a moment’s conversation? I dislike making threats, but if you do attempt an outcry, I will have to — silence you.”
Jupiter managed to nod his head. Seeming satisfied, Hugenay took his hand from Jupiter’s mouth. By the faint light, Jupiter could just see the man’s face. Hugenay was smiling slightly.
“You seem surprised to see me again,” he said softly. “You should have realized that when half a million dollars in stolen paintings was at stake, Hugenay would not be far off.”
“Stolen paintings?” Jupiter exclaimed. “Is that what we’re all looking for?”
“You didn’t know?” Now Hugenay seemed surprised. “Five wonderful canvases, with a total value of half a million dollars, stolen more than two years ago and lost ever since — that’s what I’m after. Surely you must have known, or why go to so much effort?”
“We were investigating a screaming clock,” Jupiter said. “It led us to some clues and I guessed there was something valuable hidden, but I didn’t know what it was.”
“Oh yes, that clock,” Hugenay answered. “I have been wondering about that clock. I have taken it completely apart — ”
“You’re the one who stole it?” Jupiter asked “It was you who chased Bob and Harry yesterday?”
“Indeed it was,” Hugenay told him. “I also had men following you, but the fools lost you. I got the clock when that officer so obligingly took your friends to the police station and they left it in the parked car outside. But I have taken it completely apart, looking for a clue of some sort hidden in it, possibly engraved upon the works, without finding anything. Now I must know what is in those messages your ingenious organization has recovered.”
“Why should I tell you?” Jupe asked, his boldness returning. “If I yell now, Hans and Konrad will be here in a minute, and they’ll tear you apart.”