“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 suggest you see the book’. That’s all. Just the one line.”
“I suggest you see the book.” Mr. Jeeters gnawed his lip. “All right, what book?”
“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.”
16
An Unexpected Meeting
“Jupe, I'm in a bad jam!” Bob’s urgent voice came over the telephone in Headquarters. “I need help.”
“What’s happened, Bob?” Jupiter asked tensely.
“Carlos and Jerry and Mr. Jeeters have me,” said Bob, “and they’ve got Harry, too.”
He went on to recount exactly what had happened. He finished by saying, “They made me call Mom and Dad and tell them I am staying with you tonight. Mr. Jeeters says you can ask your aunt and uncle for permission to come and visit me, and get away without anyone suspecting anything. He says that if you don’t bring the messages to him, without telling anybody, we’ll — well, we’ll pay for it.
“But he swears that if you bring the messages, he’ll let us all go as soon as they get what they want. Jupe, what do you think? Do you think you ought to do what they ask? Maybe you ought to call the police and — ”
Over the phone there was the sound of a slap. Jupiter heard Bob gasp. Then Mr. Jeeter’s voice came on the line.
“You heard your pal,” he said. “If you want to see him again with nothing missing, like a couple of fingers or an ear, you do what I say. You get those messages and be waiting out front of that junkyard in exactly half an hour. I’m sending a van to pick you up. Don’t tell anybody, you get me? That way you’ll be all right in the end.”
“All right, Mr. Jeeters,” Jupiter said. “I shall obey orders to the letter. I will be waiting for your van in half an hour.”
“You’d better,” the man growled. Jupiter hung up very thoughtfully. He was tempted to call Pete, but there was no use involving Pete if it wasn’t necessary. Jupiter decided that probably Mr. Jeeters meant what he had said. If he got the messages and found whatever mysterious object he was looking for, he wouldn’t have any reason not to let them go.
Jupiter put the messages — the two he had solved and the torn one he couldn’t make anything of — in the pocket of his shirt. Then, just before he let himself down into Tunnel Two, he scrawled on a piece of paper, “Look for us in the room of clocks,” and put that on top of the desk. The message was — well, it was just in case. He was pretty sure the room of clocks was the centre of this mystery.
That done, he crawled out through Tunnel Two and started towards Green Gate One. He had just reached it when a dark shadow seemed to detach itself from a pile of junk and move towards him. Jupiter had very quick reactions and he flung himself against Green Gate One, trying to pop through it and get away. But he wasn’t fast enough. A powerful arm went around his chest. A hand closed over his mouth, almost suffocating him. And a voice whispered mockingly in his ear:
“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.”