“I haven’t any idea, sir,” Jupiter replied. “Though it’s probably a book in this room somewhere.”
“Yes, I think so, too. Let us look at a few.”
Hugenay went to the nearest shelf, pulled out three or four books and glanced through them. He thrust them back.
“Pah!” he said. “They mean nothing There are too many books to look at every one. Yet we must have the message. Think, boy, think. You’re supposed to be good at thinking.”
Jupiter pinched his lip to make his thoughts come faster.
“Mr. Hugenay — ” he said at last.
“Yes, boy?”
“These messages were meant for Rex King He was supposed to solve them. Therefore it seems logical that he would know what book Mr. Clock meant.”
“Of course he’ll know! We only have to telephone him and ask him.”
“But he’s in the hospital.”
“That is bad.” Hugenay’s face fell. “Try another idea.”
“We could ask his wife. She might know.”
“Of course. Sound thinking. Phone her and ask her.”
“I’d better have Bob ask her,” Jupiter said “He talked to her.”
He led the way to the kitchen, where Bob was having cocoa with Mrs. Smith and Harry.
“Find anything, First?” he asked.
“Not yet. We need your assistance.” Jupe explained what he wanted Bob to do. Bob went to the telephone in the hall, looked up Rex King’s number, and dialled. He recognized Mrs. King’s voice when she answered.
He told her about the mysterious book Bert Clock had referred to in the message. It was probably a book that her husband would have known about. Could she suggest any book which Bert Clock would have referred to as the book?
“Yes, I think so,” Mrs. King said. “A good many years ago, Bert wrote a book about his experiences in radio. My husband helped him some with the writing. It was called A Clock Screams at Midnight. Does that help?”
“It certainly does!” Bob exclaimed. “Thank you very much.” He hung up and relayed the news to Jupiter and Mr. Hugenay. They whirled back into the library and closed the door. Bob went back to the kitchen to wait some more, wondering what this new development would uncover.
After a couple of minutes of scanning the shelves, Hugenay snatched up a book.
“Here it is,” he said. “A Clock Screams at Midnight, by Albert Clock. Now we are making progress. Where is that message? Let me see — page number 3, word number 27. I will look for it. You, boy, write the words down as I proceed.”
He leafed through the book to page 3 and counted words.
“The word is ‘stand,’ ” he reported. “Now for the rest”
He worked rapidly. Jupiter wrote down each word as they found it.
Presently Hugenay came to the end of the torn message. “That’s all,” he said. “The rest of the message is gone. Read what we have.” Jupiter read the message aloud. “Stand in the middle of the room at one minute to midnight.Have two detectives and two reporters with you. Hold hands, making a circle,and keep absolutely silent for one minute. At midnight exactly — ”
He stopped. “That’s where the message ends, Mr. Hugenay.”
“A thousand thunders! It ends just before it tells us anything. At midnight exactly — what? What is supposed to happen? There’s no way to tell. That Bert Clock had a very clever mind. We can’t guess what he was thinking.”
He sighed. “There’s nothing for it,” he said. “We’ll just have to tear the room apart. Either the pictures are hidden in this room, or perhaps there’s a key to a storage vault hidden here. It would help if we knew what we were looking for but, as we don’t, we’ll make the best of it.”
“Wait, Mr. Hugenay!” Jupiter said. “Could the pictures be those pictures on the wall? I mean, could the real pictures have had new pictures painted over them?”
“No, no, I’m sure that’s not the case, but I’ll look.”
Hugenay took down the nearest picture and examined it closely. He scraped the paint at one corner with his penknife.
“No, just a worthless picture,” he said. “We’ll start by leafing through all the other books, to see if there is a concealed key. Then we’ll examine the walls and the bookcases for hidden cupboards or sliding panels.”
“Wait!” Jupiter pleaded. “I’ve had another idea, sir.”
“Another? Your mind hums like a top!” Hugenay exclaimed. “What is it this time?”
“I think I know of a way we might get the rest of the message in the book, sir.”
“Well, then let’s have it!”
“When people pick out words in a book to make a message,” Jupiter said, “they often put a pencil mark beneath the word to help them count down to it. If the message words in Mr. Clock’s book have pencil marks under them, we can find the rest of the message by looking through the book till we see more words marked with pencil.”
“Remarkable cogitation,” Hugenay said. “Let us check and see.” Quickly he looked through Mr. Clock’s book again.
“You’re right, boy! Each word of the message has a small pencil dot beneath it. Here — you look for the rest of the message.” Jupiter took the book and turned each page slowly, looking only for a tiny pencil dot. Presently he came to a word. He called it out and Hugenay wrote it down. It took quite a while to go through the book page by page, but Jupiter was interested in the job and did not pause. At last Jupiter could find no more marks. “Very well,” Hugenay said. “I’ll read the whole message. ‘Standin' the middle of the room at one minute to midnight. Have two detective sand two reporters with you. Hold hands, making a circle, and keep absolutely silent for one minute. At midnight exactly the alarm of the screaming clock which I sent you should go off. Have it set at full volume. Let the scream continue until my hiding place is uncovered’.” Mr. Hugenay looked at Jupiter. “What do you suppose it means?” he asked. Jupiter frowned. It was one of the strangest messages he had ever encountered. “It sounds to me,” he said, “as if the screaming clock will make some kind of mechanism work that will open a hidden panel, or something like that. Locks can be made that will open only at special sounds. Some will open only if the owner speaks to them. I think Mr. Clock’s scream must do something like that.”
“Exactly,” Hugenay agreed. “My own conclusion. A trick lock opened by a special sound.”
“Now,” Jupiter said, “if you have the clock, we can try it out. I don’t think that business about holding hands or waiting for midnight means anything. It’s just atmosphere.”
“There is, unfortunately, a difficulty,” Hugenay said slowly. “The clock no longer exists. I took it apart looking for a hidden message engraved inside it. It won’t scream any more.” He sighed. “I did not anticipate this. It is one of the few times I have been guilty of a grave error. But it can’t be helped. The clock is gone.”
“Then,” Jupiter said, “I don’t know what we can do.”
“There is a way,” Hugenay said. “It is crude and I detest crudeness, but this time it is necessary. My men will open up all the walls in this room, including those behind the bookcases. If there is a secret cupboard or other hiding place we will find it.
“Fred,” he said to one of his men. “Go out to the car and bring in the tools. We have work to do.”
20
Startling Developments
Mr. Clock’s library was a mess. It looked as if a bomb had exploded or a demolition squad had started to demolish the house. The latter was almost correct. Certainly Hugenay’s men had wrecked the room. They had attacked it with chisels, drills, axes and crowbars.
First they had removed all the books from the shelves, stacking them on the floor, and taken down the pictures and mirror. Then they had opened up the wails, methodically. They had examined every section of the room for an opening behind the wall. They had ripped down some of the bookshelves looking for a secret door, or a hidden closet. They had even attacked the ceiling until they found it was solid plaster.