Роберт Артур - The Mystery of the Fiery Eye

A slender woman was clipping the rose bush. She turned, but already the girl was talking.

“Mother, these are The Three Investigators I was telling you about. At least this is one of them and his helper. He’s come to take back Octavian and relieve you of the anxiety of harbouring a dangerous plaster bust.”

“Don’t mind Liz.” The woman smiled. “She lives in a world all her own, full of mysterious spies and sinister criminals. I didn’t believe a word she said about Octavian being radioactive, but he doesn’t look well in the patio and I was going to give him away. I waited for you because Liz said it was very important for you to get him back.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bob said. “Octavian was sort of sold by mistake. If you’d like another bust instead, we’ve brought Francis Bacon along.”

“No,” the woman said. “At first I thought it would be a cute idea to have a bust in the patio, but I see it doesn’t look as well as I expected.”

“Then we’ll refund your money,” Bob said. He dug the five-dollar bill from his pocket and presented it.

“That’s certainly very fair,” the woman said. “Now you can take Octavian away. I think I’ll get an Italian vase to decorate the patio instead.”

“Can you carry both busts, Hans?” Bob asked.

“I got two hands, can carry two busts,” Hans said. “Easy like pie.” He scooped up the precious Octavian and held him under his left arm. “Now what, Bob?”

“We’ll take him out and pack him in the box,” Bob said. “Tie it up tight. Then — ”

“Do you have to go right away?” Liz asked. “I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever met a real investigator, and there are just millions of things I want to ask you.”

“Well — ” Bob hesitated. It was rather fun hearing Liz talk. Besides, if she was so interested in mysteries and investigations...“You go on and pack Octavian, Hans,” he said. “I’ll be right there. Do a good job.”

“Sure thing, Bob,” Hans said. He tramped off with a bust under each arm, leaving Bob talking — or rather listening, for Liz was firing questions at him without waiting for answers.

Hans carefully slid the two busts in the back of the truck and began the thorough packing job Bob had ordered. Every move he made was watched by the two men in the car. The one named Hugo kept up a continuous report to his two accomplices across the hills at Horatio August’s house.

“The big guy is packing the bust now,” he said tensely into the walkie-talkie. “It has to be Octavian — the kid wouldn’t come here for any other bust. He’s still inside the patio. There — the box is all tied up, nice and neat, and the big guy is waiting for the kid to come out.”

Tied to the kitchen chair, Jupiter could hear every word as the two men listened. The one named Joe barked back instructions.

“Get that box off the truck!” he said. “Listen, I have an idea. Stage an accident. Hugo, you walk in front of the truck when it starts up, and pretend it’s hit you. Scream and yell. The man and the boy will hop down to see how badly you’re hurt and — ”

“Hold it, hold it!” interrupted the voice of the distant Hugo. “That won’t be necessary. The big guy is going back into the patio. The truck is unguarded. Frank and I are on our way.”

The walkie-talkie was silent. Inwardly, Jupiter groaned. Just as Bob had regained Octavian, they were going to lose the bust again!

Hans walked back into the patio. Bob and Liz were still talking, or at

east Liz was talking and Bob was answering when she gave him a chance. “Look, don’t you ever need a girl operative?” Liz was asking eagerly. “I’m sure you must on some of your investigations. There are times when a girl would be a big help. You could call on me. I’m a terrific actress. I can use make-up to disguise myself, and I can change my voice and — ”

“Excuse, Bob,” Hans rumbled. “Just to remind you, Mrs. Mathilda said not to stay away with the truck too long.”

“Oh, sure, Hans!” Bob exclaimed. “Sorry, Liz, I’ve got to go. Maybe we might need a girl operative some time. If we do, I’ll call you.”

“Here’s my telephone number.” Liz was following him, scribbling on a card in her hand as she walked. “There. Liz Logan, that’s the name. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Golly, I can hardly wait to take part in a real investigation!”

Bob took the card and climbed into the truck beside Hans, not even noticing the blue sedan that passed them. He was thinking that Liz seemed like a pretty nice sort, and maybe a girl could help them sometime. It was true Jupiter had little use for girls, but if the right occasion ever arose, he’d suggest they call Liz Logan.

She waved good-bye and he waved back, not even glancing into the back of the truck. He and Hans headed back for the salvage yard, unaware that they had lost Octavian almost as soon as they had recovered him.

Jupiter knew, though. The walkie-talkie began to crackle and then speak. He heard Hugo’s voice.

“Got it!” Hugo was saying. “The big lug went inside the patio and Frank and I grabbed that box from the truck the second he was out of sight. I don’t think they even know it’s gone.”

“Good work!” Joe snapped back. “Take it to the hideout and don’t open it until we get there. Over and out.”

“Roger. Over and out.”

The walkie-talkie was silent. Joe gave Jupiter Jones a one-sided grin.

“Well, kid, I guess that does it,” he said. “We’ve got the stone. So we don’t have to question you any more. But just to be on the safe side, we’re going to leave you three kids safe here until we’ve got the stone and covered our tracks. Don’t worry, we’ll phone your buddy to come and get you — but later, maybe tonight.”

He and his companion went out the kitchen door, taking Mr. Jackson with them. Mr. Jackson gave Jupiter a last long glance, as if to say he was sorry he couldn’t help. Then all three got into a car that had been out of sight behind the house and drove away.

As soon as they were gone, Jupiter raised his voice.

“Pete! Gus! Can you hear me?”

“Is that you, Jupe?” Pete’s muffled voice came from beneath him. “What’s up? Can you let us out of here? The batteries in the light are going dead!”

“Sorry, Second,” Jupe called back. “I’m in a fix myself. I’m wrapped up like a mummy. We’re stuck here and the Black Moustache gang has Octavian.”

JUPITER sat tied tightly to the chair and pondered. In stories, when someone was tied up there was always a convenient way to get loose. You could find an old knife and saw the ropes against the blade to cut them. Or there was a piece of broken glass that could be used the same way. There was always something.

But he had nothing. Oh, there was his knife, all right. It was lying on the window-sill. But he couldn’t reach it. If he could have reached it, he couldn’t have got it open. If he could have got it open, he couldn’t have sawed the ropes against the blade because his arms were tied separately to the arms of the chair.

Jupiter sat and thought, trying to figure out some way to get loose. He wasn’t exactly afraid of starving to death, because someone would come eventually, but it might take a long time.

Underneath him he heard bumps and thumps. Pete and Gus were flinging themselves against the bolted door, trying to break loose. Presently he heard their voices.

“Hey, Jupe, Jupe! Can you hear me?”

“Very clearly, Second,” Jupiter answered loudly. “What success?”

“None. This door is solid. All we’ve done is bruise our shoulders, Say, it’s awful dark down here.”