"Carey, M.V. - The Three Investigators 15 - The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carey M.V)

Some time before, Jupiter Jones had won a prize in a contest sponsored by the Rent-'n-Ride Auto Rental Company. The prize had been the use of a gold-plated Rolls-Royce and a chauffeur for thirty days. Worthington, the very proper English chauffeur who had driven Jupiter and his friends in the course of many of their investigations, had become a rather enthusiastic amateur sleuth himself, and always took an interest in the boys' cases.

Bob looked at his wristwatch. It was well past seven. "We can't ask Worthington to come out here this late," he said. "Not on a Sunday night."

"It won't be necessary to ask him to come here," said Jupiter. "Worthington lives in the Wilshire district. Unless he's terribly occupied with something, he could go and look at that address in Wilshire. Perhaps that would give us some clue to Mr Demetrieff."

Bob agreed that this was worth a try, and the two boys crawled through Tunnel Two and back into Headquarters, where Jupiter consulted his little telephone list and called Worthington's number.

"Master Jupiter?" Worthington sounded very pleased to hear Jupe's voice on the telephone. "How are you, sir?"

Jupiter assured Worthington that he was very well.

"I am afraid that the Rolls-Royce isn't available tonight," said Worthington ruefully. "There is a big party in Beverly Hills. Perkins took the car over."

"We didn't want the car tonight, Worthington," said Jupe. "I was only wondering if you would have time to do a small favour for The Three Investigators."

"I was busily engaged," said Worthington. "I was playing solitaire--and losing. The interruption is most welcome. What can I do for you?"

"We are attempting to get information on a Mr Ilyan Demetrieff," Jupiter told him. He spelled the name for Worthington. "Possibly, it is Demetrioff, with an 'o,'а" he told the chauffeur. "We are not positive. However, he has given his address as 2901 Wilshire Boulevard. We would like to know if Mr Demetrieff has, in fact, recently lived at this address. Also, it would be interesting to know what kind of place 2901 Wilshire is."

"It's practically around the corner from me," said Worthington. "I shall stroll over and ring the bell."

"That's fine, Worthington," said Jupiter. "And what will you say if someone opens the door?"

Worthington scarcely hesitated. "I shall inform them that I am chairman of the Volunteer Committee for the Beautification of Wilshire Boulevard," said Worthington. "I shall ask their opinion of putting potted shrubs along the sidewalks. If they are receptive to the idea, I can ask them to join the committee."

"Wonderful, Worthington!" cried Jupiter.

Worthington promised to call Headquarters within half an hour, and hung up briskly.

"There are times when I think we should take Worthington into our agency," laughed Jupiter after he reported the chauffeur's plan to Bob.

"He considers himself a member already," said Bob. "What do you think he'll find at that Wilshire address?"

"Possibly nothing," admitted Jupiter. "An empty house, or perhaps an apartment with no tenant. But at least he'll be able to tell us something about the neighbourhood. I like the idea of a Volunteer Committee for the Beautification of Wilshire Boulevard. We could join the committee and ring doorbells in Mr Demetrieff's area, and perhaps glean some information on him."

"City people never know their neighbours," said Bob.

"Sometimes they know more than one thinks." Jupiter put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Suppose it is a neighbourhood of elderly people," he said. "Elderly people are home all day. They look out of their windows. They watch what is going on. I wonder how many crimes have been solved because some little old lady who slept lightly got up in the middle of the night to see who was making a noise on the street?"

Bob grinned. "Remind me to be careful when I go past Miss Hopper's."

"I think she doesn't miss a great deaf," conceded Jupiter. He opened the book on the crown jewels which Bob had brought with him and stared at the photograph of the Azimov crown. "It is beautiful, in a barbaric way," he said. "I suppose it was typical of old Duke Federic to have it made in the shape of a helmet."

"He must have been a real charmer," said Bob. He shuddered. "Executing Ivan the Bold was bad enough. He didn't have to stick his head up on the castle wall."

"They did things like that in those days," said Jupe. "It was supposed to serve as an example, and I am sure it did. The Azimovs survived for 400 years afterwards."

The telephone rang.