2 Trouble with Mr. Gelbert

“TERRIFIC!” Pete exclaimed. “Mr. Hitchcock has a new case for us.”

“A boy who has been left something valuable and doesn’t know what it is or where to find it,” Bob added, frowning. “It sounds pretty mixed up to me.”

“The more baffling it is, the better,” Jupiter said.

“We’ll need a car to drive us over to Hollywood,” Pete put in. “I’d hate to drive into World Studios and up to Mr. Hitchcock’s office in the old truck.”

“I am phoning the Rent-’n-Ride Auto Agency now,” Jupiter told them, starting to dial, “to tell them we will need the Rolls-Royce and Worthington tomorrow morning.”

Some time ago, Jupiter had won the use of a genuine, gold-plated, antique Rolls-Royce, complete with chauffeur, in a contest. The car had been invaluable to them in their career as investigators, for distances in southern California are great, and it is almost impossible to cover them except by car. Of course, sometimes the three borrowed the salvage yard’s small truck, with Hans or Konrad driving. But for a visit to see Alfred Hitchcock, the famous director, a truck was hardly dignified enough.

“Hello,” Jupiter spoke into the telephone. “May I speak to the manager, please?...Hello, Mr. Gelbert, this is Jupiter Jones speaking. I wanted to tell you I will need the Rolls-Royce, with Worthington, tomorrow morning at nine-thirty.”

They were surprised to hear the man at the other end say, “I am sorry, but that will be impossible. Your thirty days’ use of the car has expired.”

“Golly!” Pete groaned in dismay. “We haven’t been keeping track. The thirty days ran out while we were back East tangling with the mystery of Skeleton Island.”

But Jupiter was speaking into the telephone again.

“According to my figures, Mr. Gelbert,” he said, “the thirty days still have some time to run.”

“But they don’t!” Pete whispered loudly. “The thirty days ran out. He’s right.”

The First Investigator waved his free hand at them. The manager of the rental firm was speaking again.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” he said firmly.

“Mr. Gelbert,” Jupiter said in a dignified voice, “I believe we have a difference of viewpoint here that needs to be straightened out. I’ll be at your office in twenty minutes to discuss the matter.”

“There’s nothing to discuss!” The man sounded annoyed now. “The time is up. Come down, but it won’t do you any good.”

“Thank you,” Jupiter said. He hung up and turned to the others. “We have to get our bikes and ride downtown.”

“But he’s right!” Pete protested as they crawled out through Tunnel Two. “Thirty days is thirty days.”

“Not always,” Jupiter said mysteriously. “Leave the talking to me.”

“We’ll leave it to you, all right,” Bob agreed. “We haven’t anything to say. I think we’re wasting our time.”

Jupiter would say nothing more. They rode out through the main gate, then cycled half a mile down the shore road into the heart of Rocky Beach. Off to their left the Pacific Ocean gleamed blue in the sunshine, its surface dotted with boats. To their right rose the Santa Monica Mountains, brown and jagged.

The Rent-’n-Ride Auto Rental Agency occupied a corner on the main street. The Three Investigators parked their bikes outside and walked in, Pete and Bob rather reluctantly following Jupiter.

They were shown into the manager’s office. Mr. Gelbert, a stout, red-faced man, scowled as he saw them.

“Well?” he asked Jupiter. “You won our contest and you had the use of the car for thirty days. Now what makes you think you can keep on using it? Can’t you count?”

“Yes, sir,” Jupiter said politely. “I’ve tried to be very accurate in my counting, Mr. Gelbert.”

From his pocket he took a small notebook and an envelope. He took a folded piece of paper from the envelope. It turned out to be a small handbill advertising the original contest which Jupiter had won.

It said:

“Humph!” Mr. Gelbert said, looking at it. “What are you getting at? You had the use of the car for thirty days, any day you wanted, and every day has twenty-four hours, so that’s that.”

“I want you to study the wording of your advertisement again, sir,” Jupiter said. “It says that the winner gets the use of the car for thirty days of twenty-four hours each.”

“All right,” Mr. Gelbert snapped. “You had it for thirty days and every day has twenty-four hours in it. Everybody knows that.”

“Exactly, Mr. Gelbert,” Jupiter Jones said. “Everyone knows a day has twenty-four hours in it, so why mention it at all? Why not just say, ‘Win the use of a Rolls-Royce for thirty days’?”

“Why — uh —” Mr. Gelbert spluttered. “I was just trying to make it sound more, well, more splashy and interesting.”

“Quite likely,” Jupiter agreed, “but the way it reads to me is that the winner gets the use of the Rolls-Royce until he has used it for twenty-four hours thirty times. In other words, thirty days, each made up of twenty-four hours’ use of the car. And according to my calculations —” he opened his notebook and studied what was written in it—“according to my calculations we have used the car for a total of seventy-seven hours and forty-five minutes. So we have almost twenty-six days’ use of the car left. Twenty-six days of twenty-four hours each, that is.”

Pete and Bob could hardly believe their ears. It didn’t seem possible Jupiter could be right, yet the way he explained it certainly sounded awfully plausible. After all, the contest had said, “thirty days of twenty-four hours each” and if each twenty-four hours’ use made up one day, then — well, Jupe was right.

Mr. Gelbert seemed to have trouble speaking. He grew very red in the face.

“That’s absurd!” he cried. “I never said anything like that. At least I didn’t intend to say any such thing.”

“That’s why it’s very important always to be careful you’re saying what you mean,” Jupiter replied. “In this case you did say —”

“I didn’t!” Mr. Gelbert roared. “Anyway, if you think you can use my best car and driver free practically forever, you’re crazy. I don’t care what I said in the advertising. I meant thirty days, period. Your use of the car is finished! Period again!”

“But we were away for a week, Mr. Gelbert,” Bob spoke up. “So we couldn’t use the car. Couldn’t we have that time added on to the thirty days, at least?”

“No!” the man started to shout automatically. Then he nodded abruptly. “All right, I’ll make a concession. Providing you promise not to bother me any more, you can use the car two more times. That’s two more times and after that — out!”

Jupiter sighed. He hated to have one of his schemes go wrong, and he had been counting on the wording in the advertising of the contest to win them the use of the car for some time to come. After all, what he had told Mr. Gelbert was perfectly logical. When you said “thirty days of twenty-four hours each,” you meant thirty times twenty-four hours’ use of the car. But adults, of course, were frequently neither reasonable nor logical.

“All right,” he said. “Two more uses of the car. One of them at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. Thank you, Mr. Gelbert.” He turned to his friends. “Come on, Second and Records.”

Pete and Bob followed him out in silence, and they started back for the salvage yard.

“Gosh!” Pete said gloomily. “What are we going to do after we’ve finished the two times’ use of the car? If we get any more mysteries to solve, we can’t get around southern California on bicycles!”

“We’ll have to work harder in the yard,” Jupiter said, “so Aunt Mathilda won’t mind letting us use the light truck, with Hans or Konrad to drive it.”

“But half the time they’re busy or the truck is away,” Bob said. “This just about sinks The Three Investigators, Jupe. You know it does.”

“We still can use the car twice more,” Jupiter said firmly. “Something may turn up. I’m very much looking forward to our meeting tomorrow with Alfred Hitchcock. I have a feeling he has a real mystery for us to work on.”