"The Mystery of the Talking Skull" - читать интересную книгу автора (Arthur Robert)
1 Jupiter Buys a Trunk
It all started because Jupiter Jones read the newspaper.
The Three Investigators — Jupiter, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews — were taking it easy back in Jupe’s workshop section of The Jones Salvage Yard. Bob was writing up some notes on their last case. Pete was just enjoying the California morning sunshine. And Jupiter was reading the paper.
Presently he looked up from its pages.
“Has either of you ever been to an auction?” he asked.
Bob said no. Pete shook his head.
“Neither have I,” Jupiter said. “The paper says there’s an auction this morning at the Davis Auction Company in Hollywood. They’ll be auctioning off to the highest bidder unclaimed luggage from a number of hotels. The paper says there are trunks and suitcases with unknown contents, left behind by people who moved, or couldn’t pay their bill, or who just forgot to call for them. I think it might be interesting to visit an auction.”
“Why?” Pete asked. “I don’t need a suitcase full of somebody’s old clothes.”
“Neither do I,” Bob said. “Let’s go swimming.”
“We should seek out new experiences,” Jupiter said. “Every new experience helps broaden our background as investigators. I’ll see if Uncle Titus will let Hans drive us up to Hollywood in the light truck.”
Hans, one of two Bavarian brothers who helped in the salvage yard, was free. And so, an hour later, the boys were standing in a large room crowded with people, watching a short, plump auctioneer on a raised platform auction off trunks and suitcases as rapidly as possible. At the moment he had a new-looking suitcase in front of him and was trying to get one more bid on it.
“Going once! Going once!” he shouted. “Going twice! Going twice!.. Gone! Sold for twelve dollars and fifty cents to the gentleman with the red necktie.”
The auctioneer banged his gavel, signifying that the sale was final. Then he turned to see what came next.
“Now we come to lot 98!” he sang out. “A very interesting item, ladies and gentlemen. Interesting and unusual. Hoist it up where everyone can see it, boys.”
Two sturdy workmen lifted a small, old-fashioned trunk on to the platform. Pete stirred restlessly. It was a hot day and the room was stuffy. Some of the men present seemed quite interested in bidding on the unknown contents of the luggage, but Pete couldn’t have cared less.
“C’mon, Jupe, let’s go!” Pete muttered to his stocky companion.
“Just a little longer,” Jupiter whispered back. “This looks like an interesting item. I think I’ll bid on it.”
“On that?” Pete stared at the trunk. “You’re crazy.”
“Just the same, I think I’ll try to buy it. If it’s worth anything, we’ll all share.”
“Worth anything? It’s probably full of clothes that went out of style in 1890,” Bob said.
The trunk indeed looked old. It was made of wood, with leather straps and leather binding, and had a rounded top. It looked stoutly locked.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the auctioneer shouted “I invite your attention to this fine trunk. Believe me, folks, they don’t make trunks like this one any more!”
A snicker went through the crowd. It was certainly true no one made trunks like that any more. The trunk could easily have been fifty years old.
“I think it’s an old actor’s trunk,” Jupe whispered to his two companions. “The kind actors touring in plays used to take with them to keep their costumes in.”
“One thing we don’t need is a bunch of old costumes,” Pete muttered back. “For goodness sake, Jupe —”
But the auctioneer was already shouting his sales talk.
“Look at it, ladies and gentlemen, look at it!” he cried. “Not new, not modern, no indeed. But think of it as an antique. Think of it as a fond memento of grandfather’s day. And what may be in it?”
He rapped the trunk with his knuckles. It gave off a dull thud.
“Who knows what it holds? It might hold anything. Why, folks, the crown jewels of the former czars of old Russia might be in that trunk. I don’t guarantee it, but certainly the possibility can’t be denied. Now what am I bid? Give me an offer, someone. Give me an offer.”
The crowd was silent. Apparently no one wanted an old trunk. The auctioneer looked annoyed.
“Come on, folks!” he implored. “Give me a bid! Let’s get this started. This fine old antique trunk, this precious relic of yesterday, this —”
He was just getting wound up in his spiel when Jupiter Jones took a step forward.
“One dollar!” he called, his voice squeaking slightly with excitement.
“One dollar!” the auctioneer interrupted himself to shout. “I have one dollar from that intelligent-looking young man in the first row. And you know what I’m going to do, folks? I’m going to reward this intelligence by selling it to him for one dollar! Sold!”
And he brought his gavel down hard. The crowd chuckled. No one else wanted the trunk, and the auctioneer wasn’t wasting time trying to get any more bids. Now Jupiter Jones was the somewhat surprised owner of one antique trunk, tightly locked, contents unknown.
At that moment, however, there was a stir at the back of the crowd. A woman was trying to push her way through — a little old lady with white hair, an old-fashioned hat, and gold-rimmed spectacles.
“Wait a minute!” she called. “I want to bid. Ten dollars! I bid ten dollars for the trunk!”
People turned to look at her, surprised at anyone wanting to pay ten dollars for such an old trunk.
“Twenty dollars!” the white-haired woman called, waving her hand. “I’ll bid twenty dollars!”
“I’m sorry, madam,” the auctioneer called back. “The article has been sold and all sales are final. Take it away, men, take it away. We have to get on with the sale.”
The two workmen lifted the trunk down from the platform, swinging it towards The Three Investigators.
“Here you are,” one said. Pete and Jupiter stepped forward.
“Well, it looks as if we own one old trunk,” Pete grumbled, seizing a leather handle at one end. “Now what’ll we do with
“Take it back to the salvage yard and open it,” Jupe said, grasping the leather handle at the other end.
“Wait a minute, fellows,” the second workman said. “First it has to be paid for. Mustn’t forget that important detail.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Jupe put down his end, reached in his pocket for a leather wallet, took out a dollar bill, and handed it to the man. The man scribbled on a paper and gave it to Jupe.
“Your receipt,” he said. “Now it’s yours. If there’re any royal jewels in it, you own them. Haw haw!” Still laughing, he let the boys take the trunk. With Bob ahead of them, pushing a way through the crowd, Jupe and Pete carried the small trunk towards the rear of the room. They had just got it through the rows of people when the white-haired woman who had come too late to bid bustled up to them.
“Boys,” she said, “I’ll buy that trunk from you for twenty-five dollars. I collect old trunks and I want this one for my collection.”
“Gosh, twenty-five dollars!” Pete exclaimed.
“Take it, Jupe!” Bob said.
“It’s a very good profit — and the trunk isn’t really worth a cent more even to a collector,” the woman said. “Here you are, twenty-five dollars.”
She took the money from a large pocketbook and thrust it at Jupiter. To the amazement of Bob and Pete, Jupiter shook his head.
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“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t want to sell it. We want to see what’s in it.”
“There can’t be anything in it of value,” the woman said, looking upset. “Here, I’ll give you thirty dollars.”
“No, thank you.” Jupiter shook his head again. “I really don’t want to sell it.”
The woman sighed. Then, just as she was about to say something more, she seemed to take alarm. She turned and scurried away, losing herself in the crowd. She had apparently been frightened by the approach of a young man carrying a camera.
“Hi, boys,” the young man said. “I’m Fred Brown. I’m a reporter for
Bob and Pete looked uncertain, but Jupe quickly motioned them into the pose the reporter wanted. Standing behind the trunk, Bob noticed that across the top were stencilled in faded white paint the words THE GREAT GULLIVER. The young man aimed the camera, a flashbulb went off, and the picture was taken.
“Thanks,” the reporter said. “Now may I have your names? And will you tell me why you refused thirty dollars for it? Seems like a nice profit to me.”
“We’re just curious,” Jupiter said. “I think it’s an old theatrical trunk and we want to see what’s in it. We just bought it for fun, not to make a profit.”
“Then you don’t believe it has the Russian crown jewels in it?” Fred Brown chuckled.
“That’s just talk,” Pete said. “It might have old costumes in it.”
“Could be,” the young man agreed. “That name, The Great Gulliver, sounds very theatrical. Speaking of names, what did you say yours were?”
“We didn’t say,” Jupiter answered. “But here’s our card. We’re — uh — well, we investigate things.”
He handed the reporter one of The Three Investigators’ business cards which the boys carried at all times. It said:
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“So?” The reporter raised his eyebrows. “You’re investigators, eh? What do the question marks stand for?”
“That’s our symbol,” Jupiter told him. “The question marks stand for mysteries unsolved, riddles unanswered, puzzles of any kind. So we use it as our trademark. We investigate any kind of mystery.”
“And now you’re investigating an old theatrical trunk.” The young man smiled and put the card in his pocket. “Thanks a lot. Maybe you’ll see your picture in tonight’s paper. Depends on whether the editor likes the story or not.”
He raised his hand in a gesture of good-bye and turned away. Jupe picked up his end of the trunk again.
“Come on, Pete, we have to get this outside,” he said. “We can’t keep Hans waiting any longer.”
With Bob leading the way, he and Pete lugged the trunk towards the street exit. Pete was still grumbling.
“Why did you tell that fellow our names?” he said.
“Publicity,” Jupiter said. “Every business needs publicity for people to know about it. Lately good mysteries have been scarce, and we can use some business or we’ll get rusty.”
They went through a big door, out on to the pavement, and down the street a few yards to where the light truck was parked. After heaving the trunk into the back, the boys climbed into the cab of the truck with Hans.
“Back home, Hans,” Jupiter said. “We have made a purchase and we wish to examine it.”
“Sure, Jupe,” Hans agreed, getting the truck started. “You buy something, huh?”
“An old trunk,” Pete said. “How’re we going to open
“We have lots of keys around the salvage yard,” Jupiter told him. “If we’re lucky one of them will work.”
“Maybe we’ll have to break it open,” Bob suggested.
“No.” Jupiter shook his head. “That would spoil it. We’ll get the lock open somehow.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they reached The Jones Salvage Yard in Rocky Beach, Pete and Jupe handed down the trunk to Hans, who set it to one side. Mrs. Jones came out of the little cabin that served as an office.
“Mercy and goodness, what have you bought?” she asked. “Why, that trunk looks old enough to have come over on the
“Not quite, Aunt Mathilda,” Jupiter said. “But it is old. We paid a dollar for it.”
“Well, at least you didn’t waste much money on it,” said his aunt. “I suppose you need the bunch of keys to try to open it. They’re on a nail over the desk.”
Bob ran in to get the keys. Jupe began trying all that seemed the right size. After about half an hour he gave up. None of the keys would open the trunk.
“Now what’ll we do?” Pete asked.
“Pry it open?” Bob suggested.
“Not yet,” Jupe told them. “I believe Uncle Titus has more keys put away somewhere. We’ll have to wait until he comes back and ask him for them.”
Jupiter’s aunt came out of the office again.
“Well, boys,” she said briskly, “can’t waste all day. Time to get to work. First lunch, then work. You have to let the old trunk wait.”
Reluctantly the boys went for lunch in the neat two-storey house just outside the salvage yard where Jupiter lived with his Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus. Then they set to work mending and repairing broken articles in the salvage yard. Titus Jones would later sell these, giving them part of the profit for spending money. This kept them well-occupied until late in the afternoon, when Titus Jones and Konrad, the other yard helper, came lumbering into the yard in the big truck, bearing a load of junk Mr. Jones had bought that day.
Titus Jones, a small man with a large nose and an enormous black moustache, hopped down as lightly as a boy and embraced his wife. Then he waved a newspaper he held in his hand.
“Gather round, boys!” he called. “You’re in the newspaper.”
Curiously the three boys joined him and his wife and Titus Jones spread out
The story also gave their names and said their Headquarters was in The Jones Salvage Yard in Rocky Beach.
“Well, that’s publicity, all right,” Pete said. “It makes us sound kind of foolish, though, thinking there’s something valuable in the trunk.”
“That was because the auctioneer talked about the Russian crown jewels,” Jupiter said. “We’ll have to cut this out and add it to our scrapbook.”
“Later,” Mrs. Jones said firmly. “It’s dinner-time now. Put the trunk away and wash your hands. Bob, Pete, are you going to eat with us tonight?”
Bob and Pete ate at Jupiter’s home about as often as they did at their own. But this time they thought they’d better get on home, so they pedalled off on their bicycles. Jupiter pushed the old trunk out of the way round the corner of the office and went in to dinner. Mr. Jones came along behind and locked the big iron front gates of the salvage yard — fancy, ornamental gates bought from an estate that had burned down.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, until just as Jupiter was going up to bed there came a soft knocking on the door. It was Hans and Konrad, who lived in a small house at the back.
“Just want to tell you, Mr. Jones,” Hans said softly. “We see a light in the salvage yard, we look through the fence, somebody is fooling around in there. Maybe we all better see, huh?”
“Mercy and goodness and sweetness and light! Burglars!” Mrs. Jones gasped.
“We’ll take a look, Mathilda, my dear,” said Mr. Jones. “With Hans and Konrad, we can handle any burglar. We’ll slip up on the intruders and catch them by surprise.”
He and the two husky yard helpers began to move cautiously towards the front gates of the salvage yard. Jupiter tagged along behind. No one had suggested he come, but on the other hand, no one had said he couldn’t.
Now, through the cracks in the board fence surrounding the yard, they could see flickers of light from a flashlight inside. They tiptoed forward. Then — disaster! Hans tripped over something, fell heavily to the ground, and let out a surprised “Oof!”
Whoever was inside the yard heard him. Immediately they heard the sound of running feet. Two dark figures ran out through the front gate, leaped into a car parked across the street, and roared away.
Mr. Jones, Konrad, and Jupiter ran up swiftly. The front gate stood open, the lock obviously picked. The thieves were gone. But Jupiter, with a sudden suspicion, ran to where he had left the old trunk he had bought.
The mystery trunk was gone!
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