The Mystery Of The Fiery Eye Part 3

"I don't get you," Pete scowled. Bob, however, thought he understood.

"Jupe," he cried, "you've solved the secret message! Is that it?"

Jupiter nodded, trying to hide his look of satisfaction.

Gus gaped at him. "You really mean it?" he asked.

"I think I have," Jupiter replied. "The answer lies in your great-uncle's admiration for the stories about Sherlock Holmes, and in the plaster busts which Mr. Dwiggins mentioned."

"I don't get it," Pete groaned. "Sherlock Holmes plaster busts do they have a connection with the message?"

"I'll explain in more detail later," Jupiter said. "For the moment, please recall that one line of the message tells Gus that 'In August is your fortune.' "

"Well?" Pete looked blank. So did Gus. Bob, however, followed Jupiter's thinking.

"Those plaster busts of famous people," he said. "Washington, Lincoln, and so on.

And one of them was the head of Augustus of Poland."

" 'In August is your fortune'!" Gus said excitedly. "August Augustus! You mean something is hidden inside the plaster bust of Augustus?"

"I'm practically sure of it," Jupiter replied. "It all fits together perfectly. Mr. August liked to read Sherlock Holmes stories for recreation. There's one called The Adventure of the Six Napoleons in which a valuable object is hidden in a bust of Napoleon. That must have given Mr. August an idea for hiding this Fiery Eye where no one would suspect it in an ordinary plaster bust. He chose Augustus because the name was so much like his own, and Gus's here, that he was sure Gus or his father would figure it out. Notice that the words 'In August is' sound like 'in Augustus."

"We'll know in a few moments. Of course, we will have to pay Aunt Mathilda five dollars for the bust so we can break it open, but luckily she owes us some money for repairing that washing machine and the lawn-mower Uncle t.i.tus bought last week."

The other three broke into a clamour of excited conversation, which continued until Worthington turned into the main gate of The Jones Salvage Yard. He had hardly brought the car to a stop before all four were out and streaking towards the office.

A few steps from the little cabin, Jupiter stopped so suddenly that the others b.u.mped into him and all four fell down in a tangle of arms and legs. Then they saw what had made him stop.

On the table where thirteen plaster busts had stood early that morning, there now stood only five. They were Washington, Franklin, Lincoln, Luther, and Theodore Roosevelt.

The bust of Augustus of Poland was gone!

Chapter 5.

Three-Dots Appears SLOWLY the boys got to their feet, staring at the five busts that remained. Above them a hand-lettered sign had been tacked to the wall of the office: UNUSUAL GARDEN ORNAMENTS ... ONLY $5.

Disappointment kept the boys silent for a few moments. At last Jupiter swallowed hard and called to his aunt who was sitting at a desk inside the small cabin.

"Aunt Mathilda! Where are the other busts?"

"Where are they?" Mathilda Jones came outside. "Why, I sold them, of course. This is Sat.u.r.day and every Sat.u.r.day morning lots of people wander through looking for something unusual to buy, as you know perfectly well, Jupiter."

Jupe nodded slowly. The reputation of The Jones Salvage Yard as a place where one might find almost anything brought buyers from all over.

"Well," Mathilda Jones went on, "I knew that few people would want old statues like those in their new, modern houses. But set out on a pedestal in the garden, they'd be something unique. The idea caught on fine. I sold eight of them for five dollars apiece.

We already have a profit over what t.i.tus paid for them."

"I don't suppose" Jupiter's tone was not very hopeful "I don't suppose you took the names and addresses of the buyers?"

"Mercy and goodness and sweetness and light, why should I do a thing like that?

They just bought the statues and rode off with them."

"Can you tell us anything at all about the people who bought them? Especially Augustus of Poland?"

"Now why in the world are you suddenly interested in those old statues?" Mrs. Jones demanded. "Two of them were bought by a man in a black station wagon. I think he lives in North Hollywood. Two were bought by a lady in a red sedan. She's from Malibu, she said. The other four I didn't notice much, I was too busy."

"I see. Well " Jupiter sighed. "I guess that's that. Come on, fellows, we'd better have a conference."

He led the way towards his workshop section. Gus's eyes were wide as Jupiter removed the iron grating that hid the entrance to Tunnel Two, and led them all through the big corrugated pipe into Headquarters.

When Gus had been shown the tiny laboratory, the little photographic darkroom, the See-All periscope Jupe had installed so they could see over the piles of junk that hid the trailer from the world, and their other special equipment, they settled themselves in the miniature office.

"Well?" Pete said. "Now what? If Mr. Augustus held Gus's fortune, whatever it is, he's gone. He's standing in somebody's garden and the only way we can find him is to find the garden. Since there are only about a hundred thousand gardens in this region, we might find the right one by the time we're ninety."

"It was a good try," Gus spoke up, trying to hide his disappointment. "You fellows couldn't know those busts were important when Mr. Jones bought them. But I'm afraid Augustus is gone for good now. I suppose that's what Great-Uncle Horatio meant when he said that time was of the essence. He was afraid something would happen to the busts if I didn't hurry and well, it has."

"Perhaps the busts are lost to us beyond recall," Jupiter said at last. "But I do not intend to concede defeat yet. We are investigators. We'll just have to keep investigating."

"How?" Bob wanted to know.

"I don't know yet," Jupiter said. "I am giving the matter thought."

"I've got it!" Bob yelled. "We can try a Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup!"

"Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup?" Gus blinked in bewilderment. "Do you have direct contact with the other world for information.

"Not quite." Bob grinned. "But it's almost as good. Tell me, who notices things most in any neighbourhood? I mean, things like strangers hanging around, a new car in some family, anything unusual."

"Why " Gus thought a moment "I don't know."

"Kids, of course," Pete put in. "n.o.body notices kids hanging around, but nothing that happens gets by them. If someone has a new cat or dog, or someone hurts himself, or almost anything else, some kid in the neighbourhood is bound to know about it."

"The only problem," Bob went on, "is to get in touch with enough boys and girls all over the city to find out what they know. They're always glad to help; kids have a natural interest in any kind of mystery."

"But how can you get in touch with enough boys and girls to do any good?" Gus asked. "You'd need to have some on the lookout for you in every part of the city."

"That's where the Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup comes in," Pete chimed in. "It was Jupe's idea, and it's a honey. You see, we all have some friends who don't know each other. And they all have other friends, and so on. When we want to find out something, we each phone five friends and tell them what we need to know. In this case we'll tell them to phone back at this number if they know of anyone who has just bought a plaster bust for a garden ornament.

"But if they don't know of anyone, each of them calls five of his friends and repeats the message. Then each of them calls five, and each of them calls five well, it spreads like wildfire across the whole city. Inside of an hour we have boys and girls all over the city keeping their eyes open for plaster busts used as garden ornaments. They don't have to see them; they might hear their parents mention that some friend has bought one, and so on. It's like having thousands of a.s.sistants helping find something."

"My word!" Gus exclaimed. "If each of you calls five friends that's fifteen, and if each of them calls five, that's seventy-five then it goes to three hundred and something; then into the thousands." He gave a low whistle. "It's fabulous!"

"We call all these kids who are helping us ghosts," Bob said. "It's a code name that keeps anyone who overhears us from guessing what we're talking about."

"Are you going to start phoning now, Jupiter?" Gus asked.

"This is Sat.u.r.day afternoon," Jupiter said. "Most kids will be outdoors now. The time to call is after dinner. And that means a wait of several hours "

"Jupiter!" It was his aunt's voice, coming in the open skylight of Headquarters.

"Jupiter, you rascal, where are you?"

Jupiter reached for a microphone on the desk. It was wired to a small loudspeaker in the office. He had arranged this method of answering when his aunt or uncle called him.

"I'm right here, Aunt Mathilda," he said. "Did you want me?"

"Stars and comets!" his aunt exclaimed. "I can't get used to you talking at me from that contraption. I wish I knew what you were up to, Jupiter. It must be something extra special or you wouldn't have forgotten about lunch."

Lunch! At the word all four boys remembered they were hungry. Until now they had been too excited to think of food.

"Yes, Aunt Mathilda," Jupiter said. "I guess we did forget. I hope you don't mind that we brought a friend with us."

"Lands," his aunt said, "what's an extra boy when I have three around all the time?"

It was true that Bob and Pete ate at Jupiter's house about as often as they ate at home.

"I have a box of sandwiches and some cold drinks for all of you. You can eat them in the office. I have to go downtown for a few hours, and t.i.tus is away, so you'll have to mind the office this afternoon, Jupiter, and take care of any sales."

"Yes, Aunt Mathilda. We'll be right there."

They made their way through Tunnel Two to the workshop section, then through the yard to the office. Inside the small cabin they found piles of sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper, and several bottles of orange pop and root beer.

"There you are, boys," Mathilda Jones said. "I'm going downtown in the small truck.

Hans is driving me. Don't leave until I get back and don't miss any sales, Jupiter."

"I won't, Aunt Mathilda."

With that, Mrs. Jones sailed out.

Without further words, the boys began to devour the sandwiches. When they had finished two apiece, and a bottle of pop, they felt able to talk again.

"Jupe," Pete said, munching on a roast beef sandwich, "what do you think is in this bust we're looking for? I mean if anything is?"

"Gus heard his father mention a 'Fiery Eye'," Jupiter said. "I think The Fiery Eye is hidden inside the bust of Augustus of Poland."

"But what is The Fiery Eye?" Bob asked.

"It is something small," Jupiter said, "or it couldn't be hidden inside a plaster bust.

Considering the care with which Gus's great-uncle hid it, and the fact that only fabulous jewels are given names, such as the Grand Mogul, Star of India, and Pasha of Egypt, it is my deduction that The Fiery Eye is a jewel which Mr. August brought from the Far East with him many years ago, and which is the reason he spent his life in hiding thereafter."

"Wow!" Pete breathed. "If you're right "

"Sssh!" Bob hissed. "Here comes a customer."

A sleek sedan had pulled into the salvage yard and stopped just outside the office door. It was driven by a man in a chauffeur's uniform. The pa.s.senger, a tall, thin man, got out and stood for a moment looking at the five busts that remained on the bench beside the door.

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Over his left arm hung a cane of polished black wood. With this he poked one of the busts lightly, then ran his fingers casually over the top of the plaster heads. Seeming unsatisfied, he wiped dust from his fingers and turned to the door of the office.

Jupiter was standing there waiting. The others, seated inside, could see past him. An unspoken excitement ran through them all.

The tall, thin customer was immaculately dressed, had a dark complexion, and jet black hair streaked with grey. Most important, on his forehead were three small dots.

"I beg your pardon," Three-Dots said, in excellent English.

"These interesting statuettes "

He pointed with his cane at the five busts. Jupiter bunked. He had seen the three dots before the others and reacted automatically. He let his body slump, his face droop, his eyes half close. Jupiter, stocky enough to be called fat by his enemies, could indeed look fat when he wanted to.

"Yes, sir?" Jupiter said. He spoke through his nose, and to anyone who did not know him, looked and sounded like a fat moron.

"Have you any others?" Three-Dots'

voice was cold and distant.

"Any others?" Jupe sounded as if he couldn't understand plain English.

"Yes, any others," Three-Dots repeated. "If you have, I would like to inspect them. I want something a little more unusual than George Washington or Benjamin Franklin."

"That's all there are," Jupiter said. "Others have been sold."

"Then there were others?" A flicker of interest lighted the deep-set, black eyes.

"Their names, my boy?"

"I don't know." Jupiter closed his eyes as if trying to think. "Funny names. Like Homer Somebody. And Augustus of somewhere."

"Why is he telling that?" Pete risked a low whisper to Bob.

"Jupe always has a reason," Bob whispered back. "Listen."

"Augustus!" Three-Dots' impa.s.sive face seemed alive for a moment. "Yes, I believe I would like a bust of Augustus. For my garden. You say it has been sold?"

"Yesterday," Jupe said.

"The name and address of the purchaser?" Three-Dots' voice sounded as if he were giving Jupiter an order now. "I will buy it from him."