The Mystery Of The Singing Serpent Part 1

THE MYSTERY OF THE SINGING SERPENT.

by M. V. CAREY.

A Short Preview by Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k

Welcome, mystery lovers! We are gathered together again for another stimulating case of The Three Investigators, whose official motto is "We Investigate Anything." If they had known what they were getting into when they tackled the curious case of the singing serpent, they might have changed their motto!

Be that as it may, they find themselves this time drawn into the dark world of witchcraft, where mystery and intrigue lead them from one enigma to another until - but I am not a blabbermouth. I promised faithfully not to tell too much, and I shall keep my promise.

Indeed, I shall only say that The Three Investigators are Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews, who all make their home in Rocky Beach, a small munic.i.p.ality in California a few miles from Hollywood. Their Headquarters is a mobile home trailer in The Jones Salvage Yard, a super-junkyard owned by Jupiter's aunt and uncle.

The boys make an excellent team, Jupiter has a quick mind and is adept at deductions.

Pete is less intellectual but st.u.r.dy and courageous. Bob is somewhat studious and an excellent researcher. Together they have solved some very unusual mysteries indeed.

Which is all I shall say at this time, for I know you are eager to dispense with this preview and get to the main feature!

ALFRED HITCHc.o.c.k.

Chapter 1.

The Girl on the Appaloosa.

"I WOULD BE HAPPIER, Jupiter, if you didn't come to breakfast in your swimming trunks," said Aunt Mathilda Jones.

Jupiter Jones pushed back the sleeves of his sweat shirt and reached for his orange juice.

"I'm going swimming with Bob and Pete," he said. "They'll be here any minute."

Across the table, Uncle t.i.tus Jones brushed a crumb from his big black mustache. "Don't eat too much," he warned Jupiter. "You're not supposed to swim on a full stomach."

"You don't want to get a cramp," said Aunt Mathilda. She then moved her coffee cup to one side and began to page through the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times.

Jupiter took a single slice of toast.

"Well, my gracious to Betsy!" said Aunt Mathilda. Then she sighed.

Jupiter looked up in interest. Aunt Mathilda was not much given to sighing.

"I was seventeen the year that movie came out," said Aunt Mathilda. "I saw it at the Odeon."

Uncle t.i.tus looked blank.

"I don't think I slept for a week after," said Aunt Mathilda. She pa.s.sed the paper across the table to Uncle t.i.tus. Jupiter stood up and looked over his uncle's shoulder at the picture of a thin man with high cheekbones, pinched nostrils and piercing, dark eyes. In the photograph, the man stared intently into a glowing crystal ball.

"Ramon Castillo in The Vampire's Lair The Vampire's Lair," said Jupiter. "He was a great master of make-up."

Aunt Mathilda shuddered. "You should have seen him in Cry of the Werewolf Cry of the Werewolf."

"I did," said Jupiter. "It was on television last month."

Uncle t.i.tus finished reading the news story that accompanied the photograph of the late great character actor.

"It says here that the auction of Castillo's estate will be held on the twenty-first," said Uncle t.i.tus. "I think I'll go."

Aunt Mathilda pondered this, frowning slightly. She knew that Uncle t.i.tus dearly loved auctions. She also knew that The Jones Salvage Yard, which she and Uncle t.i.tus owned, was famous for its stock of hard-to-find items. People came to the yard seeking everything from steel beams and old bathtubs to antique sundials. Nevertheless, some of Uncle t.i.tus's more unusual purchases had been difficult to sell. Aunt Mathilda was a firm believer in making a profit.

"They're selling the entire Castillo collection," said Uncle t.i.tus. "All of his costumes and even the crystal ball he used in The Vampire's Lair The Vampire's Lair."

"There are dealers who specialize in that sort of thing," Aunt Mathilda said. "Besides, the bidding will be high."

"I suppose so." Uncle t.i.tus put the paper aside. "The collectors will be out in droves."

"I'm sure they will." Aunt Mathilda stood up and began to clear the table. Halfway to the sink she paused and listened. From the street outside came the clip-clop of hoofs. "The little Jamison girl," decided Aunt Mathilda.

Jupiter went to the window. It was the Jamison girl, and as usual she was astride her Appaloosa. The horse stepped along with its head high. It was a magnificent mare, brown with white markings on its hindquarters.

"Beautiful horse," said Jupiter. "Typical of the Appaloosa breed." He did not comment on the rider - the girl who sat straight in the saddle and looked neither to left nor right.

"Going for a gallop on the beach, I guess," said Aunt Mathilda. "That must be a lonely child. Marie told me her parents are in Europe."

"I know," said Jupe. Marie was the Jamison maid, and she and Aunt Mathilda were friends. On her afternoons off, Marie often came to have tea with Aunt Mathilda and to tell of the doings of the Jamison family. Thanks to Marie, Jupe knew that when Mr. Jamison bought the old Littlefield mansion some months before, he spared no expense in having the place restored. He knew that the chandelier in the dining room had once graced a palace in Vienna, and that Mrs. Jamison had a diamond necklace which had once graced the throat of the Empress Eugenie. He knew that the girl on the Appaloosa was Allie, the Jamison daughter, and that the mare was her personal property. Jupe even knew that at the moment an aunt of Allie's from Los Angeles was presiding over the grand household, and in Marie's opinion, the aunt was very odd.

The girl and the horse disappeared around the corner, and Aunt Mathilda put the dishes she was holding on the drain-board. "You could try being nice to that girl," she told Jupe. "The Jamisons only live three blocks down the street. We're practically neighbors."

"She doesn't seem especially neighbourly," said Jupe. "I think she only talks to horses."

"Perhaps she's shy," said Aunt Mathilda.

Jupe didn't reply, for Bob Andrews and Pete Crenshaw had come swooping down the street on their bikes. Like Jupe, Bob and Pete wore scuffed sneakers, swimming trunks and sweat shirts.

"See you later," said Jupe to his aunt, and he hurried out to meet the other boys.

The three were off then, with Jupiter pumping furiously at his bicycle. Jupe had once been a child actor, and had been called Baby Fatso. It was still easy to see why. In spite of his extra weight, however, he was ahead of Bob and Pete when they reached the corner of the street and turned down the short hill toward the Coast Highway.

Suddenly, "Watch out!" shouted Pete.

A horse screamed in terror. Jupe saw a huge shape rear in front of him. He threw his arms over his head, and as he fell he wrenched himself to one side. His bike clattered away.

There was another scream. It was thinner and higher - not an animal scream.

An instant later, hoofs struck the macadam very close to Jupe's head.

Jupe rolled away, then sat up. The Appaloosa was backing and prancing, ears flat against its head. The Jamison girl was lying on the road.

Bob and Pete dropped their bikes and Jupe scrambled up. All three hurried to the girl. Pete bent and touched her on the shoulder.

The girl was gasping, struggling to catch her breath. With a convulsive effort, she managed to get her lungs full of air. Then she shouted, "Take your hands off me!"

"Hey!" said Bob gently. "Take it easy, huh?"

She came to a sitting position and clutched at her knee, where blood streamed through a rip in her faded jeans. Her eyes were dry, but she was panting, almost sobbing.

"You really got the wind knocked out of you,"

said Pete.

She ignored him and glared at Jupiter. "Don't you know horses have the right of way?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry," said Jupe. "I didn't see you."

The girl stood up slowly. She looked at her mare and then back at Jupiter. Her eyes were pale - the same tawny color as her long hair - but at that instant they were cold with rage. "If you hurt my mare ..." she began.

"I don't believe the horse is damaged in any way," said Jupiter stiffly.

The girl limped toward the Appaloosa. "Easy, girl!" she called. "Here, girl! Easy!"

The mare came to her and put its big head down on her shoulder.

"Did they scare you?" asked the girl. Her hands went up to stroke the horse's mane.

Aunt Mathilda appeared at the top of the road. "Jupiter? Pete? Bob? What's going on?"

The Jamison girl patted the horse again, reached up to grasp the saddle and tried to mount. The horse took a step backward.

"Hold it for her, Pete," said Jupe. "I'll give her a hand."

"I don't need a hand!" snapped the girl.

Aunt Mathilda came down the road. She stared at Allie Jamison - at the tangle of hair, the torn jeans, the bleeding knee. "What happened?"

"They scared my horse," said the girl.

"And she fell off," added Pete.

"It was an accident," said Jupe.

"I see. Jupiter, go and tell your Uncle t.i.tus to bring one of the trucks. I'll drive Miss Jamison home so she can have that knee attended to."

"I don't need anyone to drive me home," said Allie Jamison.

"The truck, Jupiter," said Aunt Mathilda. "And Pete, you hold the reins on that horse."

"Does it bite?" asked Pete.

"Certainly not," declared Aunt Mathilda, who really knew very little about the subject.

"Horses don't bite. They kick."

"Oh, great!" groaned Pete.

Chapter 2.

The Night Visitor.

WHEN BOB, PETE AND JUPITER led the Appaloosa up to the Jamison house, the truck from the salvage yard was standing in the brick driveway. Aunt Mathilda and the Jamison girl were nowhere to be seen.

Pete looked at the ma.s.sive pillars that supported the roof over the veranda. "Too bad Aunt Mathilda didn't wear her hoop skirt today," he said.

Jupiter chuckled. "It does look like an old Southern mansion," he conceded.

"A big old Southern mansion," said Bob. "Where do you suppose we find the horse department?"

Pete pointed toward the rear of the property. "There's a field with a fence around it."

"Fine," said Jupe. They led the mare up the drive, past a flagstone patio which was shaded by a wisteria vine.

Behind the house, the brick driveway fanned out to become a courtyard. Next to the fenced field was a triple garage. One double door stood open, and inside there was a stall.

Pieces of tackle hung from pegs on the walls.

The back door of the house opened and Marie, the maid, looked out. "Boys, would you take the saddle off Indian Queen and let her into the field? Then come in. Miss...o...b..rne wants to see you."

Marie disappeared into the house, closing the door behind her.

Pete looked at the mare. "Indian Queen?"

"I believe Allie Jamison calls her Queenie Queenie," said Jupe. "That's what Marie told Aunt Mathilda."

"Who's Miss...o...b..rne?" asked Bob.