The Mystery of the Talking Skull - Arthur Robert - Страница 8

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“To read the crystal takes much effort,” she said. “For today I can do no more. Did my vision have meaning to you, young man?”

Jupiter scowled in puzzlement.

“Part of it did,” he said. “About the trunk. I have a trunk that people seem to want. And G could stand for Gulliver. The Great Gulliver, the magician, that is… ”

“The Great Gulliver,” the Gypsy murmured. “To be sure. He was a friend of the Gypsies. But he has disappeared.”

“You said he has vanished from the world of men,” Jupiter told her. “That he is dead, yet he lives. I don’t understand that part at all. What does it mean?”

“I cannot say.” The Gypsy shook her head. “But the crystal does not lie. We Gypsies would like to find Gulliver and bring him back, for he was our friend. Perhaps you can help. You are clever, and though you are a boy, your eye is keen. You see things that sometimes men do not see.”

“I don’t know how I could help,” Jupiter objected. “I don’t know anything about Gulliver. And I certainly haven’t heard anything about any money. All I did was buy Gulliver’s trunk at an auction. It had Socrates, his talking skull, in it. Socrates told me to come here. That’s all I know.”

“A long journey starts with a single step,” the Gypsy said. “Leave now and wait. Perhaps you will learn more. Keep the trunk safe. If Socrates speaks, listen well. Good-bye.”

Jupiter rose, more puzzled than ever, and left. Lonzo, the Gypsy with the moustache, showed him out.

Pete and Hans were waiting in the truck, Pete looking at his wrist watch.

“Golly, Jupe, we were just about to come in after you,” he said as Jupiter climbed into the cab of the truck. “I’m glad you’re all right. What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Jupiter said as Hans started the truck and they rolled off down the street. “I mean, I know what happened, but I don’t know what it all meant.”

He related the events of the past few minutes to Pete, who whistled at the story.

“That’s certainly mixed up,” he said. “Gulliver, and money that’s hidden, and Gulliver is dead but he lives. I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either,” Jupiter said. “It’s very perplexing.”

“Say!” Pete exclaimed. “Do you suppose there’s a lot of money hidden in Gulliver’s trunk? We didn’t really search it too well after we found Socrates. If there’s money in it, that would explain why everybody wants to get hold of the trunk.”

“I was just thinking that, too,” Jupe admitted. “Maybe it isn’t Socrates at all these people are after. We’ll have another look in the trunk when we get back… What is it, Hans? Why are you speeding up?”

“Somebody follows us,” Hans muttered, accelerating still more so that they bounced and rattled along at a high speed. “A black car with two men in it is behind us for blocks.”

Pete and Jupiter peered back through the rear window. Behind them was indeed a black car, now trying to overtake them. However, the road was empty, and Hans kept the truck in the middle of it so that the black car could not pass.

In this fashion they raced along for half a mile, then saw a freeway ahead of them. Los Angeles has many freeways — roads from four to eight lanes wide that carry traffic through the crowded city without intersections or stop lights. Some are elevated above the ordinary streets, and this was one of them.

“I get on the freeway!” Hans muttered. “They do not try to stop us there. Too much traffic.”

Hans turned into the entrance road leading up to the freeway, hardly slackening speed. The truck leaned far over, then in a moment emerged on the broad freeway, where many cars sped along in both directions.

The car behind them did not try to follow. The driver must have realized that he could not stop them — if that was his plan — in the midst of so much traffic, and on a roadway where stopping was forbidden. The black car went on beneath the freeway and vanished.

“We lost them okay,” Hans said. “I like to get my hands on them, bang their heads together. Where to now, Jupe?”

“Back home, Hans,” Jupiter said. “What is it, Pete? What are you scowling about?”

“I don’t like any of this,” Pete said. “A skull that talks to you in the night. People trying to steal the trunk, and then following us. It makes me nervous. I say let’s forget the whole business.”

“I don’t think we can forget it,” Jupiter said thoughtfully. “It looks as if we have a mystery on our hands that we’re going to have to solve whether we want to or not.”

When they arrived back at The Jones Salvage Yard, Mathilda Jones had some jobs for Jupe to do. Pete pitched in to help and they were kept busy until after lunch. About that time Bob arrived, having finished his morning’s work at the local library. All three boys made their way back to the workshop where the old-fashioned trunk still sat beneath the old canvas Jupiter had thrown over it.

After telling Bob about the events of the morning, Jupiter said, “According to the Gypsy, Zelda, some money apparently disappeared in some way, and that seems to be connected up with The Great Gulliver’s disappearance.”

“Maybe he took the money and went to Europe, or something,” Bob suggested.

“No.” Jupiter shook his head. “Zelda said he needed help, that he had vanished from the world of men, was dead, yet lived, and she and the other Gypsies would like to help him return. That’s all very puzzling, but what I deduce is that Gulliver didn’t vanish with the money, but because of the money.”

“Maybe he had the money hidden in the trunk,” Pete suggested, “and some tough characters were after it? Remember, Fred Brown mentioned that some tough eggs were interested in him just before he disappeared. Maybe he hid from them.”

“But why would he leave the money in the trunk?” Jupiter asked. “Still, maybe he did, so the first thing to do is look thoroughly.”

But half an hour later, when they had totally unpacked the trunk and had inspected everything in it carefully, they found no sign of money or anything else valuable.

“That’s that,” Pete said. “Nothing.”

“Money in big bills,” Jupiter said, “could be hidden under the lining of the trunk and not be noticed. Look, down there in the corner there’s a slight tear in the lining.”

“You think it could be hidden there?” Bob asked. “It’s not nearly a big enough bump.” He reached down and thrust a finger through the tear in the lining.

“There is, there’s something here!” he cried excitedly. “Paper! Maybe it’s money!”

Carefully he pulled out the paper he had touched and held it up.

“Not money,” he said. “Just an old letter.”

“Hmm,” Jupiter murmured. “Let me inspect it… It’s addressed to Gulliver at a hotel and it’s post-marked about a year ago. So he got it just about the time he disappeared. After he got it, he must have cut the lining of his trunk and hidden the letter. That means he considered it important.”

“Maybe it’s a clue to the money Zelda mentioned,” Bob said. “It may have a map or something in it.”

He and Pete crowded close as Jupiter pulled a single sheet from the envelope. On it was written a short note. It said:

State Prison Hospital July 17 Dear Gulliver:

Just a few words from your old pal and cellmate, Spike Neely. I’m in the hospital, and it looks like I haven’t got much longer.

I may last five days, or three weeks, or even two months, the doctors aren’t sure. But in any case, it’s time to say good-bye.

If you’re ever in Chicago, look up my cousin Danny Street. Tell him hello for me. Wish I could say more, but this is all I can manage.

Your friend,

Spike

“It’s just a letter,” Pete said. “From somebody Gulliver knew when he was in jail for fortune-telling, I guess. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe it does and maybe it doesn’t,” Jupiter disagreed.

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