The Mystery of the Screaming Clock, стр. 10

“He does indeed have a message,” Carlos told him. “But it is a little different from the other. It says that before releasing it he must see the other message. May I see the message this lady named Martha gave you?”

“Well — ” Jupiter hesitated. But Carlos was holding out his hand, and Jupiter reached in his pocket and brought out the paper with the long list of numbers on it. Carlos examined it, and his look was disappointed.

“Just numbers!” he said. “It seems to be a code. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jupiter said. “I hoped the next message would tell us. Gerald’s message.”

“Perhaps it will,” Carlos agreed. “However, at this point I think I will take charge. This clock and these messages were never meant for you in the first place. Now just give me any other messages you may have and I will handle the matter henceforth.”

“We haven’t any other messages,” Jupiter said, turning slightly pale, for Carlos suddenly looked menacing. “We’d like the clock back, please, and the message. It’s our clock and our investigation — ”

“Grab them, Jerry!” Carlos snapped. “We must search them and get any other messages they have.”

“Gotcha, kid!” the little man grunted and wrapped strong, sinewy arms around Pete, pinning him tightly.

At the same moment, miles away, Bob and Harry also found themselves in trouble.

Leaving the home of Miss Taylor, Bob and Harry had started for Rocky Beach in Harry’s car. They were only a mile or so from Rocky Beach, but still in the hills which form the Santa Monica Mountains, when Bob spotted a car behind them. It was dark blue with a white roof, and he had seen it earlier, when they first turned on to this little-used road. Now it was close, and coming up fast.

“Harry!” Bob said tensely. “I think we’re being followed. That car’s been behind us for miles. And now I think it’s trying to catch up with us.”

“We’ll see about that!” Harry said and stepped hard on the gas.

The old car leaped forward, whipped around a curve, and started down a long hill.

Bob looked behind them. The blue car was closing the gap recklessly. It pulled up to within a hundred yards of them. Harry stepped harder on the gas. The old sedan was moving dangerously fast, but the blue and white car kept creeping closer. Harry took a sharp turn so fast that the sedan nearly went off the road at the edge of a cliff. When they straightened out, he turned a pale face to Bob.

“I’m not a good enough driver to go fast on these hills,” Harry said to Bob. “He’s going to catch us, whoever he is.”

“Just a little farther,” Bob said hopefully. “When we come to Rocky Beach, he’ll be afraid to chase us.”

“I’ll try,” Harry said. “I’ll keep to the middle of the road — then he can’t pass.”

Doggedly he held the sedan in the middle of the road, and the car behind crept up almost to the rear bumper, looking back, Bob could see a figure hunched over the wheel. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place him.

They roared along the lonely road, watching desperately for the descent from the hills to the city of Rocky Beach. Then, to avoid a hole in the road, Harry had to pull over close to the right shoulder. Immediately the pursuing car moved up beside them and began to edge them closer and closer to the side of the road.

“I’ve got to stop!” Harry yelled. “We’ll be wrecked.”

He stepped on the brake. As they slowed, the vehicle beside them slowed also. Bob peered across at it, trying to recognize the driver, who wore dark glasses. He couldn’t place him, but still the sense of familiarity nagged at him.

Harry slowed the car to a stop. Their pursuer stopped beside them. Then, to their surprise, the blue car shot forward and disappeared around a curve.

“Now what do you make of that?” Harry asked in amazement. “First he chases us, then he beats it!”

An instant later they learned the reason. A siren wailed faintly in the distance, then it grew louder and louder, and a Rock Beach police car pulled up beside them. The siren died away as a grim-looking officer got out and walked towards them.

11

The Other Gerald

“I’ve got him!” the little man named Gerald yelled, his arms around Pete. “Hold him!” ordered the bigger man, Carlos.

He snatched a letter-opener from the desk and pushed the point against Jupiter’s chest.

“Now, young man, stand still and give me all the messages you have!”

Jupiter stood perfectly still. Pete, however, unable to see that Carlos had a weapon, was not giving up without a struggle. Being on the high school wrestling team, he knew something about breaking holds. He flung his arms outward while at the same time bending his body forwards with a whip-like motion.

Gerald went flying over his head. He crashed into Carlos, who went down with Gerald on top of him.

“Let’s get out of here, Second!” Jupiter cried. Carlos, lying slightly stunned on the floor, still held the message they had obtained from Mrs. Harris. Jupiter reached down to pull it from his fingers, and turned towards the door. He and Pete bumped for a moment, sticking in the door, and then they were racing down the walk to the car.

“The clock!” Pete shouted. “You left the clock!”

“It wasn’t the real clock anyway,” Jupiter replied as they got in the car. “Worthington, get us away from here fast!”

“Very good, sir,” the chauffeur said. He had the car moving so quickly that Jupe and Pete tumbled on to the floor in the rear. In a moment they got untangled and sat up. Jupe held up the message.

“This is the important thing, the message from Mr. Clock,” he said. “I got it back and we — ”

He stopped. They both looked at the paper.

It was torn across the middle. Jupiter only had half of it. The other half was still back in Carlos’s hand.

“Oh, oh!” Pete said. “That’s bad. We’ve lost half the message.”

“Maybe we ought to go back,” Jupiter said thoughtfully.

“And tackle those guys again?” Pete protested.

“No,” Jupiter agreed after another moment of thought. “By now Carlos would have the other half of the message hidden and would deny everything.”

“Where to now, sirs?” Worthington asked from up front. “Or do you wish to return to Headquarters?”

“No,” Jupiter answered. “We still have one more message to find. Gerald Cramer was the wrong Gerald, obviously. We’ll try Gerald Watson next.” He gave Worthington the address, and he and Pete settled back.

“Listen, First,” Pete said, “I’ve been thinking. That little guy, Gerald Cramer, didn’t have any message from Mr. Clock. Just the same he and Carlos were awfully interested as soon as they learned about the messages. What do you make of that?”

“I’m not sure,” Jupiter answered. “It suggests to me they know something about Mr. Clock that we don’t, and consider the messages important. We’ll just have to try to find out why. Maybe the messages themselves will tell us when we solve them.”

“When we solve them!” Pete laughed hollowly. “By then we’ll be old men with long white beards, if that message you’ve got is any sample. Besides, you only have half of it.”

“I’m aware of that,” Jupiter snapped. “We’ll just have to do the best we can. Worthington, is this the address?”

“It appears to be, sir,” the English chauffeur said as he brought the car to a stop. “Do you anticipate any danger this time?”

“I don’t think so,” Jupiter replied. “If we need you, we’ll shout. Come on, Second”

Pete followed him up the walk to a nice little Spanish-style house surrounded by gardens. An elderly man was pottering with some roses in front, and he looked up.

“Mr. Gerald Watson?” Jupiter asked.

The man nodded. “That’s me,” he said, taking off his gardening gloves. “What can I do for you? I don’t suppose you want my autograph?” He chuckled. “It’s been years since anyone wanted my autograph. But when I starred as the detective in A Scream at Midnight, a lot of people used to want it. I don’t suppose you ever heard it, though, did you?”