The Mystery of the Talking Skull - Arthur Robert - Страница 20

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• 20/23
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“You’re Three-Finger Munger, aren’t you?” Mr. Grant — or Smooth Simpson — said. “Listen, Three-Finger, why don’t we all join forces? We haven’t actually found the money yet, and I can help —”

“Shut up!” the man with the flashlight growled. “We’ll find the money ourselves and leave you for the cops. Teach you not to try to pull a fast one on us. Now all of you turn around, face the wall. Put your hands behind your backs. No false moves or you’ll regret it!

“Leo and Baby-Face, you got the ropes. Tie ’em up good.”

With sinking hearts, The Three Investigators obeyed the orders. They realized now that they had been completely fooled by the slick criminal nicknamed Smooth. All his talk about Chief Reynolds had lulled any suspicion they might otherwise have had. He must have learned that the Chief was out of town for the day, and had then called The Three Investigators in a bold effort to trick them into telling anything, they might know. And no wonder he had found excuses all along for not going to the police!

Mentally, Jupiter kicked himself for not suspecting something. But it had all been so plausible! Smooth was just that — smooth. No doubt he had read about the trunk in the newspaper, and knowing the story of the missing bank-robbery loot and Spike Neely’s letter through underworld gossip, had started checking on Jupiter and the others. He could easily have obtained Jupiter’s telephone number from the phone book.

Three-Finger and his men had been following The Three Investigators, and Smooth Simpson had been following all of them!

But it was too late for any regrets. Deft hands were tying the boys’ wrists behind their backs.

Moments later they were ordered to sit on the floor, and then their ankles were lashed together. When they were helpless, Three-Finger Munger chuckled.

“Now you look real pretty,” he taunted them. “We won’t gag you because there’s nobody around to hear you if you yell. Anyway, if you act up, we’ll clip you one on the head. Don’t worry, someone will find you on Monday when work starts again. That is, I hope they’ll find you before the bulldozers start knocking this house down.”

He chuckled again. Now Jupiter and his companions could see that Three- Finger Munger was a burly man; his two associates were smaller. They could not see the faces of any of them clearly.

“Now let’s see where we stand,” Three-Finger said. He shone his light on the wall where Jupiter and Smooth had been working. “Looking for the money under the wallpaper, were you? That’s a smart hiding place — never would have thought of it. Did the kid figure it out for you, Smooth?”

“Yes, he did,” Smooth Simpson admitted, “The clue was on that letter sent to Gulliver. It was in the trunk all along.”

“I figured it had to be,” Three-Finger said. “That’s why we wanted to get our hands on the trunk. My boys got it, too, from that tall thin guy. Only somebody followed ’em and jumped ’em at the hideout and got it away before we could open it. Was that you, Smooth?”

“Not me,” the man on the floor said. “I didn’t know anything about that.”

“Funny,” Three-Finger muttered. “I wonder who it could have been. It certainly wasn’t these kids.”

“It was four or five guys with handkerchiefs over their faces,” one of the other two said, speaking for the first time. “They were fast and tough. Laid us out before we knew what hit us.”

“Wonder who it was?” Three-Finger grunted. “Maybe some other mob after the money. Well, the trunk didn’t do them any good or they’d have been here before this. But we can’t stand here talking. Leo, you and Baby-Face see what’s under the wallpaper in the rest of the rooms.”

The four captives on the floor watched silently as the two men swiftly slashed open the wallpaper on the remaining walls. Concerned as he was at their predicament, Jupiter could not help wondering who had seized Gulliver’s trunk from these men and sent it back to him. But no answer to the riddle came to him. Meanwhile, Three-Finger’s henchmen failed to find anything underneath the living room wallpaper.

“Not in this room, then,” Three-Finger said. “Smooth, if you know which room it’s in, better tell us. If you do, maybe we’ll untie you when we’re finished.”

“If I knew I’d have gone straight for it,” Smooth Simpson said. “But untie me and I’ll help you find it.”

“Not a chance,” Three-Finger snapped. “You tried to grab the money from us and now you can pay for it. Come on, fellows, we’ll try the bedrooms.”

The three thugs moved back to the first bedroom and left the four captives in darkness. The Three Investigators could hear them ripping at the wallpaper and cursing at their lack of success.

“Boys, I’m sorry this had to happen,” Smooth Simpson said in a low tone. “I admit I tried to put a fast one over on you, but I didn’t plan any violence. That’s not how I work. I use brains, not force.”

“It’s my fault,” Jupiter said, sounding unhappy. “I should have suspected you.”

“Don’t take it so hard,” the man advised him. “I’ve fooled the best there are.”

After that there was silence, except for the sounds from the rear of the house where Three-Finger and his companions were at work. Then all four captives stiffened.

The front door opened, creaking slightly!

Alertly, they all listened. Very faintly they could see the dark form of a rather small man ease into the room.

“Who’s there?” Smooth demanded, keeping his voice to a whisper.

“Quiet!” came back an answering whisper. “We come to help. Don’t let the others suspect anything.”

Another man slipped in through the door, and a third. Still others followed. They could not be sure how many because of the darkness. The intruders were very skilful and made almost no noise.

“Men!” said the voice of the first. “Stay close to the walls, near the door. When they come out, get the bags over their heads and tie them up. No knives! Don’t hurt them if you can help it.”

A muffled grunt of understanding answered him.

Jupiter, Bob, and Pete waited with rising hope as well as bewilderment. Who could the men in the room be? They weren’t the police, or they would have stormed in with lights and guns. Were they really friends? Or were they some other gang also after the hidden money?

Now the sound of angry voices from the rear indicated that Three-Finger and the others had failed to find the money. Their footsteps came down the hall to the dark living room. Three-Finger entered first, shining a light on the floor.

“All right, you fat kid!” he snarled at Jupiter. “We’re through fooling. You tell us where that money is or else!”

Suddenly Three-Finger was overwhelmed by several dark forms. Others grabbed the man behind and pulled him into the room. The third man tried to flee, but footsteps pounded after him and his muffled shouts indicated that he had been caught.

Meanwhile in the living room a terrific struggle followed. Three-Finger dropped his flashlight to the floor, where it rolled around, kicked by many feet, giving brief glimpses of the combat.

The Three Investigators could see that there was a bag over Three- Finger’s head. Exerting his strength to the utmost, he threw off a couple of his attackers, but others leaped on him. He fell to the floor with a crash, and his companion fell on top of him. They kicked and thrashed about wildly.

“Quickly! Tie their hands and feet. Then gag them!” ordered a voice.

For a moment longer the fight continued furiously. Then Three-Finger and the others were overpowered and bound. Three-Finger began uttering violent threats, but these were stilled as a gag was forced into his mouth. In a moment he and the others were stretched out on the floor, helpless. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the men who had overpowered the criminals.

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