Part 12 (1/2)
”Aw, it could happen to anybody,” Pete answered. ”I mean, it sounded so logical.
Who could guess we were going to run into some kind of gang? Especially when we didn't find any traces outside of anybody using this place as a hangout.”
”Yes, and I was so sure Mr. Terrill must be the one who was responsible,” Jupiter said, ”that it never occurred to me to suspect otherwise. Tell me, can you move your hands?”
”I can wiggle my little finger, if that's any help,” Pete said. ”I'm all tangled up in these meshes.”
”Fortunately I have the use of my right hand,” Jupiter told him. ”I am making some progress towards freeing myself. Maybe you can help by telling me where to cut next.”
Pete flopped over on his side. Jupe did likewise. Now that his partner's back was towards him, Pete could see that Jupiter had managed to get at a Swiss knife that hung from his belt. Its eight blades included a screwdriver and a pair of scissors.
Jupiter had opened the tiny pair of scissors and had snipped several of the net's meshes so that he could get his hand out.
”Cut over towards your left,” Pete whispered. ”You'll be able to get your left hand free ... That's it.”
The scissors were small and the net seemed to be made of tough nylon, but with Pete directing Jupiter made progress. Soon he had both bands free. After that he was able to make much faster progress. He was starting to cut off the whole bottom half of the net when they suddenly heard footsteps.
For a moment they were too terrified to move. Then Jupiter's wits began to work, and he rolled quickly over on to his back, to hide the cut net. They waited with pounding hearts.
In a moment a stooped old crone came into the room, holding an electric lantern high over her head. She wore tattered gipsy robes and had huge gold rings in her ears.
”Well, my pretties,” she cackled, ”resting nice and comfortably? So you wouldn't take the warning that Gipsy Kate, good Gipsy Kate, went to so much trouble to leave you! And now look what's happened to you. Always heed a gipsy's warning, my pretties, and you'll be the better for it.”
Something about the stiffness with which they lay attracted her attention, for she hurried directly to their sides.
”Tricks, my pretties, tricks?” she cackled. Deftly she turned Jupiter over and saw the cut net.
”So that's it! The chicks want to escape!” She grasped Jupiter's wrist and twisted it. The knife fell to the floor. She scooped it up. ”Now we must teach you a lesson, pretty ones,” she said, and raised her voice. ”Zelda!” she screamed. ”Ropes! Ropes!
Our birdies want to fly away.”
”I'm coming, Kate, I'm coming,” a voice answered in English accents. In a moment a tall woman well dressed appeared in the doorway. She held a length of rope in her hand.
”They're clever, very clever,” the gipsy crooned. ”We must tie them tightly, tightly. You help hold this one while I truss him up.”
Pete could do nothing but watch as the two women made short work of securing his partner again. First they cut the net loose from Jupiter, then tied his hands securely behind his back. Next they tied his feet. Finally they ran a rope from his wrists to a rusty old iron ring set into the stone wall.
Since the net that held Pete was still intact, they just wound the rope round him a few times and tied it well.
”Now they'll stay, Zelda,” the old gipsy cackled. ”They'll never leave. I've convinced the men we mustn't be cruel. Oh no. we mustn't be cruel, we mustn't spill blood. We'll just leave them and close the door to this dungeon cell. They'll never tell anyone what has happened.”
”It's a pity,” the Englishwoman said. ”They seem like nice boys.”
”Don't get soft now, Zelda,” the gipsy screeched. ”We voted, and you can't go against the vote. Hurry now, we must hide our tracks and be gone.”
She took the light from the wall and scurried out. The Englishwoman held the other lantern and played its beam down on the two helpless boys.
”Why did you have to be so stubborn, ducks?” she asked. ”Everyone else got scared and stayed away. One little tune from the terror organ, and no one else has ever returned. Why did you have to keep coming back?”
”The Three Investigators never give up,” Jupiter said stubbornly.
”Sometimes it's more sensible to give up,” the woman replied. ”Well, it's time for me to say goodbye. I hope you won't be frightened in the dark. I have to go now.”
”Before you go,” Jupiter said and Pete had to admire the way he kept his voice steady ”may I ask a question?”
”To be sure, boy, to be sure,” the woman said.
”What criminal enterprise are you and your confederates engaged in?” Jupiter asked.
”La, such long words!” The woman laughed. ”Why, young man, we are smugglers. We smuggle valuables from the Orient, mostly pearls, and use this old place as our headquarters. For years we've kept everyone from coming near it by making it seem haunted. It's the perfect hiding place.”
”But why do you wear such noticeable costumes?” the boy asked. ”Anyone who sees you is bound to notice you.”
”No one sees us, young man,” the Englishwoman said. ”And I mustn't answer all your questions or you won't have anything to think about. Goodbye now, in case we never meet again. And I don't think we will.”
She took the electric lantern and hurried out. As she slammed the cell door shut, darkness wrapped itself around the two. Pete felt his throat getting dry and his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
”Jupe!” he said, ”say something! I want to hear some noise.”
”Oh, I'm sorry.” Jupiter sounded absent-minded. ”I was thinking.”
”Thinking! At a time like this?”
”Why, yes. Did you notice that when Gipsy Kate left us a few minutes ago she turned to the right and went down the corridor in that direction?”
”No, I didn't notice. What difference does it make?”
”Well, that's the opposite direction from which we came. So she's not going back upstairs into the castle. She's going deeper into the dungeon. That suggests there must be a secret entrance somewhere. Which would also explain why there's no sign of anyone going in and out outside.”
Whiskers! Even tied up in a dungeon and left to starve, Jupiter couldn't keep his grey cells from buzzing.
”I don't suppose while you've been doing all that thinking,” Pete said, ”you've thought of any way to get us out of here?”
”No,” Jupiter said. ”I haven't. I can't think of a single, solitary way for us to get out of here una.s.sisted. Please accept my apologies, Pete. I made a bad miscalculation in this ease.”
Pete couldn't think of anything to say to that, and in silence the two boys lay and listened to the tiny sounds in the darkness. Somewhere a mouse scampered. And somewhere else water was dripping. The slow drops, as they fell, seemed to be measuring off one by one the minutes that were left.
Chapter 17.
A Trail Of Question Marks WORTHINGTON and Bob Andrews were getting anxious. They had been sitting in the Rolls-Royce an hour, waiting for Jupiter and Pete to come back, but so far there had been no sign of them. Every five minutes Bob hopped out of the big car to look up Black Canyon. And every ten minutes or so Worthington got out and took a look, too. It was like staring down the throat of a giant snake.
”Master Andrews,” Worthington said at last. ”I think that I should go after them.”
”But you can't leave the car, Worthington,” Bob reminded him. ”You're not supposed to let it out of your sight.”
”Master Jones and Master Crenshaw are more important than an automobile,”