The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot, page 10
The well-dressed Frenchman smiled across at them, puffing on a cigar. “Ah, Claude,” he said in feigned good humour. “Fancy meeting you here. America isn’t such a large place after all.”
“What do you want, Hugenay?” the fat man asked. He was sweating and his face was white. “You almost killed us then.”
“Nonsense,” the other said. “I knew you would stop. I believe you have a cargo of parrots in your truck. I am very fond of parrots, so I am going to relieve you of their responsibility. Adams, go round to the back and get the parrots out of the truck.”
“Yes, sir!” The little man who had been driving slipped out and went round to the back, where Mrs. Claudius could be heard protesting.
“Let him have the birds, Olivia,” Mr. Claudius called to his wife. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Pete and Bob could see her passing out the five cages to the small man in the road.
They could also see the face of E. Skinner Norris who, now that the danger was past, seemed to be enjoying the triumph. He rolled down the rear window of the sedan so that he could speak to them.
“Ha!” he jeered. “Investigators! What a joke you kids are! Actually helping a crook! ”
Bob and Pete disdained to answer him. By now Adams had the cages out on the road beside the sedan, but he paused.
“Boss,” they heard him say, “these cages will take up room. That kid is in the way.”
“Okay, boy,” Hugenay said, “climb
out.”
“Climb out?” Skinny Norris looked
startled. “But I’m helping you.”
“You’ve finished helping us. Lester,
toss him out.”
“Sure, boss,” the third man in the
sedan said. He was a big, ugly bruiser,
sharing the rear seat with Skinny. It took
him only a moment to send Skinny
Norris flying out of the sedan so hard that
he almost fell into the road.
He regained his balance and turned to
Hugenay. His face was almost comical in
its dismay.
“But you promised me a five-
hundred-dollar reward.” he protested,
“for tracking this criminal for you and
helping you get the parrots back.”
“Send him a bill, kid,” Adams
smirked. He finished putting the parrot
cages into the sedan. “Hey, boss, there’s
one missing. The dark one isn’t here.”
“It isn’t?” Hugenay leaned out of the car so that his face was only inches from the pale countenance of Mr. Claudius.
“Claude,” he said, and his voice was low and dangerous, “where is Blackbeard? I have to have all seven to have the complete message.”
“So you did get into my apartment and read my notes!” The fat man showed a spark of spirit. “That’s how you got on my trail!”
“Claude,” the other man repeated, “where is Blackbeard? I have to have all seven.”
“I don’t know!” Mr. Claudius cried. “I haven’t seen him!”
“But those boys have.” The Frenchman transferred his gaze to Pete and Bob. The man’s grey eyes had a peculiarly deadly quality. “They’re very clever lads. Tell me, boys, where is Blackbeard?”
“We haven’t got him,” Bob said defiantly. What he said was true – they didn’t have him. Jupiter had him, back at Headquarters.
The grey eyes studied them for a moment, then spotted the slip of paper Mr.
Claudius had tucked into his outside breast pocket – the paper on which Bob had written the names of all the parrots and the passages they knew so far.
Mr. Hugenay reached over and plucked the paper from Mr. Claudius’s pocket.
“You’re usually very tidy, Claude,” he purred. “So this may be important. If ––
Ah!” he studied it with pleasure. “Four of the seven parts. So we do not need Blackbeard. We have the other three parrots now and can unravel the complete message at my leisure. Au revoir, Claude. See you in London.”
The big sedan started up and in a moment was out of sight. Mr. Claudius, whose face was now a pasty colour, leaned against the steering wheel and groaned.
“What is it Claude?” his wife asked. “Are you ill?”
“My stomach again,” the fat man gasped. “The pain has come back.”
“I was afraid that would happen! We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
The woman jumped out of the back of the truck, hurried round to the front and slid in behind the wheel, pushing her husband over as gently as possible. Bob sat on Pete’s lap to make room. Mr. Claudius groaned and doubled up, his arms wrapped round his stomach.
“It’s a stomach condition,” the woman told the boys as she started the engine. “At times of great excitement it flares up. He’ll have to spend several days in hospital.”
She looked across at the boys.
“Please don’t mention what has happened to anyone,” she said. “Unfortunately, Hugenay is not wanted in this country by the police, and we can bring no charge against him. Publicity would mean that the story of the painting would come out and someone might find it while Claude is in hospital. Naturally, if you can by any means locate it, his offer of a reward still holds. But don’t risk a clash with Hugenay. He can be very dangerous – very dangerous.”
They had almost forgotten E. Skinner Norris. But now, before they could start, the tall, thin boy hurried across the road to put a hand on the truck door.
“Wait!” he said. “You’re going to give me a ride into town, aren’t you?”
Mrs. Claudius gave him a look that made the tall boy cringe.
“Get in,” she said sharply. “I want you to tell us exactly how you put Hugenay on our trail. You had better start talking – fast!”
“Well,” Skinny Norris said, speaking rapidly. “I happened to be walking down the street in Rocky Beach when that car stopped and that Mr. Hugenay spoke to me. He asked me if I knew some boys who rode round in an antique Rolls-Royce sedan, which he had traced there by the licence plate number.
“I said sure I did” – he gave Bob and Pete an uneasy smile – “that they called themselves investigators but were – were ––”
He saw the two boys looking at him and faltered. Pete spoke up.
“Go on, Skinny,” he said. “Say it”
“I said you were just some kids playing at being detectives who won the use of the car for thirty days in a contest,” Skinny said, hurriedly. “Mr. Hugenay asked me if any of you had recently acquired one or more new parrots, particularly yellow-headed ones. I said I’d find out and he gave me a number to call. He said some rare yellow-headed parrots had been stolen, and he would give me a hundred and fifty dollars for any I located. Then he drove off.
“Well, that night I was in Hollywood, and I accidentally learned you really were looking for yellow-headed parrots, and I got the address where there was one. So I got there first and bought it. After I bumped into you there, I hurried to telephone to Mr.
Hugenay.
“He was very nice. He said he was sure you were helping a criminal engaged in stealing rare parrots, but probably didn’t know it. He asked me to follow you, if I could, to see where you went.
“I drove round the neighbourhood until I sported the Rolls-Royce. Then I parked round the corner. I was pretty puzzled when it drove off without you, but then I saw you come out with a parrot and get into this truck. So I followed the truck until I saw where it went. After that I drove to the nearest phone to call Mr. Hugenay again. He congratulated me and said to wait for him at the phone, that he’d pick me up and we’d nab the criminal and I’d get a five-hundred-dollar reward.
“He came and we were just in time to see you starting out in the truck, so we followed and – and – well, I didn’t know he was a criminal himself.”
Skinny Norris had never looked so miserable since Pete and Bob had known him.
“Well, that’s the whole story,” Skinny said nervously.
“That’s enough. I’ve heard all I need to. Now get out!” Mrs. Claudius shouted.
“You can walk the rest.”
Skinny slipped out of the truck, trembling.
“Thanks to you, young man, I have to take my husband to a hospital. Thanks to you, a dangerous criminal will find a lost masterpiece.” Mrs. Claudius’s voice was cold. “You may think about that on your long walk home.”
She started the truck. Behind them Skinny Norris stood miserable and forlorn in the road, watching them go. Bob and Pete didn’t feel very sorry for him, either.
Chapter 14
The Mysterious Message
JUPITER JONES sat behind the desk in Headquarters. Opposite him were Pete and Bob. He was scowling in concentration. His partners, having finished telling him about their adventures that day, were sitting back, waiting for him to speak. All three were bushed, Jupiter had put in a long day tending The Jones Salvage Yard. Bob and Pete, though they had been home and had supper, still felt a bit exhausted from the exciting events they had been through.
Finally Jupiter spoke.
“Our gold-plated Rolls-Royce,” he said, “twice enabled someone to pick up your trail. This teaches us a lesson. In conducting an investigation, it is unwise to attract notice by our mode of transport, our appearance, or our conduct.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Pete demanded. “Here we had all the parrots together at last – we were right on the edge of getting the whole message John Silver left telling where he hid the painting – and blooie – it’s all gone. Now Hugenay has the parrots; he has the clues; and maybe by now he already has the painting, too.”
“The parrots must have been very upset by all that happened,” Jupiter observed.
“I doubt if Mr. Hugenay has persuaded them to talk yet.”
“But he will,” Bob said gloomily. “He didn’t look like the kind of man who takes no for an answer. Not even from a parrot.”
“Still,” Jupiter said, “it gives us a little time.”
“For what?” Pete demanded. “We know what four of the messages Mr. Silver taught the birds are, yes. But we need all seven. And we’ll never get those parrots back now. Not from that Hugenay.”
“You’re right,” Jupiter said at last. “We might as well face it. We didn’t get back Mr. Fentriss’s parrot. We didn’t get back Miss Waggoner’s parrot. We didn’t help Mr.
Claudius get back the painting John Silver hid. We’ve flopped. Our accomplishments are totally negative.”
“We didn’t even punch Skinny Norris in the eye,” Pete muttered. “He’s made himself scarce. Gone out of town for a few weeks to visit relatives, their cook reports.
Frankly, I’d say we’re stuck, all the way round.”
For several minutes they were all silent. At last Jupiter nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “I cannot think of any way now to find the missing parrots or learn the three parts of John Silver’s message that we still do not know. As you say, we’re stuck. Our investigation has proved a dud.”
Another silence ensued, broken only by Blackbeard’s noisy eating of sunflower seeds. At last Bob sighed. “If only we could have made Captain Kidd, Sherlock Holmes and Robin Hood talk when we had them all together,” he said. “At least we’d have the whole message.”
“Robin Hood.” Blackbeard cocked an eye down at them. As usual, he seemed to be listening to everything. He flapped his wings.
“I’m Robin Hood!” he said clearly. “I shot an arrow as a test, a hundred paces shot it west.”
Three boyish faces turned to stare up at the bird in his cage.
“Did you hear what he said?” Pete asked.
“Do you suppose –” Bob gulped.
“Careful!” Jupiter said. “Don’t excite him. Let’s see if he’ll do it again. Robin Hood!” he said to the mynah bird. “Hello, Robin Hood.”
“I’m Robin Hood!” Blackbeard said once more. “I shot an arrow as a test, a hundred paces shot it west.” The bird flapped his wings again.
Pete Crenshaw swallowed hard. Even Jupiter looked awed.
“Remember,” he whispered. “Carlos said he used to ride round on Mr. Silver’s shoulder, while Mr. Silver was training the parrots?”
“And now I remember!” Bob said excitedly. “When we first got him he repeated Scarface’s message, ‘I never give a sucker an even break’ – only we didn’t know then it was Scarface’s. Mynah birds are sometimes better talkers than parrots and this one seems unusually smart. Do you suppose——”
“We’ll try it,” Jupiter said. He handed Blackbeard a large sunflower seed.
“Sherlock Holmes,” Jupiter said clearly. “Hello, Sherlock Holmes.”
Blackbeard responded to the name with the sentences he had heard before. He flapped his wings and said in a strong English accent:
“You know my methods, Watson. Three sevens lead to thirteen.”
“Write that down, Bob!” Jupiter whispered.
The injunction was unnecessary. Bob was already scribbling as Jupiter tried again.
“Captain Kidd,” he said. “Hello, Captain Kidd.” And he handed Blackbeard another seed. The bird ate it and clicked his beak.
“I’m Captain Kidd,” he said. “Look under the stones beyond the bones for the box that has no locks.”
“Whiskers!” Pete Crenshaw said in awe. “This thing is a tape recorder with wings!
He knew all seven of the messages all along!”
“I should have guessed,” Jupiter sounded vexed, “when he spoke another bird’s message the first time – Scarface’s message, as Bob reminded us.”
Blackbeard was into the spirit of the thing now. As soon as he heard the name Scarface he flapped his wings again.
“I never give a sucker an even break!” he screeched. “And that’s a lead pipe cinch.
Ha-ha-ha!”
He laughed as if at some tremendous joke. But the boys scarcely noticed. Bob was writing frantically. After a moment he finished and held out a sheet of paper to Jupiter.
“There,” he said. “There are all seven parts of the message.”
Pete crowded beside Jupiter and both boys read the following:
JOHN SILVER’S MESSAGE (Complete)
LITTLE BO-PEEP
: Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep and doesn’t
(Part 1)
know where to find it.
Call on Sherlock Holmes!
BILLY SHAKESPEARE : To-to-to be or not to-to-to be, that is the (Part 2)
question.
BLACKBEARD
: I’m Blackbeard the Pirate, and I’ve buried
(Part 3)
my treasure where dead men guard it ever.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
ROBIN HOOD
: I shot an arrow as a test, a hundred paces shot (Part 4)
it west.
SHERLOCK HOLMES : You know my methods, Watson. Three (Part 5)
sevens lead to thirteen.
CAPTAIN KIDD
: Look under the stones beyond the bones for
(Part 6)
the box that has no locks.
SCARFACE
: I never give a sucker an even break, and that’s (Part 7)
a lead pipe cinch!
“That’s it, all right,” Pete said. “The whole message. Now there’s just one thing left, just one teensy-weensy little thing.”
“What’s that?” Bob asked.
“All we have to do is figure out what the message means,” Pete told him.
Chapter 15
Ramble and Scramble
ALL DAY working at the library, Bob moved as though his mind was a million miles away – and it was. He took a book on codes and ciphers from the shelf and looked at it. but learned nothing. However, he hoped that while he was getting nowhere, Pete or Jupiter might be getting some clues. After supper he rode his bicycle hopefully down to The Jones Salvage Yard, crawled through Tunnel Two into Headquarters, and was greeted by blank faces.
Pete admitted frankly that he was no good at secret messages. Jupiter, pinching his lip, called the meeting of The Three Investigators to order.
“I don’t know what Mr. Silver’s message means,” he said. “But some points seem to make sense of a sort. Now for Part 1, about Bo-Peep losing her sheep, I agree with Mrs. Claudius. That refers to the picture of the shepherdess and her sheep being hidden.”
The other two nodded their agreement.
“But what about that ‘call on Sherlock Holmes’?” Bob asked.
“I wish we could!” Pete exclaimed. “We could use him.”
“I don’t understand that yet,” Jupiter admitted. “Because Sherlock Holmes’s message, Part 5, is ‘You know my methods, Watson.’ which is a well-known phrase from the stories, then, ‘three sevens lead to thirteen.’ So far that last is totally meaningless.”
Blackbeard cocked his head. “Three severns lead to thirteen,” he announced.
“It sounded to me as if he said ‘severns’, not ‘sevens’,” Pete stated.
“That’s just the English accent,” Bob put in. “Go on, Jupe.”
“Well, for Part 2 we come to Billy Shakespeare stuttering a famous quotation,”
Jupiter said. “That doesn’t make any sense to me either.”
“Part 3, Blackbeard’s own message, sounds like a reference to a pirate island or hide-out,” Bob said. “Mr. Claudius said John Silver liked stories of pirate islands and if he could find one or anything that could be thought of as one, he might choose it as a hiding place.”
Jupiter unfolded a map. “Here is a map of lower California,” he said. “We know from Carlos that Mr. Silver was gone three days. He either walked or hitchhiked someplace, hid the picture in the metal box, and came back. But in three days he could have travelled almost anywhere. Out to Catalina Island. Down to Mexico.
Maybe even as far as Death Valley.”
“Death Valley!” Pete exclaimed. “There are plenty of dead men’s bones in that place! That gets my vote. But can’t you just see us searching Death Valley for a box?
