The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance (10 page)

“I think you know very well what Jupe would
say about that, Second!” laughed Bob.

While they waited for Jupiter’s return, Pete
wandered downstairs from time to time to check in on Patricia and
make sure she wasn’t being harassed by the Fitchhorns. The boys
savored their triumph until five o’clock, when they came down for
dinner. Bob announced that he was still under the weather and would
take his dinner back to his room. Pete, wanting to keep an eye on
the crooked Fitchhorns, decided to stick close to Patricia for the
rest of the evening.

Thunder shook the brooding house and storm
clouds rolled in just as it was starting to get dark. Pete and
Patricia sat in front of the television in the den when the lights
flickered.

“I hope the boys get back soon,” she said in
a worried voice. “I don’t like them driving in the rain. Ben’s a
very responsible boy, but accidents can happen.”

“Don’t worry,” said Pete reassuringly.
“Between Ben and Jupe, they’ll be just fine.”

Patricia smiled at Pete as rain began
spattering against the tall windows. Pete had just gotten up to
throw another log onto the fire when he stopped in his tracks –the
hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

A long, ear-piercing scream had shattered
the night!

Race To The Embassy

WHEN BEN AND Jupiter had
left Hichcocke Manor in Ben’s roadster, the older boy had assumed
they were really going sightseeing. Jupe quickly shook his head at
this and began rummaging in the glove-box for a map.

“I thought you had given up on the case,”
said Ben.

Jupiter grinned at the tall boy as he
unfolded a map of London. “Not by a long shot!”

Ben looked confused. “Then if we’re not
going to see Parliament, where are we going?”

The stocky Investigator held up his camera.
“First, we need to get the film in this camera developed. Then we
have to get to the American Embassy,” he declared, “and as fast as
legally possible!”

With Jupiter acting as navigator, Ben
maneuvered the sleek car through the busy London streets like a
daredevil. An hour after they had left home, Ben was pulling his
purring car up to the curb outside the large, white stone building
of the American Embassy. Jupiter spied a small shop across the main
thoroughfare that had a sign reading: ONE HOUR PHOTO.

“There’s a photo shop across the street.
Meet me there once you’ve parked!”

Jupiter ran across the busy London street to
the little shop.

As it turned out, they had only to wait
about forty-five minutes before the large eight by ten pictures
were finished being developed. Jupiter stuffed them into a large
envelope and the two boys rushed out the door.

Huge pillars and American flags marked the
entrance to the impressive embassy building. “Come on,” said Jupe,
“we’ve not a moment to lose!” The hefty boy began racing up the
first of several stone step-ways, with Ben close behind.

When the two boys reached the front doors,
they were stopped by armed guards who demanded to see passports.
Jupiter, who had traveled abroad before, was expecting this and
came prepared. He whipped out his little blue book and showed it to
the guards. He then explained that Ben was a citizen of England.
Ben was asked to produce his driver’s license to verify this.

When the two boys were cleared to enter,
they had to repeat the process with Jupiter’s passport again at the
front desk. They were then asked to walk through a strange doorway
that beeped and buzzed as they passed through.

“Please remove all metal objects from your
pockets,” said a stern looking woman in a military uniform. “Also
any watches or jewelry.”

The boys did as they were asked and were
cleared to enter.

As they were strapping their watches back on
their wrists, Ben shook his head in confusion. He had to admit he
was stumped. “I’m quite sure you have a plan, Jupiter,” he said,
“but I’ll be blasted if I know what it is!”

“No time to explain,” the cherub-faced
Investigator panted, “we have to find a delegate to the United
States who can help us!”

The boys looked around the great marble hall
of the embassy. Finally Ben let out a cry. “There! Over in the far
corner!” Jupiter followed Ben’s gaze to a sign that said
‘International Affairs.’ The two boys hurried over to the office
and went in.

Once inside the office of
International Affairs, they were greeted by a serious looking man
in a sharp suit and tie sitting behind a desk. His name-tag
read
Agent R. Arthur - U.S.A./U.N.
He looked at the boys as if they were a couple of
pranksters.

“Can I help you boys?” he asked
suspiciously.

Jupiter drew himself up to his full height
and jutted out his chin. In a clear and concise voice that made him
appear older than he really was, he addressed Agent R. Arthur. Ben
looked on in wonder at Jupiter’s performance.

“I certainly hope you can be of assistance,”
Jupe stated firmly. “I need to get in contact with a delegate from
the country of Varania. It is a matter of upmost urgency!”

The well-dressed man raised his eyebrows.
“Varania? I’ve never heard of it. Are you sure you don’t mean
Bavaria?”

“Quite sure,” Jupiter said stiffly.

Agent R. Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay, kid. If you say so.” He thumbed through a thick index and
scanned the pages. After a tense moment, he finally grunted. “I’ll
be darned,” he said, “there really is a Varania. Must be a small
country!”

The agent picked up one of three telephones
at his desk and spoke briefly into it. After a long pause he
finally hung up. “All right, kid. A delegate from Varania will be
down in the lobby in about ten minutes. But this better not be some
kind of game!”

“I assure you it is not a game,” said
Jupiter solemnly. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

The boys left the office of International
Affairs and sat on a bench to wait. When ten minutes had passed,
they were approached by a dark-skinned man in an impeccable brown
suit. On his lapel he wore a pin of the Varanian flag and an emblem
of a silver spider.

He bowed to the boys as a greeting and then
said in a thick Varanian accent, “My name is Duke Antony. You are
the boys who wish to meet with a delegate from Varania?”

Jupiter and Ben bowed in return, and then
Jupe cleared his throat. “I seek the aid of Prince Djaro of Varania
on a matter of the upmost importance!”

Jupiter was referring to
the crown Prince of Varania, whom The Three Investigators had
befriended in the
Mystery of the Silver
Spider
many months before. That was a case
in which they had helped recover the royal emblem of the country
that had been stolen – the necklace of a silver spider – and aided
Prince Djaro in thwarting a sinister plot to overthrow the
throne.

Duke Antony smiled warmly, but shook his
head. “I’m afraid I cannot simply call up the Prince and say two
boys would like to play James Bond,” he said patiently. “No, no,
no. That would not do. And now I bid you good day.” The delegate of
Varania turned to leave, but Jupiter wasn’t finished.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said importantly, “but
if you would be kind enough to tell the Prince that it is Jupiter
Jones calling – one of the three American boys who helped find the
Silver Spider, and who rung the honored bell of Prince Paul several
months ago – I am positive that he would want to speak with
me.”

The dark-skinned man hesitated, and then
turned around, looking uncertain.

“You are the American boys who aided Prince
Djaro in saving the kingdom?” he asked skeptically.

“I’m one of them,” replied Jupiter. “How
else would I know that the bell was rung to summon aid for the
Prince? The whole matter was not made public as a matter of
national policy.”

Duke Antony narrowed his eyes at Jupiter and
bit his lip. It was obvious he did not want to displease the
Prince. Finally he nodded his head. “Follow me,” he said briskly.
“I will put you through a direct line to the palace.”

Ben grinned at Jupe. The chubby boy could
sure sound important when he wanted to!

They followed the delegate of Varania up a
long flight of stairs and into a small, cramped office located at
the far end of the embassy. There was not enough space in the tiny
room for three people, so Ben waited in the hall while Duke Antony
placed the call for Jupiter.

Inside the office, Jupe noticed official
looking folders piled high on top of outdated filing cabinets. Maps
covered the walls, and a large flag with a spider on it hung above
the door. Amid the clutter on the Duke’s desk were two telephones.
One black, the other red. The delegate picked up the red phone and
pushed the single button on the front of it. After a short pause,
Duke Antony spoke into the phone, and then handed it over to
Jupiter.

While Ben waited for Jupiter to make his
call, he amused himself by trying to identify all the different
flags of the countries that were represented at the American
Embassy – each hanging from the railing of the second floor
balcony.

After nearly thirty minutes, Jupiter stepped
out of the office. He had a big smile on his face. Duke Antony
stepped out after him, holding Jupe’s manila envelope with the
pictures inside. He locked the office door and then turned to
Jupe.

“I will process these photos immediately,”
he said respectfully. “And might I add my most sincere apologies
for rudeness to an honorary member of the Order of the Silver
Spider.”

“Think nothing of it,” Jupiter replied. “How
long until we find something out about those photographs?”

Duke Antony thought for a moment. “I would
estimate the process to take approximately two, possibly three
hours. Is that acceptable?”

“Quite acceptable,” said Jupiter.

“Then you will be pleased to follow me,” the
Duke said, leading them back downstairs. When they reached an
office door with the word INTERPOL stenciled on it, the Duke
instructed them to wait outside.

“Two or three hours,” he promised, and
entered into the room. Jupiter and Ben sat on a bench and prepared
themselves for the long wait.

“What’s going on?” Ben demanded. “What’s
‘Interpol’? And how in blue blazes do you know the crown Prince of
Varania?”

Jupiter explained to Ben how The Three
Investigators had met Prince Djaro in California and all the
exciting events that had followed. “When I called the Prince just
now, I asked him if he could have Duke Antony process the photos
through the American Embassy’s Interpol office.”

“But what’s Interpol?” asked Ben.

Jupiter took a deep breath. “Interpol stands
for ‘International Criminal Police Organization.’ It was originally
founded in Austria in 1923, but later moved to France. Most every
country participates – it’s like an international cooperation
between police forces. I took those pictures of the Fitchhorns and
Jebediah on purpose – so I could run them through the Interpol
database and see if they are wanted felons.”

“Amazing!” said Ben in wonder.

“Now all we have to do is wait,” sighed
Jupiter. “And hope the treasure is still there when we get
back!”

The Ghost Strikes
Again!

PETE DROPPED THE log
he was about to toss into the fireplace when a horrifying scream
shattered the silence of the old stone house.

“That sounded like Julia!” cried
Patricia.

“Come on,” said Pete, dashing out the door.
He raced through the long hallways and burst into the kitchen, his
heart beating fast. The Second Investigator looked around the room,
expecting to see another ghostly apparition. What he found instead
was Julia Abernathy in a dead faint on the kitchen floor.

“Jumping catfish!” he cried, rushing to the
maid’s side.

Patricia hurried into the kitchen and put
her hand up to her mouth in shock. “Is she okay?” she asked
breathlessly.

“I think so,” said Pete. “I think she’s
fainted.” Pete elevated the maid’s legs on a nearby stepping stool
and gently massaged her wrists. The plump maid moaned and her eyes
fluttered.

Bob entered the room and gaped in surprise
at the sight of the maid sprawled on the floor. “What happened?” he
cried in wide-eyed astonishment. “I heard a scream.”

Patricia shook her head. “I don’t know,
something must have given her a fright – she’s fainted! Just...out
cold!” Bob could see Patricia was trying to keep from trembling.
She was obviously quite upset by this recent turn of events.

“Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. O’Connell?” he
said soothingly. “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

“Thank you, Bob,” she said gratefully,
sitting down at the kitchen table.

Now Timothy and Stella Fitchhorn barreled
into the kitchen, followed closely by Jebediah O’Connell, who was
dripping wet.

“We heard a scream,” Mr. Fitchhorn barked.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Why, Julia’s taken a spill!” exclaimed
Jebediah, his eyes going wide. The man with the thick mustache
limped to her side. “Are ye okay, m’lady? Are ye hurt?”

Pete was just helping her sit up. The maid
blinked a couple of times, as if she were dazed.

“My goodness,” Julia Abernathy said, “what
in heaven’s name am I doing on the floor?”

“You fainted, Julia,” Patricia explained.
“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’ve got a bump on the back of my head, but
‘tis nothing serious, madam.” The maid circled the bump with her
fingers for a moment. Suddenly, fear washed over her face and she
brought herself to her feet.

“I remember now,” she gasped, pointing to
the cellar door with a shaking finger. “There,” she intoned
gravely, “I saw the ghost of Molly Thibidoux on the other side of
that door... just as plain as day, I did! I was about to go down
for a jar of pickles when I opened the door and there at the bottom
of the steps she was – just a-glowin’!”