“But gleeps!” Pete objected. “We don’t! We don’t know a thing!”
“I know that,” the Chief said. “And you know that. But if these fellows think you have the clue — well, they might still come round and try to force you to give it to them.”
They thought about this. It wasn’t a pleasant idea.
“You mean we could still be in danger, Chief?” Jupiter said at last.
“I’m afraid so.” Chief Reynolds spoke seriously. “So I want you to keep alert. If you see anyone who looks suspicious hanging around the salvage yard, call me at once. Or if anyone gets in touch with you about the trunk, let me know. Will you do that?”
“We certainly will!” Bob promised.
“There’s one problem,” Jupe said, frowning. “A lot of strangers come to the salvage yard as customers. It’s hard to tell if any of them are suspicious. But if we notice anyone who does seem suspicious, we’ll notify you immediately.”
“Be sure you do,” said Chief Reynolds.
In a very thoughtful mood, The Three Investigators left Police Headquarters and rode back to the salvage yard.
“More and more I like this whole business less and less!” Pete exploded. “I don’t want any tough characters thinking we have a clue we don’t have. There’s no telling what they might do. People like that don’t listen to reason.”
“And we thought we were getting rid of all our troubles by getting rid of the trunk” Bob added. “Got any ideas, Jupe?”
The Three Investigators were secluded in the workshop of the salvage yard and none of them looked happy. Even Jupiter’s round face was creased by a frown.
“I’m afraid,” he said, “that these men, whoever they are, won’t quit until the money is found. The best way to solve our problem would be to find the money ourselves and turn it over to the police, with plenty of newspaper publicity. Then they’d give up.”
“Great! Just great!” Pete retorted sarcastically. “All we have to do is find some money that’s been hidden for years. Money that the police and the Treasury Department agents haven’t been able to find. Nothing to it. Easy as falling off a log. Let’s do it before dinner so we can wrap this whole case up.”
“Pete’s right,” Bob said. “I mean, what chance have we of finding any hidden money when we don’t even have a clue to it?”
“It certainly won’t be easy,” admitted Jupiter. “But I think we have to try. We won’t have any peace of mind until the money is found. We’re investigators — it’ll be a real challenge to us.”
Pete groaned.
“How would we start, Jupe?” Bob asked.
“First we have to assume that the money is hidden somewhere here in the Los Angeles region,” Jupiter said slowly. “Obviously, if it’s hidden in Chicago we haven’t a chance of finding it.”
Pete’s expression said he didn’t think they had a chance anyway.
“Next,” Jupiter said, “we have to find out all we can about Spike Neely’s actions when he was hiding out at his sister’s house. That means we must locate the sister, Mrs. Miller, and ask her to tell us everything she can.”
“But Chief Reynolds said the police questioned her at the time,” Bob protested. “If they didn’t learn anything, how can we?”
“I don’t know,” Jupiter told him. “But we have to try. It’s our only lead. I know it’s a long shot, but when there’s nothing else to do, you have to try the long shot. Just possibly we might think of some questions the police forgot to ask.”
“I wish you’d never read that piece in the paper about the auction,” Pete muttered. “All right, how do we start?”
“First,” Jupiter began, but he was interrupted by his aunt’s powerful voice calling to them.
“Boys! Lunch! Come and get it while it’s hot.”
Pete jumped up. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard today that I’ve liked!” he exclaimed. “Let’s eat. Then we can think about your idea, Jupe.”
In a few minutes the boys were seated in Aunt Mathilda’s kitchen. Mrs. Jones bustled about serving them generous helpings of sausages and beans. Presently Titus Jones came in and joined them.
“Well, Jupiter, my boy,” he said, “what have you been up to now? Making friends with Gypsies, have you?”
“Gypsies?” Jupiter looked up, startled, and Bob and Pete paused with forks half raised.
“There were a couple of Gypsies in the yard this morning,” Titus Jones explained. “While you lads were downtown. Oh, they didn’t say they were Gypsies, and they weren’t dressed like Gypsies, but I could tell. After all, when I was with the circus I saw a lot of them.”
During his younger years, Mr. Jones had travelled with a small circus, taking tickets and playing the steam calliope that every circus had in those days.
“They were looking for me?” Jupiter asked.
“I guess it was you.” His uncle chuckled. “They said they had a message from a friend for the fat one. I know you’re not fat, Jupiter, just stocky and well-muscled, but for some reason people do call you fat.”
“What was the message?” Jupiter asked, ignoring his uncle’s chuckles.
“It was more like a riddle,” Mr. Jones replied. “’Let me see now, what they said was, ‘A frog in a pond with hungry fish must jump hard to get out.’ Does it mean anything to you?”
Jupiter gulped slightly. Bob and Pete swallowed hard.
“I’m not sure,” Jupiter answered. “Maybe it’s an old Gypsy proverb. You’re sure they were Gypsies?”
“Positive,” his uncle said. “I’ve seen enough to know. Besides, as they left I heard them talking in Romany — that’s the old Gypsy language. I couldn’t understand everything they said, but I heard what sounded like ‘danger’, then ‘keep a sharp eye’. I certainly hope you aren’t involved in anything dangerous.”
“Gypsies!” Mrs. Jones snorted, seating herself at the table. “Jupiter, now that you’ve got rid of that horrible old skull, don’t tell me you’re getting mixed up with Gypsies somehow.”
“No, Aunt Mathilda,” Jupiter answered. “At least I don’t think I am.”
“Well, they seemed friendly.” Titus Jones stated, helping himself to more sausages.
The three boys finished eating in silence, and then returned to Headquarters.
“A Gypsy message,” Pete said hollowly. “ ‘A frog in a pond with hungry fish must jump hard to get out’. Does that mean what I think it means?”
Jupiter nodded. “I’m afraid so. It’s a veiled warning to us that we’d better work hard to solve this case. I wish I knew where the Gypsies fitted into this, though. First I talked to Zelda. Then Zelda and all her people disappear. Now two Gypsies show up to leave a message for me, from a friend. I surmise that Zelda is the friend, but I wish she wouldn’t be so mysterious.”
“Me, too,” Pete said, and sighed.
“Well, what do we do now?” Bob asked.
“We talk to Spike Neely’s sister,” Jupiter said. “We know she lives in Los Angeles. Maybe she’s in the phone book.”
Pete handed him the telephone book and Jupe began phoning. In a deep voice that sounded quite adult, he said he wished to contact Mr. Spike Neely. The first three women he called said they’d never heard of Spike Neely, but the fourth replied that Spike Neely was dead and it was impossible to contact him. Jupiter said “Thank you” and hung up.