“It was sort of unnerving,” Bob agreed.
“But he did speak to us. At the moment I’m not even trying to figure out how,” Jupiter said. “He told us to hurry and find the clue. So there must be a clue in the trunk even if we haven’t spotted it yet.”
“If there’s a clue in it, Chief Reynolds can have the police laboratory go over it inch by inch,” Pete argued. “Anyway, he may not need it. If he can locate Mrs. Miller’s house on Maple Street, he can get permission to search it and probably find the money anyway.”
“That’s true,” Jupiter agreed. “Well, all right. But first we ought to phone Mrs. Miller to ask her to describe the house, so we can tell the Chief what it looks like.”
“Then let’s do it!” Pete said. “On to Headquarters.”
“Just a moment,” said Jupe. He went out to the front of the salvage yard, so that Hans and Konrad could handle the few customers, then followed Bob and Pete into Tunnel Two.
A minute later they were inside Headquarters. Jupiter looked up Mrs. Miller’s number in the telephone book and very shortly was speaking to her.
“What did my house look like?” Mrs. Miller repeated in some surprise. “Why, my goodness, all you have to do is go to 532 Danville Street and there it is.”
When told that the house had been moved, and that a large apartment house now stood on the spot, she gave a little gasp.
“An apartment house!” she said. “No wonder the man was so anxious to buy it. If I’d known the truth, maybe I’d have asked for more money. Well, anyway, it’s a cute little bungalow with brown shingle siding. Just one storey, but it has a little attic with a round window in front. I can’t tell you anything special about it. It was just a nice, well-built little bungalow.”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said. “I’m sure the authorities will be able to locate it.”
He hung up and looked at his two companions.
“The more I think about it,” he said, “the more I feel sure that the money is hidden in Mrs. Miller’s old house, but in some tricky manner. And I’m sure there’s a clue in the trunk, too.”
“Even if there is, I’m tired of that trunk!” Pete said firmly. “See what happened to Maximilian the Mystic. Now the trunk’s come back to us, and I don’t want it. It’s dangerous. Let Chief Reynolds look for the clue.”
“Well, we did agree to co-operate with Chief Reynolds,” Jupiter said. “So I guess the thing to do is take the trunk to him. We’d better phone to let him know we’re coming.”
He used the telephone again, and in a moment was connected with Police Headquarters.
“Chief Reynolds’ office, Lieutenant Carter speaking,” a crisp, unfamiliar voice answered.
“This is Jupiter Jones. May I speak to the Chief, please?”
“Chief Reynolds is away until tomorrow,” Lieutenant Carter replied curtly. “Try him then.”
“But this may be important,” Jupiter said. “You see, I think we have a clue that —”
“Forget it, kid!” Lieutenant Carter said impatiently. “I’m very busy, and one thing I don’t want is boy wonders in my hair. Maybe the Chief lets you mess around in things sometimes, but personally, I think kids like you should be seen and not heard.”
“But the Chief asked me —” Jupiter began.
“Take it up with him tomorrow! I have to go now!” And the phone at the other end was hung up with a bang.
Jupiter hung up also and looked blankly at Pete and Bob.
“Something tells me,” Pete said, “that Lieutenant Carter doesn’t like us.”
“He sounded as if he didn’t like anybody,” Bob put in. “Especially kids.”
“His attitude is quite common among adults,” Jupiter said with a sigh. “They think that just because we’re young we don’t have any good ideas. Actually, we often have a fresh viewpoint on a problem. But I guess we can’t take the trunk down to Chief Reynolds before tomorrow — maybe not even then, because tomorrow’s Sunday. We may have to wait until Monday. So I suggest we search the trunk again and try to find that clue Socrates mentioned.”
“I’m tired of that trunk,” Pete said firmly. “I’m tired of Socrates. I don’t want him talking to me.”
“I don’t think he’ll talk to us any more,” Jupiter replied. “Somehow he doesn’t seem to talk face to face. He talked to me in the dark in my room, and from inside the trunk, but never directly.”
“He said ‘boo’ to your aunt,” Bob pointed out.
“Yes. I can’t explain that,” Jupiter admitted. “But suppose we open the trunk and have a look. Perhaps someone took something out before returning it.”
They crawled out through Tunnel Two and opened the trunk. The interior looked just as it had before. Socrates, well wrapped in old velvet, was snugly in a corner. The letter was still in place inside the tear in the lining.
Jupiter took Socrates out, unwrapped him and set him on his ivory base on the printing press. Then he picked up the letter.
“Let’s have another look at this,” he suggested.
All three read the letter again. It seemed as innocent as before.
“If there’s a hidden clue there, I can’t find it,” Jupiter muttered. “I wonder if — Wait! I’ve found something. Look!”
He held out the letter and the envelope to Bob. “Do you see what we missed?”
“What we missed?” Bob looked puzzled. “No, I don’t see anything special, Jupe.”
“The stamps on the envelope!” Jupe said.
Bob looked at the two stamps — a two-cent stamp and a four-cent stamp. He took the envelope and ran his finger over them. His expression changed to one of great excitement.
“Jupe!” he exclaimed. “You’re right! There’s something under one of these stamps. The four-cent stamp feels just a little bit thicker than the two.”
Pete also ran his finger over the stamps and nodded.
The four-cent stamp was just a trifle thicker — not enough for the eye to notice unless you looked very closely.
“Let’s get inside Headquarters and steam these stamps off and see what’s underneath!” Bob exclaimed.
They scrambled back through Tunnel Two and within three minutes had a little kettle boiling in the laboratory. Jupiter held the corner of the envelope in the steam until the stamps loosened. Then he gave a shout of excitement.
“Look!” he cried. “There’s another stamp underneath the four. A green one-cent.”
“That’s queer.” Bob frowned. “What does it mean, Jupe?”
“I can tell you what it means,” Pete said. “There’s nothing mysterious about it. Don’t you remember that back about the time this letter was mailed, the postage rates went up by a cent? Spike Neely probably put a one- cent stamp on then realized that wouldn’t be enough so he pasted on a two, then put the four-cent stamp on top of the one.”
“Gosh, that could be right,” Bob said. “I think Pete has hit on it, Jupe.”
“I’m not so sure.” Jupe scowled at the green stamp on the envelope. Then, carefully, he peeled it off. “There may be writing underneath it,” he said.
“No,” Bob announced when the stamp was off. “No writing. None on the back of any of the stamps either.
