The Mystery of the Talking Skull

antique trunk, tightly locked, contents unknown.

At that moment, however, there was a stir at the back of the crowd. A woman was trying to push her way through — a little old lady with white hair, an old-fashioned hat, and gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Wait a minute!” she called. “I want to bid. Ten dollars! I bid ten dollars for the trunk!”

People turned to look at her, surprised at anyone wanting to pay ten dollars for such an old trunk.

“Twenty dollars!” the white-haired woman called, waving her hand. “I’ll bid twenty dollars!”

“I’m sorry, madam,” the auctioneer called back. “The article has been sold and all sales are final. Take it away, men, take it away. We have to get on with the sale.”

The two workmen lifted the trunk down from the platform, swinging it towards The Three Investigators.

“Here you are,” one said. Pete and Jupiter stepped forward.

“Well, it looks as if we own one old trunk,” Pete grumbled, seizing a leather handle at one end. “Now what’ll we do with it!”

“Take it back to the salvage yard and open it,” Jupe said, grasping the leather handle at the other end.

“Wait a minute, fellows,” the second workman said. “First it has to be paid for. Mustn’t forget that important detail.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Jupe put down his end, reached in his pocket for a leather wallet, took out a dollar bill, and handed it to the man. The man scribbled on a paper and gave it to Jupe.

“Your receipt,” he said. “Now it’s yours. If there’re any royal jewels in it, you own them. Haw haw!” Still laughing, he let the boys take the trunk. With Bob ahead of them, pushing a way through the crowd, Jupe and Pete carried the small trunk towards the rear of the room. They had just got it through the rows of people when the white-haired woman who had come too late to bid bustled up to them.

“Boys,” she said, “I’ll buy that trunk from you for twenty-five dollars. I collect old trunks and I want this one for my collection.”

“Gosh, twenty-five dollars!” Pete exclaimed.

“Take it, Jupe!” Bob said.

“It’s a very good profit — and the trunk isn’t really worth a cent more even to a collector,” the woman said. “Here you are, twenty-five dollars.”

She took the money from a large pocketbook and thrust it at Jupiter. To the amazement of Bob and Pete, Jupiter shook his head.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t want to sell it. We want to see what’s in it.”

“There can’t be anything in it of value,” the woman said, looking upset. “Here, I’ll give you thirty dollars.”

“No, thank you.” Jupiter shook his head again. “I really don’t want to sell it.”

The woman sighed. Then, just as she was about to say something more, she seemed to take alarm. She turned and scurried away, losing herself in the crowd. She had apparently been frightened by the approach of a young man carrying a camera.

“Hi, boys,” the young man said. “I’m Fred Brown. I’m a reporter for The Hollywood News, and I’m looking for a human interest story. I’d like to take your picture with the trunk. It’s the only thing at all unusual in the sale. Just lift it up, will you? That’s fine. And you —” he spoke to Bob — “stand behind it so you’ll be in the picture.”

Bob and Pete looked uncertain, but Jupe quickly motioned them into the pose the reporter wanted. Standing behind the trunk, Bob noticed that across the top were stencilled in faded white paint the words THE GREAT GULLIVER. The young man aimed the camera, a flashbulb went off, and the picture was taken.

“Thanks,” the reporter said. “Now may I have your names? And will you tell me why you refused thirty dollars for it? Seems like a nice profit to me.”

“We’re just curious,” Jupiter said. “I think it’s an old theatrical trunk and we want to see what’s in it. We just bought it for fun, not to make a profit.”

“Then you don’t believe it has the Russian crown jewels in it?” Fred Brown chuckled.

“That’s just talk,” Pete said. “It might have old costumes in it.”

“Could be,” the young man agreed. “That name, The Great Gulliver, sounds very theatrical. Speaking of names, what did you say yours were?”

“We didn’t say,” Jupiter answered. “But here’s our card. We’re — uh — well, we investigate things.”

He handed the reporter one of The Three Investigators’ business cards which the boys carried at all times. It said:

“So?” The reporter raised his eyebrows. “You’re investigators, eh? What do the question marks stand for?”

“That’s our symbol,” Jupiter told him. “The question marks stand for mysteries unsolved, riddles unanswered, puzzles of any kind. So we use it as our trademark. We investigate any kind of mystery.”

“And now you’re investigating an old theatrical trunk.” The young man smiled and put the card in his pocket. “Thanks a lot. Maybe you’ll see your picture in tonight’s paper. Depends on whether the editor likes the story or not.”

He raised his hand in a gesture of good-bye and turned away. Jupe picked up his end of the trunk again.

“Come on, Pete, we have to get this outside,” he said. “We can’t keep Hans waiting any longer.”

With Bob leading the way, he and Pete lugged the trunk towards the street exit. Pete was still grumbling.

“Why did you tell that fellow our names?” he said.

“Publicity,” Jupiter said. “Every business needs publicity for people to know about it. Lately good mysteries have been scarce, and we can use some business or we’ll get rusty.”

They went through a big door, out on to the pavement, and down the street a few yards to where the light truck was parked. After heaving the trunk into the back, the boys climbed into the cab of the truck with Hans.

“Back home, Hans,” Jupiter said. “We have made a purchase and we wish to examine it.”

“Sure, Jupe,” Hans agreed, getting the truck started. “You buy something, huh?”

“An old trunk,” Pete said. “How’re we going to open it, First?”

“We have lots of keys around the salvage yard,” Jupiter told him. “If we’re lucky one of them will work.”

“Maybe we’ll have to break it open,” Bob suggested.

“No.” Jupiter shook his head. “That would spoil it. We’ll get the lock open somehow.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they reached The Jones Salvage Yard in Rocky Beach, Pete and Jupe handed down the trunk to Hans, who set it to one side. Mrs. Jones came out of the little cabin that served as an office.

“Mercy and goodness, what have you bought?” she asked. “Why, that trunk looks old enough to have come over on the Mayflower.”

“Not quite, Aunt Mathilda,” Jupiter said. “But it is old. We paid a dollar for it.”

“Well, at least you didn’t waste much money on it,” said his aunt. “I suppose you need the bunch of keys to try to open it. They’re on a nail over the desk.”

Bob ran in to get the keys. Jupe began trying all that seemed the right size. After about half an hour he gave up. None of the keys would open the trunk.

“Now what’ll we do?” Pete asked.

“Pry it open?” Bob suggested.

“Not yet,” Jupe told them. “I believe Uncle Titus has more keys put away somewhere. We’ll have to wait until he comes back and ask him for them.”

Jupiter’s aunt came out of the office again.

“Well, boys,” she said briskly, “can’t waste all day. Time to get to work. First lunch, then work. You have to let the old trunk wait.”

Reluctantly the boys went for lunch in the neat two-storey house just outside the salvage yard where Jupiter lived with his Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus. Then they set to work mending and repairing broken articles in the salvage yard. Titus Jones would later sell these, giving them part of the profit for spending money. This kept them