towards the Gothic headquarters of the Vegetarian League. Jupiter scanned the street anxiously for any signs of his chums.
When the Rolls-Royce was a block away, Mr. Harris’s car came tearing down the street towards them and passed in a cloud of dust. Jupiter started to shout to him, but Mr. Harris did not even glance at the Rolls-Royce. The vegetarian was bent grimly over his steering wheel, his face dark and brooding.
“Was that a gentleman you know, Master Jones?” Worthington asked. “Shall I attempt to catch him?”
“He said he was going to wait for news about Bob and Pete,” Jupiter said, looking back at the vanishing car. “But maybe something happened to change his plans. Just drive on to the house, Worthington.”
Worthington continued on, and the big car slid silently to a stop at the front door. Jupiter was out like a shot, with Worthington striding up the path behind him. The front door was open. Jupiter raced inside and stood listening.
“Do you hear anything, Worthington?”
“No, Master Jones. What are we looking for?”
“Bob and Pete,” the First Investigator replied. “Some sign from them, probably in chalk, or some clue that shows they were in here.”
“You feel that they may be in some difficulty?”
“I don’t know,” Jupiter admitted. “The Chief thinks they’re off somewhere on their own, and maybe he’s right, but I’m sure they would have left some sign in that case.”
“I agree,” Worthington said quietly.
“Chief Reynolds and his men searched the upper floors, but they might not have noticed a chalked sign. You go and look upstairs, Worthington, and I’ll look out in the street again.”
“Very good, Master Jones.”
Jupiter covered the whole street, examining walls and fences for chalk marks. He also looked on the ground for any marks or messages scratched in the dirt, and he inspected the trees. He found nothing at all beyond that small conical pile of stones he was sure had been made by Pete.
Inside the house again, he met Worthington coming down from the upper floors. The tall chauffeur shook his head:
“Nothing that I could interpret as a sign, Master Jones.”
Jupiter frowned. “Maybe the Chief and Mr. Harris are right. I guess I’d better go back to the salvage yard and wait for them… I wonder where Mr. Harris was driving so fast?”
“Perhaps Chief Reynolds called him,” Worthington suggested. “But may I point out, we have not examined the ground floor.”
“I did that first time,” Jupiter said glumly.
“Possibly you overlooked some small thing. A second look will not be amiss.”
They went into Mr. Harris’s office. Jupiter saw no marks on the walls, and Worthington discovered nothing on the floor or in the cupboard. Jupiter looked into Mr. Harris’s desk and wastepaper basket. He had turned away from the desk when he stopped abruptly and went back to the basket.
“Worthington!” he cried. “Look at this!”
The chauffeur hurried over, and took the piece of wax paper from his hand.
“It’s simply a sandwich wrapper, Master Jones. I fail to see the significance.”
“Look at those stains on it! That brownish stain, and the red stain! See?” Jupiter pointed.
Worthington nodded. “Yes, I see them. Mustard and some blood, I should say. Not uncommon on a sandwich wrapper.” The fastidious chauffeur gingerly touched the brown stain, and sniffed at it. “Mustard, definitely. Rather hot, too.”
“But Worthington, Mr. Harris is the president of the Vegetarian League!” Jupiter cried. “Don’t you see? If he was eating a sandwich with meat and mustard in it, he must be a fraud!”
“By George, Master Jupiter. Are you certain this was Mr. Harris’s sandwich?”
“He said so himself,” Jupiter answered. “And if he’s a fake vegetarian, I’ll bet the whole League is a fake. Mr. Harris started the group in Rocky Beach and he claimed he had a big organization somewhere else. But I’ll bet he doesn’t have any organization at all!”
“A serious charge, Master Jones,” Worthington said severely. “What purpose could he have?”
“Don’t you see?” said Jupiter. “He knew that Miss Sandow was a vegetarian. Ted told him so in England. I’ll bet he managed to meet Ted on purpose. He probably knew about the Chumash Hoard and wanted to find it. He used Ted and his fake Vegetarian League to get close to Miss Sandow. It was a good way to gain entry to the Sandow Estate.”
“You mean he knew about the Hoard before he ever came here, or met young Ted?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised. He probably tried to make us suspicious of Ted on purpose.” Jupiter groaned. “And to think I told him all about what we had guessed. I actually warned him.”
“You had no way of knowing, Master Jones,” Worthington said. “It seems he fooled everyone.”
“He sure has. Why, he may even be the laughing shadow. Maybe he’s holding those four headless prisoners himself.” Suddenly Jupiter’s eyes widened in dismay. “’Worthington, We have to get to Chief Reynolds at once.’
“Of course, Master Jones. You’ve thought of a plan to foil his scheme?”
“No,” Jupiter said, “but I’ve just realized that Mr. Harris played a trick on us. He was very late getting here from the estate, and he said it was because he thought he saw Ted near the salvage yard, but that was a lie! He must have been here long before us — and he must have seized Bob and Pete!”
Mr. Harris sat on the rustic table in the centre of the unpainted room, looking thoughtfully at Bob and Pete. “This truly hurts me, boys, you see,” he said.
Bob and Pete did not answer. They were seated against a wooden wall, their hands and feet tied securely. They had little idea where they were, only that they had been brought to some small cabin in the mountains after their capture in the Vegetarian League house by Harris.
They realized now that Mr. Harris must be connected with the laughing shadow. But there was nothing they could do, and no one they could tell. Mr. Harris and his two assistants had pounced on them, in the corridor of the house, hustled them out to a truck, and tied them. Then the two assistants had driven them off with their bicycles. Mr. Harris himself had apparently remained at the League house for a while, because this was his first appearance at the cabin.
He smiled sadly at them. “Unfortunately, you boys do have a way of appearing where you’re not wanted, eh? Snooping round my house, for instance. I’m sure you found nothing, but it pays to be safe, you know? Fortunately I had time to remove all traces of your presence before the police arrived.
“I’m afraid I shall have to keep you as my guests for a time. Until, shall we say, I am far from this location. Luckily, my work here is almost finished now.”
Bob burst out for the first time, “You’re a thief!”
“You’re trying to steal the Chumash Hoard,” Pete cried hotly.
Mr. Harris laughed aloud. “Yes, you are clever boys. The Chumash Hoard is precisely what I’m after, and I shall steal it tonight.”
Grinning at the bound boys, Mr. Harris turned and walked from the cabin. In the silence, Bob and Pete looked at each other helplessly. They could see the sun low through one of the dirty windows of the cabin. Night would soon be upon them, and they could do nothing to stop Mr. Harris.
“We must be somewhere on the Sandow Estate,” Pete said with his unerring sense of direction. “I recognized some mountains when the truck stopped.”
“If we could only have left a sign,” Bob added, “but there wasn’t any chance the way they hustled us into that truck.”
“Jupiter’ll find us. But if we could get loose first maybe we could send out some signal.” Pete began to strain the bonds that tied his hands behind him.
