“Alfred Hitchcock!” Pete said.
“Exactly,” Jupiter declared. “It’s too late tonight, but tomorrow we will call on Mr. Hitchcock and show him this message.”
The next morning, the instant they had finished breakfast, Pete and Bob hurried to the salvage yard. Jupiter was already waiting there with Worthington and the gold-plated Rolls-Royce the boys had originally won the use of in a contest solved by Jupiter.
“We’ll go to Mr. Hitchcock’s studio first, Worthington,” Jupiter instructed as the boys clambered into the big car.
“Very good, Master Jones,” Worthington acknowledged. Despite their now firm friendship, the elegant chauffeur insisted on being properly correct at all times.
The boys had learned that it was never easy to get into the studio to see the famous director, so they always used the Rolls-Royce when they went to call on Mr. Hitchcock. The car was now at their permanent disposal, thanks to the financial aid of a grateful client who might not have received his rightful inheritance without the help of the Investigators. Because of their impressive car, they were passed quickly through the gates of World Studios.
“Well, my young friends, what strange events bring you to me this time?” the famous director asked from behind his mammoth desk in his private office.
The boys eagerly explained the events of the night before and described their discovery of the message inside the tiny statuette. Mr. Hitchcock listened impassively until Jupiter reached the part about the gold statuette and laid it on the director’s desk.
Mr. Hitchcock’s eyes sparkled as he studied the jewel-like grinning little man. “It is indeed very old, boys, as Jupiter surmised. And it is an amulet of American Indian craftsmanship without a doubt. I happened to learn a good bit about Indian crafts while filming one of our suspense stories for television. I would say that this amulet is definitely the work of our local Chumash Indians. We had one quite like it for our story.”
“What’s an amulet, sir?” Pete inquired.
“A magic charm, my boy, usually worn on a cord round the neck to ward off evil spirits or bring good fortune,” Mr. Hitchcock explained. “That is the reason for the metal loop at the head of the figure. The Chumash had many different kinds of such amulets.”
“Gee,” Pete said, “I didn’t know we ever had Indians round Rocky Beach.”
“Sure we did, Pete,” said Bob. “I’ve read all about the Chumash. They were a small, peaceful tribe. They lived right on the coast here and later worked for the Spanish settlers.”
“That is indeed correct,” Mr. Hitchcock agreed, “but at the moment I am more interested in your laughing shadow. You say that it was tall, humpbacked, and had an oddly small head that seemed to jerk in a strange manner, and laughed wildly?”
“Yes, sir,” Bob confirmed.
“You were close to this shadow, yet each of you describes the laugh quite differently. What do you make of that, young Jones?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Jupiter admitted, baffled.
“Nor do I, at the moment,” said Mr. Hitchcock. “Now what of this message you say dropped out of the statuette?”
Jupiter handed the piece of paper to the famous director. Mr. Hitchcock studied it closely. “Written in blood all right, by thunder! Recently, too, I should deduce from its legibility, which means that it has not been inside the amulet for long.”
“Do you recognize the language, sir?” Bob asked.
“Unfortunately, no. It is not a language I have ever seen before. In fact, it doesn’t even resemble any writing I have seen.”
“Gosh,” Pete said, “Jupiter was sure you’d know, sir.”
“What do we do now?” Bob asked, crestfallen.
“Luckily, I believe I can help despite my ignorance of this language,” Mr. Hitchcock declared, smiling. “I will send you boys to a friend of mine. He’s a professor at the University of Southern California, and an expert on American Indian languages. He served as an adviser for our film. He lives right in Rocky Beach. My secretary will give you his address, and I shall expect to hear what progress you make.”
The three boys thanked the director and stopped at his secretary’s desk on the way out in order to get the professor’s address. His name was Wilton J. Meeker, and he lived only a few blocks from The Jones Salvage Yard.
Jupiter instructed Worthington to take them to the professor’s house and then return the Rolls-Royce to the agency. They could easily walk home.
Professor Meeker’s small, white house was set back from the street. A white picket fence enclosed the thick tropical-like vegetation that surrounded the house. The boys opened the white, slatted gate and started up the brick path towards the front door. When they were half-way up the path, a man suddenly emerged from the thick garden vegetation directly in front of them.
“Fellows!” Bob gave a warning cry.
The man was short and very broad in the shoulders with a dark skin the colour of deep-brown leather. His strong teeth gleamed white, and his eyes were black and wild. He was dressed all in white: a loose white shirt of some heavy, rough material knotted at his waist, a pair of narrow white trousers of the same rough material, and a broad white hat. His bare lower legs were brown and heavily muscled.
He held a long, wicked-looking knife!
The boys stood paralysed on the walk as the man advanced on them with a trotting shuffle, his black eyes fierce. He waved the menacing knife and shouted at them in some strange, harsh language. Before they could make a sound or run, he was upon them.
His broad, dark hand reached out and snatched the tiny gold amulet from Jupiter’s grasp. Then he turned quickly and ran into the bushes.
Stunned, the boys were unable to cry out or move for a long moment. Then Pete recovered:
“He got the amulet!”
Heedless of danger, Pete plunged into the thick bushes in pursuit. Bob and Jupiter followed close behind. They all reached the far edge of the garden just in time to see the dark man jump into a battered old car. There was a second man in the car, and it roared away the instant the man with the amulet jumped in.
“He got away!” Pete cried.
“With our statuette!” Bob wailed.
The boys looked at each other in helpless frustration. The amulet was gone! Then an angry voice spoke behind them.
“What’s going on here!?”
A thin, stooped man with grey hair was standing behind the boys in the garden. He peered at them angrily through thick, horn-rimmed glasses.
“A man stole our amulet!” Pete blurted out.
