The Mystery Of The Talking Skull Part 1

THE MYSTERY OF THE TALKING SKULL.

by Robert Arthur.

INTRODUCTION.

WELCOME, MYSTERY LOVERS! We are gathered together again for another stimulating case of The Three Investigators, whose official motto is "We Investigate Anything". If they had known what they were getting into when they tackled the curious case of the talking skull they might have changed their motto.

Be that as it may, they find themselves this time in a mix-up of mystery and danger which leads them from one perplexing enigma to another until-but I am not a blabbermouth. I promised faithfully not to tell too much, and I shall keep my promise.

Indeed, I shall only say that The Three Investigators are Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews, who all make their home in Rocky Beach, a small munic.i.p.ality in California a few miles from Hollywood. Their Headquarters is a mobile home trailer in The Jones Salvage Yard, a super-junkyard owned by Jupiter's aunt and uncle, Mathilda and t.i.tus Jones.

The boys make an excellent team. Jupiter has a quick mind and is adept at deduction. Pete is less intellectual but st.u.r.dy and courageous. Bob is somewhat studious and an excellent researcher. Together they've solved some very intriguing mysteries indeed.

Which is all I shall say at this time, for I know you are eager to dispense with this preview and get on with the main feature.

Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k

Chapter 1.

Jupiter Buys a Trunk.

IT ALL STARTED because Jupiter Jones read the newspaper.

The Three Investigators - Jupiter, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews - were taking it easy back in Jupe's workshop section of The Jones Salvage Yard. Bob was writing up some notes on their last case. Pete was just enjoying the California morning suns.h.i.+ne.

And Jupiter was reading the paper.

Presently he looked up from its pages.

"Has either of you ever been to an auction?" he asked.

Bob said no. Pete shook his head.

"Neither have I," Jupiter said. "The paper says there's an auction this morning at the Davis Auction Company in Hollywood. They'll be auctioning off to the highest bidder unclaimed luggage from a number of hotels. The paper says there are trunks and suitcases with unknown contents, left behind by people who moved, or couldn't pay their bill, or who just forgot to call for them. I think it might be interesting to visit an auction."

"Why?" Pete asked. "I don't need a suitcase full of somebody's old clothes."

"Neither do I," Bob said. "Let's go swimming."

"We should seek out new experiences," Jupiter said. "Every new experience helps broaden our background as investigators. I'll see if Uncle t.i.tus will let Hans drive us up to Hollywood in the light truck."

Hans, one of two Bavarian brothers who helped in the salvage yard, was free. And so, an hour later, the boys were standing in a large room crowded with people, watching a short, plump auctioneer on a raised platform auction off trunks and suitcases as rapidly as possible. At the moment he had a new-looking suitcase in front of him and was trying to get one more bid on it.

"Going once! Going once!" he shouted. "Going twice! Going twice! .. . Gone! Sold for twelve dollars and fifty cents to the gentleman with the red necktie."

The auctioneer banged his gavel, signifying that the sale was final. Then he turned to see what came next.

"Now we come to lot 98!" he sang out. "A very interesting item, ladies and gentlemen. Interesting and unusual. Hoist it up where everyone can see it, boys."

Two st.u.r.dy workmen lifted a small, old-fas.h.i.+oned trunk onto the platform. Pete stirred restlessly. It was a hot day and the room was stuffy. Some of the men present seemed quite interested in bidding on the unknown contents of the luggage, but Pete couldn't have cared less.

"C'mon, Jupe, let's go!" Pete muttered to his stocky companion.

"Just a little longer," Jupe whispered back. "This looks like an interesting item. I think I'll bid on it."

"On that?" Pete stared at the trunk. "You're crazy."

"Just the same, I think I'll try to buy it. If it's worth anything, we'll all share."

"Worth anything? It's probably full of clothes that went out of style in 1890," Bob said.

The trunk indeed looked old. It was made of wood, with leather straps and leather binding, and had a rounded top. It looked stoutly locked.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the auctioneer shouted, "I invite your attention to this fine trunk. Believe me, folks, they don't make trunks like this one anymore!"

A snicker went through the crowd. It was certainly true no one made trunks like that any more. The trunk could easily have been fifty years old.

"I think it's an old actor's trunk," Jupe whispered to his two companions. "The kind actors touring in plays used to take with them to keep their costumes in."

"One thing we don't need is a bunch of old costumes," Pete muttered back. "For gosh sake, Jupe-"

But the auctioneer was already shouting his sales talk.

"Look at it, ladies and gentlemen, look at it!" he cried. "Not new, not modern, no indeed. But think of it as an antique. Think of it as a fond memento of grandfather's day. And what may be in it?"

He rapped the trunk with his knuckles. It gave off a dull thud.

"Who knows what it holds? It might hold anything. Why, folks, the crown jewels of the former czars of old Russia might be in that trunk. I don't guarantee it, but certainly the possibility can't be denied. Now what am I bid? Give me an offer, someone. Give me an offer."

The crowd was silent. Apparently no one wanted an old trunk. The auctioneer looked annoyed. "Come on, folks!" he implored. "Give me a bid! Let's get this started.

This fine old antique trunk, this precious relic of yesterday, this-"

He was just getting wound up in his spiel when Jupiter Jones took a step forward.

"One dollar!" he called, his voice squeaking slightly with excitement.

"One dollar!" the auctioneer interrupted himself to shout. "I have one dollar from that intelligent-looking young man in the first row. And you know what I'm going to do, folks? I'm going to reward this intelligence by selling it to him for one dollar! Sold!"

And he brought his gavel down hard. The crowd chuckled. No one else wanted the trunk, and the auctioneer wasn't wasting time trying to get any more bids. Now Jupiter Jones was the somewhat surprised owner of one antique trunk, tightly locked, contents unknown.

At that moment, however, there was a stir in the back of the crowd. A woman was trying to push her way through - a little old lady with white hair, an old-fas.h.i.+oned 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 toward 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, pus.h.i.+ng a way through the crowd, Jupe and Pete carried the small trunk toward 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 The Hollywood News 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 stenciled 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: THE THREE INVESTIGATORS.

"We Investigate Anything"

First Investigator - Jupiter Jones - Jupiter Jones Second Investigator - Peter Crenshaw - Peter Crenshaw Records and Research - Bob Andrews - Bob Andrews "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 goodbye 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 toward the street entrance.

Pete was still grumbling.