They told him everything that had happened. The young man listened closely, watching them, and then began to pace the room. His voice was distraught.

  “Stolen! When I was supposed to be keeping an eye on things! My dad will be furious! The statue’s priceless, and besides …” He stopped, and shook his head. “I’m not much interested in the Oriental stuff, so I didn’t particularly look out for the statue, you know? But how could a thief get in here and take it without being seen or leaving a trail? I’ve been busy with my college work, but Stevens should have seen anyone, or Quail—” He turned quickly to the telephone and pressed a button. “Quail?

  Come to the Collection Room.”

  Clay hung up and went on pacing. “You say the thief lost the statue? Then it could be anywhere! My dad’s going to have a fit. He left me in charge a week ago, and he’ll—”

  The door opened, and a man came in. Jim Clay turned. “Ah, Quail! Something terrible—”

  Pete’s eyes widened. “It’s him!”

  Bob and Jupiter froze. It was the thin man in the rimless glasses!

  Jim Clay looked at the newcomer and the boys. “What?” he said, mystified. “Quail is who?”

  “Who is this man, Jim?” Jupiter said slowly.

  “My dad’s literary assistant. Walter Quail. He helps my dad to write articles about his collection. Why?”

  “Because he’s the man we told you about who stopped us from chasing the thief, and who was in the thief’s motel room!” Bob said.

  Jim Clay turned on the assistant. “Quail?”

  “Yes,” Walter Quail said, “it’s true. I observed this strange rat-face little man hanging about the house and grounds. I was suspicious, so I followed him. When those boys told me he was a thief, I continued to follow him. However, I lost him at that motel. I searched the motel room, but found nothing.”

  “So you knew that the Dancing Devil had been stolen?”

  “Stolen!” He seemed startled. The twitch in his left eye became more pronounced.

  Then he looked towards the empty glass case and slowly nodded. “Yes, I knew. I—”

  Jupiter watched Quail, his face alert and puzzled. But Jim Clay broke in impatiently.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snapped.”Did you tell the police? Or my father?”

  “No, James, I haven’t told the police yet, or anyone,” Quail said, and looked towards the boys. “It could be a very touchy matter, as you know.”

  Young Clay chewed his lip. “Yes, the Chinese.”

  “It could be a large scandal for your father,” Quail said.

  “But we have to do something!” Jim Clay insisted. “Maybe a private detective agency!”

  “I’m not sure they are very trustworthy,” Quail said, “and I know your father wouldn’t want too many people to know.”

  “Jim?” Jupiter said quickly, “We know some private detectives who know all about the Dancing Devil theft already.”

  “What?” the youth said. “Who, Jupiter?”

  “Us!” Bob and Pete cried in unison.

  Jupiter dug a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Clay. The young man and Walter Quail studied it,

  THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

  “We Investigate Anything”

  ? ? ?

  First Investigator — Jupiter Jones

  Second Investigator — Peter Crenshaw

  Records and Research — Bob Andrews

  “We were hired to work on the case by one of the thief’s other victims,” Jupiter said. “But we’ve solved that part.”

  “Child detectives?” Quail sneered.

  “Show him our other card, First!” Pete said hotly.

  Jim Clay read the second card. It said:

  This certifies that the bearer is a Volunteer Junior Assistant Deputy cooperating with the police force of Rocky Beach.

  Any assistance given him will be appreciated.

  Samuel Reynolds,

  Chief of Police

  The tycoon’s son looked up. “It certainly sounds as if you fellows are authentic, and you do know all about this. Time is very important, and if I work with—”

  “Ridiculous, James !” Quail snapped. “Your father—”

  Jupiter said, “We already know where to look next, Jim. We have a solid lead,” and he told the youth about the old hobo.

  “That settles it,” Jim Clay decided. “I’ll go with you, and right now!” He turned to Walter Quail. “Unless you think we should call the police in, Walter?”

  Quail hesitated. “No, James, perhaps you’re right.”

  The prim assistant turned and walked out of the room. Jim Clay grinned, and Jupiter stared after Quail.

  “How long has he worked for your father, Jim?” Jupiter asked.

  “About two years,” Clay said. “You’re not thinking—?”

  “There is often an inside connection,” Jupiter said grimly. “Did you notice how he started to act surprised when you told him the Devil had been stolen? Then changed his mind?”

  “I noticed,” Jim Clay admitted. “It’s funny he just followed the thief without trying to stop him, and why didn’t he call the police?” The tycoon’s son frowned. “Of course, it is a very sensitive matter. My dad would want it kept quiet.”

  “Why?” Jupiter said. “Because the Chinese Government wants the statue returned, and the theft could cause an international incident?”

  “I see you are a good detective,” Clay said. “Yes, the Chinese Communists have wanted their statue back for a long time, but until recently our government didn’t care. But now our government wants to be friends with Red China, so they’ve asked my dad to return the statue. He wanted to keep it — he bought it honestly — but the President personally asked him to give it up. My dad finally agreed. He’s in Washington right now arranging for a Chinese Communist official to come and get it.

  He’s due back any day, and if the Devil isn’t here there could be trouble with China.

  Everyone knows Dad hates to lose it.”

  “Then we’d better get it back,” Jupiter said stoutly.

  “Yes,” Jim Clay said. His eyes narrowed. “Fellows, what did you say the thief looks like?”

  “What?” Jupiter said. “Well, he’s small and thin, with a skinny face—”

  “Like that?” the young man said, pointing to the window.

  A face stared in at the window — a long, lean face with bright, burning eyes, long red hair down to the shoulders, and a sharp, satanic red beard!

  Chapter 12

  The Thief Reappears

  THE DEVILISH RED BEARD split in a grin outside the window.

  “It’s Andy!” Pete cried. “Go around to the door, Andy!” he cried.

  Andy disappeared and was shortly ushered into the Collection Room by the butler.

  “Hi, guys,” he said with a big smile. Then, before Jupe could introduce him to Jim Clay, Andy saw all the Oriental art treasures in the room. “Hey, those look far out!”

  He began to walk around the room. “A real Mongol shaman costume! Look, a Ming vase, and it’s real! A Sung tapestry, a Ch’ing jade lion, a T’ang Buddha! All real!”

  Andy was about twenty-five, tall and handsome. He wore an old fringed Indian-style shirt over torn and patched denims and high moccasins. A guitar was slung over his back, and a huge silver medallion hung on a chain at the open throat of his shirt. It swung as he walked around eagerly studying the collection.

  “Beautiful!” he enthused. “The greatest!”

  Jim Clay blinked at Andy’s clothes and guitar. “You know Oriental art, Mr—?”

  “Call me Andy,” the young wanderer said.

  “Andy has a master’s degree in fine arts,” Jupiter explained.

  “I like to live free,” Andy said, looking at the tycoon’s son. “No house, no car, no furniture, no nine-to-five job. Go where I want, and when I want, to do what I want.”

  He eyed Jim Clay. “You’re H. P. Clay’s son? Your father and I don’t think much alike. How do you think?”

  “My father’s a very successful man!” Jim Clay said.

  “Depends what you call success,” Andy said. “Look at all this beautiful stuff here.

  It’s great to make it, and look at it, but it’s a crime to collect it in a room and hide it.”

  “My dad bought it all fair and square!” Jim Clay snapped.

  “He should give it away — give it back to the people it belongs to,” Andy snapped back. Then he grinned. “But you all didn’t want to see me to hear a lecture. What’s up Jupe?”

  Jupiter told the young wanderer about the old hobo Frankie Bender had seen at the cave.

  “I know him. We call him The Chief,” Andy said. “He always wears the jacket of a chief petty officer in the Navy.”

  “Do you know where he is now?” Jim Clay asked.

  “Maybe,” Andy said, looking at the boys. “What do you want him for?”

  “We’ve been hired—” Bob started to say.

  Jim Clay interrupted him. “Excuse me, but I’d like to talk to you boys privately for a moment.”

  Andy shot an amused look at the tycoon’s son, shrugged, and moved off to browse through the art treasures.

  “Listen,” said Jim quickly to the Investigators. “I wouldn’t tell him about the Dancing Devil. The fewer people who know about the theft, the better.”

  Jupiter frowned. “I don’t think Andy will help us find that hobo unless we give a good reason for wanting him,” he said. “And it might take us days to find the hobo on our own.”

  Jim looked doubtful. “Well, your friend doesn’t seem to have any respect for my dad. Are you sure he can be trusted?”

  “Definitely,” answered Jupe. “And I’m sure he’ll be happy to help us once we tell him the whole story. You heard what he just said about returning art to the people it belongs to!”

  Jim laughed ruefully. “Okay, go ahead and fill him in.”

  Jupiter was right. Andy was eager to help retrieve the stolen statue so that it could go back to China.

  “I guess I spoke too soon about your father,” he admitted to Jim Clay. “Your old man is sure doing one good thing now. You say my hobo friend might have seen that statue last? Okay, let’s go find him!”

  “Is he far away?” Jim Clay asked.

  “Could be far or near,” Andy said. “The Chief moves around just like I do.”

  “Then we can take my station wagon,” Jim said as they went out. “The boys can load their bikes in the back.”

  It was a big Buick estate wagon. Andy directed young Clay to the railroad yards.

  There were hobos around the yard, but The Chief wasn’t among them. They didn’t know where he was. Andy shook his head as they drove on towards the Bird Refuge.

  “We better leave this overpowered chariot out of sight he said. “It makes the guys suspicious, and they won’t talk.”

  Even with the Buick out of sight up the road, none of the hobos at the Bird Refuge knew anything about The Chief.

  Next, they went up the coast to a state beach where transients and drifters gathered in a secluded wooded area beyond the picnic grounds. Andy went alone this time and came back quickly.

  “The Chief may be at the camp near the county dump!”

  Jim drove inland across the freeway and into the foothills where the county dump lay. It was a noisy, smelly area. Giant bulldozers rumbled over piles of refuse, and hundreds of seagulls screamed as they swirled and swooped over the garbage. The hobo camp was across the road from the dump, down in a broad valley full of brush.

  They left the Buick at the top of the valley, and walked down a dirt road to where hobos sat in front of a cluster of rickety shacks. Andy went and spoke to the men. One of them pointed towards the last shack. Andy beckoned to Jim and the boys, and hurried towards the hut at the end. He bent and went in through the low doorway.

  The others followed.

  “Chief?” Andy was saying. “Wake up, old buddy!”

  As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom inside, the boys saw the old man lying on a torn mattress. He had a ragged white beard, wore the jacket of a chief petty officer and cowboy boots, and smiled up at Andy as he opened his eyes. He waved his hand. There was money in it.

  “Little rest, Andy me boy!” he said, closing his eyes again.

  “Chief?” Andy said. “Where’d you get the money?”

  “Share it with you, me boy,” the old man said, his eyes still closed. “Found something. Lucky. Shhhhhhhhhh—!”

  Jim Clay stepped forward, kicking an empty bottle out of the way. “You found a statue in that cave! What did you do with the statue?”

  The Chief’s eyes opened in alarm. He looked scared. Andy patted his shoulder.

  The old man smiled and closed his eyes again.

  “It’s okay, Chief. No one’s going to bother you. We just want to know what you did with the statue. You sold it, right?”

  “Perhaps,” Jupiter said, “a small reward would help?”

  The Chief’s eyes opened. “Reward?”

  “Ten dollars,” Jim Clay said quickly, taking out a ten-dollar bill. “And no trouble.

  Who did you sell the statue to?”

  “Found it. My cave, you know? Last night,” the old man said, nodding to himself.

  “Sold it this morning. The junk shop. You know, Andy boy? The place we sells to.”

  He chuckled. “Fooled old Fritz this time. Gave me twenty bucks!”

  “Twenty dollars?” Jim Clay groaned. “Where is the shop?”

  “Hummer’s Curio Shop at the harbour,” Andy said. “We sell a lot of old things we find to Fritz Hummer.”

  “Reward!” The Chief said, his hand out.

  Jim Clay handed him the ten, then turned towards the low door. “Ask what else he knows! Has anyone else been around? I’ll go and get the car so we don’t waste any more time!”

  As the young man ran out, Andy turned back to The Chief, who was grinning at the new ten-dollar bill in his gnarled hand.

  “Chief? Can you tell us anything else about the statue?”

  “Has anyone else been asking about it?” Jupiter asked.

  The old man shook his head back and forth, then began to blink and search the mattress as if he’d lost something. He saw the ten-dollar bill in his hand, and smiled at it.

  “Think, Chief!”Andy urged. “Anyone looking for you?”

  The old man shook his head, slowly lay back with his eyes shut again, and began to snore. Andy motioned the boys outside. The other hobos glanced curiously at them, then looked away. The station wagon wasn’t in sight yet. Jupiter looked back at the shack thoughtfully.

  “I wonder if the Curio Shop owner had any idea of the statue’s real value?” he said.

  “I doubt it, Jupe,” Andy said. “He sells mostly junk.”

  Then the Buick came bouncing along the dirt road. Andy and the boys piled in, and Jim Clay drove off spurting gravel. He reached the freeway and sped towards the harbour. But once they were off the freeway, he had to slow down drastically. Traffic was heavy in downtown Rocky Beach. The Buick crawled towards the waterfront.

  The Curio Shop turned out to be some distance from the public parking lot. “You fellows better go ahead while I park!” Jim decided. He dropped them at a nearby corner and drove off.

  The Curio Shop was in a row of stores

  with alleys between them leading back to

  the marina. Walking quickly down the

  block, Andy and the boys caught glimpses

  of boats and sparkling water as they passed

  the alleys. A man was standing at the far

  end of the alley next to the Curio Shop.

  Pete glanced at him briefly, then did a

  double take.

  “In the alley! It’s the thief!”

  The Investigators saw the rat-faced

  man peering at them. The small man still

  wore his cape. It billowed out as he turned

  and ran.

  “After him, fellows!” Bob yelled.

  Through the narrow alley between the

  shops, they raced out to the edge of the

  harbour and the marina full of boats.

  “There he is!” Andy spotted him.

  The thief was running along a wooden

  dock that projected perpendicularly from

  the harbour’s edge. He clambered aboard

  a cabin cruiser tied alongside the dock and

  vanished into the enclosed wheelhouse. Andy and the boys ran for the boat. Pete pointed to an open hatch near the bow.

  “I’ll cut him off up forward,” he cried.

  Jupiter, Bob, and Andy leaped on to the boat and ran into the wheelhouse. The thief was nowhere in sight. The door to the cabin below was open.

  “Careful, guys,” Andy warned as they went slowly down the ladder-like stairs.

  In the cabin below they saw no sign of the thief. They moved on into the forward cabin. Pete met them there.

  “He didn’t pass me!” the Second Investigator declared.

  “He’s tricked us!” Jupiter realized. “He’s still up in—”

  There was a loud bang as the door to the wheel-house closed and locked with a click. They whirled towards the forward hatch. It slammed down, and the sound of its being locked echoed through the silence below deck.

  Chapter 13

  The Greedy Fat Man

  UP ON DECK FOOTSTEPS could be heard, and the boat rocked gently as someone leaped off it on to the dock. Silence settled on the yacht. In the locked cabin, the Investigators stood in dismay.

  “Well,” Andy said, shrugging, “he sure suckered us good.”

  “He must have been hiding in the wheelhouse,” Bob said woefully. “In a locker or something. He sure outsmarted us.”

  “Or trapped us,” Jupiter said. “I doubt that he could have hidden so well, small as he is, without knowing ahead of time exactly where to hide. I think he had this operation planned!”

  “Well, he sure left us in a comfortable place,” Andy pointed out. He looked appreciatively around the luxurious cabin. It was a combination living-sleeping cabin at the stern end of the boat. Cushioned benches were built under the portholes on each side. They obviously served for seating during the day and sleeping at night. A table was anchored to the floor in the middle of the cabin with easy chairs around it.

 

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