“Sure makes you feel appreciated,” said young Tom.
“He was most reticent,” said Jupiter. “No one even knew you existed. Odd. What is even more odd is the fact that there is nothing about The Potter himself in this secret library.”
“Should there be?” said Pete. “He didn’t like getting his name in the papers. Not that I could ever recall.”
“True. And yet the men at Hilltop House yesterday mentioned that accounts of his artistry had appeared in periodicals. When accounts of your artistry appear in periodicals, the normal thing to do is to save the periodicals. Right?”
“Right,” said Bob.
“So we can assume one of two things,” said Jupiter. “Either The Potter does not have even the normal amount of vanity, or there were no accounts in periodicals–except for the photo spread in Westways. And The Potter did not even know of that until Saturday. He was not pleased when he did see it.”
“Meaning?” asked Tom Dobson.
“Meaning that The Potter wanted to keep your existence a secret–and the last thing in the world he wanted for himself was acclaim. Perhaps he had very good reasons. Tom, we do not know why, but we learned last night that the two men who have rented Hilltop House are most interested in your grandfather. They appeared in Rocky Beach almost two months after the Westways spread came out with your grandfather’s photograph. Does this suggest anything to you?”
“It suggests that Grandpa may have been on the run,” said Tom. “But from what?”
“Do you know anything about Lapathia?” asked Jupiter.
“Never heard of it. What is it?”
“It’s a country–a small European country, where a political assassination took place many years ago.”
Tom shrugged. “According to Grandma, my grandfather was from the Ukraine,” he said.
“Have you ever heard the name Azimov?” asked Jupiter.
“Nope.”
“That could not have been your grandfather’s name before he changed it to Potter?”
“No. He had a very long name. Very long. You couldn’t pronounce it.”
Jupiter stood, pulling at his lip.
“He went to a lot of trouble to hide a bunch of old newspapers,” said Tom. “He could have done it much easier, if it was all that important. He could have stuck them in a file with some old bills–you know, like ‘The Purloined Letter’ by Edgar Allan Poe.”
Pete put a hand to the heavy plaque. “That would have made more sense,” he said. “A thing like this in an empty room is bound to attract attention, if you’re looking for attention.”
“And he wasn’t,” said Jupiter. “It was the last thing in the world he wanted.”
Jupiter bent to examine the fireplace beneath the mantel. It was spotless. Obviously no one had ever lighted a fire in it. Jupe went down on his knees and peered inside, looking up. “There is no chimney,” he announced. “The fireplace is a sham.”
“Probably The Potter built it himself,” guessed Bob.
“In that case, why is this little trap here?” said Jupiter. He lifted a small metal flap which had been built into the floor of the fireplace. “When you have a real fireplace, you have one of these to sweep the ashes out. Why put one in a false fireplace, where there will never be ashes?”
Jupiter squeezed his hand into the opening in the brick floor of the fireplace. He touched paper. “There’s something here!” he cried. “An envelope!” He edged it up and out, and let the little metal trap clank shut.
It was a brown manila envelope sealed with a large blob of red wax.
“The other secret library behind the plaque was a decoy,” Jupiter decided. He held up the envelope. “I think the real secret is here. Well, Tom, what do we do now? It belongs to your grandfather, and he is missing and you are our client. What do we do?”
“We open it,” said Tom without hesitation.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” murmured Bob.
Jupiter broke the seal on the envelope.
“Well?” said Tom.
Jupiter took out a single sheet of heavy parchment which had been folded three times. He unfolded it with great care.
“Well, what is it?” asked Tom.
Jupiter frowned. “I don’t know. A certificate of some kind. It looks like a diploma or a degree, except that it’s not big enough.”
The boys crowded around Jupiter. “What kind of language is that?” asked Pete.
Bob shook his head. “Beats me,” he said. “I never saw anything like it before.”
Jupiter went to the window and held the hand-lettered document close to his eyes. “I can only recognize two things,” he announced after a few moments. “One is the seal at the bottom. It is our old friend, the two-headed eagle. The other is a name–it’s Kerenov. Someone at some time conferred some honour on one Alexis Kerenov. Have you ever heard that name, Tom?”
“No,” said Tom. “It couldn’t have been Grandfather. Like I said, his name was real, real long.”
“You recall the name, Bob, don’t you?” said Jupiter.
“You bet I do,” said Bob. “Kerenov was the artisan who created the crown for old Federic Azimov.”
Tom stared from one of them to the other. “Federic Azimov? Who’s he?”
“He was the first king of Lapathia,” Jupiter told him. “He lived 400 years ago.”
Tom Dobson stared at the Investigators. “But what would that have to do with my grandfather?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” said Jupiter, “but we intend to find out.”
13
The Odd Eagle
JUPITER JONES piled the copies of the Belleview newspaper neatly on the shelves in the compartment above the fireplace and swung the panel closed.
“Your mother will be back any minute,” Jupiter said, “and I imagine Chief Reynolds will be with her. I have a strong feeling that we would be doing your grandfather a disservice if we turned the document we found over to the chief. The Three Investigators are following up certain lines of inquiry having to do with Lapathia and the royal family of the Azimovs. Do you agree, Tom, that we should be allowed to continue these until we have real evidence to present to the police?”
Tom scratched his head in bewilderment. “Wherever you are, you’re way ahead of me,” he said. “Okay. You keep the paper–for the time being. What about those newspapers behind the plaque?”
“It is possible that the police will discover the secret compartment,” said Jupiter. “If so, there can be no harm done. I believe that is what the compartment was built for–to draw attention away from the real secret.”
“I sure hope I get to meet my grandfather before all this is over,” said Tom. “He must be a character.”
“It will be an interesting experience,” Jupiter promised him.
Bob looked out of the window. “Here comes Mrs Dobson now,” he reported.
“Chief Reynolds with her?” asked Jupe.
“There’s a squad car right behind her,” said Bob.
“Omigosh! The dishes!” cried Pete.
“Indeed,” said Jupiter Jones, and the boys dashed down the stairs. By the time Mrs Dobson had parked and crossed the yard to the front door, Jupiter was running hot water into the sink, Tom was frantically scraping plates, and Bob stood by with a towel.
“Oh, how nice!” said Mrs Dobson when she saw the activity in the kitchen.
“Delicious breakfast, Mrs Dobson,” said Pete.
Chief Reynolds, followed by Officer Haines, stalked into the kitchen after Mrs Dobson. He ignored the other boys and focused his wrath on Jupiter. “Why didn’t you call me last night?” he demanded.
“Mrs Potter was upset,” said Jupiter.
“And since when are you a member of the Ladies Aid Society?” demanded the chief. “Jupiter Jones, one of these days, you are going to get your fat head knocked clean off.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Jupe.
“Flaming footprints!” snorted the chief. He turned to Haines. “Search the house,” he ordered.
“We did that, Chief,” Jupiter reported. “There wasn’t anyone here.”
“You mind if we do it our way?” said the chief.
“No, sir.”
“And get out, will you?” said the irate police chief. “Go on. Go and play baseball, or whatever it is normal kids do.”
The boys fled to the yard.
“Is he always that grumpy?” Torn asked.
“Only when Jupe doesn’t let him in on things,” said Bob.
“That figures.” Tom sat down on the steps between the two huge urns which were banded with double-headed eagles.
Jupiter frowned at one of the urns.
“What’s your problem?” said Bob.
“One of these eagles has only one head,” said Jupiter, puzzled.
The boys crowded round the urn. It was true. One of the birds in the bright band which decorated the piece was missing a head–the right-hand head. It looked like an ordinary, one-headed creature gazing off to the left.
“Interesting,” said Jupiter.
Bob circled the other vase, examining the band of eagles. “All of these have two heads,” he reported.
“Maybe my grandfather made a mistake,” said Tom.