“And the footsteps . . .” began Tom.
Jupiter held up his hand suddenly. “Listen.”
They were silent. After a moment, “I don’t hear anything,” whispered Tom Dobson.
“Someone came up on to the back porch,” said Jupiter. “They tried the door and then went down again.”
“Oh, good!” said Eloise Dobson. “Let’s yell!”
“Please don’t, Mrs Dobson,” said Bob earnestly. “You see, there isn’t only this Farrier creep. There’s these two real sinister types up at Hilltop House.”
“The Peeping Toms?” said Mrs Dobson.
“I am afraid they are more sinister than that,” Jupiter informed her. “They rented Hilltop House for a definite reason–because it overlooked this house.”
Jupiter motioned for silence. There were footsteps in the hall above.
“Farrier forgot to lock the front door,” whispered Pete.
“This may get more interesting.” Jupiter got up and went to the top of the cellar stairs, where he pressed his ear against the door. He heard, very faintly, a murmur of voices. He held up two fingers, to indicate that two more searchers were among them.
The two men came down the hallway almost as far as the kitchen, then went back again. There were more footsteps on the stairs above. Then a shout, and a sharp crack.
“That was a shot!” said Jupiter.
There was no more shouting, but rumbling voices came muffled to the Dobsons and the Investigators as they waited in the cellar. There were more footsteps on the stairs. Someone stumbled. Then the searchers came into the kitchen and a chair scraped.
“You will sit quietly, and you will not move,” said the voice of General Kaluk.
Jupiter backed a step or two away from the cellar door.
The door swung open, and the bulky figure of the Lapathian general filled the doorway.
“So?” said the general. “My young friend Jones. And Master Andrews. You will come up, please, all of you.”
The Three Investigators and the Dobsons came up into the kitchen. The ceiling light was on, and Eloise Dobson gasped at the sight of Farrier, the jaunty fisherman, sitting in one of The Potter’s straight chairs, pressing a handkerchief against his right wrist. A splash of red showed on his smart white jacket.
“The sight of blood upsets Madame?” asked General Kaluk. “Do not be alarmed. The man is not badly hurt.” He placed a chair for Mrs Dobson and indicated that she should sit down. “I do not approve of violence unless it is necessary,” he told her. “I fired upon this intruder only to prevent his firing upon me.”
Mrs Dobson sat down. “I think we should call the police,” she said shakily. “There’s a call box on the highway. Tom, why don’t you–”
General Kaluk waved her to silence, and the younger Lapathian, Demetrieff, went to stand in the kitchen doorway. He held a gun–an efficient-looking revolver.
“I think, Madame, that we may dismiss this person as being of no importance,” said General Kaluk, nodding towards the wretched Farrier. “I was not aware that he was in the area, or I would have taken steps to see that he did not annoy you.”
“You sound like old friends,” prompted Jupiter. “Or should I say old enemies?”
The general laughed a short, ugly laugh. “Enemies? This creature is not important enough to be an enemy. He is a criminal–an ordinary criminal. A thief!” The general placed a chair for himself and sat down. “You see, Madame, it is my business to know these things. Among my other duties in Lapathia, I supervise the national police. There is a dossier on this person. He calls himself many names–Smith, Farrier, Taliaferro–it is all the same. He steals jewels. You will agree, Madame, that this is a wicked thing to do?”
“Dreadful!” said Eloise Dobson quickly. “But . . . but there are no jewels in this house. What did he . . . why are you here?”
“We saw from our terrace, Madame, that this wicked person seemed to be interfering with you and my young friends, so naturally we came to your assistance.”
“Oh, thank you!” said Mrs Dobson. She bounced up from her chair. “Thank you so much. Now we can call the police and–”
“All in good time, Madame. You will please sit down.”
Mrs Dobson sat down.
“I have neglected to introduce myself,” said the general. “I am Klas Kaluk. And you, Madame?”
“I am Eloise Dobson. Mrs Thomas Dobson. And this is my son, Tom.”
“And you are a friend of Alexis Kerenov?”
Mrs Dobson shook her head. “Never heard of him.”
“He is called The Potter,” said General Kaluk.
“Of course Mrs Dobson’s a friend of Mr Potter,” said Jupiter quickly. “From the Midwest. I told you that.”
The general scowled at Jupiter. “Allow Madame to answer for herself, if you please,” he ordered. He turned back to Mrs Dobson. “You are a friend of the man who is known as The Potter?”
Eloise Dobson looked aside. She had the wary look of an unskilled swimmer who suddenly finds herself in deep water. “Yes,” she said softly, and her face coloured.
General Kaluk smiled. “I think Madame is not telling me the whole truth,” he said. “Bear in mind, if you please, that I am an expert at this sort of game. Now, perhaps Madame would care to tell me how she met the person known as Mr Potter?”
“Well,” said Mrs Dobson, “by . . . by letter. You see, we wrote, and . . .”
“The Potter does a big mail-order business!” said Pete quickly.
“Yeah!” said Bob. “And he mailed stuff to Mrs Dobson, and she wrote and one thing led to another and–”
“Stop that!” the general shouted to Bob. “What nonsense. Do you expect me to believe that? This woman writes letters to an old man who makes pots, and what they have to write to one another is so interesting that she comes to this small village and moves into his house–and on that day he vanishes? I am not a fool!”
“Don’t shout!” cried Eloise Dobson. She was shouting herself. “You have some nerve, barging in here! And I don’t care if this Farrier swiped the royal crown of England. We need to get a doctor for him. He’s . . . he’s bleeding all over the floor!”
The general glanced at Farrier, and at two drops of blood which had dripped on the floor. “Madame is too soft-hearted,” he said to Mrs Dobson. “We will attend to Mr Farrier when we are ready. Now, you will tell me how you became acquainted with Mr Potter.”
“Well, it’s none of your darn business!” cried Mrs Dobson. “But if you have to know–”
“Mrs Dobson, I wouldn’t,” pleaded Jupiter.
“He’s my father!” finished Mrs Dobson triumphantly. “He’s my father, and this is his house and you have no business here. And don’t you dare–”
The general threw back his head and laughed heartily.
“It isn’t funny,” snapped Mrs Dobson.
“Oh, but it is!” chortled the general. He looked up at the younger Lapathian who stood in the doorway. “Demetrieff, we have a real prize. We have the daughter of Alexis Kerenov!”
The general leaned towards Mrs Dobson. “Now, you will tell me what I wish to learn. Then we will attend to Mr Farrier, who is such a worry to you.”
“What is it that you wish to learn?” asked Mrs Dobson.
“There is a certain piece of property–a thing of great value–which belongs to my people,” said the general. “You know that to which I refer?”
Eloise Dobson shook her head.
“She doesn’t know,” said Jupiter Jones urgently. “She doesn’t know anything–nothing about Lapathia–nothing at all!”
“Hold your tongue!” snapped the general. “Madame Dobson, I am waiting!”
“I don’t know,” said Eloise. “Jupiter is right. I don’t know anything. I never heard of any Alexis Kerenov. My father is Alexander Potter!”
“And he did not entrust you with the secret?” demanded the general.
“Secret? What secret?” cried Mrs Dobson.
“Ridiculous!” snorted the general. “He must have told you. It was his duty. And you will tell me–now!”
“But I don’t know anything!” cried Mrs Dobson.
“Demetrieff!” shouted the general, losing his iron control. “She will talk!”
Demetrieff started towards Mrs Dobson.
“Hey!” yelled Tom. “Don’t you touch my mother!”
Demetrieff shoved Tom roughly aside.
“Into the cellar with them!” ordered General Kaluk, “All of them, except this obstinate woman!”
“No you don’t!” yelled Pete. He and Bob launched themselves at the younger man, Pete going for Demetrieff’s gun and Bob headed in a beautiful tackle at the man’s legs.
Demetrieff went down with a loud grunt, and the gun blasted harmlessly towards the ceiling.
That shot was followed by a second thunderous roar. The back door had burst open and The Potter stood there, an ancient and somewhat rusty shotgun in his hand.
“Don’t move!” shouted The Potter.
Jupiter froze halfway between the cellar door and the chair where General Kaluk sat. The general remained where he was, and Pete and Bob sprawled on the floor on top of the fallen Demetrieff.