Pete reached back and rapped softly on Prentice’s door. It opened immediately.
“It was Elmquist!” whispered Pete.
The Three Investigators, backed up by Prentice and Charles Niedland, hurried down the stairs.
Sonny Elmquist’s windows remained dark.
“He could have been wandering in his sleep again,” said Pete quietly.
“Nonsense!” declared Jupiter. He rang Elmquist’s bell, waited a second, and then rang it again.
“Elmquist!” he shouted. “Elmquist, open the door! Open it, or I’ll call the police and they’ll break it down.”
The door opened. Elmquist stood there wrapped in a bathrobe, his bare feet and legs showing beneath the robe.
“What?” he said. “I was sleeping. What is it?”
Jupe reached in around the doorway and flipped on an electric switch. A lamp went on, revealing that Elmquist’s black hair was plastered wetly against his head.
“You were in the pool,” Jupiter accused.
“I wasn’t–” Elmquist began a denial, then felt a drop of water run down his face from his hair. “I was just in the shower,” he said.
“No, you were just in the pool,” corrected Jupe. “There are wet footprints leading to your door.”
Elmquist looked down at the evidence and shrugged. “Okay, so I was in the pool. It was a rough day at the market, and a swim makes a guy relax. What of it?”
“Where’s the Carpathian Hound?” cried Prentice. “You scoundrel! You young thief!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” said Elmquist. But his eyes darted sideways, towards his tiny kitchen.
“In one of the cupboards, I imagine,” said Jupiter. “You haven’t had time to hide it anywhere else.”
“You’re out of your mind!” protested Elmquist.
“Mr Prentice,” said Jupiter, “I think you had better call the police. Tell them to come and bring a search warrant.”
“You can’t search this place!” cried Elmquist. “You can’t get a warrant in the middle of the night!”
“Perhaps not,” said Jupe. “Very well, we’ll wait until morning and we’ll get a search warrant then. In the meantime, we will be in the courtyard and you will not be able to leave your apartment without being seen.”
“You can’t do that!” Elmquist was almost shouting. “That’s . . . that’s harassment!”
“I don’t see why,” said Jupe. “There’s no law against our sitting out in the courtyard, where we can’t help seeing if you leave. But why make extra trouble for yourself? Give us the dog now and we won’t have to ask the police to get it.”
Elmquist glared at him for a few seconds, then stepped back out of the doorway.
“It’s in the oven,” he said. His voice was sullen. “I was going to give it back to you, Mr Prentice. Honest.”
Fenton Prentice sniffed. “Were you going to give it back after you got the ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand?” Sonny Elmquist looked truly bewildered. “What ten thousand?”
“You don’t know?” said Jupiter Jones. “You really don’t know about the money?”
Sonny Elmquist stared at them. “I thought Mr Prentice might want to give me a reward, for getting the dog back. But ten thousand dollars?”
Fenton Prentice stepped past Sonny Elmquist and walked to the kitchen. He opened the oven door. The crystal hound was there, the gilt string wrapped around it.
“Mr Prentice, I don’t believe he does know about the money,” said Jupiter. “He isn’t the burglar. He’s only a wanderer who happened to see something in his sleep.”
Sonny Elmquist started and went several shades paler. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“What did you see, Elmquist?” demanded Jupe. “When you fall asleep here with the television on, what do you see?”
Elmquist was shaking now.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “I dream things. I can’t help it, can I, if I dream things?”
“What did you dream?” Jupe persisted.
“I dreamed about a dog, a glass dog. I dreamed that someone came in the dark, late at night, and put the dog into the water. I couldn’t see who it was.”
“I think,” said Jupiter to his friends, “that he’s telling the truth.”
18
The Booby-trapped Ransom
SONNY ELMQUIST’S face looked pinched. “Look, you guys, I got the dog out of the pool for Mr Prentice. I was going to give it to him. Honest I was. And I didn’t steal it in the first place.”
“No,” said Jupe, “you didn’t. You were asleep when the burglary took place. But you did hide the crystal dog once you found it. That doesn’t look very good.”
Charles Niedland leaned against the wall. “Go and get some clothes on and come upstairs,” he ordered. “We want you where we can keep an eye on you.”
Elmquist glared at Niedland. “You have no right to order me around!” he yelled. “You don’t own the building.”
“And you have no right to invade my apartment, in whatever form,” said Fenton Prentice. “You will do as you are told or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for holding stolen property!”
Elmquist turned and slammed into his bedroom. The boys heard closet doors bang open and drawers being pulled out. In a few minutes Elmquist was back, dressed in a black sweater and light pants.
“You will spend the night in my living room, and you will not go to sleep,” said Prentice.
Sonny Elmquist nodded sullenly.
Prentice cradled his crystal hound. “I suppose Jupiter, that you still wish to catch the burglar tonight?”
“If possible–if we haven’t scared him off with our noise.”
Prentice handed the dog over reluctantly, and he and Charles Niedland led Elmquist upstairs. The Investigators replaced the Hound in the pool and resumed their watch from the balcony.
If he had ever planned to retrieve the dog, the burglar did not do so that night. The long, cold, dark hours passed quietly, and at last the dawn came, grey and foggy.
“He wouldn’t really have to get the dog out of the pool,” said Jupe finally. “He’d simply have to collect the money from Mr Prentice and then let him know where the dog was.”
The door behind the boys opened. “Breakfast?” inquired Fenton Prentice. He was dressed as immaculately as ever, and seemed greatly refreshed.
Everyone sat down to eat except Sonny Elmquist. He slouched on a chair in the den and refused either to eat or to talk.
After breakfast, Jupiter found a day-old newspaper and began cutting it into small rectangles–each one about two inches wide and five inches long.
“What are you doing that for?” Bob asked.
“Soon the burglar should tell us when to deliver the ransom. We should have a package of money ready for him,” said Jupe. “Mr Prentice knows where his dog is, so he won’t want to deliver real money.”
“Why deliver anything?” asked Pete.
“Because we want proof of who the burglar is,” said Jupiter. “We’ll treat the package of money with my special ointment. We may not get to see the burglar claim the ransom. But if he picks up my package, he’ll soon have indelible black spots on his hands. Then we’ll have him!”
“You are assuming, of course, that we know him,” said Fenton Prentice.
“Of course we know him,” said Jupe happily. “He is aware of Gwen Chalmers’ fondness for chocolates. He knows that Mrs Bortz does her shopping at four in the morning. He must be a tenant here.”
“Hassell!” exclaimed Pete. “He’s the only one left!”
Jupe smiled and said nothing.
“You know who it is!” said Prentice.
“I know, but I can’t prove it,” Jupe told him. “Not yet. When he tries to collect the ransom, then we’ll have proof!”
Jupe would say no more. When the mail arrived at ten, he had two neat stacks of clipped newspaper piled on the living room table.
The postman left a letter in Fenton Prentice’s mailbox–a typed, unsigned letter.
WRAP THE MONEY IN BROWN PAPER AND LEAVE IT IN THE WASTE-PAPER BASKET AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE PARK AT EXACTLY FIVE THIS AFTERNOON.
The message was on a plain sheet of white bond, and the postmark on the envelope was for the previous day.
“Good!” said Jupe, smiling with satisfaction. He proceeded to dab ointment on the exposed newspaper dollars while Mr Prentice located some brown paper. Then he wrapped the bogus ransom and treated the outside of the package with more ointment.
“There,” he said to Mr Prentice. “At five, simply walk down to the corner and put this package into the waste-paper bin, as the burglar directs. I suggest that you protect your hands from the ointment by wearing old gloves. Of course, you’ll want to contact the police first. They’ll stake out the park, and when the burglar picks up the package, they’ll catch him.”
“Suppose some tramp picks up the package,” said Prentice. “There isn’t any shortage of people who go through rubbish bins.”
“I don’t think the burglar will let that happen,” said Jupe. “He’ll be watching.”
“Aren’t we going to be in at the finish?” demanded Pete.