“Miss Adams?” said Jupiter. “Miss Adams, please open the door. My name is Jupiter Jones and I have something important to say to you.”
There was a fumbling with the locks. The door opened a few inches, and a pair of faded blue eyes looked out in sleepy wonder. “Go away,” said Clara Adams. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ring this doorbell? No one rings this doorbell.”
“I have to see Miss Bainbridge,” said Jupiter. “I’m from her publisher.”
“Publisher?” echoed Clara Adams. “I didn’t know that Madeline had a publisher.”
Clara Adams stepped back, letting the door open wide. Her hair straggled around her face and her eyes, which looked full at Jupe, did not really seem to see him.
“Miss Adams?” said Jupe. “Are you all right?”
She blinked sleepily, and the dog growled.
“Could I ask you to shut the dog up someplace?” said Jupe. “He’s . . . he’s making us all nervous.”
Clara Adams took the dog’s collar and, walking unsteadily, led him back to the kitchen, where she shut him in. Then she came back into the hall. “Madeline?” she called. “Where are you, Madeline? Come here, please. There are some boys here to see you.”
Jupe looked around. He saw the living-room, with its austere wooden chairs. He saw the dining-room, and its backless benches. He listened, but he heard no sound except the slow ticking of the clock in the living-room. “This place is like an enchanted castle,” he said. “Nothing moves here, does it? No one comes or goes.”
“Comes or goes?” said Clara Adams in her drowsy, rusty voice. “Who should come? We don’t see anyone any more. Once we were very lively here, but no more. And when Marvin isn’t here . . .” She stopped and seemed to be puzzling something out. “What happens when Marvin isn’t here?” she said. “Hard to remember. He’s always here. Only where is he now?”
“She acts as if she’s been drugged,” Pete whispered to Jupiter.
“She certainly does,” agreed Jupe. He turned to Clara Adams. “Where is Madeline Bainbridge?” he demanded.
Clara Adams waved vaguely, then sat down on a chair and began to doze off.
“Something’s fishy here!” exclaimed Bob.
The three boys searched then, peering into all the rooms on the ground floor. It was Pete who was the first to run up the stairs to the first storey. In a big corner bedroom with windows that looked out towards the sea, he found Madeline Bainbridge. She was lying on a homespun coverlet on a big wooden bed. She wore a long brown gown, and her hands were folded on her bosom. Her face was very quiet. It seemed for an instant that she wasn’t even breathing.
Pete touched her on the shoulder. “Miss Bainbridge?” he said softly.
She didn’t stir. Pete shook her, and called her name again–and again. Jupe’s words went through his mind. An enchanted castle where nothing moved. And here was the sleeping beauty in the castle.
But why didn’t she wake? Why didn’t she answer him?
“Jupe!” shouted Pete. “Bob! Come quick! I found Madeline Bainbridge, but I’m . . . I’m not sure I found her in time!”
17
Conspiracy!
“MAYBE WE’D BETTER phone for an ambulance,” said Bob.
“Hold it,” said Pete. “She’s coming round.”
Madeline Bainbridge made a small, protesting sound. Then she opened her eyes, which were glazed and blurry with sleep.
“Miss Bainbridge, I made some coffee,” said Bob. “Try to sit up and drink some.”
“Madeline, dear!” Clara Adams sat down on the bed, holding her own cup of coffee. “Do wake up. These young men seem so concerned. I don’t understand it, but they say Marvin gave us something to make us sleep.”
The actress pulled herself up so that she was sitting on the bed. In a dazed fashion she took the cup of coffee that Bob held out to her. She sipped a little, making a wry face as she did so. “Who are you?” she said groggily to the boys. “What are you doing here?”
“Drink your coffee and we’ll tell you,” said Jupiter. “You need to be awake to hear our story.”
When Madeline Bainbridge looked more alert, Jupiter started explaining. “We work for Beefy Tremayne,” he said. “We’re trying to help him find your manuscript.”
“My manuscript?” said Madeline Bainbridge. “What manuscript? I don’t understand.”
“Your memoirs, Miss Bainbridge,” said Jupe.
“My memoirs? But I haven’t finished my memoirs. Why, I know you boys! You’re the ones who came down the hill the other night when we were having our . . . our . . .”
“You were celebrating the Sabbat,” said Jupiter. “We know all about it, Miss Bainbridge.”
Jupe then held out a pill bottle to the actress. “We found this in the bathroom off the back bedroom. It’s sleeping medicine of some sort. We think Marvin Gray put it in something you ate or drank to make sure you wouldn’t answer the door or the telephone while he was away.”
The actress looked at the little vial. “Drank?” she said. “We drank some tea that Marvin made for us.”
“Has it happened before, do you think?” asked Bob.
“Several days ago I fell sound asleep in the middle of the afternoon. It was very odd. Clara slept all afternoon, too.”
“Probably the afternoon Gray brought the manuscript in to Beefy Tremayne,” said Jupe.
“You keep prattling on about a manuscript, and about a person named Beefy Tremayne,” said Madeline Bainbridge. Her voice was strong and assured now. “What exactly are you talking about?”
Jupiter told her then, with Bob and Pete chiming in from time to time to add details. The boys told of Gray’s delivery of the memoirs to Amigos Press. They told about the fire at the publishing house, and about the theft of the manuscript from the Tremayne apartment.
“Your signature is on the contract for the publication of your memoirs,” said Jupiter. “A forgery, I presume.”
“Certainly,” said Madeline Bainbridge. “I never signed a contract. And my memoirs are still here in this house. I worked on them only last night. Look in that big chest at the foot of the bed.”
Pete opened the chest and the boys looked. There was a thick heap of papers, all handwritten.
“Marvin Gray must have copied them by hand,” said Bob. “Then he delivered the copy to Beefy Tremayne. And then what? Did he arrange to have it stolen, perhaps by Charles Goodfellow?”
“Goodfellow?” said Madeline Bainbridge. “Don’t tell me that little thief is still in town!”
“So you know Goodfellow is a thief,” said Jupe.
“I know he was one. I caught him trying to take a diamond necklace out of my dressing-room on the set of Catherine the Great. I was going to call the police, but he persuaded me he’d never do anything like that again. Then later I found out he’d been going through the women’s purses while we were filming The Salem Story.”
“A real sneak thief,” said Bob. “Did you put anything about that in your memoirs?”
“I may have. I think I did mention it.”
“That would have given him a motive. Even though he wasn’t using the same name,, he might be afraid he’d be found out. And with the theft of the films from the laboratory–”
“What films?” said Madeline Bainbridge.
“Your pictures that were sold to Video Enterprises,” said Jupe. “Did you know that the negatives of all your films had been sold to television, or is that something that Marvin Gray engineered while you were asleep, too?”
“Oh, no! I knew all about the sale of the films. Marvin handled the negotiations, and I signed a contract. But you say the films were stolen?”
“They were, from a laboratory next door to Amigos Press, just before the fire started. They’re being held for ransom. No doubt they’re safe enough, and no doubt the ransom will be paid. Did you know that Jefferson Long came out here the night of the theft to interview you? He does a TV series on law and order.”
“No!” exclaimed Madeline Bainbridge. “Is that who was here? Marvin just told me that he had some business clients coming by. I stayed out of the way, as usual. I pay Marvin to deal with the outside world.”
“You were keeping out of sight the next afternoon, too, when Beefy and I came here,” said Jupe. He shook his head. “Miss Bainbridge, you’ve put yourself into a dangerous position, having no contact at all with anyone outside this house.”
The actress sighed. “I let Marvin handle everything for me. It begins to look as if he handled it too well, doesn’t it?”
“He must intend to swindle you out of the advance from Amigos Press for your manuscript,” said Jupiter.
“That scoundrel?” said the actress. “I can’t believe it!” Then she stopped and thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said, “I can believe it. He was always greedy. But to think he’s been deliberately withholding information and using drugs on me! Ugh! It’s horrible!”