“What about Mary Sedlack?” said Jupe.
“She used to work in a livery stable in a place called Sunland,” said Mrs Barron. “She heard about Rancho Valverde from a friend who lives in Santa Maria and she applied for a job. She wants to go to school and become a vet, so it’s to her advantage to live here and put her salary in the bank. She’s never had any credit–never had a charge account or a car loan or anything like that–so there wasn’t any credit rating for her, but Mr Barron checked on her father. He’s all right. He works for a savings and loan company.”
“And what about the people who live in the cottages on the lane?” asked Jupe.
Mrs Barron smiled. “They were all employed by Rancho Valverde before my husband bought the property. Some of them were born right here on the ranch. This is their home.”
She stood up. “It doesn’t seem possible that any of the people who work here could be involved in a hoax,” she said. “Look what they could lose. And what would they gain?”
“Mr Barron is a wealthy man,” said Jupe. “Perhaps there’s a plan afoot to rob him.”
“Rob him of what?” she demanded. “There’s nothing of any great value here. We don’t collect expensive things. There isn’t even a large amount of cash here. My husband keeps his money in a bank, like everyone else. There’s a current account in the Pacific Coast National Bank in Santa Barbara. There’s a safe deposit box there too. My jewellery is in the box, and I suppose Mr Barron has other valuables there, too.”
“Could there be something else?” said Jupiter. “It might be something you’ve overlooked–something you wouldn’t even think was important, but which someone else could want desperately. Or someone might want to trick your husband out of spite.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” said Mrs Barron.
“If the appearance of the spaceship is a hoax,” said Jupe, “then there is a reason for the hoax, no matter how far-fetched the reason may be.”
Mrs Barron sat thinking for a moment, then said, “I can’t imagine what it would be. There simply isn’t anything here. You can see for yourself–”
She stopped short, stared at Jupe, then said, “Why, of course. You can see for yourself!”
“What, Mrs Barron?” asked Jupe.
“Well, you could see our house,” she said. “Everything we have–everything that’s personal, that is–is in the house. Except for my jewellery, of course. Now suppose that after lunch, when Maria, who serves our meals, goes to her own house up the lane to have her siesta, and when my husband goes out to ride about the ranch–he does it every day–suppose you come over and we’ll go through the house together. Something might occur to you. You might see something that I wouldn’t notice.”
“A good idea,” said Jupe.
“My husband would not approve, of course,” said Mrs Barron.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” said Jupe.
“So we won’t say anything about it.”
Jupe grinned. “You can trust us, Mrs Barron,” he said.
“Yes. I believe I can.”
She went out and Jupe leaned back against his pillow. He began pulling at his lower lip, a sure sign that he was deep in thought. His face was grave.
Pete grinned. “The great Sherlock Jones is thinking so hard that I can smell the wood burning,” he said. “Have you reached any conclusions, Sherlock?”
“No,” said Jupe. “I’m only considering a number of bewildering possibilities.”
“Which are?” said Bob.
“That someone is trying to isolate Charles Barron completely for some criminal purpose. He is being cut off from all contact with the outside world so that he can be blackmailed or cheated or held for ransom. Then there is the possibility that someone here on the ranch has a grudge against him and simply wants to torment him and hold him up to ridicule. And then there is the third possibility.”
“What’s that?” asked Pete.
“That our puzzle is intergalactic and we are truly being invaded by people from another world!”
10
Trapped!
THE THREE INVESTIGATORS had their lunch at the long table in the ranch-house kitchen, together with Elsie Spratt, Hank Detweiler, and the rest of Charles Barron’s staff. It was a silent meal, with each one absorbed in his own thoughts. When the refrigerator suddenly started just as Elsie was serving the soup, Bob jumped as if someone had shot him.
“The electricity on again?” said Pete.
“I’ve got the generators going,” said John Aleman.
“Oh, yeah,” said Pete. “I forgot.”
Hank Detweiler looked searchingly at Pete. “Don’t forget that Mr Barron’s given orders about you boys,” he said. “You’re to stay off the meadow. We’ve posted a couple of guards up there to see that you do.”
“What does that mean?” said Elsie. “Is Mr Barron really that worried about the boys, or is he expecting another visit by the people from outer space?”
“Probably a little of both,” said Detweiler. “He figures the flying saucer’s got to come back because they left some of their people here somewhere.”
“The ones who attacked us?” said Jupiter.
Detweiler scowled. “Not sure I believe one thing that’s happened,” he announced. “I’d give a sight to know where that guy in the spacesuit could be–him and his friends.”
“Maybe they went out over the cliffs,” Jupe suggested.
“Could have,” said Detweiler, and he let the subject drop.
The meal continued without further conversation. When they had finished, the Three Investigators excused themselves and went out to sit on the back steps. They were there when Charles Barron slammed out of his house and started up the drive towards the stable.
Barron stopped when he saw the boys. “Don’t you wander off again,” he warned. “If I hear that you’ve been up to the meadow–or anywhere near it–I’ll see that you’re locked up.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jupe.
Barron went on his way, and soon the woman named Maria came out of the big house. She smiled at the boys and walked past them to one of the cottages up the lane.
When Maria was out of sight, Jupe stood and led the way to the front of the big house.
Mrs Barron was waiting on the veranda. There were a number of cast-iron chairs and tables there, white-painted and formal, looking prickly and uncomfortable with their patterns of twisting vines and leaves. Mrs Barron had seated herself on one of the chairs. Her hands were folded primly in her lap, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. Jupe guessed that she regarded the inspection of her own house as an adventure.
The boys had decided that morning that only Jupiter would go through the Barron house with Mrs Barron, and that while Jupe was in the house, Pete and Bob would try to discover what was happening among the soldiers who kept watch on the road.
“I’ll see you later,” said Jupe to his friends, “and you watch it when you get down near that fence.”
“You bet,” said Pete.
Jupe went up the front steps of the Barron house. Mrs Barron rose and went ahead of him into the hall. When Jupe closed the door, the two of them stood for a moment, listening to the grandfather clock that ticked on the stair landing.
“Where do we begin?” said Mrs Barron.
“This is as good a place as any,” said Jupe. He glanced into the formal parlour with its Turkish carpets and velvet chairs and settees. He saw nothing there that any thief could want. He turned away and went into the music room, where there was a baby grand piano, a few little gilt chairs, and some cabinets that held heaps of sheet music and a few children’s drawings.
“My boys did those when they were in primary school,” said Mrs Barron. “I thought they were rather good.”
“Very nice,” said Jupe, privately thinking they were awful. He put the drawings back into the cabinet where he had found them and went on to the dining room. The sideboards there held some sterling silver.
“Silver is valuable,” said Jupe, “but I don’t think your things are worth the trouble of constructing an elaborate hoax. If a thief took your crockery, or your silver coffee service, and then had to fence the things–he wouldn’t get all that much.”
“I suppose not,” said Mrs Barron.
In the kitchen there were cupboards crammed with supplies–preserves and jellies that had been produced at the ranch. The labels were dated and none was more than a year old.
When Jupe finished his inspection of the kitchen, he opened the door that led to the basement. Mrs Barron switched on the light below, and the two went down into a shadowy, dusty place where there was a woodpile and a bin heaped with coal.
“It was just like this in Wisconsin,” said Mrs Barron. She gestured towards the huge old furnace near the coal bin. “Charles wanted it to be the way he remembered it–furnace and all.”