Jupe put aside the chequebook, frowning. He had seen nothing to indicate that Barron was interested in stamps. And Mrs Barron had said that she and her husband weren’t collectors of any sort.
In addition to the chequebooks, there were papers in the desk–statements from a brokerage firm that had an office on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. They had sold several million dollars’ worth of securities for Barron over a period of eight months. Among the statements there was not a single notification that Barron had purchased any new securities. He had sold and sold and the brokers had forwarded cheques to him following each sale.
Jupe put the brokers’ statements back where he had found them and began to leaf through another stack of papers. These were invoices and notes, and again they had to do with purchases that Barron had made for the ranch. Jupe was impressed again with the enormous amounts Barron had spent on his fortress. The bill for lawn furniture alone was enough to furnish most homes from attic to cellar.
Jupe smiled at that particular invoice. It was for forty-three cast-iron chairs, Swedish ivy design, ten tables, same design, all to be made to Mr Barron’s specifications as discussed, and to be delivered to Rancho Valverde within ninety days.
It was typical of the millionaire, Jupe supposed, that he had had lawn furniture made to order when he could have purchased it at almost any patio shop. But Charles Barron was used to having things exactly as he wanted them. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the designs or the craftsmanship of the furniture in patio shops.
Jupiter put the invoices back in place, closed the roll top, and locked the desk. He sat for a moment, bothered by a small, nagging feeling that he had seen something important. While he was trying to think what it could be that pricked at the edge of his consciousness, he heard a sound below.
Someone had opened the kitchen door and come into the house. Someone was walking across the kitchen. The tread was heavy. It was not Mrs Barron coming back.
Jupe came to his feet, took one soundless step, and knelt to put the keys into the compartment in the floor. He closed the loose floorboard over the hidden place and pulled the rug over the board.
The footsteps below sounded in the dining room and then in the hall.
Jupe looked around frantically. The footsteps were coming up the front stairs. There was no time for Jupe to get through the hall to the back stairs without being seen. Jupe was trapped!
11
Bob Takes a Chance
AFTER JUPE LEFT THEM, Bob and Pete hiked down through the citrus groves to the fence that ran along the southern edge of Barron’s property. The boys crouched behind the thick hedge of oleanders that grew near the fence and looked out at the road.
A tent had been put up in the wilderness area across the road from the gate of the ranch. Two men in uniform lounged on the ground in front of the tent and sipped something from tin cups. They resolutely ignored the ranch hand who was guarding the gate. He in turn ignored them. He was leaning against a gatepost and holding a rifle. His back was to the boys, who were hiding to the west of the gate.
Pete nudged Bob and pointed to a bulky piece of equipment that hung on a tree near the soldiers’ tent.
“What is it?” whispered Bob.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a field telephone,” said Pete.
As if to confirm this opinion, there was a tinny, jangling sound. One of the men got up and went to the tree. He took a receiver from a hook and spoke, saying something the boys could not hear.
“How about that!” murmured Bob. “And they told Mr Barron their telephone wasn’t working.”
Bob strained to hear the conversation that was going on, but the campsite was too far away. He could catch only an occasional word or two. After a few minutes the soldier hung the receiver back in its place and said something to his companion. They both laughed, then grew silent as they watched one of Barron’s men come along from the east, walking between the oleander hedge and the fence.
The man patrolling the fence glanced across the road at the encampment there. He paused to exchange a few words with the man who watched the gate, then he turned and started back the way he had come.
“Hey, we’d better get away from this hedge,” said Pete softly. “I bet another man will come along from the west any second now.”
The boys retreated to a nearby stand of eucalyptus trees. Sure enough, a second sentry on patrol appeared, approaching the gate from the opposite direction. After he left, a jeep drove slowly past the gate. It was headed west and it did not stop at the camp. The two men in the vehicle ignored Barron’s guard, and the guard did not even glance at them.
“The two sides sure aren’t talking to one another,” said Pete.
“I’d give a lot to know what they’re saying to each other over in that camp,” said Bob. He looked at the fence in a calculating way, then stared up and down the road.
“I’m going over the fence,” he said suddenly.
“Huh?” Pete gaped at his friend in surprise.
“I said I’m going over the fence.” Bob pointed. “Look down there. There’s a bend in the road so that the guard at the gate won’t be able to see me and neither will the soldiers. The sentry on this side should be out of sight by now. And the trees grow close to the fence there, so even if one of Mr Barron’s men is up on the cliffs watching, he won’t spot me.”
Pete looked doubtful. Bob was the smallest of the Three Investigators, and he was better at research than he was at feats involving physical effort. Pete was the strong, agile one, but he hated taking unnecessary risks.
“If I can cross the road and get into the woods without being seen,” Bob said, “I can work my way behind the camp. Then I can come in close enough to hear what those guys are saying.”
“Hey, Bob, suppose they catch you spying on them?” said Pete. “They could get rough.”
“I’ll yell if they do,” promised Bob, “and then you get the guard at the gate to come across the road with his rifle and rescue me. I’ll get into trouble with Mr Barron, but I don’t suppose he will murder me.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Pete.
“Jupe would spy on the camp if he were here,” said Bob. He then darted forward to the oleander hedge and, keeping low so as not to be seen from the gate, ran along behind the bushes.
When he reached the place where several eucalyptus trees crowded close to the fence, Bob stood straight and peered out over the bushes. He could not see the gate or the camp when he looked to the left. When he looked to the right, he saw only the empty road. There were no sentries in sight.
Bob slipped through the oleanders and began to scale the fence. Once he started to climb, he did not look around. He got over the fence as quickly as he could and jumped to the ground on the far side.
The road was still empty when he trotted across to take cover in the wilderness area. A little way into the scrub growth, he found a dry gully that ran almost parallel to the road. He let himself down into this and began to move silently along on the sandy earth.
After a few minutes he paused and listened. He could hear men talking and he judged that he was almost directly behind the soldiers’ camp. He climbed cautiously out of the gully and found himself atop a small, brush-covered hill that rose behind the tent. Lying face down for a moment, he listened.
The voices of the men were still indistinct murmurs. Bob could not make out the words. He lifted himself to his hands and knees and peeked over the tops of manzanita bushes. There was plenty of cover on the hillside, and Bob decided that he could get closer if he was careful not to make a sound.
He felt himself tremble as he started down the hill, but he forced himself to move slowly. Inch by inch he went, creeping, watching where he put his hands and how he moved his legs, careful not to disturb a pebble or cause a twig to snap.
“Old geezers!” said one of the men. The words were clear now, and Bob stopped his painful descent of the hill.
“I get a kick out of it,” said the second man. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”