“I SAY we forget all about The Fiery Eye!” Pete said emphatically. “It’s supposed to have killed at least fifteen men, and I don’t want the score to become fifteen men and four boys.”

“Pete’s right,” Gus said. “I’m not sure I’d want The Fiery Eye even if we could find it. It does seem rather a risky thing to own.”

“Look at what happened to Black Moustache!” Pete exclaimed. “He had it for less than an hour and — zick! They got him!”

Bob didn’t say anything. He was watching Jupe, and Jupe’s face had a stubborn look.

“We haven’t found The Fiery Eye yet,” Jupe said. “So I don’t think we are in any danger. Anyway, not yet.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Pete suggested. “I vote we abandon the case now. All in favour say aye!”

“Aye! Aye! Aye!” The word rang out several times. However, it was spoken by Blackbeard, the trained mynah bird whose cage hung over the desk in Headquarters.

Nobody but Blackbeard voted with Pete. Gus was silent because he was an outsider and Bob was silent because he had faith in Jupiter. Besides, Jupe was awfully hard to outvote and Bob already knew Jupe wanted to keep on with the case.

“Dead men tell no tales!” Blackbeard called out and laughed shrilly.

“Quiet, you!” Pete snapped. “Do you have to rub it in?” He turned to Jupiter. “All right,” he said. “What do we do now? Shouldn’t we phone the police to report what happened to Black Moustache?”

“We have no proof,” Jupiter said. “Without evidence they wouldn’t believe us. Naturally, we’ll tell all we know if Black Moustache is found, though.

“As things now stand, we only have one line of action open to us. We have to try to locate the bust of Octavian, and the only way to do that is to use the Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup. As it is now after seven, most of our friends should be home. I propose we start phoning and get the hookup under way.”

With that decided, they wasted no more time talking. Jupiter called five of his friends, asking them to phone back after ten o’clock the next morning if they knew of Octavian’s whereabouts. Then Bob phoned five of his friends and Pete phoned five of his. When they had finished, they knew all of the fifteen were phoning five more friends, who in turn would phone five more, and so on until hundreds or even thousands of boys and girls in Rocky Beach, Hollywood and Los Angeles had been reached.

As The Three Investigators had used the Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup successfully before, most of those contacted were familiar with the procedure and enjoyed helping in a mystery investigation, even though they didn’t know Jupiter, Pete or Bob personally.

When they had finished telephoning, Jupiter invited Gus to spend the night with him rather than go back to his hotel room in Hollywood, and Gus accepted. Pete and Bob got their bikes and started homeward, riding together the first part of the way.

“Do you think we’ll find this Octavian statue?” Pete asked as they rode.

“If we don’t, somebody is going to be awfully surprised some day,” Bob answered. “I mean, if they put the bust out in the garden and the weather dissolves the plaster, some morning they will come out to find a priceless ruby lying on their lawn.”

“Or if they keep it inside the house, some day it will probably get thrown out and the ruby will go to the junk heap,” Pete observed.

They separated, and Bob rode on home. He found his father looking with annoyance at the telephone.

“I’ve been trying to call the newspaper,” his father said as Bob came in. “And for some reason all the circuits out of Rocky Beach have been constantly busy for the last half-hour. That doesn’t sound possible, but it’s true.”

Bob knew the reason, but he thought it better not to mention that the Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup was in operation. Whenever the hookup was being used, the local telephone business got a big and unexpected boost.

He went on up to bed, but it was quite a while before he could fall asleep. When he did, he had vivid dreams of Indian tribesmen on horseback, all carrying sword-canes.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was well up and he smelled bacon frying downstairs. He scrambled into his clothes, and went downstairs two steps at a time. He found his mother in the kitchen.

“Hi, Mom!” he said. “Any messages from Jupiter?”

“Now, let me think...” His mother put her finger to her chin and pretended to be in deep thought. “There was one. Could it have been, The cow jumped over the moon and the dish ran away with the spoon’?”

Bob frowned. That wasn’t part of the message code Jupiter had worked out. Then he saw his mother smiling and realized she was joking with him. “Aw, Mom!” he said. “What was it really?”

“Now that I think harder,” his mother told him, “it was ‘Rustle and bustle, this is the score. Somebody’s needed to mind the store.’ Now honestly, Robert, couldn’t you boys communicate in ordinary language?” Then she added, “No, I suppose it’s more fun this way. I won’t ask what it means, but something tells me you are all working on another one of your cases.”

“Yes, Mom,” Bob said absent-mindedly as he sat down at the dinner table. “Rustle and bustle” meant to get to the salvage yard as fast as he could, but not on top emergency. “Somebody’s needed to mind the store” meant that Jupiter needed him to stay in Headquarters by the telephone because Jupe had gone off somewhere. Where, Bob wondered, had Jupe gone this morning?

“Well, is that all you’re going to say?” his mother asked, putting a plate of bacon and eggs and toast in front of him. “Just ‘yes, Mom’?”

“Oh, excuse me,” Bob said, his thoughts interrupted. “I mean, yes, we’re on a case. We’re looking for a bust of a Roman emperor named Octavian that got sold by mistake. It belongs to an English boy named Gus and we’re trying to locate it.”

“That’s nice,” his mother said. “Now eat all of your eggs, a bust isn’t going to run away. That’s one thing about statues, they stay put.”

Bob couldn’t tell her that that was the trouble with this bust — it was very elusive. However, he ate his breakfast, then rode as swiftly as he could to the salvage yard. There he found Mrs. Jones in the office and Hans and Konrad busy straightening up around the yard.

“Good morning, Bob,” Mathilda Jones greeted him. “Jupiter and Pete and that English boy rode off on bicycles half an hour ago. Jupiter left a message for you back there where his machinery is.”

Bob hastened back to the workshop section. There was a note propped up on the printing press: Bob: Man the bells. We are on a scouting expedition. First Investigator J. Jones.

“Man the bells” meant to stay by the telephone for any calls from their “ghosts.” But where could Jupe and the others have gone on a scouting expedition, Bob wondered as he crawled through Tunnel Two and let himself into the little office of Headquarters.

He could hear the telephone ringing as he pushed up the trapdoor. His watch said five minutes to ten. Some “ghost” was early in reporting. Bob scrambled the last few feet and grabbed up the phone.

“Three Investigators, Bob Andrews speaking,” he panted.

“Hello,” answered a boy’s voice. “This is Tommy Farrell and maybe I have some information for you. My married sister bought a little statue at The Jones Salvage Yard and she has it out in her garden now.”

“What’s the name of it?” Bob asked eagerly. “Is it Octavian?”

“Gee, I don’t remember. Hang on for a minute while I go and look.”

Bob waited, his heart pounding. Had the Ghost-to-Ghost Hookup been successful so soon? If Tommy Farrell’s sister had Octavian —

Then the boy’s voice spoke again.

“Not Octavian,” he said. “The name is Bismarck. That help any?”

“Thanks a lot, Tommy,” Bob said, disappointed. “But we really need Octavian. We appreciate your calling, though.”