Joe spun round. “The walkie-talkie!” he exclaimed. “Charlie, get it. That must be Hugo. Maybe there’s action at the other end.”

Charlie ran out of the room. Jupiter scarcely had time to wonder how Hugo could be calling anyone if Three-Dots had used the sword blade on him when Charlie was back.

He was carrying a large portable walkie-talkie, much more powerful than the smaller instruments Jupe had made for himself and Bob and Pete. This was the kind of walkie-talkie that required a licence to use, though obviously Charlie and Joe weren’t worrying about that.

“It’s Hugo, all right,” Charlie said. He pressed a button on the walkie-talkie.

“Hugo,” he said, “Charlie here. Do you read me? Come in. Come in.”

He released the button and the walkie-talkie hummed. Then a voice spoke, raspy because of the distance.

“Charlie! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to raise you for ten minutes.”

“We’ve been busy. What do you have to report?”

“Action at this end. The blond kid, the smaller one, just left the salvage yard in one of the trucks, with a yard helper driving. They’re heading for Hollywood. We’re following them.”

Jupiter’s heart leaped. Bob had decided to come look for them. In a little while he and Konrad or Hans would get there and then —

But his hopes were dashed by the next question and answer.

“Are they coming this way ?”

“No, they’re heading into town. They don’t know we’re following them.”

“See where they go,” Charlie instructed. “This may be a break.” He looked across at Joe. “Anything you want to tell Hugo?” he asked.

“Yes! I bet the kid is going after Octavian. He’s got a lead on the statue somehow. Tell Hugo to see if they pick up one of the plaster busts. If they do, he’s to get it away from them any way he can!”

Charlie repeated the message into the walkie-talkie and signed off.

“There,” he said. “That does it. Pretty smart of you, Joe, buying these walkie-talkies. I think they’ve just paid off — big. Now, kid — ” he shoved his grinning face up close to Jupiter’s — “we’ll all just wait and see what happens.”

BOB HAD WAITED as long as he dared for Jupe and Pete to come back. The “ghost” had said to hurry if he wanted to get the bust of Octavian, and here it was late afternoon and no sign of First and Second. Maybe they were following up some new line of investigation, but he couldn’t wait any longer, he finally decided. He would have to handle this himself.

He got permission from Mrs. Jones to use the smaller track, with Hans to drive it. He also wangled five dollars advance pay for future work he would do around the yard. Finally, explaining that a customer wasn’t satisfied with one of the busts but might be willing to exchange it for another, he was allowed to take the bust of Francis Bacon along, too.

Hans lugged it over to the truck and laid it down on a bed of canvas. Bob added a heavy cardboard box and a lot of newspaper to pack around the precious bust of Octavian when they got it. Then they started out.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the address in the outskirts of Hollywood. Their route took them on well-travelled roads through attractive residential sections. There was so much traffic that neither Bob nor Hans noticed that following them was a dark blue sedan with two men in it, both wearing large horn-rimmed glasses and black moustaches.

Presently Hans slowed down and Bob began inspecting the numbers on the houses they passed.

“That’s it!” he yelled after a moment. “Stop here, Hans.”

“You bet,” Hans rumbled.

He pulled the truck to a stop and Bob hopped out. Half a block behind them, the blue sedan stopped, the two occupants watching intently every move they made.

Hans climbed down beside Bob and picked up Francis Bacon. Carrying him under his arm, he followed Bob to the front door.

Bob’s ring was answered by a girl with pretty, freckled features.

“You’re one of The Three Investigators!” she exclaimed, and Bob was pleased at the slight touch of awe in her voice. “And you want my mother’s bust of Octavian for some strange and probably secret reason, don’t you? Come in. I had a simply terrible time keeping her from giving Octavian away and I finally had to tell her it was made of a deadly radioactive plaster and you were security agents coming to get it to keep it from doing any harm.”

All this came out in such a fast burst of words that Bob had a little trouble following it. Hans just blinked. But the girl was already leading them round the house into an attractive tiled patio with a little fountain in the middle. Bob’s heart gave a leap. In one corner stood the bust of Octavian, looking rather silly under a tall rose bush.

A slender woman was clipping the rose bush. She turned, but already the girl was talking.

“Mother, these are The Three Investigators I was telling you about. At least this is one of them and his helper. He’s come to take back Octavian and relieve you of the anxiety of harbouring a dangerous plaster bust.”

“Don’t mind Liz.” The woman smiled. “She lives in a world all her own, full of mysterious spies and sinister criminals. I didn’t believe a word she said about Octavian being radioactive, but he doesn’t look well in the patio and I was going to give him away. I waited for you because Liz said it was very important for you to get him back.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bob said. “Octavian was sort of sold by mistake. If you’d like another bust instead, we’ve brought Francis Bacon along.”

“No,” the woman said. “At first I thought it would be a cute idea to have a bust in the patio, but I see it doesn’t look as well as I expected.”

“Then we’ll refund your money,” Bob said. He dug the five-dollar bill from his pocket and presented it.

“That’s certainly very fair,” the woman said. “Now you can take Octavian away. I think I’ll get an Italian vase to decorate the patio instead.”

“Can you carry both busts, Hans?” Bob asked.

“I got two hands, can carry two busts,” Hans said. “Easy like pie.” He scooped up the precious Octavian and held him under his left arm. “Now what, Bob?”

“We’ll take him out and pack him in the box,” Bob said. “Tie it up tight. Then — ”

“Do you have to go right away?” Liz asked. “I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever met a real investigator, and there are just millions of things I want to ask you.”

“Well — ” Bob hesitated. It was rather fun hearing Liz talk. Besides, if she was so interested in mysteries and investigations...“You go on and pack Octavian, Hans,” he said. “I’ll be right there. Do a good job.”

“Sure thing, Bob,” Hans said. He tramped off with a bust under each arm, leaving Bob talking — or rather listening, for Liz was firing questions at him without waiting for answers.

Hans carefully slid the two busts in the back of the truck and began the thorough packing job Bob had ordered. Every move he made was watched by the two men in the car. The one named Hugo kept up a continuous report to his two accomplices across the hills at Horatio August’s house.

“The big guy is packing the bust now,” he said tensely into the walkie-talkie. “It has to be Octavian — the kid wouldn’t come here for any other bust. He’s still inside the patio. There — the box is all tied up, nice and neat, and the big guy is waiting for the kid to come out.”

Tied to the kitchen chair, Jupiter could hear every word as the two men listened. The one named Joe barked back instructions.

“Get that box off the truck!” he said. “Listen, I have an idea. Stage an accident. Hugo, you walk in front of the truck when it starts up, and pretend it’s hit you. Scream and yell. The man and the boy will hop down to see how badly you’re hurt and — ”