“Hold it, hold it!” interrupted the voice of the distant Hugo. “That won’t be necessary. The big guy is going back into the patio. The truck is unguarded. Frank and I are on our way.”

The walkie-talkie was silent. Inwardly, Jupiter groaned. Just as Bob had regained Octavian, they were going to lose the bust again!

Hans walked back into the patio. Bob and Liz were still talking, or at

east Liz was talking and Bob was answering when she gave him a chance. “Look, don’t you ever need a girl operative?” Liz was asking eagerly. “I’m sure you must on some of your investigations. There are times when a girl would be a big help. You could call on me. I’m a terrific actress. I can use make-up to disguise myself, and I can change my voice and — ”

“Excuse, Bob,” Hans rumbled. “Just to remind you, Mrs. Mathilda said not to stay away with the truck too long.”

“Oh, sure, Hans!” Bob exclaimed. “Sorry, Liz, I’ve got to go. Maybe we might need a girl operative some time. If we do, I’ll call you.”

“Here’s my telephone number.” Liz was following him, scribbling on a card in her hand as she walked. “There. Liz Logan, that’s the name. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Golly, I can hardly wait to take part in a real investigation!”

Bob took the card and climbed into the truck beside Hans, not even noticing the blue sedan that passed them. He was thinking that Liz seemed like a pretty nice sort, and maybe a girl could help them sometime. It was true Jupiter had little use for girls, but if the right occasion ever arose, he’d suggest they call Liz Logan.

She waved good-bye and he waved back, not even glancing into the back of the truck. He and Hans headed back for the salvage yard, unaware that they had lost Octavian almost as soon as they had recovered him.

Jupiter knew, though. The walkie-talkie began to crackle and then speak. He heard Hugo’s voice.

“Got it!” Hugo was saying. “The big lug went inside the patio and Frank and I grabbed that box from the truck the second he was out of sight. I don’t think they even know it’s gone.”

“Good work!” Joe snapped back. “Take it to the hideout and don’t open it until we get there. Over and out.”

“Roger. Over and out.”

The walkie-talkie was silent. Joe gave Jupiter Jones a one-sided grin.

“Well, kid, I guess that does it,” he said. “We’ve got the stone. So we don’t have to question you any more. But just to be on the safe side, we’re going to leave you three kids safe here until we’ve got the stone and covered our tracks. Don’t worry, we’ll phone your buddy to come and get you — but later, maybe tonight.”

He and his companion went out the kitchen door, taking Mr. Jackson with them. Mr. Jackson gave Jupiter a last long glance, as if to say he was sorry he couldn’t help. Then all three got into a car that had been out of sight behind the house and drove away.

As soon as they were gone, Jupiter raised his voice.

“Pete! Gus! Can you hear me?”

“Is that you, Jupe?” Pete’s muffled voice came from beneath him. “What’s up? Can you let us out of here? The batteries in the light are going dead!”

“Sorry, Second,” Jupe called back. “I’m in a fix myself. I’m wrapped up like a mummy. We’re stuck here and the Black Moustache gang has Octavian.”

JUPITER sat tied tightly to the chair and pondered. In stories, when someone was tied up there was always a convenient way to get loose. You could find an old knife and saw the ropes against the blade to cut them. Or there was a piece of broken glass that could be used the same way. There was always something.

But he had nothing. Oh, there was his knife, all right. It was lying on the window-sill. But he couldn’t reach it. If he could have reached it, he couldn’t have got it open. If he could have got it open, he couldn’t have sawed the ropes against the blade because his arms were tied separately to the arms of the chair.

Jupiter sat and thought, trying to figure out some way to get loose. He wasn’t exactly afraid of starving to death, because someone would come eventually, but it might take a long time.

Underneath him he heard bumps and thumps. Pete and Gus were flinging themselves against the bolted door, trying to break loose. Presently he heard their voices.

“Hey, Jupe, Jupe! Can you hear me?”

“Very clearly, Second,” Jupiter answered loudly. “What success?”

“None. This door is solid. All we’ve done is bruise our shoulders, Say, it’s awful dark down here.”

“Have patience, Second. I’m trying to think of some way to escape.”

“Okay, First. But think fast! I think there are rats down here.”

Jupiter bit his lip to help his thinking processes. He wriggled impatiently in his chair. It creaked and groaned as he shifted his weight around.

Outside the kitchen window he could see time passing. It was as if he watched a clock. The tall, thin peak on the west side of the canyon threw a shadow across the lawn, and he could almost see that shadow grow longer and longer as the sun moved down in the west.

He moved some more, testing his bonds. They were tight, but the chair creaked and groaned again.

Then an electric light bulb seemed to go off in Jupiter’s brain. Once he had sat on a creaky old chair and it had collapsed under his weight. If he could make this chair collapse —

He began to fling his body back and forth as violently as he could. The back of the chair moved. The arms wobbled. But they refused to break apart. Deliberately he threw himself sideways. He fell over with a thump on the floor. A leg of the chair splintered — the one his right leg was tied too.

He kicked hard and the leg of the chair slid out of the ropes, leaving them loose around his own leg. He had one leg free! Now he used this leg to lift himself up and slam the back of the chair to the floor again. He rolled over and put his full weight on the loose arms of the chair. They groaned, and the left arm pulled loose from the back. He jerked again and the whole chair arm came free.

Now he could reach over to move the right arm back and forth. As he struggled with the chair, thumping and bumping on the floor, Pete’s alarmed voice came up from the cellar.

“Jupe! What’s wrong? Are you in a fight or something?”

“I am fighting an enraged chair,” Jupe puffed back. “And I think I’m winning. Give me another couple of minutes.”

He strained, pushed, kicked. Now the chair was almost apart. Back, seat, arms, legs — all separated from each other. Most of the chair parts were still tied to him, but they were loose. He could crawl to the window, get his knife now, get it open. He could move his right arm enough to saw the ropes that tied the pieces of chair to his other arm. In a minute more he was able to stand up and kick himself free from the ropes and the broken chair.

With a feeling of triumph he stretched his aching muscles.

“It’s all right, Second!” he called out. “I’m coming now.”

Stairs from the kitchen led down to the cellar. He unbolted the wooden door. Pete and Gus blinked up at him in the light that came down the stairs.

“Gosh!” Pete said fervently as they came up. “I’m glad to see you, Jupe. How’d you get loose?”

“It was merely a case of mind over matter,” Jupiter said, somewhat loftily. “Now we’d better get away from here. I don’t expect Joe and his friend to come back yet, but they might. In any case, we want to get back to the salvage yard. Bob recovered the bust of Octavian — ”

“He did? Terrific!” Pete exclaimed.

“That’s very good news!” Gus chimed in.

“But the Black Moustache gang got it away again,” Jupiter finished. “I’ll tell you all about it as we ride home.”

They scrambled out of the house and found their bikes. In a moment they were pedalling back towards Rocky Beach. As they rode, Jupiter told them all that had happened while they were locked in the cellar, ending with how Bob had apparently recovered Octavian, and how the Black Moustaches had taken it from him.