Only Jupe didn’t have a copy of the book, didn’t know what book it was, and in any case only had half the page and word numbers!

But he had done enough for one night. He put the messages back in the desk and was about to let himself down into Tunnel Two when the phone rang. Surprised, he picked it up.

“Three Investigators, Jupiter Jones speaking,” he said.

“Jupe!” It was Bob’s voice and he sounded scared. “Jupe, I’m in a bad jam. I need help!”

Riding home by himself, Bob did not notice the small van that was following him. But as they came to a block where there were no houses, it speeded up and passed him. It came to a stop and a boy jumped out.

“Bob!” he called.

Bob put on his brakes in surprise. It was Harry, and he looked very upset. Bob jumped off his bicycle and walked it up to Harry.

“What is it, Harry? Something wrong?”

The rear door of the van opened and a small wiry man jumped out.

“There’ll be plenty wrong unless you obey orders,” he growled. “Don’t try to make a break for it.”

“I’m sorry, Bob!” Harry’s face twisted with unhappiness. “They made me stop you. They’ve got Mom locked up back at the house.”

“Never mind the long explanations,” the man snapped. “Just give me your bicycle and climb into the van. Move, now!”

Bob looked around quickly. There was no one on the street to call to for help. And it wouldn’t be any use running — he couldn’t run fast enough to get away.

The man grabbed his bicycle and gave him an impatient shove.

“Get into the van!” he said. “You, Harry, get in with him.”

Bob climbed up into the dark van and Harry followed. The man pushed the bicycle in after them. The rear door slammed and locked. They were prisoners in the van.

“They swore they wouldn’t hurt us, Bob,” Harry said in a low voice. “All they want is information. About the messages and the clock. I couldn’t tell them enough so they came to get it from one of you. They’ve been watching the salvage yard for a chance to grab one of you alone.”

“But who are they?” Bob asked as the van rocked along towards some unknown destination.

“Mr. Jeeters is one of them. There are two others. One is a tall man named Carlos, and the other is the little man you saw. His name is Jerry. He used to be a jockey.”

“Carlos and Gerald!” Bob exclaimed. “They’re the two Pete and Jupiter saw yesterday afternoon, the ones who got part of one message from them.”

“Yes, and that’s stirred them up. They want to know what the message means,” Harry said unhappily. “They’re looking for something valuable and they’re determined to find it. They think we have the clue to where it’s hidden.”

“If we do we don’t know it,” Bob said “Jupe said, though, that he was sure something valuable was involved.”

“Carlos and Jerry came to see Mr. Jeeters this afternoon. They had a long talk. Then they grabbed hold of me and made me tell them everything I knew. Gee, I’m sorry, Bob, but I had to. They’re tough. They said that if I didn’t co-operate in everything they wanted, my mother would suffer for it.”

“You had to do it,” Bob said. “Don’t blame yourself. You say they’ve got your mom locked up?”

“Yes, back at Mr. Hadley’s — that is, Mr. Clock’s — house. They all call him Mr. Clock now. I heard them talking and learned that all the time Mr. Jeeters has been living in the house he’s been hunting for a secret hiding place of some kind. Please promise to tell them everything you know, Bob, so they’ll let us go and Mom will be all right.”

“The trouble is, I don’t know anything,” Bob told him. “That is, we solved one message. But all it said was to see some book, and we haven’t any idea what book. That’s as far as we got.”

“They’ll be awfully angry,” Harry said “They were sure you’d have solved the messages by now. They’ve been checking up, and they think you three guys are pretty smart.”

“Jupe’s the one who’s smart,” Bob sighed. “Maybe if I convince them I don’t know anything they’ll let us go. After all, it won’t do them any good to hold us if we don’t know anything, will it?”

On that hopeful note they fell silent The van rolled along, making occasional turns, but they had no idea in which direction they were going. Finally, after what seemed a long time, it stopped. They heard a big door, like an overhead garage door, roll up. The van moved forward a few feet and stopped again. The door rolled down. Then the back of the van was unlocked and the little man, Jerry, spoke.

“Come on now, climb out, both of you,” he said. “Act nice if you know what’s good for you.” Bob went first, with Harry following. He stepped down on to a concrete floor and looked around him. They were inside a big double garage. The doors were tightly closed and the two windows, one on each side, had shades pulled down over them. A bare light bulb illuminated the place. The van was the only vehicle in the garage, but the other half of it was fitted up as a workshop, with a workbench, a blow-lamp and other tools scattered about.

There were several chairs beside the workbench, and Jerry pointed at them.

“Sit down,” he said with an ugly grin. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

They sat down. Mr. Jeeters, his long face pale and unpleasant in the overhead light, stepped out of the front of the van, followed by the dapper, smiling Carlos.

“A rope round them to hold them securely,” Mr. Jeeters ordered Jerry. “Then we’ll talk.”

Deftly Jerry looped some rope from the workbench round their chests and tied them to the backs of the chairs. Mr. Jeeters drew up another chair, lit a big cigar, and puffed smoke at them.

“I assume Harry has told you what we want?” he asked Bob.

“He said you wanted to know the meaning of the messages,” Bob said, his voice slightly shaky.

“That’s just what we want. Those messages are the clue to the hiding place of something rather valuable,” Mr. Jeeters growled “We know all about how you got them — how you traced the screaming clock to Bert Clock and then to Rex King and tracked down the others with the messages Bert Clock sent them. Now we want to know what the messages say.”

“Personally,” Carlos put in, “I’d like to know the meaning of this nonsense of sending a screaming clock to Rex King, and messages to the others. What was Bert up to?”

“He’s the only one that knows that,” Jerry spoke up. “Bert has a very twisty kind of mind, believe me. He was always great at making a plan, then letting other people carry it out and take the risks. We’ll never know exactly what he was up to until we find him, and he seems to have disappeared without any trace.”

“Jerry’s right,” Mr. Jeeters growled. “No use wondering what Bert was up to. Let’s concentrate on finding the loot. Now boy, no more fooling around. What did those messages say?” Bob swallowed hard.

“Well, the first message,” he said, “was, ‘I suggest you see the book’. That’s all. Just the one line.”

“I suggest you see the book.” Mr. Jeeters gnawed his lip. “All right, what book?”

“I don’t know. The message didn’t say.”

“The second message probably did.” Mr. Jeeters was getting impatient. “What did the second message say?”

“I don’t know,” Bob gulped. “We didn’t work on it. Everybody was tired so we decided to wait until tomorrow.”

“Careful, boy!” Mr. Jeeters said, and his tone was menacing. “Don’t lie to me! I want to know what that second message said!”

“I tell you I don’t know!” Bob answered.

“We didn’t work on it. We were going to tackle it first thing tomorrow.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Carlos suggested.

“Maybe,” Mr. Jeeters agreed darkly. “It’s possible. All right, boy, let’s get on to the third message. The one that’s all numbers. I have part of it, the part that Carlos got from your fat friend.”