He took a torn sheet of paper from his pocket and held it in front of Bob’s face.

“What do these numbers mean?”

“I don’t know,” Bob had to say. “Jupiter didn’t have any idea.”

Mr. Jeeters was looking very ugly. However, he seemed to realize Bob was telling the truth, and so did the others.

“We should have waited,” Carlos said. “But if we had, and these interfering boys had led the police to the hiding place, we could have done nothing about it. The question is, what do we do next?”

“Obviously,” Mr. Jeeters growled, “we need the other messages. If these boys can solve them, so can we. All we have to do is get our hands on the messages and we’re set. Who has them, boy?”

“Jupiter Jones has them put away,” Bob said. “And Jupiter is in bed by now.”

“Well, he’ll just have to get out of bed,” Mr. Jeeters said grimly. “An idea is coming to me. We’ll just have your fat friend bring the messages to us and we’ll all solve them together.”

“How do you propose to get him here?” Carlos asked, looking thoughtful.

“He’s fond of his friend, isn’t he?” Mr. Jeeters asked, gesturing at Bob. “He wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to bring us the messages. Don’t you think so, boy?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Bob said miserably. He had been hoping that when Mr. Jeeters and the others learned he didn’t know anything more about the messages, he and Harry would be released. Now they were planning to get their hands on Jupiter instead!

“I think he will,” Mr. Jeeters said. “We’ll get the same result, only it will take us a little longer. First we have to make sure your parents aren’t worrying about you. You’ll telephone them to say you are spending the night with your friend Jupiter. Then you’ll phone your fat companion and tell him that if he wants to see you again, he’ll have to follow orders without telling anyone.

“Jerry, hand him the telephone!”

The little man picked up the phone that sat on the workbench and thrust it at Bob.

“Take it, kid!”

“I won’t!” refused Bob stubbornly. “I won’t telephone anybody. I’ve told everything I know and — and — ” He swallowed hard, then finished, “And that’s that!”

“Jerry.” Mr. Jeeters glance went to the workbench. “I see a blow-lamp over there. Light it and hand it to me.”

The small man did as requested. In a moment Mr. Jeeters held the blowlamp in his hand, a bright yellow flame hissing from it. He brought it towards Bob, until Bob could feel the heat on his face and had to close his eyes against the brilliant light.

“Now, my boy,” Mr. Jeeters said very softly, “would you rather telephone or would you rather have a blow-lamp haircut? You have five seconds to make up your mind.”

“Jupe, I'm in a bad jam!” Bob’s urgent voice came over the telephone in Headquarters. “I need help.”

“What’s happened, Bob?” Jupiter asked tensely.

“Carlos and Jerry and Mr. Jeeters have me,” said Bob, “and they’ve got Harry, too.”

He went on to recount exactly what had happened. He finished by saying, “They made me call Mom and Dad and tell them I am staying with you tonight. Mr. Jeeters says you can ask your aunt and uncle for permission to come and visit me, and get away without anyone suspecting anything. He says that if you don’t bring the messages to him, without telling anybody, we’ll — well, we’ll pay for it.

“But he swears that if you bring the messages, he’ll let us all go as soon as they get what they want. Jupe, what do you think? Do you think you ought to do what they ask? Maybe you ought to call the police and — ”

Over the phone there was the sound of a slap. Jupiter heard Bob gasp. Then Mr. Jeeter’s voice came on the line.

“You heard your pal,” he said. “If you want to see him again with nothing missing, like a couple of fingers or an ear, you do what I say. You get those messages and be waiting out front of that junkyard in exactly half an hour. I’m sending a van to pick you up. Don’t tell anybody, you get me? That way you’ll be all right in the end.”

“All right, Mr. Jeeters,” Jupiter said. “I shall obey orders to the letter. I will be waiting for your van in half an hour.”

“You’d better,” the man growled. Jupiter hung up very thoughtfully. He was tempted to call Pete, but there was no use involving Pete if it wasn’t necessary. Jupiter decided that probably Mr. Jeeters meant what he had said. If he got the messages and found whatever mysterious object he was looking for, he wouldn’t have any reason not to let them go.

Jupiter put the messages — the two he had solved and the torn one he couldn’t make anything of — in the pocket of his shirt. Then, just before he let himself down into Tunnel Two, he scrawled on a piece of paper, “Look for us in the room of clocks,” and put that on top of the desk. The message was — well, it was just in case. He was pretty sure the room of clocks was the centre of this mystery.

That done, he crawled out through Tunnel Two and started towards Green Gate One. He had just reached it when a dark shadow seemed to detach itself from a pile of junk and move towards him. Jupiter had very quick reactions and he flung himself against Green Gate One, trying to pop through it and get away. But he wasn’t fast enough. A powerful arm went around his chest. A hand closed over his mouth, almost suffocating him. And a voice whispered mockingly in his ear:

“So! We meet again. And this time I think I have the advantage,”

The voice had a slight French accent. Jupiter recognized it instantly. It was Hugenay, the international art thief! The Three Investigators had encountered Hugenay, the debonair, clever European, once before, in an earlier case and Jupiter would never forget him. He still remembered with a little chill the fog-shrouded old graveyard where Hugenay had made him and Pete prisoners.

“I deduce,” Hugenay whispered into his ear, “that you remember me. You know then that I am not a man to be trifled with. If I release you, will you remain quiet for a moment’s conversation? I dislike making threats, but if you do attempt an outcry, I will have to — silence you.”

Jupiter managed to nod his head. Seeming satisfied, Hugenay took his hand from Jupiter’s mouth. By the faint light, Jupiter could just see the man’s face. Hugenay was smiling slightly.

“You seem surprised to see me again,” he said softly. “You should have realized that when half a million dollars in stolen paintings was at stake, Hugenay would not be far off.”

“Stolen paintings?” Jupiter exclaimed. “Is that what we’re all looking for?”

“You didn’t know?” Now Hugenay seemed surprised. “Five wonderful canvases, with a total value of half a million dollars, stolen more than two years ago and lost ever since — that’s what I’m after. Surely you must have known, or why go to so much effort?”

“We were investigating a screaming clock,” Jupiter said. “It led us to some clues and I guessed there was something valuable hidden, but I didn’t know what it was.”

“Oh yes, that clock,” Hugenay answered. “I have been wondering about that clock. I have taken it completely apart — ”

“You’re the one who stole it?” Jupiter asked “It was you who chased Bob and Harry yesterday?”

“Indeed it was,” Hugenay told him. “I also had men following you, but the fools lost you. I got the clock when that officer so obligingly took your friends to the police station and they left it in the parked car outside. But I have taken it completely apart, looking for a clue of some sort hidden in it, possibly engraved upon the works, without finding anything. Now I must know what is in those messages your ingenious organization has recovered.”

“Why should I tell you?” Jupe asked, his boldness returning. “If I yell now, Hans and Konrad will be here in a minute, and they’ll tear you apart.”