“Moved!” Pete exclaimed. “Moved where?”

“To Maple Street. That’s about three blocks away, parallel with this street. The houses were in good condition and not too big so instead of being torn down they were moved over to vacant lots along Maple Street and put on new foundations. Mrs. Miller’s house is still around — it’s just in a new location.”

“Good grief!” Bob said. “A travelling house! How can we find it? It won’t be numbered 532 any more. It’ll have a new street number.”

“Well,” Jupiter said, “we can telephone Mrs. Miller and ask her to describe it to us. Then we can go over to Maple Street and look for it.”

“We can’t do that today,” Bob pointed out. “It’s getting too late.”

“Yup, Jupe, got to get back to the yard,” Konrad put in. “We are late now.”

“Well, we’ll do it tomorrow,” Jupiter said. “All right, Konrad, let’s go home.”

Konrad started the motor and pulled away from the kerb. As he did so, a large black car with three very hard-faced men in it also pulled out from the kerb, a block behind them, and followed. They did not notice it, which was just as well for their peace of mind.

It was almost closing time at The Jones Salvage Yard when they got back, and Titus Jones mildly scolded them for being gone so long. Then he turned to Jupiter.

“Jupiter, my boy,” he said, “while you were gone, a package came for you. Were you expecting something?”

“A package?” Jupiter looked surprised. “No, I wasn’t expecting anything. What is it. Uncle Titus?”

“I don’t know, my boy. It’s all wrapped up, a large box, and as it is addressed to you, naturally I didn’t open it. There it is, beside the office door.”

All three boys rushed to the box. It was an over-sized cardboard carton, securely sealed with many strips of heavy brown adhesive paper. The label on it indicated that it had come by express from Los Angeles but did not give the name of the sender.

“Golly, what do you suppose it is?” Pete asked.

“We’ll have to open it to find out,” Jupiter said, puzzled. “Let’s take it back to the workshop and open it there.”

With some difficulty he and Pete carried the box around the piles of second-hand material to the seclusion of the workshop. Jupiter produced his prized Swiss knife with many blades, swiftly cut through the strips of sealing paper, and folded back the top of the carton. Then all three stared with dismay at what was inside.

“Oh, no!” Pete groaned. “Not that!”

It took even Jupiter a moment to find his voice.

“Someone,” he said, “has sent us back Gulliver’s trunk.”

They stared at the top of the trunk that they’d thought they were rid of forever. And as they did so, a very muffled voice spoke.

“Hurry!” it said. “Find — the clue.”

Socrates! Speaking to them from inside the trunk!

“Well, now what?” Pete asked gloomily.

It was quite late the following afternoon, a Saturday. The Three Investigators were gathered at the rear of The Jones Salvage Yard for a consultation. The previous evening they had felt no desire to investigate the riddle of the return of Gulliver’s trunk. Its mysterious reappearance had, indeed, rather shaken them. They had hidden the box behind the printing press and agreed to put off their next move until today.

Bob had just arrived from his job in the local library. Jupiter, in charge of the salvage yard while his aunt and uncle were in Los Angeles for the day, was taking advantage of a lull in business to join him and Pete.

Now they were all looking at the trunk and wondering what to do with it.

“I know what,” Bob said. “Let’s take the trunk right down to Chief Reynolds, tell him everything we know, and let him carry on from there.”

“Good idea!” Pete agreed emphatically. “Well, Jupe, what do you say?”

“I suppose so,” Jupiter said slowly. “Except that we really don’t know too much. We think Spike Neely hid the stolen money in his sister’s house, but we can’t be positive. It’s just a good deduction.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Bob said. “Spike showed up at his sister’s house the same day he stole the money in San Francisco. So he must have had it with him. He was afraid of being caught, so he probably hid it before he left. He thought she’d keep right on living there, so some day when the coast was clear he could come back for it.”

“Besides,” Pete put in, “if he didn’t hide it there, we don’t know where he hid it and couldn’t find it anyway. It’s all we have to go on.”

“Yesterday,” Jupiter said, “Socrates spoke to us.”

“I’ll say he did!” Pete shuddered. “And believe me, I didn’t like it.”

“It was sort of unnerving,” Bob agreed.

“But he did speak to us. At the moment I’m not even trying to figure out how,” Jupiter said. “He told us to hurry and find the clue. So there must be a clue in the trunk even if we haven’t spotted it yet.”

“If there’s a clue in it, Chief Reynolds can have the police laboratory go over it inch by inch,” Pete argued. “Anyway, he may not need it. If he can locate Mrs. Miller’s house on Maple Street, he can get permission to search it and probably find the money anyway.”

“That’s true,” Jupiter agreed. “Well, all right. But first we ought to phone Mrs. Miller to ask her to describe the house, so we can tell the Chief what it looks like.”

“Then let’s do it!” Pete said. “On to Headquarters.”

“Just a moment,” said Jupe. He went out to the front of the salvage yard, so that Hans and Konrad could handle the few customers, then followed Bob and Pete into Tunnel Two.

A minute later they were inside Headquarters. Jupiter looked up Mrs. Miller’s number in the telephone book and very shortly was speaking to her.

“What did my house look like?” Mrs. Miller repeated in some surprise. “Why, my goodness, all you have to do is go to 532 Danville Street and there it is.”

When told that the house had been moved, and that a large apartment house now stood on the spot, she gave a little gasp.

“An apartment house!” she said. “No wonder the man was so anxious to buy it. If I’d known the truth, maybe I’d have asked for more money. Well, anyway, it’s a cute little bungalow with brown shingle siding. Just one storey, but it has a little attic with a round window in front. I can’t tell you anything special about it. It was just a nice, well-built little bungalow.”

“Thank you,” Jupiter said. “I’m sure the authorities will be able to locate it.”

He hung up and looked at his two companions.

“The more I think about it,” he said, “the more I feel sure that the money is hidden in Mrs. Miller’s old house, but in some tricky manner. And I’m sure there’s a clue in the trunk, too.”

“Even if there is, I’m tired of that trunk!” Pete said firmly. “See what happened to Maximilian the Mystic. Now the trunk’s come back to us, and I don’t want it. It’s dangerous. Let Chief Reynolds look for the clue.”

“Well, we did agree to co-operate with Chief Reynolds,” Jupiter said. “So I guess the thing to do is take the trunk to him. We’d better phone to let him know we’re coming.”

He used the telephone again, and in a moment was connected with Police Headquarters.

“Chief Reynolds’ office, Lieutenant Carter speaking,” a crisp, unfamiliar voice answered.

“This is Jupiter Jones. May I speak to the Chief, please?”

“Chief Reynolds is away until tomorrow,” Lieutenant Carter replied curtly. “Try him then.”

“But this may be important,” Jupiter said. “You see, I think we have a clue that —”

“Forget it, kid!” Lieutenant Carter said impatiently. “I’m very busy, and one thing I don’t want is boy wonders in my hair. Maybe the Chief lets you mess around in things sometimes, but personally, I think kids like you should be seen and not heard.”

“But the Chief asked me —” Jupiter began.