The Mystery of the Shrinking House Read online

  THE MYSTERY

  OF

  THE SHRINKING HOUSE

  William Arden

  A Few Words from Alfred Hitchcock

  When I first met the trio of lads who call themselves The Three Investigators, I foolishly promised to introduce their most interesting cases. Little did I realize how prolific the lads would be! As you will see, I did my best to avoid introducing this case –

  but the boys foiled me. So I will do my duty, and proceed with yet another introduction to The Three Investigators.

  The members of this intrepid junior detective firm are Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews. All three reside in the town of Rocky Beach, California, a few miles from Hollywood. Jupiter is the brains of the firm. Pete provides the brawn. And Bob, the most studious of the three, is in charge of research.

  Together the three lads are a formidable team. They have outwitted the cleverest of crooks and survived the most terrifying situations. In their newest case they are asked to track down the missing possessions of a dead artist. A simple enough assignment – but one that leads them into strange byways of mystery and intrigue.

  Now you know enough to begin reading the story … if you dare.

  You now know all you need to be on your own. I deplore the modern trend towards coddling youth. Therefore you are now urged to read the book for yourself to learn the remainder.

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK

  Chapter 1

  A Figure in Black

  “UNCLE TITUS!” Jupiter Jones cried. “Look over there!”

  The truck from The Jones Salvage Yard had just stopped in the driveway of the old house in Remuda Canyon on the outskirts of Rocky Beach. Jupiter and his friend Pete Crenshaw were sitting in the truck cab with Uncle Titus Jones.

  “What?” Uncle Titus said, startled. “Look where, Jupiter?”

  “There! On the side of the house!”

  Jupiter pointed into the twilight. A black shape seemed to hang halfway up the side of the big old frame house in the canyon.

  “I don’t see a thing, Jupiter Jones,” Uncle Titus said.

  “Gosh,” Pete said, “neither do I, Jupe.”

  Jupiter stared. The figure in black was gone. One minute it had been on the side of the house, then it had disappeared into thin air! Or had it been there at all?

  “I’m sure I saw someone!” Jupiter said. “Someone all in black on the side of the house!”

  Uncle Titus looked dubiously at the big frame house. The canyon walls cast strange, eerie shadows on the isolated house and the small cottage near it. All seemed quiet and peaceful.

  “You probably saw a shadow, Jupe,” said Uncle Titus.

  “Canyon shadows sure play funny tricks,” Pete agreed.

  “No,” Jupiter insisted, “I saw someone all in black, and I think he went into the house through a window!”

  Uncle Titus hesitated. He knew that his stocky nephew had a great deal of imagination, and he hated to raise a false alarm. But he also knew that Jupiter was usually right.

  “All right, come on then,” Uncle Titus said. “We’d better tell Professor Carswell what you saw.”

  The two boys followed Uncle Titus up an overgrown walk to the front door of the big house. It was an old house from the last century, with wooden towers, many peaks and gables, columns holding up the porch, and a massive front door.

  The man who answered their knocking was tall and thin, with very deep shadowed eyes. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket even in July, and carried a thick book in some foreign language.

  “Professor Carswell?” Uncle Titus asked.

  The Professor smiled. “You must be Mr. Jones from the salvage yard. Come in. What I have to sell –”

  Uncle Titus interrupted, “I don’t mean to alarm you, Professor, but my nephew here insists that he saw a figure all in black climbing up the side of your house a moment ago.”

  “Someone climbing up this house?” The Professor blinked at the boys and Uncle Titus. “You must be mistaken.”

  “No, sir,” Jupiter said urgently, “I’m certain of what I saw. Do you have anything valuable a burglar would want?”

  “I’m afraid not, young man. Absolutely nothing,” Professor Carswell said. “Still, if you say you saw something, I’m sure you did. Only I can’t imagine … ah! Of course!

  You must have seen my son up to one of his games. He has a black cowboy outfit, and try as I may I can’t seem to convince Hal that doors are better entrances than windows.”

  Professor Carswell smiled again, and Uncle Titus nodded.

  “Of course, that’s it. I know how boys are, yessir,” the owner of the salvage yard said.

  “How old is your son, sir?” Jupiter asked.

  “A little younger than you, I guess, but taller. As tall as your friend there.” The Professor nodded to Pete.

  “The person I saw was much bigger,” Jupiter said firmly.

  “Ah?” Professor Carswell looked sceptically at Jupiter. “Very well, young man. We’ll see if your burglar is in the house.”

  The Professor led them through the downstairs rooms of the big old house. Many of the rooms were empty and closed off.

  “A professor of languages can’t really afford a house like this these days,” the Professor said sadly. “My ancestors were wealthy ship captains who brought goods here from the East. They built this house. Now only myself and my son remain. A cousin left the place to us a year ago. We closed off most of the rooms in this house, and rented out the old caretaker’s cottage to make ends meet.”

  They found nothing in the downstairs rooms, and went upstairs. Most of the rooms upstairs were also empty, and they saw no sign of an intruder. Jupiter studied all the rooms.

  “There’s not much to steal,” he admitted.

  “You sound disappointed,” said the Professor.

  “Jupe likes mysteries,” Pete said. “Only there sure isn’t any burglar around here.”

  “Professor Carswell’s son isn’t in the house, either,” Jupiter pointed out thoughtfully.

  “I know I saw someone. You called Uncle Titus to sell some items to the salvage yard. Is there something valuable among them?”

  “I wish there were,” Professor Carswell said. “But they’re only what poor old Mr.

  Cameron had when he died a month ago in our cottage. The contents of two suitcases, and some of his amateur paintings. Old Cameron was something of a recluse. He owned little, and couldn’t even pay his rent the last few months. I hope to recover a few dollars by selling his meagre possessions to your uncle.”

  “Recluses sometimes have hidden valuables,” Jupiter said.

  Professor Carswell smiled. “You sound like a detective.”

  “We are detectives!” Pete blurted out. “Show him, Jupe!”

  Jupiter produced a business card, on which was printed: THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

  “We Investigate Anything”

  ? ? ?

  First Investigator — Jupiter Jones

  Second Investigator — Peter Crenshaw

  Records and Research — Bob Andrews

  “Well, well, very impressive,” Professor Carswell said. “I’m quite sorry there is nothing here to investigate, boys. It must have been the canyon shadows you saw.”

  The Professor had hardly stopped speaking when they heard a cry:

  “Help! Help!”

  They all froze. Professor Carswell listened, and suddenly turned pale.

  “Help!” The cry came from outside. “Dad!”

  “That’s my son, Hal!” Professor Carswell exclaimed. “Come on!”

  The Professor ran down the stairs and out the door with the boys and Uncle Titus right behind him. In the
canyon twilight the cry came again – from the small cottage off to their left.

  “Help!”

  Chapter 2

  Jupiter is Right – And Wrong!

  PROFESSOR CARSWELL raced across the lawn of the big house towards the small cottage, with Uncle Titus and Pete close behind him, and the overweight Jupiter puffing in the rear. Breathlessly they ran under the patched porch awning of the cottage and burst into a small living-room. The room was sparsely furnished – and empty!

  “Harold!” Professor Carswell called out in alarm.

  “Dad!” a voice cried. “Help!”

  The voice came from the tiny bedroom of the cottage. Pete and Uncle Titus followed the Professor into it. They saw a narrow bed, a chair, and a large bureau that had been knocked over. A thin boy lay on the floor half under the bureau. Professor Carswell hurried to him.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” the boy said. “I just can’t get out.”

  Together Professor Carswell, Pete and Uncle Titus heaved the heavy bureau off Hal Carswell. The boy stood up and brushed himself off.

  “I heard a noise in here, Dad,” Hal explained, “so I came in to look. There was someone all in black – and masked. When I yelled, he pushed the bureau over on me and ran out the back way!”

  “Jupe was right!” Pete exclaimed. “He did see a man in black – but the man must have been coming out of your house, not going in! Jupe …”

  Pete looked all around the bedroom, and in the small living-room. Jupiter was nowhere in the cottage.

  “Jupiter Jones!” Uncle Titus called out.

  “Gosh,” Pete gulped. “He was right behind us when we ran out of the house. Where could he be?”

  Professor Carswell turned to his son. “You say that would-be burglar ran out the back? Did he have a weapon, Hal?”

  “I didn’t see any –”

  Once again they all froze as a cry broke the twilight outside the cottage.

  “Aggghhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Professor Carswell whirled. “That sounds as if it came from the gorge at the back!

  Maybe someone fell in!”

  “Is it a deep gorge?” Uncle Titus asked nervously.

  “No, but deep enough to injure someone,” Professor Carswell said. “Follow me.”

  The tall Professor quickly led them behind the cottage, where they crashed through the thick brushwood and the trees in the lengthening shadows of the outlying canyon.

  They stopped abruptly at the edge of a narrow, steep-sided gully about ten feet deep. It

  ran across the canyon, curving away out of sight in both directions. Its bottom was strewn with heavy rocks and eroded trees.

  There was no sign of Jupiter or anyone else.

  “Look!” Pete said.

  A dark stain was on some rocks below and to the right. The four of them scrambled down the steep sides to stand over the darkened rocks. Pete touched the stain. It was wet.

  “Blood,” the Second Investigator said, and gulped.

  **

  When Pete and the others had rushed into the cottage earlier, Jupiter had been far behind. He saw the black-garbed figure running from behind the cottage towards the brushwood at the rear of the property.

  The stocky First Investigator realized that no one else had seen the fleeing intruder.

  The man was sure to escape if Jupiter took

  the time to warn the others in the cottage.

  He hesitated for only a second, then turned

  and pursued the running figure.

  Jupiter was unable to get a good look at

  the man before he vanished into the thick

  brush and trees. Panting, the stout First

  Investigator reached the dense underbrush –

  just as he heard the cry ahead. There was a

  crashing, the sound of something sliding

  and falling, and then a loud thud and

  groaning cry.

  Jupiter slipped through the dense

  brushwood to the edge of a narrow gorge. In

  the shadowed gloom at the bottom of the

  steep little gully, the black figure staggered up and limped off along the gorge to the

  right. The man was dragging his left leg.

  Jupiter slid down, and at the bottom of

  the gorge he found blood on some rocks. A

  trail of blood led off to the right. Jupiter followed the trail cautiously. The gulley was

  the perfect place for an ambush if the

  intruder knew he was being followed.

  A car door slammed up ahead, and a car engine started. Jupiter began to run. A little way ahead the gorge came out into the main canyon road, which looped back along the side of the Carswell property before turning in the direction of Rocky Beach. By the time Jupiter reached the road, the rear lights of the car were vanishing towards the town.

  **

  Pete was still staring at the blood on the rocks at the bottom of the gorge when he heard someone coming. Uncle Titus heard it, too.

  “Down, Peter!” he said. “Everyone … !”

  They all crouched in the shadows of the gorge, ready to leap on the intruder.

  Jupiter came around the curve in the gully.

  “Jupe!” Pete cried. “What happened?”

  “I chased the intruder,” Jupiter said, “but I lost him.”

  “Jupiter Jones!” Uncle Titus exploded. “You should know better than to try to capture a thief by yourself!”

  “I didn’t try to capture him, Uncle Titus. I just followed to try to see his face, but it was dark, and he had a car.”

  Professor Carswell shook his head. “I can’t understand what he wanted here. All I can imagine is that he made a mistake. There are wealthy people in these big canyon houses, and he must have simply picked the wrong house. Well, whatever, perhaps we should get to business, Mr. Jones?”

  They all went back to the cottage. Professor Carswell switched on the lights and took two old leather suitcases from the bedroom cupboard. In one were clothes – an old-fashioned dress suit, a grey flannel suit, and several shirts, ties and pairs of socks. In the other were some paints, a stuffed owl, a small statue of Venus, a pair of large binoculars, and a box of silver forks, knives and spoons.

  “Old Joshua acted rough, and never wore anything but a sweat shirt and a pair of old trousers,” Professor Carswell said. “But I could see he was well educated, and he always used his silver when he ate. Yet in the seven months he was here, all he did was sit out on the lawn in our canvas chair and sketch. At night he painted all the time. See?”

  The Professor took a canvas covering off a pile in the corner, revealing twenty paintings. They were all pictures of the cottage and grounds. In some, the cottage was seen from very close-up, while in others it was so far away that all you could see was the striped porch awning with its patches.

  “They’re not bad,” Uncle Titus said. His eyes gleamed as he looked around at the suitcases, the silver cutlery, and the paintings. There was nothing Uncle Titus enjoyed more than buying things to sell in his junkyard. His wife, Jupiter’s Aunt Mathilda, frequently complained about the outlandish items he found. But Uncle Titus was always convinced that a buyer would turn up. Usually he was right.

  “You’re selling all of this?” asked Titus Jones.

  “Yes. The old man died owing me rent,” Professor Carswell said. “He sometimes got money from Europe, so I wrote to that address, but I’ve had no answer. No one has come, and I need the money.”

  While Uncle Titus and the Professor discussed the price, Jupiter looked at the meagre possessions of Joshua Cameron with disappointment. There was nothing at all that looked really valuable.

  “What happened to Mr. Cameron, Hal?” he asked.

  “He just got sick,” Hal Carswell said. “I tried to help him, but he was delirious with fever. Babbled about canvases and zigzags. The doctor came and wanted to move him to a hospital, but Mr. Cameron died first. He was just old and sick.”

  “
Well,” Pete said, “there sure isn’t much in his stuff that a thief would want, Jupe. A mistake, I guess.”

  Jupiter nodded glumly. They loaded Joshua Cameron’s things on to the salvage yard truck and started home along the winding canyon road. As the truck passed the mouth of the gorge, Jupiter frowned.

  “Thieves don’t usually pick a house by mistake,” the stocky First Investigator said thoughtfully.

  “I guess we’ll never know for sure what that man wanted,” Pete said.

  “I suppose not,” Jupiter said, and sighed.

  But both boys were wrong.

  Chapter 3

  A Client Arrives

  ONE AFTERNOON a week later, Jupiter and the third member of The Three Investigators, Bob Andrews, were working in the salvage yard. It was Bob who first saw the long, yellow Mercedes drive into the yard and stop in front of the office.

  A small, elegant man got out of the dazzling car. His grey hair seemed to shine in the late afternoon sun like silver. He wore a white summer suit with a blue silk shirt. He carried a slim black cane, and something glittered in his hand. For a moment he stopped and looked towards the boys. Then he stalked abruptly into the junkyard office.

  Both boys gaped after the elegant little man. Then Jupiter suddenly gulped.

  “I forgot! We’re supposed to be watching the office for Uncle Titus. Come on.”

  The boys hurried towards the office. Just as they reached the yellow Mercedes, the rear door opened and a tall lady with blue-grey hair stepped out. She wore a white silk dress and a simple diamond brooch. She stared down at the boys with regal eyes.

  “I wish to speak with a Mr. Titus Jones. Is he here?”

  “My uncle left me in charge of the yard, ma’am,” Jupiter told the queenly woman.

  “Indeed? Can one so young assume charge?”

  “I think so, ma’am,” Jupiter said firmly.

  “Good.” The lady smiled. “I like confidence, young man.”

  “Besides,” Bob added, grinning at her, “we don’t get many customers after five o’clock, anyway.”

  The lady laughed. “I like honesty, too. And you do have a customer now. My estate manager, Mr. Marechal, is already in your office. I suggest we join him.”