The Mystery of the Dancing Devil Read online

  THE MYSTERY

  OF

  THE DANCING DEVIL

  William Arden

  A Word from Alfred Hitchcock

  Greetings, mystery lovers!

  Once again I have been called upon to introduce that trio of formidable young detectives known as The Three Investigators. And again I find myself forced to admit that their latest case is worthy of your attention. Seldom have I heard a tale that possesses greater historical scope than this one—which ranges from the barbarous hordes of the great Genghis Khan to a group of sophisticated modern-day conspirators. And seldom have I encountered a more bizarre case. In the course of reading this story, you will meet the monstrous figure of the Dancing Devil—the eerie sight of which is guaranteed to chill your blood!

  But lest I be carried away, allow me to proceed with the formal introductions.

  Jupiter Jones, the stout First Investigator and mastermind of the junior detective firm, is relentlessly determined in the pursuit of a mystery, no matter where it might lead.

  Pete Crenshaw, the athletic Second Investigator, is more wary of confronting danger, but always dauntless when his help is needed. Bob Andrews, quiet and studious, is in charge of Records and Research, a duty he performs meticulously. All three chaps live not far from Hollywood in Rocky Beach, California, where they maintain a secret headquarters … but you will find out for yourself soon enough. Suffice it to say that the lads’ combined talents have enabled them to solve some very unusual cases indeed.

  And now, if you have the courage to meet the Dancing Devil, you may turn to Chapter One and commence reading.

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK

  Chapter 1

  The Flying Doll

  “YOU’RE DETECTIVES,” the little red-haired girl said eagerly. “You can find Anastasia! I want to hire you!” She held out fifty cents in her grubby hand.

  Pete Crenshaw laughed. “We don’t look for dolls, Winnie.”

  “Our cases are somewhat more important, Winifred,” added Jupiter Jones.

  “Anyway” — Bob Andrews grinned at Pete’s six-year-old neighbour — “I’ll bet you lost your doll right in your house.”

  “Sure.” Pete laughed. “You go home and look some more, Winnie. We have to take my dad’s movie projector to be fixed.”

  The three boys, known throughout Rocky Beach, California, as the junior detective team of The Three Investigators, had been spending the first morning of the spring vacation straightening up the Crenshaw garage. They had just finished, and were about to take Mr. Crenshaw’s movie projector to the repair shop, when Winifred Dalton pushed through the high hedge from next door and requested their help.

  “We’re sorry you lost your doll,” Pete went on, “but my dad wants his projector in a hurry. I’m afraid we’ve got to go right away, Winnie.”

  “I didn’t lose Anastasia! I didn’t,” Winnie cried. “She flew away. She was in her bed in the yard, and she flew away!”

  Jupiter blinked at the girl. “She flew—?”

  “Come on, Winnie,” Pete interrupted, “don’t tell stories. You wouldn’t want my dad to get mad at us.”

  “No,” the small girl said doubtfully, and began to sob. “I’ll never get Anastasia back!”

  “Gee, don’t cry, Winnie,” Bob said. “You’ll find—”

  Jupiter was frowning. “What do you mean about Anastasia flying away?”

  “She did!” Winifred said, brushing away her tears. “I left her in her bed in the yard last night, and when I was going to bed, I looked out the window and saw her fly right up into a tree! My daddy looked for her up there this morning, and she had gone!

  She’ll never come home!”

  “Well,” Jupiter said, “maybe we could take a look.”

  Pete groaned. “We’ve got to take the projector, Jupe.”

  “Dolls don’t just fly, First,” Bob pointed out.

  “No, they don’t,” Jupiter acknowledged. The stocky First Investigator of the trio looked thoughtful. “And that’s precisely why we’re going to have a look at that tree. It won’t take long.”

  Winifred dried her tears and smiled eagerly. “I’ll show you!”

  The boys followed her through the hedge and into the yard next door. The tree was an old avocado that grew near the street, beyond the fence that ran across the front of the property. Thick branches hung low over the Daltons’ yard. Winifred pointed to the ground under a long branch.

  “Anastasia was sleeping right there!”

  The boys searched among the thick leaves and dangling green fruit of the old tree.

  They kicked through the layers of leaves on the ground under it.

  “No doll in this tree,” Pete declared.

  “Nothing on the ground,” Bob reported.

  Jupiter walked around the fence to the street. There he could see that the avocado tree grew out of a narrow flower bed in front of the fence. He walked closer and studied the soft ground in the bed.

  “Fellows!” the stout leader called out.

  Skirting the tree branches, Bob and Pete went to the fence and looked over. Jupiter was pointing down. There, at the base of the tree, were four clear footprints in the flower bed. They looked like sneaker footprints, small and narrow.

  “I’d say,” Jupiter observed slowly, “that someone climbed this tree recently.

  Someone small and wearing sneakers.”

  “Sounds like a kid,” Pete said. “Lots of kids climb the trees around here, Jupe.”

  “That’s true,” Jupiter agreed. “But it’s also possible that someone climbed the tree, crawled out on one of those low branches over the yard, and reached down to grab the doll from the ground!”

  “Gosh!” Bob said. “In the dark, that sure would look like the doll just flew up into the tree!”

  “But,” Pete wondered, “why would anyone want to swipe a kid’s doll?”

  Jupe shrugged and walked back around the fence. Just then a red-headed woman came out of the Daltons’ house. She looked like Winifred, except bigger.

  “Winnie? Peter? What are you doing?”

  “Finding Anastasia, Mom,” Winnie called. “They’re detectives.”

  Mrs. Dalton smiled as she came forward. “Of course, I’d forgotten.” Then she shook her head. “But I’m afraid Anastasia is gone, boys.”

  “You’re sure the doll was stolen, Mrs. Dalton?” Bob said.

  “I wasn’t at first,” Mrs. Dalton said, “but Winnie’s father looked everywhere in the house and yard, and then we talked to the police.”

  “What did the police say?” asked Jupiter.

  “They were very angry. It seems that there was a rash of thefts on this block last night.”

  “Other dolls were stolen?” Jupiter exclaimed.

  “No. No more dolls, but a drill set, some tools, a microscope, and a few more items I forget. Nothing of any great value. Chief Reynolds is sure it’s the work of juvenile vandals.”

  “Some dumb kids think it’s so daring to steal,” Pete said.

  “Until they get caught!” Bob added.

  Jupiter seemed disappointed. “I guess it does sound like kids stealing for kicks.”

  Winnie suddenly began to cry again. “I want Anastasia!”

  “Gee,” Pete said, glancing at his chums, “I guess we could try to find her. We know most of the local kids.”

  “That would be nice of you, boys,” Mrs. Dalton said. “The police are too busy to do much about small thefts.”

  “But I have to hire them, Mom. Like on TV,” Winnie cried, holding out her fifty cents. “Here.”

  Jupiter took the money solemnly. “You’re our client now, Winnie. You stay here at home and wait for our reports. All
right?”

  The small girl nodded happily, and the boys headed back to Pete’s yard. They discussed where to begin their search and, by the time they reached Pete’s driveway, decided to start by asking among their

  schoolmates if any kids had been acting

  funny. Suddenly they heard Pete’s mother

  yelling from behind the house:

  “Get out of my garden! You! What are

  you doing?”

  “Come on!”Pete cried.

  The Investigators raced around behind

  the house just in time to see a strange

  figure with great black wings fly over the

  back fence and vanish! They stared. Pete’s

  mother stood near her garden.

  “Just look at my flowers!” she cried.

  “He trampled them all!”

  But the boys weren’t looking at the

  ruined flowers. They were still staring at

  the fence where the figure had disappeared

  — a figure whose ‘wings’ had been a black

  cape, and whose skinny face, looking back,

  had shown a thick moustache!

  “Wow,” Pete said, “that sure wasn’t

  any kid!”

  Jupiter turned and ran back to the

  garage. The other two boys ran after him. Jupiter pointed to where Mr. Crenshaw’s movie projector had stood in its case.

  “The projector,” Jupiter said. “It’s gone!”

  Chapter 2

  One Mystery Solved

  “SO,” JUPITER SAID, “no one can think of why a thief would want Pete’s father’s projector, Winnie’s doll, and all the other stolen things.” The stout leader paused dramatically. “Then maybe he doesn’t want them!”

  Pete and Bob both gaped at the First Investigator.

  “Then why did—” Bob began.

  “—he steal them?” Pete finished.

  Hours had passed since the small man in the cape has escaped with Mr.

  Crenshaw’s movie projector. The Three Investigators were meeting after dinner in their secret headquarters, an old mobile home trailer hidden under mounds of junk in a corner of The Jones Salvage Yard. Crammed with furniture, files, and homemade detective equipment, the trailer made an efficient base of operations—and a very private one. Jupiter’s Uncle Titus and Aunt Mathilda, Who owned the salvage yard, had long forgotten that the trailer was there. Secret entrances led into it, and a periscope let the boys see out of it. The boys were now gathered inside Headquarters to puzzle over the series of petty thefts on Pete’s block.

  Only one thing was sure—the thefts were not the work of kids. After the man in the cape had vanished that morning, the Investigators had found his footprints in Mrs.

  Crenshaw’s garden. The footprints were exactly the same as those under Winnie Dalton’s avocado tree! But why had the man stolen both a doll and a movie projector?

  “Maybe,” Pete said, “that man is a … a … you know — someone who steals things because he can’t help stealing.”

  “A kleptomaniac,” Bob said.

  “That could be,” Jupiter conceded, “but I don’t think so. A kleptomaniac doesn’t usually sneak around stealing from houses. He grabs things in stores and other public places.”

  “He’s not a kleptomaniac, and he doesn’t want what he’s stealing,” Bob said.

  “Then what’s he doing?”

  “I think,” Jupiter said, “he’s looking for something!”

  Bob and Pete stared at the First Investigator. Confusion and doubt were all over their faces. Bob objected first.

  “But, Jupe,” the Records man of the team said slowly, “if he’s after something, why steal so many different things? I mean, he must know what he wants, and if it’s not anything he’s taken, why did he take them?”

  “He could have terrible eyesight,” Pete suggested.

  Bob groaned at the tall Second Investigator. Pete brought more muscle power than brain power to the group. “He’d have to be blind to mistake a doll and a movie projector for each other!” Bob pointed out.

  “Okay,” Pete said, “it’s not the things, it’s something bidden inside them! He knows it’s hidden, but not exactly where!”

  “As in our Crooked Cat Case,” Jupiter nodded. “But that still leaves the same puzzle—assuming the thief knows what he’s doing, then there must be something the same about all the things he’s stolen. They all must have something in common.”

  “A movie projector and a doll?” asked Bob in disbelief.

  “There must be something,” insisted Jupiter. “Some pattern to everything that was stolen. All we have to do is find it.”

  “Is that all, Jupe?” said Pete, “Winnie’s doll, my dad’s projector, and all the stuff on the list the police gave you when you called?” He picked the list from Jupiter’s desk. “An electric drill kit, a microscope, a barometer, a wood carving set, and a stone-polishing kit. All swiped on my block.”

  As Pete finished reading the list, the three junior detectives looked hopefully at each other. None of them spoke for some time.

  “Well,” Pete said at last, “they’re not all electrical.”

  “And they’re not all instruments,” Bob said.

  “Nor all toys,” Jupiter added, “Or owned by kids.” He pondered. “Maybe all were bought in the same place?”

  Bob shook his head, “Not a barometer and a doll.”

  “And my dad bought his projector years ago in New York,” Pete sighed. “Gee, Jupe, I don’t see anything.”

  “There must be something alike about all of them,” Jupiter insisted again.

  “Something simple. Think, fellows!”

  “They’re all solid,” Pete offered. “I mean, no liquids.”

  “That’s a big help!” declared Bob.

  “No, Records, we have to try everything,” Jupiter said. “All right, they’re all solid objects, Are they all metal? No. All the same colour? No. All—”

  “They’re all small enough to carry,” Bob interrupted.

  Jupiter leaped to his feet, his eyes alight. “Carry? That could be it! Come on, we have to talk to Winnie Dalton.”

  Jupiter was already raising the trap-door in the floor of Headquarters. His fellow Investigators knew better than to ask him what he had in mind. Jupe never stopped for explanations when he was hot on the scent. Pete and Bob followed him through the trap-door into Tunnel Two, a big, long pipe that led under the trailer and mounds of junk to Jupiter’s outdoor workshop. There the boys grabbed their bikes and set off through the dusk for Pete’s block. Jupe led the way, riding straight past Pete’s yard and up the drive of the Daltons’ house next door. Mrs. Dalton answered his ring, with Winifred standing in her pyjamas beside her.

  “You found Anastasia!” the little girl cried.

  “No, not yet.” Jupiter shook his head. “Winnie, you said that Anastasia was in her bed when she flew up into the avocado tree. What kind of bed?”

  “Her own bed,” Winnie said. “She always—”

  “Yes,” Jupiter said impatiently, “but what was the bed like? I mean, it wasn’t exactly a real bed, was it?”

  Mrs. Dalton said, “No, it wasn’t, Jupiter. My husband made it for Winnie from an old carrying case he had.”

  “A black case?” Jupiter said, “Twenty or so inches high? Like a small trunk with a handle on top?”

  “The same as my dad’s projector case!” Pete exclaimed.

  “Why yes, boys,” Mrs. Dalton said. “Just like that.”

  “Thanks.” Jupiter’s eyes blazed. “We’ll be back, Winnie.”

  The Investigators rode their bikes around to Pete’s yard and up into his garage.

  There was just enough light left to see by.

  “Carrying cases!” Bob exulted. “All the stolen stuff must be in black carrying cases, just like Mr. Crenshaw’s projector is!”

  “Yes, Records,” Jupiter said smugly, “That’s the only thing that Winnie’s doll c
ould have in common with the other stolen items. Our thief must be looking for something in a black carrying case!”

  “Gosh,” Pete said, “but what, First?”

  “Well, not a—” Jupiter began.

  A noise came from behind the garage!

  A sharp sound like something hitting wood, a muffled sound like an angry growl, and then the sound of something moving! The boys ran to the single, rear window.

  Outside in the twilight a shape vanished into the thick bushes of Pete’s backyard.

  “The thief!” Pete exclaimed.

  They went out the front of the garage and slipped cautiously round to the rear in the growing darkness. But nothing moved now, and there was no sound. Pete bent down under the rear garage window. He picked up a small object and stared at it.

  “It’s … it’s … an animal’s paw!” Pete stammered Jupiter took the paw. “A wolf’s paw, I’d say— and very old. It could be some kind of amulet, I think. Perhaps a lucky charm.”

  “It was right under the garage window,” Pete said. “Someone was watching us, fellows! Listening! He heard us!”

  “The thief in the cape, I’ll bet,” Bob decided.

  Jupiter shook his head. “No, Records, this man was too tall. Perhaps there’s more than one person after a black case — and whatever’s in it.”

  “And now one of them knows that we know what he’s after,” Pete pointed out grimly.

  “Yes,” Jupiter agreed. His eyes gleamed in the dusk. “He knows, and that’s how we’ll catch him! We’ll make him come to us!”

  “How can we make him—” Pete began, dubiously.

  “He’ll probably keep an eye on this block, and on us, Pete,” Jupiter explained. “So we’ll go around as if we’re looking for the black case—and we’ll find it! We’ll act excited, as if we’re sure we’ve found the right case, and—”

  “A trap!” Bob and Pete exclaimed together.

  Jupiter grinned in the fading twilight, “Yes, a little trap for our thief—or thieves!”

  Chapter 3

  The Trap is Sprung!

  A THIN FOG ROLLED up from the harbour and the dark Pacific Ocean that night.

  The Rocky Beach street was silent. Two solitary street lamps shone eerily in the mist.