Bob said good-bye to Miss Bennett and cycled home. His mother was just getting dinner, and his father was reading and smoking his pipe. He greeted Bob.
“Hi, son,” he said. “Why so thoughtful? You look as if you were trying to solve some very large problem, Are you boys looking for another lost parrot or something like that?”
“No, Dad,” Bob said. “Right now we’re looking for a missing bust of Augustus of Poland. Do you know who he was?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. But speaking of Augustus reminds me, this is August. Do you know how the month of August got its name?”
Bob didn’t. His father told him, and Bob jumped as if jabbed with a pin. He made a bee-line for the telephone and dialled The Jones Salvage Yard. Mathilda Jones answered and Bob asked for Jupiter.
“I’m sorry, Bob,” Mrs. Jones told him. “Jupiter and the others left half an hour ago in the light truck with Hans. They had to go to Malibu.”
“I’ll be right over and wait for him!” Bob blurted out. “Thank you.”
He hung up, but before he could get out of the door, his mother’s voice brought him back.
“Robert! Dinner is ready. Now you come sit down and eat. Whatever harum-scarum project you’re engaged in, it can wait until you’ve had dinner.”
Reluctantly Bob sat down. This was something Jupe had to know! But he supposed it could wait another hour.
At that moment, Jupiter, Pete and Gus were riding through the Malibu Beach section in search of Mrs. Peterson’s home. They finally stopped in front of a large, attractive stucco dwelling with a spreading well-kept garden.
Jupiter led the way up a path and across a tiled patio to the door. He pressed the bell and after a moment the door opened.
“I’m Jupiter Jones from The Jones Salvage Yard,” Jupe said to the pleasant-faced woman in a summer dress who opened the door. “I’ve come to take back the plaster busts we sold you.”
“Oh yes. They’re over here.”
The woman led the way round a corner, and there were the two busts, one looking much the worse for wear. As Mrs. Peterson had said, Augustus of Poland had lost one ear and his nose, and the rest of him looked rather crumbly. The other, Francis Bacon, had not been washed and looked dusty but intact.
“I’m sorry to have to return them,” the woman said, “but they were sold for garden ornaments, and my husband says our sprinklers would wash them away in no time.”
“That’s perfectly all right, ma’am,” Jupiter said, concealing his delight at getting Augustus back. “Here is your money — we’ll take the busts away now.”
He handed Mrs. Peterson the ten dollars that his aunt had given him, then picked up Augustus and, grunting a little, carried the bust out to the truck. Pete followed with Francis Bacon. They laid the busts carefully on the front seat between Gus and Hans, and climbed on the back of the truck. Then they started back for Rocky Beach.
“Golly, do you suppose The Fiery Eye is in Augustus?” Pete asked Jupe excitedly as they rode.
“I consider there is an excellent chance,” Jupe answered.
“As soon as we get back to the yard, we have to break him open,” Pete said.
“We must wait for Records to return,” Jupiter told him. “He’d be disappointed if we smashed Augustus without him.”
At the salvage yard, Bob was sitting in the office with Mathilda Jones, waiting for the boys to return. On Saturdays the yard stayed open until fairly late, to allow people to come and browse around. Usually a fair number of people were engaged in inspecting the many curious items The Jones Salvage Yard had to offer. This evening, however, only a couple of men were strolling around, looking at old tools and machinery.
A black sedan drove up, and a man got out and came to the door. Bob gulped at the sight of him.
He was a man of average height, with black hair, horn-rimmed glasses and a large black moustache.
Black Moustache! Here!
“Good evening,” Black Moustache said to Mathilda Jones in a hoarse voice, “I’m interested in these handsome and artistic busts you display here.” He turned to look at the five busts that still sat in a row outside the office. “Mmmm — very famous people. Do you have any others?”
“That’s all there are,” Mathilda Jones told him. “And I can’t sell them to you for garden ornaments. I’ve just learned they dissolve if they get too wet. In fact, two are being returned and I suppose the others will be eventually.”
She sounded upset. It always upset Mathilda Jones to give back money. She was big-hearted and generous, but she was also a business woman and liked to make a profit out of the odd things Titus Jones bought.
“Indeed?” Black Moustache sounded interested. “Two are being returned and others may be. I am a collector, and I will buy these five from you for the price you have set — five dollars each. But you must promise to save for me any others that come back, for I want them all.”
“You do?” Mathilda Jones brightened up at the words. “But some of them may be damaged when people try to wash them.”
“That doesn’t matter. If you will promise to save every single one for me, I’ll buy these now as well as the two that you say are being returned.”
“It’s a deal,” Mathilda Jones said. “Buy these and you’ll get any that are returned. The two that are coming back should be here any minute. My nephew went to pick them up.”
“Excellent!” Black Moustache brought out some bills. “Here is thirty-five dollars for these five and the two coming. Now, I will load these fine artistic busts into my car.”
Bob was quivering with excitement, trying to think of some way to interrupt, and knowing he couldn’t. Mrs. Jones had just finished a business deal and she prided herself that she never went back on her word. Jupiter was bringing back two busts, and maybe one of them was Augustus.
And Black Moustache could claim it because he had already paid for it!
“Bob, what in the world is the matter with you?” Mrs. Jones asked, eyeing him sharply. “You have the twitches to-night. Anything wrong?”
“I think — ” Bob spoke with an effort — “I think our new friend Gus wanted one of those busts, Mrs. Jones. They came from his great-uncle’s house and, well — ”
“I’m sorry, you should have spoken sooner. They all belong to that gentleman now, and here comes the truck.”
Black Moustache had just finished stowing the last of the five busts in his car as the truck rattled up and stopped.
Jupe and Pete jumped off the back of the truck and hurried round to the cab. Hans handed down the two plaster busts. Pete took Francis Bacon and Jupe took Augustus of Poland, clasping it tenderly to his chest.
Neither of them noticed Black Moustache until the man hurried over to them.
“Boys, those belong to me!” he snapped. He reached for the bust of Augustus in Jupe’s arms and grabbed it firmly. “That’s mine,” he growled. “And I mean to have it. Now let go!”
8
Bob springs a Surprise
BLACK MOUSTACHE tugged. Jupiter pulled, unwilling to let go of Augustus. Black Moustache shouted at him angrily, “Let go, I tell you! This bust is mine. I bought it and paid for it!”
“Let him have it, Jupiter!” Mrs. Jones called sternly.
“But Aunt Mathilda!” Jupiter protested, clinging tightly to the plaster bust. “I promised our friend Gus this one.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s too late,” Mrs. Jones said. “I’ve sold it to this gentleman.”
“But it’s vitally important to Gus!” Jupiter gasped. “It’s practically a matter of life and death.”
“Pooh, life and death because of an old plaster statue?” Mrs. Mathilda Jones snorted. “You boys have over-active imaginations. Now give the bust to that gentleman, Jupiter. The Jones Salvage Yard never goes back on a deal.”