The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints - M. V. Carey [27]
“Jupiter Jones,” said Jupe.
“Bob Andrews,” said Bob.
“Very well. And now you will tell me what you were doing in my garden.”
“It’s a shortcut,” said Jupe truthfully. “We hiked up the trail from Rocky Beach and cut across. We can get down to the main road on your lane.”
“The lane is private property.”
“Yes, sir. We know. But Hilltop House has been empty for many years, and people have become accustomed to using the lane when they hike.”
“They will have to become unaccustomed,” declared the general. “I think, Jupiter Jones, that I have met you before.”
“We didn’t actually meet,” said Jupe. “Mr. Demetrieff talked to me yesterday when you took the wrong turn off the road.”
“Ah, yes. And with you was an elderly man with a beard. Who is he?”
“We call him The Potter,” said Jupiter. “I believe that is his real name – Alexander Potter.”
“He is a friend of yours?” asked the general.
“I know him,” admitted Jupiter. “Everyone in Rocky Beach knows The Potter.”
The general nodded. “I believe I have heard of him.” He turned towards Demetrieff, and firelight gleamed on his tanned skin. Jupiter saw a fine tracery of wrinkles on his cheeks. Kaluk was not ageless; he was old.
“Demetrieff,” said the general, “did you not tell me there was a famed craftsman here who made pots?”
“And other things,” put in Bob.
“I would enjoy very much meeting him,” said the general. It was not exactly a question, and yet the general paused as if he were waiting for a reply.
Neither Jupiter nor Bob said anything.
“It is his shop at the bottom of my hill,” said the general at last.
“It is his shop,” said Jupiter.
“And he has guests,” the general went on. “A young woman and a boy. Unless I make a mistake, you helped them today when they arrived at the shop.”
“That’s right,” said Jupiter.
“A neighbourly thing to do, no doubt,” said the general. “You know those people?”
“No, sir,” said Jupiter. “They’re friends of Mr. Potter from someplace in the Midwest.”
“Friends,” said the general. “How pleasant to have friends. One would think this man who makes pots – and other things – would be present to greet his friends.”
“He’s … uh … rather eccentric.”
“One gathers this. Yes, I would like very much to meet him. In fact, I must insist upon it.”
The general suddenly sat straight, gripping the arms of his chair. “Where is he?” he demanded.
“Huh?” said Bob.
“You heard me. Where is the man you call The Potter?”
“We don’t know,” Jupiter said.
“That is impossible!” said the general. A flush of colour rose to his leathery cheeks.
“He was with you yesterday. Today you helped his friends when they arrived at his house. You know where he is!”
“No, sir,” said Jupiter. “We have no idea where he went after he left the salvage yard yesterday.”
“He sent you here!” The accusation was curt.
“No!” cried Bob.
“Do not tell me fairy tales about wandering in the chaparral!” shouted the general.
He beckoned to his associate. “Demetrieff! Your gun, if you please!”
The man handed the weapon to the general.
“You know what to do,” said Kaluk harshly.
Demetrieff nodded and began to unbuckle his belt.
“Hey, wait a minute!” shouted Bob.
“You will remain seated,” said General Kaluk. “Demetrieff, take the fat one who talks so well. I want to hear him talk more.”
Demetrieff went around behind the bunk on which Jupe and Bob were seated.
Jupiter felt the leather of the belt settle around his head.
“Now you will tell me about The Potter,” said the general. “Where is he?”
The belt tightened on Jupiter’s head.
“I don’t know,” said Jupiter.
“He simply walked away from your … your salvage yard and was not seen again?”
The general was almost sneering.
“That’s what happened.”
The belt tightened some more.
“And he was expecting guests – these friends you speak of – these friends to whom you were so helpful.”
“That’s right.”
“And your police have done nothing?” demanded Kaluk. “They have not looked for this man who walked away?”
“It’s a free country,” said Jupiter. “If The Potter chooses to walk away, he is