The Mystery of the Invisible Dog - M. V. Carey [42]
“You know who it is!” said Prentice.
“I know, but I can’t prove it,” Jupe told him. “Not yet. When he tries to collect the ransom, then we’ll have proof!”
Jupe would say no more. When the mail arrived at ten, he had two neat stacks of clipped newspaper piled on the living room table.
The postman left a letter in Fenton Prentice’s mailbox — a typed, unsigned letter.
WRAP THE MONEY IN BROWN PAPER AND LEAVE IT IN THE
WASTE-PAPER BASKET AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE PARK AT
EXACTLY FIVE THIS AFTERNOON.
The message was on a plain sheet of white bond, and the postmark on the envelope was for the previous day.
“Good!” said Jupe, smiling with satisfaction. He proceeded to dab ointment on the exposed newspaper dollars while Mr. Prentice located some brown paper. Then he wrapped the bogus ransom and treated the outside of the package with more ointment.
“There,” he said to Mr. Prentice. “At five, simply walk down to the corner and put this package into the waste-paper bin, as the burglar directs. I suggest that you protect your hands from the ointment by wearing old gloves. Of course, you’ll want to contact the police first. They’ll stake out the park, and when the burglar picks up the package, they’ll catch him.”
“Suppose some tramp picks up the package,” said Prentice. “There isn’t any shortage of people who go through rubbish bins.”
“I don’t think the burglar will let that happen,” said Jupe. “He’ll be watching.”
“Aren’t we going to be in at the finish?” demanded Pete.
“Of course. At five, we’ll be watching the waste-paper bin, too. You won’t see us, Mr.
Prentice, but we’ll be there!”
Chapter 19
The Perfect Alibi
BY 4.45, BOB, PETE, AND Jupiter had concealed themselves in the shrubbery next to the parish house. The little park at the foot of the street was deserted except for a maintenance man, who wandered to and fro with a sack and a stick, spearing bits of rubbish out of the grass.
“The burglar will come from Wilshire,” predicted Jupiter.
A newspaper van rolled down the street and pulled into the kerb near the entrance to the park. A man jumped down from the back, took out a stack of newspapers, and put them on the pavement. The van went on and the man stood by the papers as if waiting for customers to appear.
Behind the boys, a window opened in the rectory. “I think,” said a familiar voice,
“that you’ll be more comfortable if you wait inside!”
Pete turned. Father McGovern stood in the open window smoking a pipe.
“It’s not seemly to be skulking in the bushes,” he said. “Come around to the front door and I’ll let you in. You can watch everything from here.”
Jupiter Jones felt his face get red.
“It’s not invisible you are,” said the pastor. “Come in, now. The police will not want you tampering with their affairs again.”
The boys got themselves quickly out of the shrubbery and into the parish house.
“I saw you come down the street,” the priest told them. “Those men out there — the one with the newspapers and the one with the sack — they’re waiting for someone. Has it to do with Earl and the robbery?”
“I think they’re undercover men, Father,” said Jupiter.
“I know one of them is,” the priest told them. “The man with the sack is Sergeant Henderson. He’s been to see Earl at the hospital I met him there. The other I don’t know. But we don’t usually have a news vendor outside the park.”
“You’d make a pretty good detective, Father!” said Bob. “How is Earl?”
“He’ll be all right. He was pleased, I think, to find out that someone probably struck him. He doesn’t like to admit that he might fall.” The pastor relit his pipe, which had gone out. “As for Mrs. O’Reilly,” he said, “it’s her afternoon off, which is why I’m smoking in the parlour.”
Jupiter Jones grinned, then looked at his watch. “Almost five,” he announced.
Fenton Prentice came down the street carrying the brown paper parcel. He stopped at the path that led into the park. A waste-paper bin stood there, full almost to overflowing.
Prentice looked around, then put the parcel into the bin and walked back up the street.
Immediately