The Mystery of the Singing Serpent - M. V. Carey [11]
Some time before, Jupiter had entered a contest sponsored by the Rent-’n-Ride Auto Rental Company and had won the use for thirty days of an antique Rolls-Royce with gold-plated trim. With the car had come Worthington, the perfect English chauffeur. He had driven The Three Investigators during several of their cases. After the thirty days had elapsed, a grateful client had arranged for the boys to have unlimited use of the Rolls-Royce. By now, Worthington had become so interested in the work of Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews that he considered himself a part of the firm — an unofficial Fourth Investigator. When Jupiter had called the auto rental agency that morning, the chauffeur had gladly offered to use his own car to follow Miss Osborne and Hugo Ariel to the meeting of their mysterious fellowship.
Now, “She’s turning onto Sunset Boulevard,” said Worthington.
“Don’t get caught on that traffic signal,” warned Jupiter Jones, who sat next to Worthington.
“I shan’t.” Worthington nicked his turn signal and slid through the intersection just as the light clicked to orange. “I hope she reaches her destination before it gets too dark,” he said, and he guided the Ford up the steep hill away from the ocean. Sunset Boulevard wound ahead, past trim homes and gardens bright with geraniums. The boys lost sight of the Corvette from time to time when the road curved, but it always came into view again.
At last, the little car slowed.
“Torrente Canyon,” murmured Worthington. “We can’t lose her now. That’s a dead-end road.”
The Corvette turned into the canyon road, and an orange sports car spurted down Sunset and followed it. “Aunt Pat’s hairdresser,” said Jupiter.
“Just follow her red hair, Worthington,” said Pete. “It probably glows in the dark.”
Worthington chuckled and turned into Torrente Canyon Road. He followed the orange car until it pulled over and stopped on the grassy bank beside a high brick wall. There were other cars parked beside the road. The boys crouched low in the Ford as Worthington drove past the purple Corvette. Miss Osborne and Hugo Ariel were getting out.
Worthington looked into his rear-view mirror. “The woman in orange is waving to Miss Osborne.”
Bob and Pete twisted around to look out the back window. “I see the tan car that was in front of Allie’s house last night,” said Bob.
“The delicatessen man,” guessed Pete. “There sure are a lot of people here tonight.”
Worthington let the Ford drift to the right and brought it to a stop on the unpaved shoulder of the road. “I counted eleven cars,” he said.
The boys looked back and saw the red-haired woman join Ariel and Pat Osborne outside a huge iron gate with spikes on the top. Ariel spoke briefly to the two women, then stepped to the wall near the gate. He reached up and took something from a niche in the wall.
“I think that’s a telephone,” said Bob.
It was a telephone. Ariel held the receiver to his ear, listened, then said a few words and replaced it in the niche. Seconds later, the watchers in the car heard a strident buzz. Hugo Ariel leaned on the gate and it swung open. The two women followed him through and the gate closed behind them.
Worthington and the boys waited, not speaking. No more cars appeared on Torrente Canyon Road. No one else approached the big gate. After fifteen minutes, Jupiter opened the door of the Ford. “The gathering of the fellowship must be complete,” he announced.
“It now remains for us to discover what kind of fellowship it is.”
The others got out of the car and followed Jupe to the gate in the brick wall. “Your Uncle Titus would love to have this,” said Bob admiringly, touching one of the scrolls which decorated the gate.
“I doubt that it’s for sale,” said Jupiter. He took hold of the polished brass handle and tried to force it down, then up. It would not budge. “Locked,” he