The Mystery of the Singing Serpent - M. V. Carey [12]
Pete was investigating the niche near the gate. “Shall we try the phone?” he said. “No dial. It must connect directly with the house.”
“I say, Master Pete,” warned Worthington.
Pete grinned and took the phone off its hook. He heard a clicking noise, and then, “The night is dark,” said a voice on the telephone.
“Ah . . . well, yes, it soon will be,” said Pete. “Sir, I represent the United Cookie Company, and this week we’re offering a special on chocolate —”
The phone clicked and went dead.
“They aren’t interested in cookies?” asked Jupe.
“They sure aren’t.” Pete replaced the receiver. “Darnedest way to answer a phone I ever heard. You know what he said? He said, ‘The night is dark.’ ”
“Part of a password, no doubt,” said Jupiter. “If we were members of this fellowship, we would know what to answer.”
Bob looked in through the gate. “It is getting dark,” he said, “and look at that house.
You can just make it out up at the end of the drive. There isn’t a single light in the place.”
It was true. No windows glowed in the house. It appeared only as a hulking mass against the evening sky.
“There are eleven cars parked on the road,” said Jupe. “Two of the cars brought three people — the three we saw go in through the gate. That means there are at least nine more people visiting that house. Twelve in all.”
“What are they doing?” asked Worthington. “There should be some light.”
“There may be heavy drapes,” said Jupiter.
“And they could be using candles,” Bob pointed out. “Candles seem to be important to these people, and they wouldn’t show through drapes.”
The Three Investigators stood in the darkening road and thought of the group that had gathered at the Jamison house the night before, of the candles glowing in the dining room and the goblet that had been passed from one person to another. And they thought of the sound they had heard — the terrible, tuneless singing.
“I wonder if we’ll hear it tonight,” said Pete, almost to himself.
“Hear what?” asked Worthington.
“We aren’t sure, Worthington,” said Jupiter. “We think it’s what Ariel calls the voice of the serpent. However, we’ll never learn anything standing here.”
“There might be another gate,” said Bob.
“There might,” agreed Jupe, “and it might even be unlocked. Most people are very particular about the locks on their front doors, but very few bother about their back doors.
It’s a thing that causes the police no end of work.”
“All right,” said Pete. “Let’s go and see.”
“Worthington, why don’t you stay in the car and keep the motor running?” said Jupe.
“We don’t know anything about this fellowship. It’s possible that we may have to leave, and leave quickly.”
The chauffeur hesitated. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll turn the car around and keep the motor running.” He walked away up the road, and the boys heard the door of the Ford open and close and the motor start. Headlights blinked on, and Worthington made his U-turn and coasted down past the gate. He went on for about fifty feet, then pulled to the side of the road. The headlights went out, and the road was suddenly very, very dark.
“I wish we’d brought a flashlight,” said Pete.
“We’re better off without one,” Jupe told him. “We don’t want to attract attention.
Let’s go.”
The Three Investigators began a careful circuit of the brick wall. They walked slowly, stopping from time to time to listen. They heard no sound from beyond the wall. Once Bob jumped and almost cried out when some small creature scuttled across his feet and dashed away.
“A fox,” said Pete quickly.
“Did you see it?” asked Bob.
“No, but let’s just say it was a fox.”
“Quiet!” warned Jupe.
But then they were back on the paved road. They passed Worthington and his softly purring car. They arrived at the big gate again. Their tour was finished and they had found nothing. There was no second gate. They knew only that the property was large — almost a block square — and that there were no near neighbours, and that the house at the head of the drive was still dark.
“We must get over that wall,” decided Jupiter.