The Mystery of Wandering Caveman - M. V. Carey [42]
On this particular afternoon Mr. Sebastian’s Vietnamese houseman, Hoang Van Don, opened the door. He grinned when he saw the boys. “Mr. Sebastian waits for super sleuths!” he announced. “While waiting, he plays with new wonder machine.
Please to go in and Don will bring refreshments.”
The boys went through the entry hall and into a huge, sparsely furnished room that had once been the main dining room of the restaurant. At first they did not see Mr. Sebastian. However, they heard a soft clack-clacking that came from behind a bank of bookcases that partitioned off one end of the room.
“Come and see what I’ve got!” called Mr. Sebastian.
The Three Investigators obeyed. They found the writer seated at his big desk, tapping the keyboard of a brand-new word processor. As he worked, Mr. Sebastian watched the words and paragraphs he had just written appear on the television screen in front of him.
“That’s neat!” cried Jupiter.
“Yes, isn’t it,” said Mr. Sebastian. “When I arrived in Hollywood not so long ago, I had an old Royal typewriter that kept coming apart on me. Now I have this amazing computer. It’s perfect for my writing. I can compose on it and I can change things without rewriting them from scratch. If I make a mistake I can fix it just by typing over it. And best of all, if I change the name of a character halfway through a story, I just notify the computer. The computer skips through the stored text and changes the name every time it appears!”
“Wow!” said Pete.
“And then, when I finally have everything set up the way I want it, I tell the computer to print it for me. Now watch this.”
There was a printer on the desk next to the word processor. Mr. Sebastian touched a button on the keyboard, and the second machine came clattering to life. A unit inside the machine zipped back and forth across a sheet of paper, and words appeared on the paper as if by magic.
“The Declaration of Independence?” said Bob.
“Just practising,” said Mr. Sebastian. He, switched off the word processor and stood up. “I understand you boys have been doing great things while I’ve been computer shopping,” he said. “Come outside and enjoy the view from my new terrace and tell me all about it.”
He took his walking stick from beside his chair and limped across the room to a sliding glass door. “Don is all excited because you got your pictures in the paper. He’s been making great preparations for your visit.”
Outside, Mr. Sebastian sat down on a deck chair next to a big glass-topped table.
“Don!” he called. “We’re ready!”
The Vietnamese came out on to the terrace with a tray. His smile was wider than ever. “Organically grown feast for continued health and vigour!” he announced as he put the tray on the table.
“Sesame seed and wheat germ soya cakes,” said Don. “With molasses. To drink, melon flip.”
“Melon flip?” echoed Bob.
“Squish melon in food processor,” Don explained. “Pour into glasses with ice and also honey to make sweet. Very healthy. Give much energy quickly.”
Don bowed himself off the terrace, and Mr. Sebastian looked apologetically at his young guests.
“What happened?” said Bob. “Don used to serve all the instant foods that he saw on television.”
“He has become addicted to an afternoon TV show that is hosted by a health-food guru,” said Mr. Sebastian.
“Oh,” said Bob. He took a sip of melon flip and made a face. Then he picked up one of the little cakes from the tray and tried to bite into it.
“Don’t eat that!” warned Mr. Sebastian. “You’ll break your teeth. Leave it. I’ll get rid of this food later, and we’ll go out for hamburgers.
“Now, what about the kidnapped cave man?”
Bob had spent two days typing up his notes on the case. He handed them to Mr.
Sebastian and then sat back while the writer read through the file on the events in Citrus Grove.
“Terrific!” said Sebastian when he finished reading. “But