A BLACK MYSTERY.
Bangs, it seemed clear, had entered the other room through a window
in the side of the house. The roof of a one-story building came close
up under the window, so that it was comparatively easy to enter
Rigolette's house in that manner.
And Bangs was trying to make his escape in the same way he had come. He
jumped from the window to the neighboring rooftop and started for the
edge of the roof.
Matt and Dick, however, were upon him before he could get over the
roof's edge and drop to the ground.
Bangs fought fiercely, clawing and growling, like a wild animal. His
eyes were wild, he was bareheaded and his hair was tumbled over his
forehead.
"The man's crazy," said Matt.
"Is it drink did it?" asked Dick. "Has he been topping the boom too
much?"
"No, it wasn't drink; it's something else. Let's get him back to
Rigolette's and see if he's able to give us any information."
Getting the squirming Bangs back to the creole's was not an easy
matter. However, Rigolette dropped the pieces of rope lying in the room
where Carl had been confined, from the window, and the boys made their
captive's wrists and ankles secure; then they heaved Bangs upward, and
the creole caught him by the shoulders and dragged him through the
opening.
"He ees wild," chattered Rigolette; "ever'body ees wild. I was wild
myself."
"I say, Bangs!" called Dick, kneeling beside the prisoner and shaking
him. "What's the matter with you?"
Bangs mumbled incoherently and stared fiercely.
"Do you think he's putting it on, mate?" said Dick, appealing to Matt.
"No, he's not putting it on. The man's really daft." Matt turned to
Rigolette. "You say the boy and Jurgens were like Bangs, here?"
"_Oui_--yes," said the creole. "Zey run from ze house; now Proctair,
he ees come back by ze roof. W'y he do zat w'en he could come by ze
door? Zat ees a mystery."
"Aye, a black mystery!" cried Dick.
"Carl was certainly here," mused Matt; "the finding of his cap proves
it. And it's almost equally clear that he was a prisoner. Something
locoed him, as well as Bangs and Jurgens; and Carl, in some manner,
got out of his ropes. Where is he now? That's the point. And the iron
chest--was that all that was in it?" and Matt nodded toward the heap of
sawdust.
At that moment the scrap of paper, which Jurgens had dropped, met his
eyes. He picked it up.
"What is it, mate?" asked Dick, anxiously. "Does it shed any light?"
Matt read the paper aloud.
"Strike me lucky!" exclaimed Dick. "That head--it must have been in the
box. Wasn't there anything else?"
Matt dropped to his knees excitedly and began running his fingers
through the sawdust.
"That was all," said he, "the head of Obboney and this paper."
Dick laughed harshly.
"And that's the treasure Jurgens and Whistler have been hunting for!"
he exclaimed. "The head of an idol--a heathen idol! I wonder what
Townsend will say to this? The Man from Cape Town seems to have pulled
the wool over the eyes of everybody."
"Why didn't Jurgens take the head away with him if it was in the box?"
Matt queried, thoughtfully.
"Probably he didn't think it was worth bothering with; either that or
else he was too crazy to think of it."
"Go down and get the head, Dick," said Matt. "We might as well put it
back in the chest and try and deliver everything to Townsend just as we
found it."
"Aye, aye," answered Dick, and started.
Matt was astounded by the situation which confronted him and Dick
in the creole's house. Bangs had engineered a piece of successful
treachery, but, in the end, the treachery had somehow turned against
him and Jurgens. What had caused the death of the monkey? And what was
it that had turned the brains of Bangs, Jurgens and Carl? Bangs was
clearly demented, and if Rigolette was to be believed, so were Jurgens
and Carl.
And only that idol's head had been in the iron chest! Yes, truly, the
affair was a mystery--and a black one.
While Matt was struggling to think of something that might help to a
solution of the problem, Dick came bounding up the stairs and along the
gallery.
"It's gone!" he panted.
Matt whirled on him in consternation.
"What, the head of Obboney?" he asked.
"Nothing else, old ship! It's not where we saw it and it isn't anywhere
in the court. The negro woman at the door says that a man answering
Jurgens' description rushed into the house and out again. He had
something when he went out, but she couldn't see what it was. I'll bet
it was that idol's head, mate!"
"It must have been!" exclaimed Matt. "Perhaps a little reason returned
to Jurgens and he came back after the head. Did he seem to be crazy, or
in any manner off his balance?"
"The woman says he looked wild, didn't say a word and went like a
streak."
"Well," said Matt, regretfully, "we've been beaten out, after all. What
we've got to do now is to find Carl."
"Where'll we look for him? We can go cruising around, but this is a big
town and, if Carl is off his bearings, there's no telling where he'll
go."
"If he's very much off his bearings, the police will pick him up. And
the same with Jurgens. But----"
Matt halted and gave a glance at Rigolette, who was leaning moodily
against the wall.
"Come over here, Dick," said Matt, stepping to one side. When his chum
joined him, he lowered his voice so the creole could not hear what was
said.
"You remember that smoke picture of Yamousa's--the one you and I saw?"
"Dowse me, mate, if I could ever forget that!"
"What do you think of Yamousa and her smoke pictures, by now?"
"Why, I'm not much of a hand to believe in things like that," replied
Dick, slowly, "but that first smoke picture, showing the boat and the
chest, with the _Hawk_ overhead and you below--why, that was a dead
ringer for what happened. Blow me tight! I'm fair dazed to account for
that picture."
"So am I," continued Matt, earnestly, "but this is what I'm trying to
get at. If one picture gave a truthful forecast of what was to happen,
isn't it possible that the second picture was equally truthful and to
be depended on?"
"More than possible, Matt--_probable_."
"Do you recollect what that second picture was?
"Why, a room with stone walls and a man who looked like Townsend lashed
by the hands and feet and lying on the floor!"
"Then, if you remember, we saw the outside of the building--or what
Yamousa said was the outside of it--And the lower story was occupied by
an antique shop."
"Right-o! The sign above the shop bore the name of Crenelette."
"Exactly. Now, Dick, it strikes me we ought to go down Royal Street and
look for Crenelette's place of business. There's nothing we can do for
Carl, just now, inasmuch as we don't know where to go to find him, and
there may be something we _can_ do for Townsend."
"Your head's level, matey, like it always is. We'll go on a hunt for
Townsend. If the contents of the iron chest can't be recovered, we must
do the next best thing and help Townsend out of a hole--provided he
_is_ in a hole, which seems almost certain."
Matt turned away and addressed himself to Rigolette.
"How long was Jurgens here, in your house, Rigolette?" he asked.
"Two--t'ree day, m'sieu."
"What was he doing here?"
"Zat I do not know. _Sapristi!_ My head ees buzzing wit' all dese zings
vat I don't onderstan'."
"You may not have been doing anything wrong, of your own knowledge, by
harboring and helping Jurgens and Proctor, Rigolette, but those men are
criminals, and you've got to walk pretty straight from this on if you
don't want to get yourself into trouble."
"I no want ze trouble, m'sieu!" whined the creole. "I have ze trouble
enough wizout making more."
"Then keep Proctor here, just as he is. He may come to himself, before
long, and when he does we'll try to get back and have a talk with him.
Comprenny?"
"_Oui_--yes. He ees my friend, but I keep heem lak you say. Zen, bumby,
eet may be he can tell what keel ze P'tit Joujou."
"I haven't any doubt but that he can let in a good deal of light upon
the mystery. We'll try and return here, in a few hours. Meanwhile, if
the Dutch boy wanders back, try and keep him."
"I do w'at I can, m'sieu."
Matt and Dick, puzzled and bewildered but hoping for results from their
fresh line of inquiry, inquired their way to Royal Street and turned
along it in the direction of Canal.
Fortune favored them, for they had not gone a block along Royal
Street before they saw an antique shop with the sign, "M. Crenelette,
Antiques," over the door.
Matt and Dick went to the other side of the street and took in the
appearance of the building. In every particular it conformed to the
smoke picture which they had seen, miles away, in the hut of Yamousa.
"I'm all ahoo!" admitted Dick. "Yamousa must know a whole lot of things
that scientists haven't yet discovered. That's the building, to a dot!"
"It's amazing!" murmured Matt. "Our cue seems to be a good one and it's
up to us to follow it and see where it leads."
"Right-o! Heave ahead and I'll tow along, ready for anything that
happens."
As the boys pushed across the street toward the door of the antique
shop, a face dodged away from a second-story window. And it was a face
which, if the boys had seen it, would have warned them to be on their
guard.