“The prison authorities thought of that, Jupiter. As you suspected, they read the letter to Gulliver very carefully before they mailed it. In fact, they wired Chicago to investigate Danny Street. But the Chicago police couldn’t find anyone named Street who had the slightest connection with Spike Neely.

“They finally decided the letter was harmless, so they mailed it. First, they analysed it in every way for a secret message, but they couldn’t find any.”

“Neither could I,” Jupiter admitted. He was pinching his lips to put his mental machinery in high gear. “Just the same, I deduce that some other criminals, learning of the letter, suspected it actually did tell where the money is, somehow. So they took to shadowing The Great Gulliver. That’s when he got frightened and disappeared.”

“Or was killed,” Chief Reynolds said gravely. “I think it’s plain that Gulliver never found the money. But someone may have tried to make him tell where it was, and got angry when he wouldn’t—because he couldn’t. On the other hand, he may have just taken alarm and gone into hiding, leaving his trunk behind.”

“He must have suspected Spike Neely was trying to tell him something.” Jupiter was thinking hard. “Otherwise why would he hide the letter? Let’s suppose he just disappeared. Then these other criminals, who are still around, read in the paper of my buying Gulliver’s trunk. They believed that there might be a clue to the stolen money in the trunk.

“That first night, they tried to steal it but were foiled because Uncle Titus had hidden it. Then they took to following me around. They were watching the salvage yard, figuring how to get their hands on the trunk, when they saw us sell it to Maximilian the Mystic. So they followed Mr. Maximilian, forced his car off the road, and stole the trunk.”

“They sure wanted that trunk badly!” Pete exclaimed. “I’m glad we got rid of it in time.”

“You really should have brought the trunk to me,” the Chief pointed out.

“We suggested that, sir, to Mr. Maximilian,” Jupiter answered. “He wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted the trunk. And of course we didn’t know anyone would actually injure him to get it. Besides, we couldn’t find any clue in it.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Chief Reynolds said. “But all this talk has been leading up to a very important point. We’re agreed, aren’t we, that these criminals think there’s a clue to the missing money in that trunk?”

The boys all nodded.

“Well,” the Chief continued, “now the crooks have the trunk. They’ve searched it carefully. They haven’t found any clue. So what do you suppose they think now?”

Jupiter caught on first and swallowed hard. Seeing that Pete didn’t get what the Chief meant, Bob burst out, “They think we found the clue and took it out of the trunk before we sold it to Mr. Maximilian! They think that we — that we still have the clue to all that money!”

“But gleeps!” Pete objected. “We don’t! We don’t know a thing!”

“I know that,” the Chief said. “And you know that. But if these fellows think you have the clue — well, they might still come round and try to force you to give it to them.”

They thought about this. It wasn’t a pleasant idea.

“You mean we could still be in danger, Chief?” Jupiter said at last.

“I’m afraid so.” Chief Reynolds spoke seriously. “So I want you to keep alert. If you see anyone who looks suspicious hanging around the salvage yard, call me at once. Or if anyone gets in touch with you about the trunk, let me know. Will you do that?”

“We certainly will!” Bob promised.

“There’s one problem,” Jupe said, frowning. “A lot of strangers come to the salvage yard as customers. It’s hard to tell if any of them are suspicious. But if we notice anyone who does seem suspicious, we’ll notify you immediately.”

“Be sure you do,” said Chief Reynolds.

In a very thoughtful mood, The Three Investigators left Police Headquarters and rode back to the salvage yard.

“More and more I like this whole business less and less!” Pete exploded. “I don’t want any tough characters thinking we have a clue we don’t have. There’s no telling what they might do. People like that don’t listen to reason.”

“And we thought we were getting rid of all our troubles by getting rid of the trunk” Bob added. “Got any ideas, Jupe?”

The Three Investigators were secluded in the workshop of the salvage yard and none of them looked happy. Even Jupiter’s round face was creased by a frown.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that these men, whoever they are, won’t quit until the money is found. The best way to solve our problem would be to find the money ourselves and turn it over to the police, with plenty of newspaper publicity. Then they’d give up.”

“Great! Just great!” Pete retorted sarcastically. “All we have to do is find some money that’s been hidden for years. Money that the police and the Treasury Department agents haven’t been able to find. Nothing to it. Easy as falling off a log. Let’s do it before dinner so we can wrap this whole case up.”

“Pete’s right,” Bob said. “I mean, what chance have we of finding any hidden money when we don’t even have a clue to it?”

“It certainly won’t be easy,” admitted Jupiter. “But I think we have to try. We won’t have any peace of mind until the money is found. We’re investigators — it’ll be a real challenge to us.”

Pete groaned.

“How would we start, Jupe?” Bob asked.

“First we have to assume that the money is hidden somewhere here in the Los Angeles region,” Jupiter said slowly. “Obviously, if it’s hidden in Chicago we haven’t a chance of finding it.”

Pete’s expression said he didn’t think they had a chance anyway.

“Next,” Jupiter said, “we have to find out all we can about Spike Neely’s actions when he was hiding out at his sister’s house. That means we must locate the sister, Mrs. Miller, and ask her to tell us everything she can.”

“But Chief Reynolds said the police questioned her at the time,” Bob protested. “If they didn’t learn anything, how can we?”

“I don’t know,” Jupiter told him. “But we have to try. It’s our only lead. I know it’s a long shot, but when there’s nothing else to do, you have to try the long shot. Just possibly we might think of some questions the police forgot to ask.”

“I wish you’d never read that piece in the paper about the auction,” Pete muttered. “All right, how do we start?”

“First,” Jupiter began, but he was interrupted by his aunt’s powerful voice calling to them.

“Boys! Lunch! Come and get it while it’s hot.”

Pete jumped up. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard today that I’ve liked!” he exclaimed. “Let’s eat. Then we can think about your idea, Jupe.”

In a few minutes the boys were seated in Aunt Mathilda’s kitchen. Mrs. Jones bustled about serving them generous helpings of sausages and beans. Presently Titus Jones came in and joined them.

“Well, Jupiter, my boy,” he said, “what have you been up to now? Making friends with Gypsies, have you?”

“Gypsies?” Jupiter looked up, startled, and Bob and Pete paused with forks half raised.

“There were a couple of Gypsies in the yard this morning,” Titus Jones explained. “While you lads were downtown. Oh, they didn’t say they were Gypsies, and they weren’t dressed like Gypsies, but I could tell. After all, when I was with the circus I saw a lot of them.”

During his younger years, Mr. Jones had travelled with a small circus, taking tickets and playing the steam calliope that every circus had in those days.

“They were looking for me?” Jupiter asked.

“I guess it was you.” His uncle chuckled. “They said they had a message from a friend for the fat one. I know you’re not fat, Jupiter, just stocky and well-muscled, but for some reason people do call you fat.”