CHAPTER 4 : Into Terror Castle
BOB HAD a good deal more information in his notes
about Terror Castle, and Jupiter read it all carefully.
Pete kept saying wild horses couldn’t drag him near
the place, but when the time came to set out he was
ready. Dressed in some old clothes, he was carrying
the portable tape recorder he had got from a boy in
school by trading his stamp collection for it.
Bob had a notebook and a couple of sharp pencils.
Jupiter had his camera with the built-in flash. Both
Pete and Bob had told their families they were going
driving with Jupiter in the car he had won for thirty
days. Their parents seemed to feel that as long as
Jupiter was with them everything would be fine. And
then, of course, they knew that Worthington, the
chauffeur, went with the car.
The big Rolls-Royce with the huge old headlights
came easing up to The Jones Salvage Yard as soon as
it was dark, and they piled in. Jupiter had a map
showing the location of Black Canyon. Worthington
looked at it, said,“Very good, Master Jones,” and
started off.
As they were rolling along through the hills, round
all the twists and turns, Jupiter gave final instructions.
“This visit,” he said,“is just to get a first
impression. But if we see anything unusual, I’ll take a
flash-bulb picture of it. If we hear any sounds, you,
Pete, capture them on your tape recorder.”
“If I have to use this tape recorder,” Pete said, as
Worthington turned into a narrow road with steep
hills on both sides,“all you’ll hear will be the sound
of chattering teeth.”
“You, Bob,” Jupiter continued,“will wait in the car
for our return.”
“That’s the kind of job I like,” Bob said.“Golly,
but it’s dark along here.”
They were still climbing up a narrow, winding road,
without a house in sight anywhere.
“Whoever named it Black Canyon knew what he
was doing,” Pete said.
“We seem to have reached an obstruction,” Jupiter
observed.
A mass of rocks and gravel blocked the road. The
hills in that section of California, though sometimes
covered thickly with mesquite and other bushes, had
very little grass on them. So it was easy for rocks to
roll down on to the road. Here, a rock slide seemed to
have knocked down some crossbars which might have
been put up once, long before, to bar passage.
Worthington pulled the car off to one side.
“I fear we can proceed no farther,” he reported.
“But it is my impression from the map that the
canyon should not extend more than a few hundred
yards round that turn ahead.”
“Thank you, Worthington. Come on, Pete, we will
walk the rest of the way.”
They climbed out.
“We’ll be back in an hour!” Jupiter called to
Worthington, who was manoeuvring the car to turn it
round.
“Golly,” Pete Crenshaw said, an apprehensive note
in his voice,“that place looks scary.”
Jupiter, crouched beside him in the darkness, said
nothing. He was intently surveying the scene ahead. At
the far end of the dark, narrow canyon the two boys
could just make out the faint outlines of a fantastic
structure. Against the starlit sky a round, peaked
tower stood out clearly. But with the exception of the
tower, Terror Castle was almost invisible. Placed as it
was, at the head of the narrow, rock-strewn canyon
and built high against one wall, the castle-like building
was enveloped in murky shadow.
“I think we ought to come by daylight,” Pete
suddenly suggested.“So we can find our way around.”
Jupiter shook his head.
“Nothing ever happens here in the daytime,” he
said.“It’s only at night that this place scares people
out of their wits.”
“You’re forgetting those men from the bank,” Pete
argued.“And besides, I don’t want to be scared out of
my wits. I’m half-way there already.”
“So am I,” Jupiter admitted.“I feel as if I had
swallowed some butterflies.”
“Then let’s go back,” Pete exclaimed with great
relief.“We’ve done enough for one night. We ought to
go back to Headquarters and make some more plans.”
“I’ve already made my plans,” his stocky
companion said, and stood up.“My plans are to stay
in Terror Castle for one hour tonight.”
He started up the road, using a torch to pick his
way round the rocks that had tumbled down from the
steep canyon walls on to the cracked concrete. After a
moment Pete hurried after him.
“If I’d known it was going to be like this,” he
complained,“I’d never have become an investigator.”
“You’ll feel better after we solve the mystery,”
Jupiter told him.“Think of what a wonderful start it
will give our investigation firm.”
“But suppose we meet the ghost? Or the Blue
Phantom, or the mad spook, or whatever it is that
haunts this place?”
The two boys peered through the murky darkness
at the fantastic structure.
“That’s exactly what I want.” Jupiter slapped the
compact flash camera which hung from his shoulder.
“If we can get its picture, we’ll be famous.”
“Suppose it gets us?” Pete retorted.
“S-s-sh!” his stocky friend said, stopping and
snapping off his torch, Pete froze into silence and the
darkness closed round them.
Somebody―or something―was coming down the
hillside directly towards them.
Pete crouched down. Beside him Jupe was swiftly
getting his camera ready.
The noise, a pattering of rock displaced by moving
feet, was almost on them when Jupe’s flash-bulb lit up
the night. In the sudden radiance of the flash, Pete
saw two huge red eyes leaping directly at him. Then
something furry scurried past, struck the concrete
road and went bounding away. In its wake several
small rocks rolled down and came to rest at the boys’
feet.
“A jack rabbit!” Jupiter said. He sounded
disappointed.“We frightened it!”
“We frightened it!” Pete exclaimed.“What do you
think it did to me?”
“The natural effect of mysterious sound and
movement at night upon a susceptible nervous
system,” Jupiter said.“Forward!” He grabbed Pete’s
arm and pulled him along.“We don’t have to move
quietly now―the flash-bulb will have alerted the
Phantom, if there is a Phantom.”
“Can we sing?” Peter asked, reluctantly falling into
step beside him.“If we sing ‘Row, row, row your
boat’ loudly enough, we won’t hear the spook moan
and groan.”
“There’s no need to go to extremes,” the other boy
said firmly.“We want to hear any moans and groans
—also any screams, sighs, screeches or rattling of
chains, all of which are supposed to be common
manifestations of a supernatural presence.”
Pete suppressed the impulse to tell his partner that
he had no desire whatever to hear any moans, groans,
screams, screeches, sighs or rattling chains. He knew
there was no point in it. When Jupiter made up his
mind, he made up his mind. He was about as easy to
move as a large rock.
As they moved forward the rambling old building
loomed larger, gloomier, and altogether less desirable.
Pete tried hard to forget all the stories Bob had told
them about the old place.
After a last stretch along a high, crumbling stone
wall, the boys entered the courtyard of Terror Castle.
“Here we are,” Jupiter said, and stopped.
One tower stretched skyward far above them.
Another, shorter tower seemed to scowl down at
them. Blank windows were like blind eyes reflecting
the starlight.
Suddenly something flew around their heads. Pete
ducked.
“Wow,” he yelled.“A bat!”
“Bats only eat insects,” Jupiter reminded him.
“They never eat people.”
“Maybe this one wants a change of diet. Why take
chances?”
Jupiter pointed to a wide doorway and the big,
carved front door directly ahead.
“There is the door,” he said.“Now all we have to
do is walk through it.”
“I wish I could get my legs to believe that. They
think we ought to go back.”
“So do mine,” Jupiter admitted.“But my legs take
orders from me. Come on.”
He strode forward. Pete couldn’t allow his partner
to enter a place like Terror Castle alone, so he
followed. They walked up the old marble steps and
across a tiled terrace. As Jupiter was about to reach
for the door-knob, Pete grabbed his arm.
“Wait!” he said.“Do you hear spooky music?”
Both boys listened. For a moment they had the
impression they heard a few weird notes, sounding as
if they came from a million miles away. Then in the
darkness they could hear only the night noises of
insects and of a small stone or two rolling down the
steep sides of the canyon.
“Probably just imagination,” Jupiter said, though
he did not sound too certain of it.“Or possibly we
heard a TV set playing over the ridge in the next
canyon. Some trick of acoustics.”
“Some trick, all right,” Pete muttered.“What if it
was the old ruined pipe organ being played by the
Blue Phantom?”
“Then we certainly want to hear it,” Jupe said.
“Let us enter.”
He grasped the knob and pulled. With a long
scre-e-e-ch that curdled Pete’s blood, it opened. Not
waiting for their courage to evaporate, the two boys
marched into a long dark hall, flashing their torches
straight ahead.
They passed open doorways, full of shadows, which
seemed to breathe musty air at them. Then they came
out into a large hallway with a ceiling two stories high.
Jupiter stopped.
“We’re here,” he said.“This is the main hall. We’ll
stay one hour. Then we’ll leave.”
“Leave!” a voice low and eerie whispered in their
ears.
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