CHAPTER 2 : A Fateful Interview
WELL BEFORE THE Rolls-Royce was due to arrive at
The Jones Salvage Yard the following morning, Pete
and Jupiter were standing outside the big iron gates,
waiting. They both wore their Sunday suits, with
white shirts and neckties. Their hair was plastered into
place and their faces glowed pink through their
normal tan. Even their fingernails glowed from the
application of a stiff brush.
But when at last the big car arrived, its gleam far
outshone theirs. It was a Rolls-Royce of rather ancient
vintage, with huge headlights like snare drums and a
tremendously long hood. The body was square and
box-like. But all the trimming―even the bumpers―
was gold-plated, and it gleamed like jewellery. The
black body. shone with such a deep lustre it was
almost a mirror.
“Golly,” Pete said reverently as the car came
towards them.“It looks like a car a billionaire, a
hundred and ten years old would ride in.”
“The Rolls-Royce is the most expensive regular
production model car in the world,” Jupiter said.
“This one was originally built for a rich Arabian sheik
of luxurious tastes. Now the company uses it mostly
for publicity purposes.”
The car came to a stop, and the chauffeur whipped
out of the front seat. He was a lean, powerfully built
man more than six feet tall, with a long, good-
humoured face. He removed his chauffeur’s cap and
addressed Jupiter.
“Master Jones?” he said.“I am Worthington, the
chauffeur.”
“Uh―glad to meet you, Mr. Worthington,” Jupiter
said.“But call me Jupiter, like everybody else.”
“Please. sir.” Worthington looked pained.“You
must address me simply as Worthington. That is
customary. It is also customary for me to address my
employers in a somewhat formal manner. You are
now my employer, as it were, and I would prefer to
adhere to custom.”
“Well, all right, Worthington,” Jupiter said.“If it’s
customary.
“Thank you, sir. Now the car and I are at your
service for thirty days.”
“Thirty days of twenty-four hours each,” Jupiter
said.“That’s how the contest rules were worded.”
“Precisely, sir.” Worthington opened the rear door.
“Will you enter?”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said, as he and his partner
clambered in.“But you don’t have to open doors for
us. We’re young enough to do that for ourselves.”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” Worthington answered,“I
would prefer to render every service I’m supposed to.
If I don’t, I might get slack in the future.”
“I see.” Jupiter mulled that over as Worthington
took his place behind the wheel.“But we may want to
get in or out in a hurry sometimes, Worthington. We
might not be able to wait for you. Suppose we get in
and out by ourselves, except at the beginning and
ending of a trip.”
“Very good, sir.” In the rear-view mirror they could
see the British chauffeur smiling.“A very neat
solution.”
“Uh―we probably won’t be as dignified as most of
the people you’ve driven around,” Jupiter confided.
“And we may want to go to some unusual spots ...
This will help explain.”
He handed one of The Three Investigators’ business
cards to Worthington, who studied it gravely.
“I believe I understand, sir,” Worthington said.“I
am quite looking forward to this assignment. It will be
a change to drive someone young and adventurous.
Most of my passengers recently have been rather
elderly and cautious. Now our first destination, sir?”
Pete and Jupiter found themselves taking a great
liking to the chauffeur.
“We want to go to World Studios, in Hollywood, to
call on Mr. Alfred Hitchcock,” Jupiter said.“I―uh―
I telephoned him yesterday.”
“Very good, Master Jones.”
A moment later the luxurious car was purring up
the road that led over the hills towards Hollywood.
Worthington spoke over his shoulder.“I should
inform you that this car has a telephone and a
refreshment compartment, both of which are at your
service.”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said, already acting dignified,
as befitted the occupant of such a car. Reaching in
front of him, he opened a compartment and lifted out
a telephone. Like the trimming on the car, it was gold-
plated. It had no dial, however―just a button to be
pushed.
“A mobile telephone,” he informed Pete.“One
pushes the button and gives the desired number to the
operator. I don’t think we have any need for it just
yet, however.” Somewhat reluctantly Jupiter put the
phone away again and settled back against the leather
upholstery.
The drive was pleasant but uneventful, and soon
they were riding through the business section of
Hollywood. As they drew nearer their destination,
Pete began to squirm uneasily on the seat.
“Jupe,” he said,“I wish you’d tell me how we’re
ever going to get through the studio gate. You know
perfectly well all studios have walls and gatemen just
to keep out people like us. We’ll never get inside.”
“I have a strategy in mind,” Jupiter said.“I only
hope it will work, for we seem to have arrived.”
They were driving past high stucco walls that
extended for a full two blocks. A sign on top said:
WORLD STUDIOS. The wall was there for just one
reason―to keep people out, as Pete had said.
In the centre was a tall iron gate that stood open. A
man in uniform sat in a small cubbyhole beside it.
Worthington swung the Rolls into the driveway, and
the guard jumped up.“Hey, wait a minute!” he
yelled.“Where’re you going?”
Worthington stopped the car.
“We are calling on Mr. Alfred Hitchcock.”
“You have a pass?” the guard asked.
“We did not expect to need a pass,” Worthington
replied.“The master telephoned Mr. Hitchcock.”
Which was perfectly true, of course. Even if Mr.
Hitchcock hadn’t answered.
“Oh.” The guard scratched his head uncertainly.
Jupiter lowered the window on his side and leaned
out.
“My good man,” he said, and Pete almost jumped,
because Jupe was speaking in a rich, English accent he
had never used before but must have practised in
secret.“My good man, what seems to be the delay?”
“Gleeps!” Pete whispered to himself. He knew that
Jupe had been an actor in television when he was just
a tiny kid, and he had a real talent for impersonations,
but Pete had never seen him do this one before.
By puffing out his cheeks and lips a bit and looking
down his nose, Jupe had turned into a dead ringer for
Alfred Hitchcock himself! A rather impertinent
young Alfred Hitchcock, of course, but nobody could
miss the resemblance.
“Uh―I have to know who’s calling on Mr.
Hitchcock,” the guard said nervously.
“I see.” Jupiter gave him another down-the-nose
look.“Perhaps I had better phone my uncle.”
He took out the gold plated telephone, pressed the
button and asked for a number. It was the number of
The Jones Salvage Yard. Jupiter was really calling his
uncle.
The guard took one more look at the amazing car
and at Jupiter Jones using the gold telephone.
“Uh, you just go on in,” the guard said hurriedly.
“I’ll phone you’re on your way.”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said.“Drive on, Worthing-
ton.”
The car moved on. Jupiter settled back as they
turned down a narrow street bordered on both sides
by green lawns and palm trees, with dozens of small,
attractive bungalows set close together among them.
farther on were the arched roofs of the big studios
where movies and television films were made. Actors
in costume were filing towards one of them.
Although the car was now inside the studio, Pete
still couldn’t figure how even his partner could get in
to see Mr. Hitchcock. But he had little time to worry,
for Worthington was already pulling up beside a large
bungalow. As was customary in many studios, each
producer had a bungalow of his own where he could
work without being disturbed. A neatly painted sign
said: ALFRED HITCHCOCK.
“Wait for us, Worthington,” Jupiter said, as the
chauffeur opened the door.“I don’t know how long
we will be.”
“Very good, sir.”
Jupe led the way up the one step, and through the
screen door into the air-cooled reception room. A
blonde girl behind a desk was just putting down the
phone. Pete had trouble recognising the grown-up
Henrietta Larson, but as soon as she spoke he knew
her.
“So!” Henrietta put her hands on her hips and
looked at Jupiter Jones.“You’re here, are you?
Impersonating Mr. Hitchcock’s nephew! Well, now
we’ll see just how long it takes the studio police to get
rid of you.”
Pete’s heart sank to his socks as she reached for the
telephone again.“Wait!” Jupiter said.
“Wait for what?” Henrietta Larson asked
scornfully.“You got in here by telling the guard at the
gate you’re Mr. Hitchcock’s nephew――”
“No, he didn’t.” Pete defended his partner.“The
guard just jumped to conclusions.”
“You keep out of this,” Henrietta warned Pete.
“Jupiter Jones is a public nuisance and I’m going to
see he’s taken care of.”
She bent over the telephone again. Jupiter spoke
once more.
“It is never wise to act hastily, Miss Larson,” he
said, and Pete jumped. Jupiter was using that rich
English voice again, and in the space of a moment he
had returned to the appearance which had so
impressed the gateman―the appearance of a very
youthful Alfred Hitchcock.
“I feel sure Mr. Hitchcock would be interested in
seeing this display of my acting talents,” Jupiter
finished. Henrietta Larson, looking up, dropped the
telephone as if it had stung her.
“Why, you――” she began.“You――” For a
moment words seemed to fail her. Then her face
became grim.“Yes, indeed, Jupiter Jones, I’m positive
Mr. Hitchcock will want to see this display.”
“Ahem ... Miss Larson.”
Both boys hastily turned round at the unexpected
sound of a voice behind them. Even Henrietta
appeared startled. There in the office door stood
Alfred Hitchcock himself.
“Is there something wrong, Miss Larson?” Mr.
Hitchcock asked.“I’ve been ringing for you.”
“It’s for you to decide if there is anything wrong,
Mr. Hitchcock,” Henrietta Larson said.“This young
man has something to show you in which I am sure
you will be very interested.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Hitchcock said.“I can’t see
anyone today. Send him away.”
“I’m positive you’ll want to see this, Mr.
Hitchcock,” Henrietta Larson said, and there was a
tone in her voice Pete did not like at all. Mr.
Hitchcock caught it, too, for he looked quizzically at
the two boys, then shrugged.
“Very well. Follow me, lads.”
He turned and strode to a desk the size of a tennis
court. There he sat down in a swivel chair. Jupiter and
Pete stood facing him as Henrietta shut the door.
“Now, boys,” Mr. Hitchcock said,“what is it that I
am supposed to see? I can spare you only five
minutes.”
“This is what I wanted to show you, sir,” Jupiter
said respectfully and whipped out one of The Three
Investigators’ business cards. Pete realised that Jupiter
was following some plan of strategy that he had
previously concocted. Apparently it was working. Mr.
Hitchcock took the card and studied it.
“Hmmm” he said.“So you are investigators. May I
ask what the question marks are for? Do they indicate
a doubt in your own ability?”
“No, sir,” Jupiter answered.“They are our trade-
mark. They are symbolical of questions to be
answered, of mysteries to be solved. Also, they make
people ask questions, and that helps them remember
us.”
“I see.” Mr. Hitchcock gave a little cough.“You
are publicity-minded.”
“A business can’t succeed if people don’t know
about it.” Jupiter said.
“A statement which cannot be disputed,” Mr.
Hitchcock agreed.“But speaking of business, you
have not yet stated yours.”
“We want to find a haunted house for you, sir.”
“A haunted house?” Alfred Hitchcock’s eyebrows
rose.“What makes you think I want a haunted
house?”
“We understand you want to find an authentic
haunted house to use in your next suspense picture,
sir,” Jupiter said.“The Three Investigators desire to
assist you in the search.”
Alfred Hitchcock chuckled.
“I have two location scouts searching for a proper
house at this moment,” he said.“One is in Salem,
Massachusetts, and the other in Charleston, South
Carolina. Both places are rich in supernatural lore.
Tomorrow the two men will go to Boston and New
Orleans. I’m sure they will find me the right house for
my purposes.”
“But if we could find you the right house here in
California, it would be a lot simpler to make your
picture here, sir,” Jupiter argued.
“I am sorry, my lad, it is out of the question.”
“We don’t want any money, sir,” Jupiter said.“But
all famous detectives have someone write up their
cases for people to read―Sherlock Holmes, Ellery
Queen, Hercule Poirot, all of them. I have deduced
that that is how they become famous. In order to get
potential customers to know about The Three
Investigators, we will have our cases written up by the
father of our other partner, Bob Andrews. He works
for a newspaper.”
“Well?” Alfred Hitchcock looked at his watch.
“Well, Mr. Hitchcock, I thought if you could just
introduce our first case――”
“Quite impossible. Please ask Miss Larson to come
in on your way out.”
“Yes, sir.” Jupiter looked depressed as he and Pete
turned towards the door. They had almost reached it
when Alfred Hitchcock spoke.
“One moment, lads.”
“Yes, sir?” They turned. Mr. Hitchcock was
looking at them with a frown.
“It occurs to me that you have not been entirely
frank. What exactly was it that Miss Larson thought I
should see? Not your business card, I’m sure.”
“Well, sir,” Jupiter said reluctantly,“I can do
various impersonations, and she thought you would
want to see my impersonation of you as a boy.”
“Impersonation of me as a boy?” The famous
director’s voice grew deeper. His features clouded.
“Just what do you mean?”
“This, sir.” And once again Jupiter’s face seemed to
change shape. His voice deepened and took on an
English accent, and he became a different individual.
“It occurred to me, Mr. Hitchcock,” he said, in a
voice entirely different from his own,“that some day
you might wish to have someone portray you as a boy
in a motion picture, and if you did――”
Mr. Hitchcock’s brow had wrinkled. His face was
dark with displeasure.
“Monstrous!” he said.“Stop it at once!”
Jupiter resumed his own identity.
“You don’t think ifs a good likeness?” he asked.“I
mean, of you when you were a boy?”
“Certainly not. In any case, I was a fine, upstanding
lad, not at all like that gross caricature you just
attempted.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to practise some more,”
Jupiter sighed.“My friends thought it was very
good.”
“I forbid it!” Alfred Hitchcock thundered.“I
absolutely forbid it! Give me your promise never
again to do that particular impersonation and I ...
confound it, I’ll introduce whatever you write about
your case.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hitchcock!” Jupiter said.“Then
you want us to investigate the haunted house situation
for you?”
“Oh, yes, yes, I suppose so. I don’t promise to use it
even if you find it, but investigate by all means. Now
get out of here before I lose my last vestige of self-
control. I take a very dim view of lads such as you.
You are entirely too clever for your own good, young
man.”
Jupiter and Pete raced out towards the car, leaving
Alfred Hitchcock looking darkly thoughtful as they
went.
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