"Arthur, Robert - The Three Investigators 002 - The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Arthur Robert)

red leather upholstery.”
“Well, we know something. Later we will tackle the job
of finding the fat man and his car again,” Jupiter said.
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hopping out of the Rolls. “Now let’s see if the real Mr.
fentriss is within.”
Following him, Pete couldn’t help wondering how
Jupiter was going to find one single car out of the millions
of cars in Southern California. But somehow he had a
notion Jupiter would find a way.
Then Pete and his stocky partner paused abruptly. From
the gloomy old house came another cry for help.
“Help!” the voice was weak and choked. “Please,
someone—help me. Someone—quick, before I——”
The voice trailed off into nothing.
“He sounds as if he’s dying!” Pete gasped. “Come on!”
With his long legs he led the way to the back door. It
stood slightly open as if the fat man had left it that way
in his haste to leave. They entered, blinking as their eyes
adjusted to the dimmer light.
For a moment they stood listening. No sound broke the
silence, except the faint creak of an old board.
“We were in that room,” Jupiter said, pointing down
the hall. “We’d better try the opposite side of the house.”
They hurried down the hall and tried the door on their
right. It opened into a big, old-fashioned living room
which had a huge bay window.
“Who’s—there?” It was a weak voice, and it seemed to
come from a large plant in the bay window. A purple
tower bobbed up and down and Pete had the strange
sensation that the flower was talking to them.
“Has—someone come?” the flower seemed to ask.
Then Pete saw something huddled behind the tub in
which the flower was rooted, almost hidden by trailing
leaves.
“This way!” Pete cried. In a few strides he was kneel-
ing beside a very haggard, rather thin man who lay on his
side, hands and feet bound, a cloth rudely tied between
his teeth.
“It’s all right, Mr. Fentriss,” he said. “We’ll untie you.”
The knots proved quite loose and were quickly removed.
The gag Mr. Fentriss had already almost worked from his
mouth. Leaning on Pete and Jupiter, he managed to reach
a leather couch, where he stretched out.
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“Thank you, boys,” he whispered.
Jupiter, looking solemn, pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Mr. Fentriss,” he said, “I think we should call the
police.”
The man looked alarmed. “No, no!” he said. “Any-