"The Mystery of the Coughing Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (West Nick)

2 Horror from the Sea

The town of seaside, where Mr. Hitchcock’s film director friend lived, was about twenty miles away along the Pacific Coast Highway. Hans, one of the two Bavarian yard helpers, had a collection and delivery to make in the area after lunch. Jupiter got permission from his Aunt Mathilda to be taken along with his friends in the small junk yard truck.

Jupiter’s aunt fed them all, and then they hurried out and piled into the front with Hans. Jupiter gave him the address, and they were soon on the smooth Coast Highway travelling south.

“You’ve had time for a little research, Bob,” Jupiter said. “What can you tell us about dragons?”

“A dragon,” Bob said, “is a mythical monster, usually represented as a large reptile with wings and claws, breathing out fire and smoke.”

“I haven’t done any research,” Pete interrupted. “But I think Bob left out something important. Dragons are not friendly.”

“I would have mentioned that, too,” Bob said, “but Jupiter is interested only in facts. Dragons are mythical, which means they aren’t real. So if they aren’t real, we don’t have to worry if they’re friendly or not.”

“Exactly,” Jupiter said. “Dragons are creatures of the legendary past. If there ever were any actual ones, it would seem they’ve all been eliminated by the due processes of evolution.”

“That’s fine with me,” Pete said. “So, if they’ve all been eliminated, how come we’re on our way down to investigate one?”

“We heard that five dogs have disappeared within the past week in the peaceful town of Seaside,” Jupiter said. “And Mr. Hitchcock told us that a friend of his lost his dog and saw a dragon near his house. Doesn’t that suggest anything to you?”

“It sure does,” said Pete. “It suggests I should be back in Rocky Beach surfing on my board instead of coming along with you to catch a dragon.”

“If Mr. Hitchcock’s friend, Henry Allen, engages our services, then it will be a profitable adventure for The Three Investigators,” Jupiter said. “Why don’t you try to look at it that way?”

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Pete said.

“Whether there is a dragon or not,” Jupiter said, “something mysterious is apparently going on. Soon we will have facts to work with. Meanwhile we’ll have to approach the matter with an open mind.”

They had reached the outskirts of Seaside, and Hans slowed the truck as he searched for the street number Jupiter had given him. They travelled slowly another mile and then Hans stopped. “I think this is your party, Jupe,” he said.

All they could see was high hedges and palm trees. If a house was there, it seemed to be hiding.

Pete spotted the small sign on a white letterbox.

“H. H. Allen,” he read. “This must be the place.”

The boys piled out. “This preliminary investigation should take approximately two hours, Hans,” Jupe said. “Can you make your collection and delivery and come back for us then?”

“Sure thing, Jupe,” the husky Bavarian said. He waved and swung his truck round to head down a steep road that led to the centre of the town.

“Let’s take a quick look round first,” Jupiter said. “It may help if we’re better orientated when we speak to Mr. Allen.”

Houses were strung out along the high ridge overlooking the Pacific. The neighbourhood had a lonely, deserted air. The boys walked to a piece of vacant ground next to the film director’s house and looked down.

“Looks nice and peaceful,” Bob said, regarding the beach below them and the sparkling waters.

“Neat rollers,” muttered Pete, watching the surf.

“Not much, but pretty good three-footers. I guess later at night, when the tide and breakers start coming in, would be the best time for the dragon. He’d have a lot more cover.”

Jupiter agreed. “You’re right, Pete. If there is a dragon.” He craned his head to look below. “Mr. Hitchcock said there were caves below. But they can’t be seen from this angle. Later, after our interview with Mr. Allen, we’ll go down there and look them over.”

Bob looked at the deserted beach far below them. “How do we get down?” he asked.

Pete pointed to some rickety-looking, white, weather-beaten boards. “Steps going down, Bob. Beats scaling up and down the cliff wall.”

Jupiter pointed along the, ridge. “There are some other staircases, too. But I don’t see many of them. Well, I believe we have the lie of the land. Now let’s hear what Mr. Allen will tell us.”

He led the way back to a gate in the hedge, swung it open, and they all stepped through. Beyond a winding path, they could see a house of faded yellow brick, surrounded by palm trees, bushes and wild flowers. The garden had an air of neglect as did the old house itself, perched almost on the edge of the wind-swept cliff.

Jupiter raised the door knocker and let it fall.

The door opened, and a small plump man stood there. He had large mournful brown eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a fringe of white hair above his tanned and wrinkled face.

“Come in, boys,” he said, extending his hand. “I imagine you’re the boys my good friend Alfred Hitchcock said might help me. Investigators, are you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jupiter said. He whipped out one of The Three Investigators’ business cards. “We’ve solved several cases so far.”

The old man looked at the card in his gnarled fingers. It said:

“The question marks,” Jupiter explained, “are our symbol, our trademark. They stand for questions unanswered, riddles unsolved, mysteries unexplained. We attempt to solve them.”

The old man nodded, as if satisfied, and put the card in his pocket. “Come into my study, and we’ll talk,” he said.

He led them to a large sunny room. The boys gasped as they looked about them. From ceiling to floor, the walls were hung with pictures almost fighting for space. Apart from the many paintings, there were neatly framed autographed photographs of famous film stars and other celebrities.

The large desk was covered with papers and small wooden carvings. The bookcases were crowded, too, with strange artifacts, Pre-Columbian figurines, and small, grotesque African figures. Some of them looked cruel and frightening.

The old man indicated three chairs for them and took the large carved chair behind the desk. “Please sit down, boys, and I’ll tell you why I called my old friend Alfred Hitchcock. Perhaps he has already told you that I am a film director?”

“Yes,” said Jupiter. “He mentioned that, sir.”

The old man smiled. “Was would be a better word for it. I haven’t done anything for many years. I was a film director years before Alfred became one. And quite famous in my own right, too. While Alfred has made the Hitchcock thriller his own speciality, I had mine, too. Almost in the same vein, but slightly different. Alfred concerns himself with logical mysteries of the real world, but mine went beyond it?’

“What do you mean, sir?” Jupiter asked.

“It will explain why I couldn’t go to the police or other authorities with my problem. You see, my pictures were bizarre, of the world beyond, of nightmares and fright. They concerned themselves with monsters, werewolves, creatures of strange and hideous natures and violent emotions.

“In short, my speciality, boys, was the horror film!” Jupiter nodded. “Yes, I remember your name now, sir. I’ve seen it at film festivals in museums.”

“Good,” said the old man. “So when I tell you about what I saw coming out of the water the night my dog disappeared, you will know why I hesitated to speak about it. With my reputation and my inability to find work for many years, it would be only natural for stupid people to think I was merely trying to attract attention, gain publicity.

“My work is finished. They saw to that — the powers that be. I have enough money to live quietly. And no worries, no fears — except — ”

“Except the dragon now living in the cave below you, sir?” Jupiter suggested.

Mr. Allen grimaced. “Yes.” He looked carefully at the boys. “I told Alfred I saw it coming out of the sea. But I omitted one fact. You see, I heard it, too!” The room became suddenly quiet.

“You heard the dragon,” Jupiter said calmly. “Exactly what did you hear? And where were you at that moment?”

Mr. Allen drew out a large coloured handkerchief and mopped his brow. “I was standing on the cliff outside my house looking down at the ocean when I saw it,” the old man said. “Perhaps it was an illusion.”

“Perhaps,” Jupiter said. “Now tell us exactly what you heard. This might be an important lead in the mystery.”

“Well, confound it,” Mr. Allen said. “As far as I know, there aren’t any dragons around, and there haven’t been for several million years. Of course, I’ve done pictures about them, using mechanical monsters. In those cases, we used some kind of muffled roar of an engine combined with shrill whistles, blended together to create the effect we were trying to achieve — that of frightening the audience.

“But what I heard last night wasn’t anything like that at all. It was rather a high-pitched rasping sound — almost as if it were breathing with difficulty — or coughing.”

“What about the cave under your house?” Jupiter asked. “Is it large enough to contain a dragon, or any creature large enough to be mistaken for one?”

“Yes,” the old man said. “There are a series of caves running under this ridge. Extending north and south as well as inland. In the old days, they were used by rum-runners, and before them by smugglers and pirates. There was a landslide some years ago as the cliffs eroded, covering much of what was known then as Haggity’s Point. But many of the caves are still under here.”

“Hmmmm,” Jupiter muttered. “But this is the first time you’ve ever seen or heard a dragon, and yet you’ve been living here for years. Is that correct?”

The old man nodded and smiled. “Once is enough. And I might not even have seen this one if I hadn’t been out looking for my dog, Red Rover.”

The boys exchanged glances, smiling. One of their secret entrances into Headquarters was called Red Gate Rover.

“I guess it’s time we discussed your missing dog and the circumstances, sir. Bob, take notes,” Jupiter said.

Bob, in charge of Records and Research, took out his pad and pencil.

Mr. Allen started, then smiled at this example of the business-like proficiency of The Three Investigators.

“I’ve been abroad for the past two months,” he said. “Even though I am no longer actively working in films, I am still very much interested in them, and their development. As a rule I tour Europe every year, going to most of the major film festivals in different foreign cities. This year was no different. I went to the festivals in Rome, Venice, Paris, London and Budapest, and also visited old friends.

“As usual, when abroad, I boarded my dog at a local kennel. I returned a week ago, got Red Rover out — he’s an Irish setter, by the way — beautiful animal. Friendly, too.

“Red Rover likes to run. As I can’t keep up with him, I let him loose at night. Two nights ago he didn’t return. Although I’ve had him three years, I thought he’d picked up new habits and returned to the kennel. I called and he wasn’t there. I waited for him to come back and he didn’t.

“I was out looking for him — when I saw — it!”

“You didn’t go down to the beach?” asked Jupe.

The old man shook his head. “No. It was an eerie sensation. I’d spent most of my life making pictures to shock and scare people out of their wits, and now it had happened to me. There’s no way I can describe the feelings I had. Panic, first, that this awesome creature might have attacked and devoured my dog. Then the fear that I might be losing my mind. To admit openly that you have seen a dragon takes some doing, believe me!”

“You took no other steps then,” pursued Jupiter, “but phoned your friend Alfred Hitchcock.”

The old man mopped his brow again. “Alfred is an old and dear friend, with much experience in the field of mystery. I knew if anybody could help me, he was the one. Now it will be up to you boys. The entire matter is in your hands.”

“Thank you, Mr. Allen,” Jupiter said, “for your confidence. There have been other incidents of missing dogs in this town. Five of them, at last report, not including yours.”

Mr. Allen nodded. “I heard that on the news after my dog had disappeared. If I had heard of it before, I might not have let Red Rover run on his own as I did.”

“Have you spoken to the other dog owners?” Jupiter asked.

The old man shook his head. “No. Not yet. I didn’t want to mention what I’d seen.”

“Do all the people round here own dogs?”

Mr. Allen smiled. “Not all. Not the man across the street, Mr. Carter. Nor my next-door neighbour on the right, Arthur Shelby. I don’t know many of my neighbours. I live a quiet life with my books and paintings. And my dog.”

Jupiter stood up. “We’ll be going then, Mr. Allen, and I promise you a full report of any progress we make.”

Mr. Allen shook hands and saw them out, thanking them again. The boys went out through the wooden gate, and Jupiter closed it behind them.

Pete smiled as Jupiter set the hook in place. “Keeping out the dragon, Jupe?”

“I doubt very much that a mere locked gate, or even a locked door, would stop a dragon, Pete,” said Jupiter.

The Second Investigator gulped nervously. “I don’t like the way you said that,” he declared. He looked up the street, and then glanced at his watch. “Where’s Hans?”

“It’s much too early,” Jupiter said. “We still have plenty of time.”

He started to walk across the street.

Bob and Pete looked at him.

“Time for what?” Bob asked.

“To call on Mr. Carter,” Jupiter said. “After him, Mr. Arthur Shelby. Aren’t you curious about men who live in this lonely section and don’t need dogs to protect them?”

“No, I’m not,” Pete said. “As a matter of fact, I’m wondering why I haven’t bought a dog yet to protect me! A large one that’s not afraid of dragons!”

Jupiter smiled and the boys followed him to the other side of the narrow street. Mr. Carter’s grounds were well kept up and his house was freshly painted.

“Notice,” Jupiter told his friends as they went up the path, “that the hedges are evenly clipped and the lawn neatly mowed. His trees are pruned and his flower beds are well tended. Mr. Carter must be a neat man.”

Jupiter pressed the bell. Almost immediately the front door was flung open and a heavyset man stood there glowering down at them.

“Yes? What do you kids want?” he demanded loudly.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Jupiter said politely. “We’ve just visited your neighbour, Mr. Allen, across the street. His dog, Red Rover, is missing, as you may know. We were wondering if you knew anything about its disappearance.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and his thick eyebrows rose, then lowered. His mouth twisted into a snarling line.

“So Allen’s lost his dog, has he? Like the others up the street, eh? Well, good riddance to them. Good riddance and let’s hope they stay lost. I hate dogs!”

His eyes blazed furiously at them, with an almost insane glint. His hands clenched and for a moment the boys thought he was going to attack them.

Jupiter managed to keep his voice calm, and his placid-looking exterior unruffled. “I’m sure you must have a good reason for disliking the animals, sir,“ he said. “Perhaps if you could tell us what they’ve done — ”

“What they’ve done?” the man echoed sarcastically. “Done what they’ve always done. Barked and howled at the moon all night. Trampled my flower beds. Ripped up my lawn. Upset my dustbins, littering the path. That enough for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jupe said sympathetically. “We’re new to the neighbourhood. It’s Mr. Allen’s dog we’re trying to find. If it’s damaged your property, I’m sure Mr. Allen would pay for it. He misses his dog terribly and I’m sure he’d do anything — ”

“Do anything, would be?” the man asked. “Well, so would I. Wait here!”

He ducked inside behind the door. The boys hardly had time to exchange baffled glances than the door was flung open again and Mr. Carter was back.

He was holding a large shotgun.

“Here’s what I’d do,” he said, raging. “Fill him with lead! This one carries double ought. That’s the largest ammunition made for this weapon. And if I set eyes on that dog of Allen’s or any other pesky beast hereabouts on my property, here’s what they’ll get.”

He raised the gun threateningly.