The Mystery of the Shrinking House

A Few Words from Alfred Hitchcock

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When I first met the trio of lads who call themselves The Three

Investigators, I foolishly promised to introduce their most interesting

cases. Little did I realize how prolific the lads would be! As you will

see, I did my best to avoid introducing this case--but the boys foiled

me. So I will do my duty, and proceed with yet another introduction to

The Three Investigators.

The members of this intrepid junior detective firm are Jupiter Jones,

Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews. All three reside in the town of Rocky

Beach, California, a few miles from Hollywood. Jupiter is the brains of

the firm. Pete provides the brawn. And Bob, the most studious of the

three, is in charge of research.

Together the three lads are a formidable team. They have outwitted the

cleverest of crooks and survived the most terrifying situations. In

their newest case they are asked to track down the missing possessions

of a dead artist. A simple enough assignment--but one that leads them

into strange byways of mystery and intrigue.

Now you know enough to begin reading the story . . . if you dare.

Alfred Hitchcock

1

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A Figure in Black

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'Uncle Titus!' Jupiter Jones cried. 'Look over there!'

The truck from The Jones Salvage Yard had just stopped in the driveway

of the old house in Remuda Canyon on the outskirts of Rocky Beach.

Jupiter and his friend Pete Crenshaw were sitting in the truck cab with

Uncle Titus Jones.

'What?' Uncle Titus said, startled. 'Look where, Jupiter?'

'There! On the side of the house!'

Jupiter pointed into the twilight. A black shape seemed to hang halfway

up the side of the big old frame house in the canyon.

'I don't see a thing, Jupiter Jones,' Uncle Titus said.

'Gosh,' Pete said, 'neither do I, Jupe.'

Jupiter stared. The figure in black was gone. One minute it had been on

the side of the house, then it had disappeared into thin air! Or had it

been there at all?

'I'm sure I saw someone!' Jupiter said. 'Someone all in black on the

side of the house!'

Uncle Titus looked dubiously at the big frame house. The canyon walls

cast strange, eerie shadows on the isolated house and the small cottage

near it. All seemed quiet and peaceful.

'You probably saw a shadow, Jupe,' said Uncle Titus.

'Canyon shadows sure play funny tricks,' Pete agreed.

'No,' Jupiter insisted, 'I saw someone all in black, and I think he went

into the house through a window!'

Uncle Titus hesitated. He knew that his stocky nephew had a great deal

of imagination, and he hated to raise a false alarm. But he also knew

that Jupiter was usually right.

'All right, come on then,' Uncle Titus said. 'We'd better tell Professor

Carswell what you saw.'

The two boys followed Uncle Titus up an overgrown walk to the front door

of the big house. It was an old house from the last century, with wooden

towers, many peaks and gables, columns holding up the porch, and a

massive front door.

The man who answered their knocking was tall and thin, with very deep

shadowed eyes. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket even in July, and carried

a thick book in some foreign language.

'Professor Carswell?' Uncle Titus asked.

The Professor smiled. 'You must be Mr Jones from the salvage yard. Come

in. What I have to sell--'

Uncle Titus interrupted, 'I don't mean to alarm you, Professor, but my

nephew here insists that he saw a figure all in black climbing up the

side of your house a moment ago.'

'Someone climbing up this house?' The Professor blinked at the boys and

Uncle Titus. 'You must be mistaken.'

'No, sir,' Jupiter said urgently, 'I'm certain of what I saw. Do you

have anything valuable a burglar would want?'

'I'm afraid not, young man. Absolutely nothing,' Professor Carswell

said. 'Still, if you say you saw something, I'm sure you did. Only I

can't imagine . . . ah! Of course! You must have seen my son up to one

of his games. He has a black cowboy outfit, and try as I may I can't

seem to convince Hal that doors are better entrances than windows.'

Professor Carswell smiled again, and Uncle Titus nodded.

'Of course, that's it. I know how boys are, yessir,' the owner of the

salvage yard said.

'How old is your son, sir?' Jupiter asked.

'A little younger than you, I guess, but taller. As tall as your friend

there.' The Professor nodded to Pete.

'The person I saw was much bigger,' Jupiter said firmly.

'Ah?' Professor Carswell looked sceptically at Jupiter. 'Very well,

young man. We'll see if your burglar is in the house.'

The Professor led them through the downstairs rooms of the big old

house. Many of the rooms were empty and closed off.

'A professor of languages can't really afford a house like this these

days,' the Professor said sadly. 'My ancestors were wealthy ship

captains who brought goods here from the East. They built this house.

Now only myself and my son remain. A cousin left the place to us a year

ago. We closed off most of the rooms in this house, and rented out the

old caretaker's cottage to make ends meet.'

They found nothing in the downstairs rooms, and went upstairs. Most of

the rooms upstairs were also empty, and they saw no sign of an intruder.

Jupiter studied all the rooms.

'There's not much to steal,' he admitted.

'You sound disappointed,' said the Professor.

'Jupe likes mysteries,' Pete said. 'Only there sure isn't any burglar

around here.'

'Professor Carswell's son isn't in the house, either,' Jupiter pointed

out thoughtfully. 'I know I saw someone. You called Uncle Titus to sell

some items to the salvage yard. Is there something valuable among them?'

'I wish there were,' Professor Carswell said. 'But they're only what

poor old Mr Cameron had when he died a month ago in our cottage. The

contents of two suitcases, and some of his amateur paintings. Old

Cameron was something of a recluse. He owned little, and couldn't even

pay his rent the last few months. I hope to recover a few dollars by

selling his meagre possessions to your uncle.'

'Recluses sometimes have hidden valuables,' Jupiter said.

Professor Carswell smiled. 'You sound like a detective.'

'We are detectives!' Pete blurted out. 'Show him, Jupe!'

Jupiter produced a business card, on which was printed:

THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

'We Investigate Anything'

? ? ?

First Investigator - Jupiter Jones

Second Investigator - Peter Crenshaw

Records and Research - Bob Andrews

'Well, well, very impressive,' Professor Carswell said. 'I'm quite sorry

there is nothing here to investigate, boys. It must have been the canyon

shadows you saw.'

The Professor had hardly stopped speaking when they heard a cry:

'Help! Help!'

They all froze. Professor Carswell listened, and suddenly turned pale.

'Help!' The cry came from outside. 'Dad!'

'That's my son, Hal!' Professor Carswell exclaimed. 'Come on!'

The Professor ran down the stairs and out the door with the boys and

Uncle Titus right behind him. In the canyon twilight the cry came

again--from the small cottage off to their left.

'Help!'

2

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Jupiter is Right--and Wrong!

---------------------------------

Professor Carswell raced across the lawn of the big house towards the

small cottage, with Uncle Titus and Pete close behind him, and the

overweight Jupiter puffing in the rear. Breathlessly they ran under the

patched porch awning of the cottage and burst into a small living-room.

The room was sparsely furnished--and empty!

'Harold!' Professor Carswell called out in alarm.

'Dad!' a voice cried. 'Help!'

The voice came from the tiny bedroom of the cottage. Pete and Uncle

Titus followed the Professor into it. They saw a narrow bed, a chair,

and a large bureau that had been knocked over. A thin boy lay on the

floor half under the bureau. Professor Carswell hurried to him.

'I'm okay, Dad,' the boy said. 'I just can't get out.'

Together Professor Carswell, Pete and Uncle Titus heaved the heavy

bureau off Hal Carswell. The boy stood up and brushed himself off.

'I heard a noise in here, Dad,' Hal explained, 'so I came in to look.

There was someone all in black--and masked. When I yelled, he pushed the

bureau over on me and ran out the back way!'

'Jupe was right!' Pete exclaimed. 'He did see a man in black--but the

man must have been coming out of your house, not going in! Jupe . . .'

Pete looked all around the bedroom, and in the small living-room.

Jupiter was nowhere in the cottage.

'Jupiter Jones!' Uncle Titus called out.

'Gosh,' Pete gulped. 'He was right behind us when we ran out of the

house. Where could he be?'

Professor Carswell turned to his son. 'You say that would-be burglar ran

out the back? Did he have a weapon, Hal?'

'I didn't see any--'

Once again they all froze as a cry broke the twilight outside the

cottage. 'Aggghhhhhhhhhhhh!'

Professor Carswell whirled. 'That sounds as if it came from the gorge at

the back! Maybe someone fell in!'

'Is it a deep gorge?' Uncle Titus asked nervously.

'No, but deep enough to injure someone,' Professor Carswell said.

'Follow me.'

The tall Professor quickly led them behind the cottage, where they

crashed through the thick brushwood and the trees in the lengthening

shadows of the outlying canyon. They stopped abruptly at the edge of a

narrow, steep-sided gully about ten feet deep. It ran across the canyon,

curving away out of sight in both directions. Its bottom was strewn with

heavy rocks and eroded trees.

There was no sign of Jupiter or anyone else.

'Look!' Pete said.

A dark stain was on some rocks below and to the right. The four of them

scrambled down the steep sides to stand over the darkened rocks. Pete

touched the stain. It was wet.

'Blood,' the Second Investigator said, and gulped.

When Pete and the others had rushed into the cottage earlier, Jupiter

had been far behind. He saw the black-garbed figure running from behind

the cottage towards the brushwood at the rear of the property.

The stocky First Investigator realized that no one else had seen the

fleeing intruder. The man was sure to escape if Jupiter took the time to

warn the others in the cottage. He hesitated for only a second, then

turned and pursued the running figure.

Jupiter was unable to get a good look at the man before he vanished into

the thick brush and trees. Panting, the stout First Investigator reached

the dense underbrush--just as he heard the cry ahead. There was a

crashing, the sound of something sliding and falling, and then a loud

thud and groaning cry.

Jupiter slipped through the dense brushwood to the edge of a narrow

gorge. In the shadowed gloom at the bottom of the steep little gully,

the black figure staggered up and limped off along the gorge to the

right. The man was dragging his left leg.

Jupiter slid down, and at the bottom of the gorge he found blood on some

rocks. A trail of blood led off to the right. Jupiter followed the trail

cautiously. The gulley was the perfect place for an ambush if the

intruder knew he was being followed.

A car door slammed up ahead, and a car engine started. Jupiter began to

run. A little way ahead the gorge came out into the main canyon road,

which looped back along the side of the Carswell property before turning

in the direction of Rocky Beach. By the time Jupiter reached the road,

the rear lights of the car were vanishing towards the town.

Pete was still staring at the blood on the rocks at the bottom of the

gorge when he heard someone coming. Uncle Titus heard it, too.

'Down, Peter!' he said. 'Everyone . . . !'

They all crouched in the shadows of the gorge, ready to leap on the

intruder.

Jupiter came around the curve in the gully.

'Jupe!' Pete cried. 'What happened?'

'I chased the intruder,' Jupiter said, 'but I lost him.'

'Jupiter Jones!' Uncle Titus exploded. 'You should know better than to

try to capture a thief by yourself!'

'I didn't try to capture him, Uncle Titus. I just followed to try to see

his face, but it was dark, and he had a car.'

Professor Carswell shook his head. 'I can't understand what he wanted

here. All I can imagine is that he made a mistake. There are wealthy

people in these big canyon houses, and he must have simply picked the

wrong house. Well, whatever, perhaps we should get to business, Mr

Jones?'

They all went back to the cottage. Professor Carswell switched on the

lights and took two old leather suitcases from the bedroom cupboard. In

one were clothes--an old-fashioned dress suit, a grey flannel suit, and

several shirts, ties and pairs of socks. In the other were some paints,

a stuffed owl, a small statue of Venus, a pair of large binoculars, and

a box of silver forks, knives and spoons.

'Old Joshua acted rough, and never wore anything but a sweat shirt and a

pair of old trousers,' Professor Carswell said. 'But I could see he was

well educated, and he always used his silver when he ate. Yet in the

seven months he was here, all he did was sit out on the lawn in our

canvas chair and sketch. At night he painted all the time. See?'

The Professor took a canvas covering off a pile in the corner, revealing

twenty paintings. They were all pictures of the cottage and grounds. In

some, the cottage was seen from very close-up, while in others it was so

far away that all you could see was the striped porch awning with its

patches.

'They're not bad,' Uncle Titus said. His eyes gleamed as he looked

around at the suitcases, the silver cutlery, and the paintings. There

was nothing Uncle Titus enjoyed more than buying things to sell in his

junkyard. His wife, Jupiter's Aunt Mathilda, frequently complained about

the outlandish items he found. But Uncle Titus was always convinced that

a buyer would turn up. Usually he was right.

'You're selling all of this?' asked Titus Jones.

'Yes. The old man died owing me rent,' Professor Carswell said. 'He

sometimes got money from Europe, so I wrote to that address, but I've

had no answer. No one has come, and I need the money.'

While Uncle Titus and the Professor discussed the price, Jupiter looked

at the meagre possessions of Joshua Cameron with disappointment. There

was nothing at all that looked really valuable.

'What happened to Mr Cameron, Hal?' he asked.

'He just got sick,' Hal Carswell said. 'I tried to help him, but he was

delirious with fever. Babbled about canvases and zigzags. The doctor

came and wanted to move him to a hospital, but Mr Cameron died first. He

was just old and sick.'

'Well,' Pete said, 'there sure isn't much in his stuff that a thief

would want, Jupe. A mistake, I guess.'

Jupiter nodded glumly. They loaded Joshua Cameron's things on to the

salvage yard truck and started home along the winding canyon road. As

the truck passed the mouth of the gorge, Jupiter frowned.

'Thieves don't usually pick a house by mistake,' the stocky First

Investigator said thoughtfully.

'I guess we'll never know for sure what that man wanted,' Pete said.

'I suppose not,' Jupiter said, and sighed.

But both boys were wrong.

3

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A Client Arrives

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One afternoon a week later, Jupiter and the third member of The Three

Investigators, Bob Andrews, were working in the salvage yard. It was Bob

who first saw the long, yellow Mercedes drive into the yard and stop in

front of the office.

A small, elegant man got out of the dazzling car. His grey hair seemed

to shine in the late afternoon sun like silver. He wore a white summer

suit with a blue silk shirt. He carried a slim black cane, and something

glittered in his hand. For a moment he stopped and looked towards the

boys. Then he stalked abruptly into the junkyard office.

Both boys gaped after the elegant little man. Then Jupiter suddenly

gulped.

'I forgot! We're supposed to be watching the office for Uncle Titus.

Come on.'

The boys hurried towards the office. Just as they reached the yellow

Mercedes, the rear door opened and a tall lady with blue-grey hair

stepped out. She wore a white silk dress and a simple diamond brooch.

She stared down at the boys with regal eyes.

'I wish to speak with a Mr Titus Jones. Is he here?'

'My uncle left me in charge of the yard, ma'am,' Jupiter told the

queenly woman.

'Indeed? Can one so young assume charge?'

'I think so, ma'am,' Jupiter said firmly.

'Good.' The lady smiled. 'I like confidence, young man.'

'Besides,' Bob added, grinning at her, 'we don't get many customers

after five o'clock, anyway.'

The lady laughed. 'I like honesty, too. And you do have a customer now.

My estate manager, Mr Marechal, is already in your office. I suggest we

join him.'

As the boys followed the elegant lady into the office, the small,

silver-haired man stepped quickly away from Uncle Titus's desk. Jupiter

noticed that the record book of purchases made for the junkyard was on

the desk, and seemed to have been moved.

'Armand,' the imperious lady said, 'it seems that these boys are in

charge here.'

'So?' The man bowed to the boys. They saw what had glittered in his hand

outside--his cane had a large silver head. 'Then I shall state our

business. The Countess wishes to retrieve the possessions of the late Mr

Joshua Cameron sold to you by Professor Carswell. We will, of course,

pay a suitable price to reimburse you for your trouble.'

'Is there something valuable among them, sir?' Jupiter asked eagerly.

'They have only sentimental value, I fear,' the tall lady said.

'The Countess is Joshua Cameron's sister,' the man added.

Bob exclaimed, 'Are you really a countess?'

'My late husband was a count, yes,' said the Countess with a smile, 'but

my maiden name is Cameron. I am poor Joshua's younger sister. Joshua was

eccentric, and a recluse, and since I am twenty years younger, we were

not very close. Still, it grieves me that he died alone in a strange

place.'

'You see, boys,' Mr Marechal said, 'we were in Africa until a few days

ago, and only just received Professor Carswell's letter telling of

Joshua's