Chapter XI: A Black Mystery

Bangs, it seemed clear, had entered the other room through a window in the side of the house. The roof of a one-story building came close up under the window, so that it was comparatively easy to enter Rigolette's house in that manner.

And Bangs was trying to make his escape in the same way he had come. He jumped from the window to the neighboring rooftop and started for the edge of the roof.

Matt and Dick, however, were upon him before he could get over the roof's edge and drop to the ground.

Bangs fought fiercely, clawing and growling, like a wild animal. His eyes were wild, he was bareheaded and his hair was tumbled over his forehead.

"The man's crazy," said Matt.

"Is it drink did it?" asked Dick. "Has he been topping the boom too much?"

"No, it wasn't drink; it's something else. Let's get him back to Rigolette's and see if he's able to give us any information."

Getting the squirming Bangs back to the creole's was not an easy matter. However, Rigolette dropped the pieces of rope lying in the room where Carl had been confined, from the window, and the boys made their captive's wrists and ankles secure; then they heaved Bangs upward, and the creole caught him by the shoulders and dragged him through the opening.

"He ees wild," chattered Rigolette; "ever'body ees wild. I was wild myself."

"I say, Bangs!" called Dick, kneeling beside the prisoner and shaking him. "What's the matter with you?"

Bangs mumbled incoherently and stared fiercely.

"Do you think he's putting it on, mate?" said Dick, appealing to Matt.

"No, he's not putting it on. The man's really daft." Matt turned to Rigolette. "You say the boy and Jurgens were like Bangs, here?"

"_Oui_--yes," said the creole. "Zey run from ze house; now Proctair, he ees come back by ze roof. W'y he do zat w'en he could come by ze door? Zat ees a mystery."

"Aye, a black mystery!" cried Dick.

"Carl was certainly here," mused Matt; "the finding of his cap proves it. And it's almost equally clear that he was a prisoner. Something locoed him, as well as Bangs and Jurgens; and Carl, in some manner, got out of his ropes. Where is he now? That's the point. And the iron chest--was that all that was in it?" and Matt nodded toward the heap of sawdust.

At that moment the scrap of paper, which Jurgens had dropped, met his eyes. He picked it up.

"What is it, mate?" asked Dick, anxiously. "Does it shed any light?"

Matt read the paper aloud.

"Strike me lucky!" exclaimed Dick. "That head--it must have been in the box. Wasn't there anything else?"

Matt dropped to his knees excitedly and began running his fingers through the sawdust.

"That was all," said he, "the head of Obboney and this paper."

Dick laughed harshly.

"And that's the treasure Jurgens and Whistler have been hunting for!" he exclaimed. "The head of an idol--a heathen idol! I wonder what Townsend will say to this? The Man from Cape Town seems to have pulled the wool over the eyes of everybody."

"Why didn't Jurgens take the head away with him if it was in the box?" Matt queried, thoughtfully.

"Probably he didn't think it was worth bothering with; either that or else he was too crazy to think of it."

"Go down and get the head, Dick," said Matt. "We might as well put it back in the chest and try and deliver everything to Townsend just as we found it."

"Aye, aye," answered Dick, and started.

Matt was astounded by the situation which confronted him and Dick in the creole's house. Bangs had engineered a piece of successful treachery, but, in the end, the treachery had somehow turned against him and Jurgens. What had caused the death of the monkey? And what was it that had turned the brains of Bangs, Jurgens and Carl? Bangs was clearly demented, and if Rigolette was to be believed, so were Jurgens and Carl.

And only that idol's head had been in the iron chest! Yes, truly, the affair was a mystery--and a black one.

While Matt was struggling to think of something that might help to a solution of the problem, Dick came bounding up the stairs and along the gallery.

"It's gone!" he panted.

Matt whirled on him in consternation.

"What, the head of Obboney?" he asked.

"Nothing else, old ship! It's not where we saw it and it isn't anywhere in the court. The negro woman at the door says that a man answering Jurgens' description rushed into the house and out again. He had something when he went out, but she couldn't see what it was. I'll bet it was that idol's head, mate!"

"It must have been!" exclaimed Matt. "Perhaps a little reason returned to Jurgens and he came back after the head. Did he seem to be crazy, or in any manner off his balance?"

"The woman says he looked wild, didn't say a word and went like a streak."

"Well," said Matt, regretfully, "we've been beaten out, after all. What we've got to do now is to find Carl."

"Where'll we look for him? We can go cruising around, but this is a big town and, if Carl is off his bearings, there's no telling where he'll go."

"If he's very much off his bearings, the police will pick him up. And the same with Jurgens. But----"

Matt halted and gave a glance at Rigolette, who was leaning moodily against the wall.

"Come over here, Dick," said Matt, stepping to one side. When his chum joined him, he lowered his voice so the creole could not hear what was said.

"You remember that smoke picture of Yamousa's--the one you and I saw?"

"Dowse me, mate, if I could ever forget that!"

"What do you think of Yamousa and her smoke pictures, by now?"

"Why, I'm not much of a hand to believe in things like that," replied Dick, slowly, "but that first smoke picture, showing the boat and the chest, with the _Hawk_ overhead and you below--why, that was a dead ringer for what happened. Blow me tight! I'm fair dazed to account for that picture."

"So am I," continued Matt, earnestly, "but this is what I'm trying to get at. If one picture gave a truthful forecast of what was to happen, isn't it possible that the second picture was equally truthful and to be depended on?"

"More than possible, Matt--_probable_."

"Do you recollect what that second picture was?

"Why, a room with stone walls and a man who looked like Townsend lashed by the hands and feet and lying on the floor!"

"Then, if you remember, we saw the outside of the building--or what Yamousa said was the outside of it--And the lower story was occupied by an antique shop."

"Right-o! The sign above the shop bore the name of Crenelette."

"Exactly. Now, Dick, it strikes me we ought to go down Royal Street and look for Crenelette's place of business. There's nothing we can do for Carl, just now, inasmuch as we don't know where to go to find him, and there may be something we _can_ do for Townsend."

"Your head's level, matey, like it always is. We'll go on a hunt for Townsend. If the contents of the iron chest can't be recovered, we must do the next best thing and help Townsend out of a hole--provided he _is_ in a hole, which seems almost certain."

Matt turned away and addressed himself to Rigolette.

"How long was Jurgens here, in your house, Rigolette?" he asked.

"Two--t'ree day, m'sieu."

"What was he doing here?"

"Zat I do not know. _Sapristi!_ My head ees buzzing wit' all dese zings vat I don't onderstan'."

"You may not have been doing anything wrong, of your own knowledge, by harboring and helping Jurgens and Proctor, Rigolette, but those men are criminals, and you've got to walk pretty straight from this on if you don't want to get yourself into trouble."

"I no want ze trouble, m'sieu!" whined the creole. "I have ze trouble enough wizout making more."

"Then keep Proctor here, just as he is. He may come to himself, before long, and when he does we'll try to get back and have a talk with him. Comprenny?"

"_Oui_--yes. He ees my friend, but I keep heem lak you say. Zen, bumby, eet may be he can tell what keel ze P'tit Joujou."

"I haven't any doubt but that he can let in a good deal of light upon the mystery. We'll try and return here, in a few hours. Meanwhile, if the Dutch boy wanders back, try and keep him."

"I do w'at I can, m'sieu."

Matt and Dick, puzzled and bewildered but hoping for results from their fresh line of inquiry, inquired their way to Royal Street and turned along it in the direction of Canal.

Fortune favored them, for they had not gone a block along Royal Street before they saw an antique shop with the sign, "M. Crenelette, Antiques," over the door.

Matt and Dick went to the other side of the street and took in the appearance of the building. In every particular it conformed to the smoke picture which they had seen, miles away, in the hut of Yamousa.

"I'm all ahoo!" admitted Dick. "Yamousa must know a whole lot of things that scientists haven't yet discovered. That's the building, to a dot!"

"It's amazing!" murmured Matt. "Our cue seems to be a good one and it's up to us to follow it and see where it leads."

"Right-o! Heave ahead and I'll tow along, ready for anything that happens."

As the boys pushed across the street toward the door of the antique shop, a face dodged away from a second-story window. And it was a face which, if the boys had seen it, would have warned them to be on their guard.