The Mystery of the Coughing Dragon - West Nick - Страница 15

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“I don’t know,” Jupiter said, puffing as he tried to regain his breath.

“Well, if you ever find out, don’t tell me,” Pete said. “I’ll have enough trouble forgetting that I saw it tonight!”

“How could it happen?” Bob asked. “According to all the books I’ve read, dragons are supposed to be extinct. There just aren’t such things around today.”

Jupiter shook his head.

“I don’t know,” He frowned and pinched at his lower lip. “The obvious answer would be that we didn’t see one. If there aren’t any, then we couldn’t possibly have seen one.”

“Are you kidding?” Pete demanded. “If we didn’t see one, then what was that thing that came into the cave breathing hot steam at us?”

“It sure looked like a dragon,” Bob said.

Worthington turned his head. “I beg your pardon, young gentlemen, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Do I understand you correctly, that you saw a dragon this evening? A real live one?”

“We sure did, Worthington,” Pete said. “It came out of the sea and headed straight for a cave we were investigating. Did you ever see one?”

The chauffeur shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I’ve been that fortunate. But in Scotland, they had something equally terrifying that a few people were privileged to see. A long undulating sea serpent. It was called the Loch Ness monster and it still appears, I’m told, from time to time.”

“Did you ever see it, Worthington?” Jupe asked. “No, Master Jones,” the chauffeur replied. “But when I was a lad, I travelled near the loch — as their lakes are called — and word would spread rapidly when it was sighted. I consider it one of the major disappointments of my life that I have never seen the Loch Ness monster. It was reputed to be at least a hundred feet long.”

“Mmmm.” Jupiter thought about it. “And you’ve never seen a dragon, either, you said.”

“Not a real one,” Worthington said, smiling. “Only the kind they use before the football game.”

“Football game?” Bob asked.

The dignified chauffeur nodded. “That annual New Year’s pageant you people have near here in Pasadena. The big floats of flowers. The Rose Bowl parade, I believe it’s called.”

“Well, the one we saw a little while ago wasn’t made out of flowers,” Pete said quickly. “I can tell you that. Right, Jupe?”

“Mmm,” Jupe replied. “Definitely not made out of flowers. It was a real dragon, all right,” He hesitated. “At least we’re all agreed it looked like one.”

“I’m glad you agree for once,” Pete said.

Jupiter scowled. He was pinching his lower lip, between his thumb and forefinger, always a sign he was in deep thought. He looked out of the window of the speeding car and continued to pinch his lip without replying.

When the Rolls-Royce reached the Jones Salvage Yard, Jupiter thanked Worthington and said he would call again the next time they needed transportation.

“Very good, Master Jones,” Worthington said. “I must say I enjoyed the assignment this evening. It’s a welcome change from driving wealthy old ladies and well-to-do businessmen. Before parting, however, I hope you don’t mind answering one question that comes to mind. About your dragon, if I may.”

“Sure, Worthington. What about it?”

“Well, sir,” the chauffeur said, “one might say you were privileged this evening to see a real live dragon, in the flesh, so to speak. At close quarters, might I ask?”

“Too close,” Pete answered abruptly. “It was practically right on top of us.”

“Good,” the chauffeur said, his usual reserved manner dissolved. “Then perhaps you gentlemen took notice. Is it true, as the legend would have it, that the monster breathes out smoke and fire?”

Jupiter thought and shook his head slowly. “No, Worthington. This one didn’t. At least, all we saw was the smoke.”

“Ah!” Worthington said. “A pity. I should have been most pleased if you had witnessed the total effect.”

“Maybe you would, Worthington,” Pete said. “But what we saw was enough, believe me. I’ve had enough effect to last me a lifetime. Just talking about it gives me goose-pimples.”

The chauffeur nodded and drove off. Jupiter led his partners into the junkyard. His Uncle Titus and Aunt Mathilda were already asleep inside the little house that adjoined the yard. There was just a dim nightlight on for Jupiter.

Jupiter turned to Pete and Bob. “I don’t know if you’ll like this, but we will have to return to the cave, dragon or not.”

“What?” Pete howled. “Don’t you realize we’re lucky just to be back here alive?”

Jupe nodded. He held his arms up and showed his empty hands. “My torch is still in my belt, just like yours and Bob’s. But in our panic when we ran out of the cave, we forgot all our equipment. My camera, the recorder, the rope. That’s one reason for our going back there.”

“Okay,” Pete said grudgingly. “That makes a little sense, but not too much. What’s your other reason?”

“The dragon itself,” Jupiter said slowly. “I don’t believe it was real!”

His partners stared at him.

“Not real?” Pete demanded. “Are you trying to tell us that thing that frightened us out of our wits wasn’t real? ”

Jupiter nodded.

Bob shook his head. “If that wasn’t a real live dragon, I’ll eat my shirt.”

“I admit it looked like one,” Jupe said.

Pete looked annoyed. “Then what are you talking about?”

“I admit the dragon looked like one,” Jupe repeated. “But it didn’t act like one!

“It’s too late now to discuss it,” Jupe said. “I’ll give you my reasons for not believing that was a real live dragon tomorrow morning. And, if I’m proved wrong next time we visit the cave, I’ll do as you threatened, Bob — I’ll eat my shirt.”

“You won’t have to bother,” Pete said. “The dragon will eat it for you. And whatever else is handy.”

Bob had trouble sleeping. Tired as he was from the harrowing events at the cave in Seaside, he had no sooner closed his eyes than he was being pursued from cave to cave by a monstrous dragon breathing hot steam at him. At last he managed to fall soundly asleep, only to be wakened by his mother calling him for breakfast.

His father was finishing his breakfast when Bob came to the table. He nodded to Bob, then glanced at his watch.

“Good morning, son. Did you have a good time with your friends last night?”

“Yes, Dad,” Bob answered. “Kind of.”

His father stood up, dropping his napkin on the table. “That’s fine. By the way, I don’t know if it’s important, but you seemed interested in the Seaside tunnel yesterday, and after you left, I happened to recall the name of the man who had lost his fortune building it.”

“Oh?” Bob asked. “Who was it, Dad?”

“Labron Carter.”

“Carter?” Bob instantly thought of the Mr. Carter they had met. The one with the bad temper and big shotgun.

“Yes. He lost his vigorous health, too, once the Seaside Town Council turned away from his plans to make Seaside the resort city he had envisaged. The combination of losing his health, fortune and reputation was too much for him — he killed himself.”

“That’s too bad. Did he have a family?”

Mr. Andrews nodded. “His wife died shortly afterwards. His son is the sole survivor.” Mr. Andrews looked thoughtful for a moment. “That is, if he is still alive,” he added. “Remember this all happened over fifty years ago.”

Bob waved goodbye as his father left for the newspaper office where he worked. He added this latest information to his notes. He wondered what Jupe would say when he presented his own evidence. Proof that somebody was still alive who knew about the original tunnel. Somebody with a grudge to bear against the city that had broken his father’s heart. Somebody who had a very nasty disposition.

Bob couldn’t imagine how the present Mr. Carter might try to get even. He put his notes in his pocket, finished his breakfast and hurriedly left.

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