Jacob Two-Two-'s First Spy Case Read Online Free PDF Page A

envelope was empty, just as he expected. But, with Marfa’s help, he heated a kettle and steamed the stamp off the envelope. Then he was able to read the secret message underneath. “Back Friday. X. Barnaby Dinglebat, Master Spy.”

CHAPTER 10
    hen Jacob Two-Two’s mother pulled into their driveway on Friday afternoon, after driving him home from school, Jacob was delighted to notice not six, but five pineapples set out on Mr. Dinglebat’s front doorstep. “I’m going to visit Mr. Dinglebat now, Mummy,” he said.
    â€œAre you sure he won’t mind your dropping in just like that?”
    â€œOh yes, I’m sure.”
    Poor Mr. Dinglebat was in a state. He had, he told Jacob Two-Two, recently invested a good deal of money in buying Canadian military secrets, andnow he was stuck with them. “No customers,” he said.
    Mr. Dinglebat showed Jacob Two-Two the ad he had placed in
The Certified Snooper’s Monthly Journal
:
    ONCE IN A LIFETIME OFFER
BUY ONE CANADIAN MILITARY SECRET
GET ONE FREE!!!
Write to X. Barnaby Dinglebat
Master Spy
    But there were no offers. “Not even a nibble,” said Mr. Dinglebat. “But, fortunately, my dear boy, I have another source of funds. Wait for me here.”
    Mr. Dinglebat retreated into his dressing room and, when he emerged again, he was wearing an Afro wig, an earring, mirrored sunglasses, a sheepskin vest, numerous gold chains, purple trousers, and yellow platform shoes. “In this outfit,” he said, “nobody will give me a second look downtown, and that’s where we’re headed. I can now safely join the passing parade, where I will appear to be merely another misunderstood, unappreciated teenager, who is getting no satisfaction, to quote the teenagers’ great poet, Mr. Mick Jagger.”
    They walked as far as the Royal Bank of Canada building on Sherbrooke Street. “Is there anybody following us?” whispered Mr. Dinglebat.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure, Jacob?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAre there no unmarked police patrol cars or low-flying army helicopters in sight?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCome with me, then, dear boy. Quickly!”
    They entered the bank’s lobby.
    â€œYou see this thing there?” said Mr. Dinglebat. “That’s my personal, top-secret, state-of-the-art, money-making machine. Watch this.”
    Mr. Dinglebat turned around three times, clapped his hands twice, stood on his head, kicking his heels, then righted himself and inserted a plastic card into the machine, punched out some numbers, and recited:
    â€œAbracadabra,
kalamazoo,
let’s have some cash,
to treat Jacob Two-Two.”

    Next he told Jacob Two-Two to close his eyes and count to ten backwards, and, when Jacob opened his eyes again, Mr. Dinglebat was holding a handful of money. “Holy mackerel,” said Mr. Dinglebat,
“c’est vraiment incroyable!
It’s
wunderbar! Magnifico!
We now possess sufficient loot to hire a charabanc to transport us to Schwartz’s delicatessen on the roaring Main, and get us some piping-hot, luscious smoked-meat sandwiches on rye, with golden French fries and sour pickles on the side. But first,
amigo
,” he said, pointing to the phone, “you must phone your mater to request permission to accompany me on this expedition.”
    Jacob Two-Two’s mother said it was okay, so he and Mr. Dinglebat took a taxi to Schwartz’s and walked backwards together through the front door, just in case they were being followed by enemy agents, who would then think they were leaving, rather than entering.
    Only after they had eaten their fill did Mr. Dinglebat notice that Jacob Two-Two seemed sad. “You appear
triste, compañero mio
,” he said. “Down in the mouth. Out of sorts. What ails you, dear boy?”
    â€œTonight’s the night of my father’s weekly poker game.”
    â€œSurely you wouldn’t deny your