Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Clue in the Embers (2 page)

BOOK: The Clue in the Embers

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“They're all yours,” the agent told Tony

As Joe lifted the last case onto the truck, he said, “Frank, you sit up front with Tony. I'd like to stay back here and act as a lookout.”

“Okay,” his brother agreed as their two friends waved good-by. He jumped into the cab. Tony climbed to the driver's seat and started the motor. Seconds later they were on their way to the Prito house.

Sitting atop one of the cases in the open back of the truck, Joe had a good view of the station and the public square. “Still no sign of action from Valez,” he mused. “I wonder if the whole business was just a hoax.”

Frank was thinking along the same line. As they turned into the tree-lined avenue two blocks from the Prito home, he let out a sigh of relief. “It seems our buddy gave up on us,” he said.

But Tony did not share his optimism. “Maybe he's just biding his time.”

“Let's see if Joe noticed anything,” Frank said, and slid back the glass panel in the rear of the cab. “Joe,” he called out, “this job turned out to be a lot easier than I expected. Anything new on your end?”

Joe was about to answer, when he caught sight of an arrowhead-like missile streaking through the air directly toward him!

CHAPTER II

A Stolen Curio

SEEING the missile whizzing toward him, Joe ducked, but he felt a stinging blow on his right arm.

“Stop!” he yelled to Tony. “Get that fellow! He shot at me!” Joe pointed to a man who had dodged from behind a tree and was now running away at top speed.

The vehicle lurched to a halt. Frank flung open the cab door and raced toward a wooded stretch beyond the sidewalk.

“Watch it!” Joe called after his brother. “That guy's got a blowgun!”

Frank pursued the assailant into the woods and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Tony eased the truck to the edge of the road. He turned to see what had happened to Joe. “Something hit you?” he asked.

“Yes.” Joe showed a small arrowhead which he had picked up from the floor. A tiny paper was glued to its base. Without taking the time to examine either, Joe thrust them into his pocket. He told Tony to guard the truck, and dashed off in search of his assailant.

He sprinted a hundred yards into the woods. Thrashing through a stretch of thicket, he called, “Frank! Where are you?”

“Over here!” Frank was standing near a wire fence that enclosed two closely spaced factory buildings.

“He jumped the fence,” Frank panted as Joe came up to him. “Took off between the two plants. We'll never catch him now!”

“Let's get back to the truck,” Joe suggested.

“This attack might have been a ruse to lure us away!”

They hurried toward the street. To their relief, the truck was still there.

“Did you get a good look at the man?” Tony asked.

“Not too good,” Frank replied. “He's short, thin, dark, and I think he's got a small mustache.”

Joe frowned. “How old do you think he is?” Frank shrugged. “Whatever his age, he's very wiry. You should have seen him vault that fence!”

“Joe, you'd better sit up front with us now,” Tony said. “We can't afford to let that guy take any more pot shots at you.”

Once inside the cab, the boys examined the lead arrowhead and the paper covering its base. A message was scrawled in barely legible script, warning Tony not to dispose of the curios.

“First Valez wants me to sell the stuff, and now he tells me not to or I'll get in trouble!” Tony exclaimed.

“You're jumping to a conclusion,” Frank objected. “We don't really have any proof that this man was Valez.”

“That's right,” Joe said. “There's a good chance that someone else is after your curios.”

Tony sighed. “Looks as if we have a full-fledged mystery on our hands.”

Joe changed the subject. “Tony, what are you going to do with all these things?” he asked.

“Put them in the garage for the time being. I can't think of where else to store them.”

“I'm not so sure that it is the safest place,” Frank commented.

“I have an idea,” Joe said. “Why don't you ask the new Howard Museum to take care of them? Maybe you can give them some of the pieces and see if Mr. Scath will store the rest in return.”

“Good thinking,” Frank agreed.

“Okay,” Tony said. “I'll give him a ring.” Soon the trio arrived at the Prito home. Tony parked the truck, and while the Hardy boys guarded the shipment, he went inside and phoned Mr. Scath.

“The museum is open late tonight,” said the curator. “I suggest that you bring your curios around about nine o'clock, after closing time. There won't be anybody in the building and I'll have a chance to look at them.”

As Tony stepped into the yard he was startled to see a man tiptoeing along the side of the garage. He was short and wore a felt hat pulled low.

Tony yelled. The intruder took off like a streak of lightning. Tony chased him down the block, but he escaped in a car.

Frank and Joe had heard Tony call out. “I'll go, you stay with the truck,” Frank said and ran after Tony. They met in the street.

“What was that all about?” Frank asked.

“A guy was sneaking around our garage. Probably Valez. Too bad I couldn't catch him. He drove off.”

The boys were worried when they talked things over with Joe. “That guy means business!” Joe declared. “We'd better keep a lookout.” They took turns keeping watch as they inspected the curios in the garage.

Tony found a pair of old Indian clubs and started swinging them. Joe pulled out a small stuffed alligator of little value. But in the same box was a set of rare old travel books from the sixteenth century. Another interesting find was a small chest filled with old silver pieces.

“Probably belonged to some pirate,” Joe remarked, while Frank stacked four scimitars on a wall rack.

As time passed, one thing became certain: the collection was worth much more than two hundred dollars.

“Do you realize what time it is?” Frank asked hours later. “Almost six-thirty. And I'm starved!”

“My folks won't be home for dinner,” Tony said. “Why don't you call your mother and tell her you'll eat here?”

“Great idea!” Joe said. “I'll phone.”

He went into the house while Tony padlocked the garage doors. A few minutes later the three boys met in the kitchen.

“And now for some food!” said Tony. Soon he had a large pot of spaghetti cooking on the stove. “My mother made a lot of good meat sauce to go with this,” he said. “And there's homemade apple pie for dessert.”

The boys took their time eating and were deep in conversation when Frank suddenly interrupted. “Sh-h!”

“What's the matter?” Tony asked.

“I heard a noise coming from the garage!” They were silent and listened tensely. Then Joe got up and walked to the window. He peered out, then shrugged. “Nobody outside,” he said.

Frank was not convinced. “We'd better have a look,” he said.

The boys went out. Seeing that the garage was still padlocked, they ran around to the rear. The window was wide open!

“Take it easy,” Tony warned as Joe leaped onto the ledge and climbed in. Frank followed.

Tony walked around front again, opened the padlock, and entered the garage through the door. No one was inside but Frank and Joe.

Quickly the trio checked the crates. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. Suddenly Frank's eyes focused on the wall rack.

“One of the scimitars is missing!” he exclaimed.

CHAPTER III

Fire in the Mummy Case

DISMAYED, the boys saw that only three of the Moorish swords remained in the rack. Frank and Joe dashed outside and made a quick search through the neighborhood. They found no trace of the burglar.

In disgust they went back to Tony's house and told him of their failure.

“It's all my fault,” Frank said grimly. “I should have put the swords back into the crate.”

“Look, don't worry about it,” Tony said. “Let's wash the dishes and then load the truck before something else happens.”

They had almost finished cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Could it be Valez again?

“Joe, keep an eye on the garage from the window,” Tony said. “I'll answer the bell and Frank can help me in case of trouble.”

The tension was broken when Tony opened the door. The caller was the boys' chubby friend Chet Morton.

“Did I just miss a meal?” Chet chuckled when Frank appeared from behind the door, still holding a dish towel.

“You did.” Frank laughed. “But you're just in time to help us load about twenty crates onto Tony's truck.”

Chet groaned and slumped into a chair.

“Okay,” he said. “I walked right into your trap. I'll carry the little ones.” Then he added, “But tell me what this is all about.”

After giving him a brief account, the boys started the job. As darkness began to settle, Tony confided in Frank that he would feel better with police protection.

Frank agreed. “Let's call Chief Collig. He'll be at headquarters now. He doesn't go off duty until late in the evening.”

Tony phoned and told the chief what had taken place during the day.

“Seems as if you've got some serious trouble on your hands,” Collig said after he heard about the attack on Joe. “I'll send a patrol car over to escort you to the museum. And keep me posted if anything else happens.”

“Will do,” Tony promised. “And thanks, Chief.”

The four boys worked quickly to have the truck loaded before the arrival of the police car.

“Here it comes!” Joe called as Tony swung the last crate into position.

The squad car pulled over to the curb and the policeman called out to the boys. “Ready?”

“Right,” Tony replied.

“I'll go ahead, and you follow. Honk if you have any trouble in the back.”

“Okay.”

Tony backed the truck into the street. “Anyone who tries to play games this time will get a hot reception,” he remarked.

On the way to the Howard Museum, the boys talked about the possible dangers that faced them. Tony recalled Valez's angry threat and wondered if even the police escort would stop the man from attempting a robbery.

“I'd hate to meet a guy with a blowgun out here,” Chet said with a shiver. “He could hide in the bushes. It's mighty eerie in this area.”

Minutes later the patrol car swung to the right and entered the curving, dimly lighted driveway of the ivy-covered museum. As the truck followed, all eyes searched the shrubbery surrounding the building. But there was no sign of anyone lying in wait.

Tony grunted in relief. “Boy, am I glad that's over!”

The massive door creaked open and the slender figure of the curator appeared. Mr. Scath hurried down the steps and greeted the boys, then told them to move the crates into the basement.

“Let's hurry,” Tony urged. “The sooner we get this stuff behind that door, the better I'll feel.”

As the four lugged the boxes from the truck, the officer kept an alert watch for Tony's enemy. For fifteen minutes the tense operation continued. Finally Joe picked up the last crate and called to the policeman that the job was finished.

The officer smiled. “In case you run into any more trouble, just call us,” he said and drove off.

Mr. Scath bolted the big door and accompanied the boys to the basement. His eyes flashed with excitement.

“I can hardly wait to make a careful study of these pieces,” he said. “From what you told me, Tony, there might be some real treasures here.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. “I sure appreciate your help, Mr. Scath,” he said. “And if you can give me an appraisal, I'll know what the collection is worth.”

The curator opened one of the crates and pulled out a few items. “Some things,” he said, “won't amount to anything, of course. Like this box, for instance.”

He examined an object that looked like an ordinary cigarette box. It was about four inches long and was made of dark wood, with a sign painted on it in yellow.

He was just about to toss it back into the crate when Frank stopped him. “If Tony doesn't want it,” he said, “I'll take it. I like the design.”

“Help yourself,” Tony said. “Well,” the curator said, “it's getting late. Come back some other time and we'll check everything out. Okay?”

BOOK: The Clue in the Embers

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