The Clue of the Hissing Serpent (15 page)

“So! The detective babies have left the Bayport playpen. How quaint! What do you want here?”

“You know!” Joe shot back. “You and your crooked Serpents!”

Fong laughed derisively and the men standing about smiled at the discomfiture of the young Americans. “Play your children's games somewhere else,” Fong went on. “But I warn you both —and your fat friend, too—you are not in the United States now. Go home before it's too late!”

He spoke more Chinese to the attendants, who promptly hustled the boys and Kim-Kim out into the street. When the bouncers had disappeared, Frank said, “Chet, for heaven's sake, why did you let Kim-Kim blow our cover?”

“I didn't mean to,” Chet apologized. “He heard something you should know about, and before I could tell him to wait, he ran in there.”

“What is it?”

Kim-Kim turned his head slowly and said in a whisper, “Those two men across the street—in front of store window—no look now—they going to kill you. Say so in Chinese!”

“Okay, Kim-Kim, don't worry about it. We'll take care of it,” Joe said, trying to calm the excited child.

The Hardys engaged in casual chatter while Frank took out the tiny camera and unobtrusively snapped a few pictures of the men. Then they walked toward the hotel and stopped at a camera shop to drop off the film. Prints were promised that evening.

“We might never see them,” Chet said pessimistically. “I'll bet someone followed us.”

“Those two guys didn't, I made sure of that,” Joe replied. “Anyway, it might help to learn who they are. If they're really out to get us, maybe the police could arrest them.”

Back at the hotel, Chet and Kim-Kim remained in the lobby coffee shop while the Hardys took the elevator to their room. Joe turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

There sat Fong, smiling like a welcome guest, his feet resting on a coffee table! “Surprise!” he said.

“How did you get in?” Joe demanded angrily.

“Calm down,” Fong said, and beckoned the Hardys to be seated. “How I got in is simple enough. Kowloon is my turf, as you say in the States.”

“What do you want?” Frank asked. “You've got the Ruby King!”

“Money. I want money,” Fong replied. “You can get it for me and save your necks at the same time. Sound interesting?”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked.

Fong removed his feet and leaned forward intently, gesturing with his long, slender hands. “I will sell the Ruby King to the insurance company you represent,” Fong said, “at a depressed figure —say twenty-five thousand dollars. The claim will cost them much more than that.”

Frank's mind whirled. Of course the serpent gang must have deduced that their trip to Hong Kong was paid by the insurance company who had to pay for the loss of the King. What a cunning plan!

“And what if they don't accept this offer?”

“They will,” Fong said. “It's smart business. Phone me at the chess club when you get a reply from your employer.” He rose, went to the door, and turned around. This time his face had a sinister expression.

“By the way, no police involvement, or Mrs. Krassner's family will be in big trouble!”

A sudden thought flashed through Frank's mind. “Is that how you got her to leave her husband's safe open?”

The question seemed to jolt Fong but only for a split second. “Let's say Mrs. Krassner could be persuaded,” he said unctuously. “She knows the power of the Serpents. You should follow her example.”

When Fong had left, the boys discussed the strange offer and Mrs. Krassner's part in the disappearance of the chess piece.

“I feel sorry for her,” Joe said.

Just then running footsteps sounded in the hall and Chet flung open the door with a bang. Kim-Kim stood, wild-eyed, beside him.

“F-Fong!” Chet said. “He just came off the elevator. I thought maybe he—”

“Had murdered us?” Joe said.

“Yes. I'm sure glad to see you alive.”

Joe told Chet what had happened, while Frank composed a message to the insurance company. Then they went downstairs to the desk and sent the cable.

For the balance of the day and through the dinner hour, the Hardys speculated on the outcome of Fong's proposal. Whatever the decision of the insurance company, the boys faced considerable risk.

If the answer was “no deal,” their lives certainly would be in jeopardy. Even if the money were sent, there was no telling whether the Serpents would carry out their end of the bargain.

As Chet put it, “Fong might take the twenty-five thousand dollars and keep the Ruby King too. Then what would you do?”

“It wouldn't make any difference,” Joe said, “because we probably wouldn't be alive to tell the tale.”

Leaving Chet and his Oriental shadow to linger over dessert, Frank and Joe stepped out into the muggy night air and made sure they were not being followed as they walked to the photography shop. The prints were waiting and the Hardys examined them.

“Good clear shots,” Joe said. “What next?”

“Let's take them to the police,” Frank said. “Maybe we can find out who our charming friends are.”

At headquarters the captain in charge, a tall, thin fellow named Hawkins, identified the two men instantly. “They're hit men for the serpent mob,” he said.

“A friend of ours heard them say they'll kill us,” Frank said.

“Then my advice is to be very careful. Unfortunately this is not enough to press charges and to arrest them. We've been trying to crack that ring for a long time, but without success.”

In their hotel again, the three boys and Kim-Kim studied the inscrutable faces of the hit men. “I've a hunch we'll see them again,” Joe said.

They were all at breakfast the next morning when a cablegram was delivered for the Hardys by a bellhop. Frank took the envelope and opened it. “From International Insurance,” he said. “They accepted the offer!” The message said twenty-five thousand dollars had already been deposited in a Hong Kong bank.

The Hardys were to take it out in cash and buy the Ruby King back. The cable ended, “As much as we dislike this arrangement, it seems feasible at this time. Please be extremely cautious.”

The boys hastily finished their meal and telephoned the chess club. Fong was not there and they left a message for him to return the call.

Only ten minutes elapsed before he telephoned.

“Fong speaking. What's the deal?”

“Affirmative,” Frank said.

“Ah, good. It will be a cash transaction.”

“Of course.”

“And no police!”

“They haven't been told,” Frank said.

“Then here's how we'll do it,” Fong said. “Got a pencil and paper?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

Fong spoke slowly while Frank took notes. After the Hardys obtained the cash they were to take a taxi out past Aberdeen and into the countryside. “That Chinese kid with you will show you the way,” the man said.

He then mentioned a small settlement of sampans. One mile to the north, on the right-hand side of the road, they would see a bone jar one hundred and fifty yards from a farmer's shack made of corrugated sheet metal.

“You understand what a bone jar is?” Fong asked.

“Yes. I've seen one.”

“Put the cash in it. It's empty.”

“What about the Ruby King?” Frank asked.

“A note in the jar will tell you where to find it.”

The time was set for twelve-thirty that afternoon, and before Fong hung up, he warned that any double cross would be fatal.

The young detectives were keyed up with almost unbearable excitement. They hastened to the bank, where the manager frowned in disbelief as he counted out the amount in large bills and tied the money in a small package. Joe put it inside his shirt and they returned to the hotel.

“Whew!” Frank said, rubbing the sweat from the palms of his hands. “So far so good.”

Carefully following Fong's directions, the four set off by taxi toward the rendezvous. Kim-Kim looked wistfully at the city of junks and sampans as they passed by Aberdeen. All watched for the hut and the bone jar.

“There it is,” Chet finally said, pointing to the side of the road.

“Looks like it all right,” Frank agreed. “Stop here, driver.”

They got out and walked toward the dun-colored jar. Two farmers, sharpening sickles, watched from the side of the tin shack. Nearing the jar, Chet tripped over a bundle of bamboo poles lying in the tall grass.

“Careful. Don't break your other arm,” Joe said.

All this time Kim-Kim kept his eyes on the two men. “They no look happy,” he said.

“They probably work for the Serpents,” Joe remarked, “and are disguised as farmers.”

“No,” Kim-Kim said. “They real farmers and they get madder.”

The boys had reached the bone jar and Frank boldly removed the lid. He put his hand inside. “Let's get the directions to the Ruby King first,” he said, feeling about until his fingers touched something soft and at the same time hard.

“Ugh!” he said in disgust. “Somebody's remains are in here!”

“Yes. I think so too,” Kim-Kim said. “Here come farmers. Very mad.”

The two men raced toward the trespassers brandishing the sickles, which gleamed in the midday sunshine.

“Holy crow!” Joe exclaimed. “Maybe it's the wrong bone jar!”

“Either that, or it's a booby trap!” Frank said. “Run!”

The boys ran toward the waiting taxi, but Chet, with his arm in the cast, could not keep up.

“Hey, don't let 'em chop me up!” he pleaded.

Frank and Joe stopped to pick up the bamboo poles, and when the irate farmers approached, they warded off the sickle blows, while Kim-Kim ardently apologized in Chinese.

But the enraged farmers could not be mollified. One of them flung his weapon and it came at Frank's head like a spinning boomerang!

“DUCK!” Joe's warning sent Frank tumbling into grass, and the sickle sailed harmlessly over him. He regained his feet to see the farmers standing with arms akimbo, glowering at the retreating intruders.

Panting for breath, the boys reached the taxi and piled in on top of one another. When the door slammed shut, the driver sped off and Kim-Kim climbed into the front seat. He grinned back at the Americans.

“Farmers very mad. You disturbed honorable ancestors!”

“We didn't mean to. How did we ever get the wrong place?” Joe wondered.

“I'll tell you how,” Frank said. “Look up ahead. There's another shack and another bone jar. This must be it!”

“Please, fellows,” Chet begged, “be more careful this time. I'm not quite ready to be cut up for chop suey.”

After the taxi had stopped, the Hardys sent Kim-Kim on ahead to reconnoiter the shack. He returned with a big smile. “Nobody home. Okay go see!”

Still somewhat weak-kneed from their narrow escape, Frank, Joe, and Chet tramped across the field until they came to the bone jar. It looked older than the first, and a thin crack ran from the lip to the base.

“You put your hand in this time!” Frank said to Chet.

“Oh no. Not me!”

“I'll do it,” Joe volunteered. He reached inside, until his whole arm disappeared. “No bones here,” he said, feeling around with his fingers. Finally he pulled out a folded piece of paper. On it was a message. He read it aloud:

“I expected something like that,” Frank said. “We'd better leave the dough.”

“But what if the King is not where it's supposed to be?” Joe asked.

“We'll have to take the chance. Put in the money, Joe.”

The boy removed the package from his shirt and dropped it into the bone jar. Then they hurried to the taxi and instructed the driver to proceed slowly until they came to the row of eucalyptus trees, about a hundred yards back from the road.

While the driver waited, the four approached the spot. Suddenly voices drifted toward them from behind the trees.

‘Sh!”
Frank warned. ”We've got company. Let's sneak up and see who it is!”

Noiselessly they moved to the trees and peered through the branches. There was the armchair grave as the note had indicated, and two men were pulling something out of it. One had his back turned toward the boys, but Frank and Joe recognized the other! He was the man Frank had wrestled with at Ocean Bluffs, just before Gerard Henry and Joe had rolled off the cliff!

Now the other man let out a string of curses and the Hardys recognized his voice.

“It's Reginald Jervis!” Joe whispered.

Frank nodded. “And they're digging up the Ruby King!”

Jervis was still ranting. “Those crooks! Took all the rubies out! It's worthless now, totally worthless!” The men let the King fall down and Jervis kicked it with his foot. “Let's go,” he grumbled.

“Oh, no, you don't!” Frank said. The three boys, followed by Kim-Kim, set upon the men like lightning.

Jervis whirled around when he heard the commotion. He still had the shovel in his hand. Instantly he raised it over his head and whacked Joe.