The Clue of the Screeching Owl (10 page)

Instantly a wave of suspicion flooded Chet's mind. What could the two men be hiding under their apples? The stout boy pondered a moment, remembering the hijacking near the state line.

Munching loudly, he strolled back toward the others. A sign, KENDRICK SCHOOL FOR Boys, caught his eye on the station-wagon door. Continuing to munch idly, Chet managed to bump into Joe, who was bringing a wrench over from Captain Maguire's car.

“Oof—look where you're going!” he said loudly. In an undertone he added quickly, “Pretend you need a part and send me to town for the police.”

Joe gave no sign, but went back to work. Still chewing, Chet strolled near.

“What's the pitch here, fellows?” he complained. “I'm dying of starvation!”

Joe's calm voice replied from under the hood. “Well, pal, you'll just have to starve a little longer. We need a new condenser for this motor. How about running into town to get it?”

“Me!” Chet feigned indignation. “Why should I run the errands?”

“Okay, forget it. But you could get yourself some lunch in town.”

As Chet ran toward the car, the red-haired man and his partner chuckled heartily. Fifteen minutes' fast, bumpy driving brought the stout boy back to Forestburg. Entering the familiar wooden courthouse, Chet made straight for Sheriff Ecker's office.

“Not you boys again,” said the sheriff, who seemed even busier and more weary than before. “Look, son, I just don't have time for you now.”

“You will when you hear this, Sheriff,” was Chet's quick answer. “I think we've found a couple of your hijackers. Better come and look at them, anyway.”

“What? Where?” The sheriff stood up so fast his swivel chair rolled rapidly backward.

“Stalled about two miles out on the old Riverville Road. My buddies are keeping them there!”

While the amazed lawman listened, Chet told his suspicions. Even as he was speaking, the sheriff picked up his telephone. “Give me the headmaster at the Kendrick School for Boys!”

Shooting fast, direct questions, the sheriff got his answers and relayed them to the waiting Chet.

“He says they never lend their station wagon —it's the only one they have.... See if it's there now, will you?” he asked the headmaster.

In a few minutes he had his answer. “Gone! Stolen!” he told Chet, hanging up. “They just noticed it. Looks as if you're on to something, boy. Are they armed? Notice any weapons?”

Chet shook his head. “Nothing but a big dog that could be pretty mean if it wanted to.”

After calling two regular deputies into his office, Sheriff Ecker explained his plan. “We'll wear our street clothes, boys. No badges. I'll take my personal car. We'll approach from the direction of Riverville. This boy here will be standing in the middle of the road, so we'll have to stop. Then we'll arrest those men.”

Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had continued to tinker industriously at the motor of the station wagon. The red-haired man and his helper seemed to grow less friendly as time passed. They continually looked up and down the road.

At last Captain Maguire's old car came into sight. Chet got out with a gleaming bunch of yellow bananas in one hand and a box containing an automotive part in the other.

“About time!” shouted Joe, who was feeling the tension.

Unconcernedly, Chet handed over the part, peeled himself a banana, and then planted himself in the middle of the road, munching, to watch the work go on. The two men watched now with worried faces.

“Of all the dunderheads!” Frank suddenly exclaimed in disgust. “This condenser isn't even for this make of car! Can't you ever think what you're doing? It's too small.”

“No good?” demanded the men in chorus.

“We'll try to make it do,” Frank grumbled.

Beep! Beep! Beep!
A brown, weather-beaten sedan, with three men seated together in the front, had approached quietly from the direction of Riverville and was now honking impatiently for Chet to get out of the road.

“Okay, hold your horses,” he said. “I'll move.”

Chet sauntered back to the stalled auto. But unnoticed by Frank, Joe, and the suspects, two men had stepped from the sedan and come over. With drawn pistols, the deputies moved into position behind the red-haired man and his partner.

“Raise your hands!” ordered one quietly. “Turn around and don't try anything. You're under arrest!”

Caught completely off guard, the men did as they were told. Meanwhile the third man, Sheriff Ecker, who carried a large net under one arm, went swiftly to the back of the stolen station wagon. He ripped off the tarpaulin, and heaving out apples, shouted:

“Furs! You were right, son. Look at these!”

The excited sheriff carried an armload of rich, expensive furs.

Frank and Joe, with greasy hands and faces, merely stared from Chet to the sheriff to the captives in amazement.

“You'd better talk,” Ecker warned the men as he checked a notebook. “These furs were stolen three months ago from a truck in Jersey. You've been hiding them until you thought the ‘heat' was off. They're concrete evidence against you!”

For answer, the bony man suddenly uttered a sharp command. “Blue! At 'em, boy!”

At once the huge hound bared its teeth and advanced ferociously upon the two officers. But at that moment the sheriff raced up and hurled the big net over the raging animal. In a moment, with the Hardys' help, the dog was helpless.

“Why, you fat ...” began the rawboned, red-haired man in a rage.

Chet Morton, however, merely looked at Frank and Joe with a satisfied grin on his face.

“All right, fellows, who's the detective now?” he demanded.

After handcuffing the prisoners securely, the officers led them to the sheriff's car.

“Nice work, boys,” Ecker said. “I'll get back to town. Have to report the recovery of these furs and the capture of these men to the FBI!”

The sheriff and one of the officers put the prisoners in their car, while the third officer drove the station wagon. The boys said good-by and continued on toward Riverville.

“You get all the credit this time, Chet,” Joe praised his friend. “You're getting places as a detective!”

On the outskirts of town Frank stopped at a telephone booth and called Fenton Hardy at a State Police barracks just over the New Jersey line. He told of Captain Maguire's disappearance and the hijackers' capture, then continued:

“No news of Captain Maguire yet, Dad, but we're following a new lead right now.”

“Good work,” he said. “And give Chet my congratulations.”

The boys started up once more. “The carnival's on the far edge of town,” said Frank.

“Not so fast,” Chet spoke up. “Lunch first. Who's the detective around here, anyhow?”

“Okay.” It was more than an hour before Frank, Joe, and Chet entered the midway of Klatch's Carnival for the third time. A friendly ticket taker directed them to a small, blue house trailer parked behind the tents where Colonel Thunder performed his act.

Frank knocked. As the man looked at them inquiringly, Frank put the question:

“Pardon me, sir, but aren't you William Donner?”

STARTLED, the animal trainer fidgeted uneasily with the door handle.

“What gave you the idea I'm William Donner?” he asked.

Frank, seeing the man's embarrassment, chose his words carefully.

“Well, sir, we've met a man named Walter Donner, who looks exactly like you. When we found out that he had an identical twin brother, we put two and two together. And then, the names ‘William Donner' and ‘Bill Thunder' are the
same-donner
is the word for thunder in German.”

In spite of himself, the man gave an approving smile at this last deduction.

“All right, boys,” he said as he faced them once more. “I'm William Donner, and I don't suppose it matters if anybody knows it. You see, we Donners used to be a fine, close-knit family. But when my parents died, my brother and sister and I couldn't agree on dividing the estate. So far as I know, the properties are still vacant, and the lawyers are still arguing.

“I had to make a living, so I took this job. I've always been able to train animals. I didn't want to embarrass my brother and sister—they were always touchy about their social position—so I just translated the family name to Thunder.”

Pausing for a moment, the tall man seemed to reflect. “So, you saw Walter! I didn't even realize he was still in this part of the country. Haven't heard from him in years. What's he doing with himself now?”

“Not much,” Frank answered. “He lives in a little cabin down in Black Hollow, and raises a few sheep.”

At this, the colonel raised his prominent eyebrows in disbelief. “Walter? Living in that old shack? Why, that's impossible. Walter always loved luxury—couldn't do without it.”

“He seems pretty comfortable, Mr. Donner,” Chet put in.

“Maybe.” Colonel Thunder went on. “But you don't understand what a comedown this is for my brother! I'm sorry to hear it. He's raising sheep, you say?”

“Yes,” Frank answered. “In fact, we saw him buying one at an auction. We thought it was you.”

The colonel nodded, still reflecting on the strange news. “Funny both of us should be making a living, even a poor one, from animals,” he mused. “You see, we all loved animals. Walter was different, though. He could be cruel to them, too—couldn't stand it when they disobeyed him.”

“Cruel to them?” Joe Hardy picked up the words. “Would it surprise you to know, Mr. Donner, that your brother is suspected of kidnaping dogs?”

The man who called himself Colonel Thunder looked at the boys in the commanding way that seemed to be a trait of the Donner family. “Yes, it would!” he snapped, as though he himself had been insulted.

“Not only that,” Frank continued with determination. “We have reason to believe that your brother is involved in the disappearance of a friend of ours, Captain Thomas Maguire.”

“See here! What are you trying to pull on me?” Colonel Thunder demanded indignantly. “My twin has some strange ideas, but he wouldn't harm anybody. What are you prying around here for, anyway? Get out! And take your ridiculous accusations with you!”

With that, he closed the blue metal door of the trailer in their faces. Frank, Joe, and Chet were obliged to turn away.

“Boy, was he angry!” said Chet as the three walked to their car. “Do you suppose he's in cahoots with his brother?”

Frank shook his head thoughtfully. “No. He was genuinely shocked at our story, that's all. Colonel Thunder still seems to be touchy about his family's honor. Say, maybe our news will make him pay a call on his long-lost brother!”

“Yes, and maybe warn him of our suspicions,” added Joe. “I suggest we sneak down into the hollow tonight and see what goes on.”

“Good idea,” Frank approved.

“Well, if it's all the same to you,” put in Chet, “Mystery and old Chet will stay up in the cabin. I've had enough of that woods by night. Besides, after this morning's bit of detective work, I think I may say I've earned a rest.”

“You have,” Frank agreed, and Joe laughed. “Will we never hear the end of it?”

The three drove back to Forestburg. They stopped at the courthouse and learned from Sheriff Ecker that the prisoners had been sent under heavy guard to New Jersey, where Mr. Fenton Hardy, one of the chief investigators in the hijacking case, would question them.

“Is that a fact?” Frank asked mildly, giving Joe a wink.

“Yes, sir,” Sheriff Ecker declared emphatically. “He's a real famous detective they called in on it. You boys ever hear of him?”

“Now and then.” Joe grinned.

“Say, what are you two grinning about?” The sheriff frowned. “Hardy. Isn't that your last name, Frank and Joe? No relation, by chance?”

“Distant relation,” Joe answered with a straight face. “About a hundred miles distant right now, I believe. He's our father.”

“Well, I'll be ...” Words failed the stocky, good-natured sheriff for a moment. Then his face became serious again. “And what about your friend, boys? Hasn't come back yet, has he?”

Joe, about to pour out their suspicions of Walter Donner, was stopped by a nudge from Frank. “No, Sheriff,” Frank replied, “but we're working on it. We'll let you know if anything turns up.”

After one final stop in Forestburg at Giller's General Store for more provisions, Frank, Joe, and Chet at last climbed into the captain's old car for the trip back to Black Hollow.

“Why not tell the sheriff about Donner's being a dognaper?” Joe asked as he drove.

“Because we still have to prove ourselves to Sheriff Ecker,” Frank answered grimly. “Walter Donner made us look pretty incompetent in front of the sheriff. Any accusation we bring against him is going to need plenty of proof—no matter who our father is. Wait till we've really got the goods on Donner. Then we'll show the sheriff!”

To prepare for their long vigil that evening, the brothers lay down for a nap as soon as they reached Captain Maguire's cabin. At sundown they were awakened by Chet Morton, who had prepared an appetizing dinner.

“About time for the night shift,” he called. “Don't forget to put on dark clothing.”

Soon a clear, cloudless sky, in which the stars sparkled brightly, spread itself over Black Hollow.

“The moon isn't due to rise until very late,” Frank noted as the brothers prepared for their expedition. “That gives us an advantage since we're doing the spying.”