Read The Ghost at Skeleton Rock Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Ghost at Skeleton Rock (2 page)
“He's as phony as a nine-dollar bill, but so far we haven't enough evidence to take him in.”
Frank thanked the chief, hung up, and passed the information to his brother.
“Come on! Let's go have a look at Hugo!” Joe urged.
Frank backed the car out of the drive and headed for Route 10. North of town, they sighted a bright, orange-colored tent just off the road.
“There it is,” Frank murmured, slowing down. The tent bore a sign reading:
THE GREAT HUGO
WORLD-FAMOUS MYSTIC
Private Readings by Appointment
WORLD-FAMOUS MYSTIC
Private Readings by Appointment
Near the tent stood a house trailer of the same orange color. It was hitched to a battered but powerful-looking black hardtop coupé of an expensive make.
Frank parked the convertible under a tree and the boys walked toward the tent. As they were about to enter, a man, at least six and a half feet tall, and with an extremely large head, loomed up in front of them, barring the way.
His swarthy, hook-nosed face gave the man a menacing air. But what jolted both boys were his clothes. He wore baggy trousers, Oriental slippers with pointed, curled-up toes, and a purple turban!
“What is it you wish?” he demanded in a deep, harsh voice.
“We came to have our fortunes told,” Joe said evenly.
“I do not tell fortunesâI am only Abdul, a helper,” the man grunted. ”You wait outside. I go see if The Great Hugo will receive you.”
“What is it you wish?” he demanded, barring the way
Abdul entered the tent, dropping the flap across the entrance. Tense with excitement, the young detectives waited, but not for long. A moment later Abdul reappeared.
“I bring good news! The Great Hugo will see you at once!” he announced.
He drew aside the tent flap, bowed low, and invited the boys to enter. Cautiously they stepped into the gloomy interior. The walls of the tent were hung with dark draperies. Only the pale glow of a shaded lamp suffused the gloom. Soft rugs lay underfoot.
At a table covered with a silver-fringed black velvet cloth sat a slim, short man with a pointed brown beard. Before him on the table lay a crystal ball.
“Soâyou have come to have your fortunes told,” he murmured. “Please be seated.”
As the boys sank down onto two leather hassocks, Hugo's queer yellowish eyes seemed to be sizing them up shrewdly.
Stalling for time in order to observe the place carefully, Frank said, “Before you start, sir, perhaps you'd better tell us how much it's going to cost.”
The Great Hugo waved his hand carelessly. “My usual fee is five dollars. But since I am not busy today I will take you both for two dollars.”
The boys reached for their wallets and produced one dollar apiece. Hugo whisked the bills out of sight, then concentrated his gaze on the crystal ball. In a few moments he seemed to go into a trance.
“I see an airplaneâa trip over water,” the fortuneteller said in a droning voice. “The scene in the crystal ball is changing.... I see trouble! Danger!”
Suddenly Frank felt a hand groping into his pocket. Gripping the thief's wrist, he whirled around. It was Abdul!
“Oh, no, you don't!” Frank exclaimed, jumping up and forcing the man backward. But with lightning speed the brawny fellow stunned him with a blow on the chin. Frank staggered groggily.
Joe leaped to his brother's aid. But he was quickly grabbed by Abdul. As Joe struggled to get away from the giant, he knocked over the table and crystal ball.
In one end of the tent Hugo the Mystic was shouting commands to Abdul, and edging toward a position behind the three. A moment later black hoods were thrown over the boys' heads.
“Let's get rid of them, Abdul, and leaveâquick!” Hugo growled.
CHAPTER II
The Suspicious Trailer
THEIR heads covered, Frank and Joe were hurled to the ground. Resistance was futile. Quickly their hands and feet were bound. Then they were dragged out of the tent and into some bushes. Footsteps indicated their attackers had left.
“Joe! Joe, can you hear me?” Frank shouted. The hood muffled his voice, but he was able to make out Joe's response.
“Right here, Frank.”
From a short distance away came confused sounds as if the tent were being quickly taken down and stowed in the trailer. Soon the engine of a car roared to life and the vehicle went rumbling off down the highway.
Meanwhile, the boys twisted and turned in a frantic effort to loosen their bonds. This was not the only time they had found themselves in a predicament like this one.
Ever since their first big case, The Tower Treasure, the brothers had often been in tight spots. But always their quick, cool thinking had enabled them to outwit their adversaries. In their most recent mystery, they had survived underwater spear-gun attacks and other dangers to learn
The Secret of Pirates' Hill.
The Secret of Pirates' Hill.
By the time Frank got his hands free, his wrists were rubbed nearly raw. He jerked the black hood off his head and saw Joe still straining to free himself.
“Here! I'll do it!” Frank offered.
Quickly he removed his brother's hood. In a few moments both were free and on their feet.
Joe peered at the tire tracks of the vanished car and trailer. “They made a neat getaway,” he said bitterly.
“Which means The Great Hugo must have been the Hugo we want!” Frank said grimly.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Joe sprinted toward the convertible. “Let's go after him!”
Before leaving, Frank insisted that they examine the tire treads of both the vanished car and the trailer. Then the boys ran to their convertible. Frank gunned the engine and they took off in a spurt of sand and gravel. Luckily, Route 10 ran straight north for almost twelve miles before intersecting another major highway.
En route there were several dirt-road turnoffs. Frank and Joe stopped at each one and got out to inspect all tire marks on them. But they found no sign of the vehicles belonging to Hugo and Abdul.
“Probably they're heading out of the county,” Joe remarked.
“Wait a minute. Let's try this trailer court up ahead,” Frank suggested. It was located less than half a mile from the highway intersection.
He braked the car and swung over onto the shoulder of the road. Again the boys climbed out.
“It's a hundred-to-one shot,” Frank admitted, “but Hugo might have turned in here to throw us off the trail.”
“He'll have a tough time hiding that orange trailer,” Joe said. “Say look!” He broke off with a gasp and grabbed Frank's arm. “Over there!”
Frank turned to face the direction in which his brother was staring. An orange trailer!
Though partly hidden from view by other vehicles, the trailer looked like the one used by Hugo and Abdul. The boys approached it casually, trying not to attract any attention.
Their hopes, however, were soon dashed. Frilly lace curtains showed in the windows of the trailer. In front of it a fat, baldheaded man in Bermuda shorts lounged in a deck chair. A moment later a woman came out, carrying a baby.
Frank smiled to hide his disappointment. “Okay. So our long shot didn't pay off.”
“Now what?”
Frank considered. “Once Hugo hits the cross-road, there's no telling which way he'll head. Guess we better notify the police.”
Across the highway from the trailer court was a roadside store with a gasoline pump. The boys hurried over and put through a call to Chief Collig on the store's pay phone.
“I'll send out a radio alert,” the officer promised, after hearing Frank's story. “Maybe the highway patrol can pick those men up before they cross the state line.”
“Thanks, Chief! We'll keep in touch,” said Frank.
Somewhat dejectedly, the boys plodded back to their convertible. “What a wild-goose chase!” Frank groaned.
On the way back to Bayport, Joe brightened suddenly as a thought struck him. “Maybe we could spot Hugo's trailer from the air. That bright-orange trailer ought to stand out on any road!”
Frank agreed. “We can ask Jack Wayne to take us up,” he said.
When they reached home, Frank parked the convertible in the driveway and the boys hurried into the house. Before they were halfway through the kitchen, the telephone rang.
“Maybe it's Chief Collig with some news!” Joe exclaimed. He reached the hall first and scooped up the phone. “Hello.”
“This is Chet, Joe,” came a breathless voice over the wire. “Something's up! I need help right awayâover at my place.”
Chet Morton, a chubby pal of the Hardys, attended Bayport High with them. Good-natured and fond of eating, he was usually slow moving and easy going. But now his voice throbbed with fearful urgency.
“Chet! What's this all about?” Joe demanded.
“I can't explain over the phone, but get here fast,” his friend pleaded. “This is important!”
“Okay. We'll be there pronto.”
“What's wrong?” Frank asked as Joe hung up.
“Search me. Chet seems to be all worked up. Sounds as if he's in real trouble. He wants us to come out to the farm on the double.”
“All right. But first let me call Jack Wayne.”
Snatching up the phone, Frank dialed Jack's cubbyhole office at the airport. When the pilot answered, Frank gave him a quick account of their adventures with Hugo and Abdul. Jack was thunderstruck to learn that the brothers were already on the trail of “Hugo purple turban.”
“Joe and I figure,” Frank went on, “that the quickest way to spot the trailer is from the air. Could you go up and reconnoiter a bit?”
“Sure,” Jack replied.
Frank described the hardtop coupé and orange trailer, then hung up and hurried out to the car with Joe. Twenty minutes later they reached the Morton farmhouse on the outskirts of Bayport.
The boys ran up to the front door and rang the bell. Two pretty girls answered the door. One was Chet's dark-haired sister, Iola. The other, a blonde with sparkling brown eyes, was her chum, Callie Shaw. The two girls often double-dated Frank and Joe.
“Well! Imagine meeting you two here!” said Iola in pleased surprise.
“You're just in time,” Callie said. She held up a puppet dressed like Little Red Ridinghood. “We were just practicing for a puppet show we're going to give at the hospital bazaar. You two can help usâ”
“Where's Chet?” Joe interrupted.
“Why, out in the barn,” said Iola. “Butâ”
“Come on, Frank!”
Without waiting to explain, Frank and Joe rushed outside and headed around the side of the barn to the rear. Voices became more audible at every step. Suddenly both boys pulled up short and stared at each other in amazement.
“Did you hear somebody mention the name Hugo?” Joe whispered breathlessly.
Freezing in their tracks, the Hardys listened intently.
“We'll get the Hardys and get 'em good, Hugo!” said a rough voice.
“Yeah,” came the chuckling reply. “We'll ambush them tonight!”
CHAPTER III
The Hijacked Dummy
“AMBUSH?” Joe flashed his brother a startled glance.
Frank clenched his fists. “I don't know what's going on back there, but let's find out!”
With their hearts thumping and their fists ready for trouble, the Hardys dashed around the corner of the barn, then stopped dead in open-mouthed astonishment. The only person in sight was Chet Morton, propped up against the back of the barn.
“Hi, fellows!” he greeted them, lifting his eyebrows in an innocent, deadpan look. “Expecting someone else?”
“But where are those two men we heard?” Joe asked in surprise.
“You're looking at âem, pal. Both of 'em!” Chet replied.
To prove this, he switched over to his two “tough guy” voices and uttered a few more blood-curdling threats.
“You?”
Frank could hardly believe his ears.
Frank could hardly believe his ears.
“That's right.” The stout boy chuckled. “A slight case of ventriloquism, gentlemen. Learned it from books. Thought it might come in handy helping you fellows on your cases.” He burst into laughter. “Oh, boy, did you two ever fall for my actâhook, line, and sinker!”
“And that phone call begging for help?” Joe growled. “That was just a trick, too, to get us over here?”
Chet nodded. “But don't hold it against me.”
The Hardy boys grinned, then Frank said, “You sure fooled us. I'll say you're good.”
“I sure am!” Chet agreed. “In fact, I may make a career out of ventriloquism,” he went on, turning serious. “Man, I can see myself now, doing a big show on television! Chet Morton, Man of Many VoicesâWorld's Greatest Imitator!”
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