Read The Sign of the Crooked Arrow Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Sign of the Crooked Arrow (5 page)
“You're supposed to be reducing,” Frank reminded him.
Chet grimaced. “You'd better humor me if you want me to do your dirty work for you,” he declared. “Say, how's your dad?”
“Much better, thanks,” Frank replied. “He sure gave us a scare, though.”
As the three boys started off a few minutes later, Frank outlined their plan.
“Joe will keep an eye on the front door,” he said, “I'll station myself in the delivery alley at the back.”
“And I?” Chet asked apprehensively.
“You go inside,” Frank continued, “and see if you can spot anything to do with a crooked arrow. Also, try to find out if Jenk's selling anything besides tobacco.”
“M-maybe you'd better go in,” Chet said a bit shakily, “and I'll stand guard.”
“Why, Chet,” Joe said with a straight face, “you're not going to back out, are you?”
“All right, all right,” Chet gave in.
Frank parked the car a block from the scene. Joe stood in a doorway almost directly across the street from the shop and Frank concealed himself behind three tall ashcans in back of the building. Chet, summoning his courage, entered the store. All had agreed to meet ten minutes later in a diner down the street.
But they did not have to wait that long. Frank heard the back screen door of Jenk's shop bang shut. Poking his head around one of the cans to get a better view, he saw the same short, muscular-looking man who had socked him the previous day! The fellow stopped momentarily, glanced quickly around, then quietly slipped down the alley.
Hardly had the man disappeared when the sound of angry words and scuffling issued from the shop. Frank could hear Jenk growl in a low tone and Chet reply in a high-pitched voice.
“Let go of me!” Chet cried. “If you don't IâllâI'llâ”
A crash followed and the screen door flew open. A blurred figure bounced into the alley, rolling nearly to the ashcans.
“Chet!” Frank whispered, standing up from his hiding place. “What happened?”
“Tell you later,” Chet puffed. “Let's get out of here!”
Frank led the way, with Chet limping behind. They soon came to the diner where Joe was waiting. He told of having seen the man enter the store just before Chet did.
“That's right,” said Chet. “Jenk was waiting on him when I stepped in. Called him Bearcat. They didn't notice me.”
“Did you hear anything?” Frank asked quickly.
“Bearcat said âGot any arrows?”' Chet related. “Jenk handed him a small package, but I didn't get a good look at it.”
“Arrows!” Joe gasped. “Go on. What happened next?”
“Bearcat said, âI'll be at Mike's,' and went out the back door,” Chet replied. “Then Jenk saw me. When I said I wanted some cigars for my dad, he got mad. Threw me out before I had a chance to protest. Said kids were a pest and I was too young to be buying cigars, andâwell, I guess I interrupted something that made him sore.”
“It's something to do with arrows, that's for sure,” Frank declared.
“Whatever these arrows are, they're small,” Chet said. “And where is Mike's?”
“Just a couple of blocks from here,” Frank replied. “It's a cheap restaurant by the waterfrontâ the place where Sam picked up the words âcrooked arrow.”'
“Let's go!” Joe urged.
“No,” Frank warned. “You and I were hanging around there yesterday and might arouse suspicion. Chet, are you game? If you're not back in fifteen minutes, we'll come after you.”
“Now listen, guys. I've no great desire to be kicked out againâ”
“Come on, Chet. This may be our only chance,” Joe pleaded. “We'll wait for you here.”
Chet grumbled, but did not let his friends down. Slowly he walked down the street, apprehensive about the man called Bearcat.
Soon he stood in front of Mike's Place. Several tough-looking men walked in and out.
“Guess I'd better act the part,” Chet thought, summoning his courage. He quickly unbuttoned his collar and thrust his hands into his pockets. Then he walked boldly into the restaurant.
At first he could barely see anything in the place, which was dimly lighted and filled with cigarette smoke. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he scanned the faces of the men sitting at the various tables. None resembled the short, muscular suspect he sought.
Disappointed, Chet worked his way toward the back of the restaurant. Then he spotted a booth at the extreme rear. In it sat Bearcat!
The boy slipped into the seat opposite him. Bearcat hardly noticed him as he read the menu. When he finally glanced up, Chet leaned forward.
“Say, Jenk ain't got no more arrows,” Chet whispered. “How about lettin' me have one?”
The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out a cigarette. Chet opened his wallet and laid a five-dollar bill on the table. To his amazement the man gave him no change.
“Jenk sure is a gyp,” whined Chet. “A guy can't get far with one arrow.”
“Ain't his fault,” Bearcat replied.
“Thanks,” Chet said, pocketing the cigarette and rising to leave.
Then he stopped short. Coming in the front door was Jenk himself. As he headed for Bearcat's booth, the boy slipped out of it, concealing himself behind a hefty waiter. Fortunately, it took a few seconds for Jenk's eyes to adjust to the dimness and he did not notice Chet heading for the door.
“Hey you,” the gruff voice of the cashier called. “Pay up!”
“I didn't order anything,” Chet objected shakily.
“Oh no? Say, kid, you pay orâ”
Jenk had stopped to listen to the argument. Chet was fearful. He threw a bill to the cashier and hurried out to the street, running toward the diner where Frank and Joe were waiting. In his hand he held a most important clue!
At last he knew what the mysterious gimmick wasâa cigarette!
As Chet neared the diner he turned the cigarette over in his fingers to inspect it.
Suddenly he saw black spots before his eyes. His head swam, then he slumped to the sidewalk!
CHAPTER VI
Police Raid
“CHET, Chet! What's the matter?” Joe bent over his friend, his face tense and worried.
“I ... I ... wh ... where am I?” Chet asked. regaining consciousness.
“You're on the sidewalk,” Joe replied. “When you didn't show up, Frank and I started looking for you.”
With Joe's aid, Chet struggled to his feet. As his brain cleared, he told briefly what had happened at Mike's Place.
“I was on my way back to meet you fellows,” he said. “I took a look at the cigarette I was holding, and thenâHey, where is it?”
“This it?” Joe asked, picking up a cigarette that had rolled into the gutter.
“Yes,” Chet replied.
“Let's examine that thing carefullyâbut not here,” Frank said. “We'd better take it to the police.
The three drove quickly to headquarters. On the way Chet related in detail his experience in the restaurant and how he had paid five dollars for the Arrow cigarette.
“I'm sure this cigarette put you to sleep,” Frank declared. “And if it did, we may have the key to the Bayport robberies.”
The boys were excited as they entered the building. “This is top secret,” Frank said as Chief Collig greeted the trio. The officer motioned for the doors to be closed.
Then he turned to the boys. “Have you or Sam located the man who shot your father?” he asked with quickening interest.
“No,” Frank replied. “But we've uncovered a clue that may solve the mysterious robberies around Bayport.”
He pulled the cigarette from his pocket and laid it on the chief's desk.
“What's thisâa joke?” Collig asked.
“It's no joke,” Frank insisted. “This is a cigarette that can put you to sleep!”
“What?”
“That's what happened to Chet.” Frank hastily related the story of the scene in Jenk's Tobacco Shop, and concluded with Chet's adventure in the restaurant.
“I'll have this Arrow analyzed at once,” declared Chief Collig. “Don't touch it. I'll get the head of our crime lab.” He pressed a button on his intercom.
“Send Creech in to see me,” Collig ordered.
A few minutes later a baldheaded man wearing tortoise-shell glasses entered the office.
“I'd like you to analyze this cigarette for me,” the officer said.
“Okay, Chief,” Creech answered. “I'll do it right away.”
Shortly he returned holding a white sheet of cardboard in his hand. On it were the component parts of the cigarette.
“Here we are,” he said. “This sure is a humdinger! There's genuine tobacco at both ends,” he explained, pointing to the shreds of tobacco leaf on the white cardboard. “But in the middle there's a clever gadget.”
“What is it?” Joe asked quickly.
Creech held a little plastic capsule between his fingers. It was about an inch long. At one end was a tiny stem.
“What on earth is all this?” Collig wondered.
“A type of bomb,” the technician said. “It could hold a liquid or a gas. And the stem is a plunger. One end of it is flush with one end of the cigarette.”
“Would it release whatever's inside the capsule?” Joe asked.
“Right,” Creech replied. “Pressure on the plunger trips a spring inside the tiny vial to free the gas or liquid.”
“Boys, you've really come up with a lulu,” Collig said. Then he thanked Creech and dismissed him.
“This cigarette,” Joe began, “is being used by criminals to knock out their victims.”
“And when I pressed the plunger by accident, I saw spots before my eyes and keeled over,” Chet put in.
“This must be kept secret,” Collig said. “Aside from your father and Sam Radley, no one should be told about it.”
As the three agreed, Chet added, “Wonder what kind of anesthetic the thieves use. It had no lasting effect on me. I feel fine now.”
“Some kind of ether-like gas, no doubt. Creech can check that out for us by analyzing the capsule,” the chief remarked.
Again Collig pressed a button on his desk. “Jenk's store must be raided at once,” he told the boys as the door opened and a sergeant entered. “Want to come along?”
“You bet! But we'll have to hurry. Bearcat probably mentioned Chet to Jenk, so he's tipped off by now,” Frank said.
The police and the three boys sped to the tobacco shop.
Chief Collig's aide deftly steered their big black sedan through the downtown traffic and headed for the waterfront. Within minutes they pulled up in front of Jenk's. In a moment other carloads of police joined them.
“Nobody's here!” exclaimed Collig, opening the door.
“Hey, smells like something's burning!” Frank cried out.
He ran to the back door and looked into the alley, just in time to see Jenk hotfooting it away. A smoldering package lay on the ground.
“Stop!” Frank shouted at him.
As he called, two policemen appeared at the end of the alley, cutting off the man's escape. They collared Jenk at once and brought him to Chief Collig.
Frank stamped out the fire in the package, most of which had been reduced to char.
“Look here, Chief!” he exclaimed, kicking what was left to one side and holding a cigarette at arm's length. “They're Arrows!”
“What does this mean?” Chief Collig growled, addressing the surly Jenk.
“I ain't done nuthin',” the man protested. “Just burned some stale cigarettes.”
Joe took one of them in his fingers. It had been burned halfway through. Inside was a capsule, which smoldered with a peculiar odor.
“Of course,” he cried out. “This plastic burns! Jenk was trying to destroy evidence.”
Collig ordered that handcuffs be put on Jenk. “Come on!” he said. “You've got a lot of explaining to do at headquarters!”
“I ain't got nuthin' to explain,” the man declared sullenly.
Meanwhile, other police officers had searched the store. They had found nothing but a meager stock of popular brands of tobacco and cigarettes. Jenk had burned all the telltale evidence!
“We'll take this man with us,” Chief Collig told the sergeant.
The Hardys said good-by to the officers and took Chet to their house, where he had left his car that morning. They had a quick lunch, then drove to the hospital.
Mr. Hardy, who was improving slowly, listened with great interest to their account of the discovery of the Arrow cigarettes.
“There's one thing we must do soon,” he said.
“I think I know what you mean,” Frank said. “Rout out all the Arrow cigarettes in this area, and see if we can pick up any clues to where they come from.”
“Right. Get in touch with Sam. He might be able to give you a hand.”
Next morning, Frank and Joe called Sam Radley, and the three set out to search for more Arrow cigarettes.
While the local police undertook to do the job in Bayport, Sam and the boys drove to the nearby towns which also had experienced an outbreak of holdups.
They stopped in all sorts of shops where cigarettes might be sold, asking the same question.
“Have you any Arrows? Jenk sent us.”
Time after time the boys, working apart from Sam, were met by vacant stares and “Don't know what you're talking about!”
But in Green Point, near Pleasantville, a tobacco shopman replied, “Jenk sent you?”
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