The Ghost at Skeleton Rock Page 3

  Hanade’s Puppet Repair Shop did, indeed, carry “all kinds of doodads.” The tiny store was crammed with Oriental trinkets, samurai swords, brass Buddhas, dolls’ heads hanging on the wall, birds and bird cages, aquariums with darting tropical fish, and numerous other items.

  Mr. Hanade was a small, bespectacled, pleasant gentleman. “Ah, yes,” he replied to Frank’s question. “I carry the Hugo puppets. Made by a very fine company. Every puppet carefully inspected by owner before he sends it out. Which kind do you wish to see?”

  “The model with a turban, like this one my friend has,” replied Joe as Chet displayed his Hugo.

  “You wait, please. I check.”

  Mr. Hanade returned shortly with a box containing a Hugo similar to Chet’s, but it wore a green turban. Ignoring the dummy, Frank took out the instruction sheet and compared it with the one in Chet’s box.

  “You’re right,” Joe muttered, reading over Frank’s shoulder. “The Spanish wording is a little different!”

  Frank asked if he might borrow Mr. Hanade’s sheet of instructions overnight, and offered to leave a dollar on deposit. Though puzzled, the man agreed politely.

  “You take, please. No deposit necessary.”

  “Thank you,” said Chet, and the boys left the shop.

  Before dropping Chet at the farm, Joe said impulsively, “Say, fellows, do you think Professor Fox could be mixed up in anything shady?”

  Chet declared that the TV performer had a fine reputation, and he was sure that the man was above suspicion. Frank agreed with this.

  That evening after supper Frank and Joe huddled around the study lamp in their room, with the two sets of instructions in front of them. They were identical in every way, except for the change in the Spanish wording.

  “What do you make of it?” Joe asked his brother.

  Frank furrowed his brow. “Might be some kind of a code. Let’s compare all the word changes and see what we get.”

  They had barely started on this job when the hall telephone rang. Joe took the call.

  “This is Chief Collig,” came a crisp voice. “Understand you and your brother were at Biwen’s Novelty Shop this afternoon when the owner got robbed.”

  “That’s right. In fact, we chased the holdup men.”

  “Anything to do with a case your father’s working on, Joe?”

  “Could be, sir. We’re not sure.”

  “Well, if you’re interested, the place was robbed again tonight. Or, anyhow, it was broken into and ransacked.”

  “What! ”Joe cried out.

  “Happened just about twenty minutes ago,” the chief went on. “A patrolman walking past heard some noises and figured something funny was going on. When he went to investigate, the burglars ducked out the back way.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Chief,” Joe said. “Frank and I will go right over there.”

  Frank was equally startled when he heard about the burglary. “I wonder if those men stole the wrong Hugo, and came back for another try!”

  “Sure sounds that way,” Joe agreed, “but they must have heard Mr. Biwen say it was his last Hugo in stock.”

  The two boys drove through the darkened streets of Bayport to the novelty shop on King Street. The store was ablaze with light, but no squad car stood at the scene. Apparently the police detectives had already left, but there was a patrolman on guard at the door.

  The Hardys identified themselves, and Frank added, “Chief Collig just phoned us the news.”

  “He called me too,” said the patrolman, and let them enter.

  Mr. Biwen was busy straightening up the store. “Oh, it’s you boys,” he murmured, glancing up as the door’s bell tinkled.

  Most of the toys, dolls, and scale models had already been neatly replaced on the shelves.

  “Sorry to hear the news, Mr. Biwen,” Frank said. “Exactly what happened?”

  The proprietor shrugged and sighed. “Place was ransacked but nothing taken. Dratted nuisance! Burglars twice in one day! I just can’t figure it out. Still, I reckon I’m lucky it wasn’t any worse.”

  “Mind if we look around for clues?” Frank asked.

  “Go ahead, but the police have already done so.”

  As the boys poked about the store, Mr. Biwen bent down behind the counter. A moment later he stood up.

  “Now that’s strange,” he remarked with a puzzled frown. “Seems as though someone’s been fiddling with my sales checks.”

  “Sales checks!” Frank was struck by a sudden fear.

  “Yes. Had ’em stashed away in order down here. Now they’re all messed up.”

  “Any missing?”

  Mr. Biwen scratched his bald head. “Well, now, that’s a mite hard to say without checking the cash-register tape.”

  Frank said urgently, “Never mind the rest. Just look for the one you wrote up for our friend this afternoon. The name was Morton—Chet Morton.”

  “Sure, sure, I remember. Let me see.” Mr. Bivven brought out the sheaf of slips, thumbed through them several times, then looked up in surprise. “By jingo, that one’s gone. Those burglars must have taken it!”

  “That’s what I surmised,” Frank said. “They came back to check on who had purchased other dummies lately and found out Chet had one!”

  “That means Chet’s in danger!” Joe said grimly. “And maybe Iola and their dad and mother!” Turning to Mr. Bivven, he asked, “May I use your phone?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Thoroughly alarmed by now, Joe scooped up the telephone and dialed Chet’s number. At the other end of the line, he could hear a steady series of rings. But after a minute he gave up.

  “No answer,” he reported to Frank. “Come on! Let’s get out there fast!”

  The boys dashed out of the store, leaped into the convertible, and headed for the Morton farm. Once outside of town, Frank switched on the long-range lights. The twin beams probed the darkness as they sped along.

  Neither boy spoke, but both were gripped by the same fear. Was the Morton family in trouble? Why had no one answered the phone when Chet had said he would be at home?

  Presently the farmhouse loomed up against the night sky. The windows were dark.

  “I don’t like this,” Frank said grimly.

  CHAPTER V

  A Startling Discovery

  FRANK jammed on the brakes and the convertible lurched to a halt in the Mortons’ driveway. The boys jumped out and sprinted up the front-porch steps.

  As Joe rang the doorbell, Frank noticed that the front door stood slightly ajar.

  “It’s open!” he whispered.

  Fearful of some danger, Frank and Joe cautiously entered the hall. Like all the rest of the house, the living room was shrouded in darkness. Frank, in the lead, groped for the light switch.

  Joe’s scalp bristled when he heard some faint, whimpering noises. The sounds were muffled and scarcely seemed human.

  Frank found the light switch and clicked it on. As the room leaped into brilliance, both boys exclaimed aloud.

  Chet, Iola, and Mr. and Mrs. Morton were lying on the floor, bound and gagged!

  “Jumpin’ catfish!” Joe gulped.

  The Hardys rushed forward and quickly started to untie the victims.

  “Oh, my gracious! Thank you, thank you!” Chet’s mother gasped as Frank removed her gag and undid the ropes.

  “Luckily none of you were harmed, Mrs. Morton,” he replied. Gently he helped her to her feet and then to the sofa.

  Chet, however, was not so grateful. “I thought you fellows promised me there wouldn’t be any rough stuff on this case!” he grumbled while Joe worked on a knot.

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  The story tumbled out in a confused babble as the whole Morton family gave the details. They had been watching a television show in their living room when two masked men burst in. The intruders had tied up the Mortons, then searched the house and made off with something tucked under one man’s arm.

  “I’m willing to bet they’re the same ones who held up the novelty shop this afternoon,” Chet asserted. “One was a tall man and the other short. The tall guy’s ears stuck out!”

  Frank and Joe looked at each other in dismay. “I guess that means they took Hugo,” said Joe.

  Frank nodded, then said to the Mortons, “Please check and make sure what was stolen.”

  The family scattered through the rooms of the rambling farmhouse to inspect the results of the burglary. Iola was the first to report.

  “I know one thing they took!” she cried out, running downstairs from her bedroom.

  “What?” asked Joe.

  “One of my big puppets. It looked something like Chet’s new dummy—even wore a purple turban.”

  “Hot dog!” Joe snapped his fingers. “I’ll bet those burglars were in such a hurry they grabbed the wrong doll!”

  The boys’ hopes skyrocketed, but Frank added cautiously, “Let’s not count our chickens till we hear from Chet.”

  The words were hardly spoken when Chet came lumbering joyfully onto the scene. He was clutching Hugo in one hand. “Look! He’s still here!” Chet gloated. “I had him stowed in my closet, inside a pillowcase, and those men passed it up!”

  The boys let out a whoop of triumph. Then Joe put in a wry afterthought:

  “Now all we have to do is find out why those thieves were so eager to get hold of Hugo.”

  While Frank telephoned a report to Chief Collig, Iola made hot cocoa for everyone. As they sat in the living room drinking it, Chet gulped down three cupfuls. Then he laid his cup and saucer aside and picked up Hugo.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the young ventriloquist announced, “we’ll forget what happened and have a quick performance to show you what’s to come la
ter on my full-time television show!”

  He set the dummy on his knee and proceeded to roll its huge popeyes from side to side. Then, as he manipulated Hugo’s head and jaws, Chet went into his act. Many of his gags drew laughs from his audience.

  Gaining confidence, Chet launched into a long, windy speech—at the same time working Hugo’s head, arms, and legs in a wildly comical manner. Leaning forward with excitement, Chet grinned at his amused audience and perched the dummy on the edge of his knee.

  Suddenly he jerked Hugo’s limbs a bit too hard. The dummy slid off his knee and crashed to the floor, face down, amid a sound of shattering glass!

  Chet went white. “Hugo!” he wailed mournfully. “I’ve ruined you!”

  Frank and Joe rushed forward to assay the damage. “Don’t worry,” Joe consoled his friend. “It’s not too bad.”

  “Those big, beautiful eyes—they’re broken!” Chet groaned, kneeling on the floor.

  “You can probably get new ones,” Frank assured him. Cautiously he started picking up the glassy slivers and fragments. “Gosh,” he remarked, “those eyes were even bigger than I—Oh, oh!”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Joe as Frank broke off with a gasp of amazement.

  “This stuff isn’t glass—at least not all of it.”

  “Then what is it?” asked Chet.

  Frank’s voice quivered with excitement. “This may sound crazy, but I think some of these pieces are uncut diamonds!”

  “What!” Everyone in the room jumped up in astonishment and clustered around Frank.

  “D-did you say diamonds?” Chet stuttered.

  “That’s what they look like.” Frank held up some of the stones, which resembled tiny, greasy pebbles.

  “Are you sure?” Iola asked. “They don’t sparkle much!”

  “Rough stones look this way before they’re cut,” Frank explained. “At least that’s what I’ve read. What do you think, Joe?”

  His brother nodded. “I think you’re right. And that explains the burglaries. No wonder those men were so eager to grab Hugo!”

  Picking up the dummy in one hand, Joe borrowed a bobby pin from Iola and began probing into the hollow eye shells. Several more uncut diamonds came tumbling out.

  “I can’t believe it!” Chet exclaimed. “Any more of them?”

  “No, but here’s something else.”

  Joe extracted a tiny, rolled-up wad of paper. When spread open, it revealed a strange printed notation:Skeleton Rock 176

  “How odd!” exclaimed Mrs. Morton, and Iola added, “It’s positively spooky!”

  Her father frowned uneasily. “Frank, you and Joe have had experience with this sort of thing. What do you think we should do?”

  “If you don’t mind, Mr. Morton, I’d like to take both the dummy and the diamonds home with us, so we can investigate them further.”

  “All right, you do that!” From the tone of his voice, Chet’s father sounded relieved to have the disturbing objects removed from his house before the thieves might pay a return visit.

  Before leaving, Frank telephoned his father’s top investigator, Sam Radley, and asked him to meet the brothers at the Hardy home.

  “I’ll start at once,” the detective promised.

  Soon after the boys reached their house, they heard Sam’s car pull into the driveway. Joe hurried to let him in.

  “What’s up, boys?” asked the muscular, sandy-haired detective as soon as he was seated in the living room.

  Frank briefed him quickly, then showed Sam the dummy and the curious-looking stones. The detective picked up one of the gems and held it to the light. Then he took a jeweler’s loupe from his pocket and scrutinized the stone carefully.

  “D-did you say diamonds?” Chet stuttered

  “It’s an uncut diamond, all right,” Sam announced. He examined the others. “Several carats altogether; the lot of them should be worth a good sum of money.” He advised the boys to notify Mr. Hardy about their find as soon as possible.

  Joe warmed up the short-wave radio transmitter and tuned to the Hardys’ special frequency for secret communications. He spoke into the mike:

  “Bayport calling Fenton H. in Puerto Rico! Come in, please!”

  Again and again Joe repeated the call. But transmitting conditions were poor and he failed to make contact.

  “Never mind,” said Frank. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “Which reminds me,” Sam Radley put in. “I have news for you two.”

  He reported that Jack Wayne had spotted a car, tent, and trailer which might belong to Hugo and Abdul. He had made the discovery while flying over a wooded area fifty miles away.

  “He couldn’t get any answer to a phone call here, so he contacted me,” Sam explained. “Told me he was planning to take you up for a look-see at five tomorrow morning. He didn’t think the trailer would pull out before that.”

  The boys were jubilant at the news, and called Jack to say they would be on hand promptly for the take-off.

  Early the next morning Frank and Joe hopped out of bed the instant their alarm clock rang. After breakfast they drove to the airport.

  Jack Wayne had his own ship, Skyhappy Sal, fueled and ready on the runway. He was talking to Tony Prito, a good friend of the Hardy boys. During the summer the handsome, dark-eyed, olive-skinned boy drove a truck for his father’s construction firm.

  “Hi, fellows!” Tony greeted them. “Dad gave me the morning off. I decided to get some exercise and hike out here to see your dad’s new plane. Boy, it’s a real beauty! Say, you Hardys are on the job early. Another case?”

  Frank explained briefly what their mission was, and Jack asked, “Want to come up with us? I have room for another passenger and we’ll be back soon.”

  Tony enthusiastically accepted, and a few minutes later they took off. As the plane soared high above Bayport, Jack turned to Joe.

  “Here, take over,” the pilot said. “Might as well get a lesson out of this while you’re in the air.”

  Joe proved to be a good pilot and navigated the craft on a straight course toward the spot where Jack had sighted Hugo’s trailer.

  “We’re getting close,” Jack said as a wooded area came into view. “Drop down a little, Joe.”

  Soon Frank cried out. “There they are! That’s Hugo’s outfit all right.”

  Joe swooped lower to get a better look at the fortuneteller’s camp. The drone of the plane’s engine must have aroused the occupants, for a man came rushing out of the trailer.

  “Abdul!” Frank exclaimed.

  Shaking his fist, the giant rushed back into the trailer and emerged with a high-powered rifle.

  “He’s going to shoot at us!” Tony cried out.

  “Gun it!” Jack ordered.

  Joe began to climb for altitude. Seconds later there was a flash from the rifle muzzle. Almost at the same instant, sheets of flame billowed from under the engine cowling and smoke began to seep into the cabin.

  “He hit a gas line!” Jack shouted. “The engine’s on fire!”

  CHAPTER VI

  Musical Password

  INSTINCTIVELY Joe pulled the control wheel back and lowered the wing into a steep left bank. He jammed the right rudder pedal to its full limit. The plane descended rapidly and skidded sideways in a “slip.”

  “Good work!” Jack said to Joe. “The plane’s side motion will keep the flames away from the cabin!”

  Joe reached down between the seats and turned the fuel selector valve to the “off” position, thus cutting off the flow of fuel from the tanks to the engine.

  “Keep her slipping toward that clearing just to your left!” Jack ordered. “We should make it in there easy!” Joe nodded.

  With the fuel valve turned off, the engine used the remaining gas in the lines. It then sputtered and quit.

  Joe and his companions watched anxiously as the plane slipped toward the clearing. When just a few feet above it, the young pilot kicked the rudder pedals into neutral and leveled the wings. There was a jolt as he pulled the wheel back hard and the plane touched down on the grassy clearing. Joe then pressed hard on the wheel brakes. The craft rolled ahead for several yards and came to a halt with a lurch.

  “Handled like a veteran!” Jack gave Joe a broad grin.

  At that moment Frank caught sight of Abdul and Hugo sprinting toward their car. “Those men are getting away!” he yelled.