The Twisted Claw Read online

  When they arrived in the galley, the first mate ordered the Hardys to begin scrubbing the floor. “I want the job finished before the cooks come on duty to start breakfast. That gives you only an hour.”

  “But we need some sleep and food!” Joe protested.

  “No back talk!” Marik growled.

  Frank and Joe were given brushes and pails. They finished their task just minutes before the cooks appeared.

  “So you’re the stowaways Marik told me about,” one of the men boomed. “I’ve got orders to see that you’re kept busy. Look lively now!”

  As soon as one galley chore was completed, the boys were assigned another. The aroma of food nearly drove them mad with hunger. Finally they were permitted a few moments to eat.

  When they had finished, one of the cooks shouted to Frank, “Hey, yout Take this tray of food to the skipper!”

  Frank picked it up. As he approached the captain’s cabin he heard voices inside. Cautiously he pressed his ear against the door.

  “I don’t like havin’ those kids aboard, Cap’n,” a man grumbled. Frank recognized the voice. It was Marik. “They might be a couple of snoopers tryin’ to find out about the setup.”

  “Stop worrying,” was the reply. “They’re just stowaways looking for a free ride. Well, that’s what they’re going to get. They won’t get off this ship till we reach the island.”

  “You’re takin’ ‘em all the way?” Marik asked. “I hope you know what you’re doin’.”

  “Leave it to me. But just to be safe, lock the kids up in the storeroom when we put into Stormwell tomorrow morning.”

  “Stormwell!” Frank thought. “That’s a port on the Canadian coast!” He waited a few seconds before knocking on the cabin door. Summoned by the captain to enter, he delivered the tray, then hurried back to the galley.

  It was late evening before the boys had an opportunity to talk. Frank told his brother what he had overheard.

  “So! They intend to keep us prisoners!” Joe said angrily.

  “Yes! Somehow we’ve got to make it ashore when the ship docks at Stormwell!”

  “Slim chance of that if we’re locked in the storeroom.”

  Frank thought a moment. “We’ve one thing in our favor,” he said finally. “The captain and Marik don’t know we’re onto them. And they’re not planning to lock us up until the ship docks, or shortly before—”

  “I get it!” Joe interrupted. “We’ll wait till the last minute, then make a break for it.”

  Just then the boys heard footsteps. They whirled around to see Marik and four crewmen walking toward them.

  “I’ve been watchin’ you guys,” the first mate growled. “You’re up to somethin’.”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked.

  “Shut up!” Marik shouted fiercely. “The cap’n gave me orders to lock you up in the mornin’. But I’m not takin’ any chances. You’re goin’ to the storeroom right now!”

  “That’s what you think!” Joe protested. He flung himself at the first mate and together they went crashing to the deck.

  Frank joined in the fight. He bent low and rammed his shoulder into the midriff of one of the crewmen. Then he struck out with a blow that sent another hurtling against the bulkhead. The melee attracted more members of the crew. Outnumbered, the Hardys were finally subdued.

  “Take ’em to the storeroom!” Marik yelled as he struggled to his feet.

  The boys were marched off to the cargo hold and shoved into the metal-walled enclosure. Then the door was slammed shut and locked.

  “It’ll take a miracle to get us out of this,” Joe said.

  Though hours dragged by, Frank and Joe were only able to sleep for short periods. They were anxious about what would happen next. Glumly they talked of Chet. Maybe something had befallen him, too. Perhaps he never had a chance to report where they were!

  Frank glanced at the luminous dial on his watch. “Holy crow! It’s morning. Nearly eight o’clock!”

  “Listen!” Joe said. “The ship’s engines. They’re slowing down.”

  “We must be putting into Stormwell.”

  “If only we could get out of here!”

  For a while there were sounds of activity on the deck above. Then, almost an hour passed before they heard footsteps again.

  The storeroom door was pulled open. A crew man ordered the youths to follow him and led them up on deck. Two Canadian policemen were standing with the captain of the Black Parrot.

  “Are you the lads from Bayport?” one of them asked.

  “Yes!” the Hardys answered excitedly.

  “Stowaways, you mean!” the captain barked. “I locked them up to teach them a lesson. We were going to put them ashore later.”

  “Liar,” Joe muttered.

  The policemen ushered the boys down the gangplank and toward a waiting car.

  “Hello, sons,” came a familiar voice from inside the vehicle. “Climb in.”

  “Dad!” Frank cried out, nearly speechless.

  “What—what are you doing here?” stammered Joe. “How did you know where we—?”

  Mr. Hardy grinned. “Get into the car and I’ll explain.”

  As they drove off, the detective told his sons that he had been working in Montreal in connection with his case. By coincidence he had telephoned home only seconds after Chet had arrived to inform Mrs. Hardy that Frank and Joe had sailed off in the Black Parrot.

  “Good old Chet!” Joe exclaimed.

  “He didn’t take immediate action,” Mr. Hardy said, “because he thought it might be part of your plan to sail with the ship a short distance, then dive overboard. But he began to worry after an hour and decided to tell your mother what had happened.”

  “Lucky for us,” Frank commented.

  Their father went on to say that he checked with Bayport Harbor and learned that the Black Parrot was to make a stop in Stormwell.

  “And so,” Mr. Hardy concluded, “I requested the help of the Canadian police, just in case the captain had any ideas about making you boys permanent members of the crew.”

  “And he decided to turn us loose,” Joe added, “rather than risk an investigation.”

  “That’s just what I hoped would happen,” Mr. Hardy said.

  He noticed Frank’s eyelids start to droop. “Try to catch a few winks,” he went on. “We’ll continue our discussion when we get to Montreal.”

  When they arrived, the detective obtained accommodations for Frank and Joe at the hotel where he was staying. The boys slept for a few hours, then had dinner served in their room. Their father entered as they finished eating.

  “Feeling better?”

  “I’ll say,” Joe assured him.

  “And now, Dad, we’d like to tell you what information we dug up,” Frank began, and they described their adventures aboard the Black Parrot. Then they informed their father that they had found the book he wanted and about the rare volume they had looked at in the New York bookstore.

  Mr. Hardy was stunned. “An island kingdom called the Empire of the Twisted Claw, you say?”

  “Yes,” Frank answered. “It was ruled by a pirate named Cartoll.”

  The detective began to pace the floor. Finally he spoke. “What an amazing story. And it seems to tie in with my case!”

  “How?” Frank asked.

  “I’m not certain yet. But from what you told me, this might prove to be one of the strangest mysteries we’ve ever encountered!”

  CHAPTER V

  Solo Assignments

  FRANK and Joe waited in andcipation as their father settled into a chair opposite them.

  “Boys,” Mr. Hardy began, “I’ve been engaged by the Reed Museum Association to investigate a series of thefts. Four museums have been robbed within a few days, three in the United States and the Abbey Museum here in Montreal.”

  “What were the thieves after? Gems? Precious metals?” questioned Frank.

  “That’s one of the strange facts about the case,” the
detective explained. “Each of the museums had a portion of the DeGraw collection on display. It was only those items that were stolen. Nothing else in the buildings was touched.”

  “What’s the DeGraw collection?” Joe queried.

  Mr. Hardy explained that Elden DeGraw was a wealthy financier who took an interest in archaeology. Several years before, he had discovered a sunken galleon in the Caribbean. The ship was filled with priceless royal treasure, including scepters, crowns, and orbs. Of particular interest were suits of armor which had red, twisted claw symbols on their breastplates.”

  “Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “The armor might have belonged to Cartoll’s elite guard!”

  Mr. Hardy leaned forward. “That’s why I was a bit stunned when you told me the story about the pirate and his Empire of the Twisted Claw.”

  “Are there any other museums that have portions of the collection?” Frank asked.

  “Yes,” his father replied. “DeGraw divided up the items and donated them to ten different museums—the Abbey Museum here and nine in the United States.”

  “Do you think the thieves will try to rob the other six?” Joe inquired.

  “I’m sure of it,” Mr. Hardy said.

  He then told his sons that he had a hunch the loot was being taken out of the country, but how was mystery. Each portion of the collection was bulky and would be difficult to smuggle.

  “I considered the possibility of a ship being involved,” Mr. Hardy continued. “Checking, I learned that the freighter Black Parrot and its sister ship Yellow Parrot were suspected of carrying on some sort of illegal operation. But no one has ever come up with a shred of evidence. That’s why I asked you to investigate.”

  “Without much success,” Frank muttered dejectedly.

  “At least we know Dad’s hunch was right,” Joe put in.

  “Hold it,” Mr. Hardy ordered with a grin. “There’s lots to learn about the case before mak ing any conclusions.”

  The boys accompanied their father to the scene of the recent theft. The curator of the Abbey Museum was greatly upset over the loss of the collection. “I don’t understand how they could have gotten into the building without setting off the alarm,” he said.

  “I don’t either,” Mr. Hardy admitted. “The system wasn’t tampered with and is in perfect working order.”

  At that moment the telephone rang. The curator picked up the instrument, then handed it to Mr. Hardy. “It’s for you. Mr. Hertford of the Reed Museum Association.”

  The detective stiffened when he heard what his caller had to say. Finally he hung up and turned to the boys. “We’re flying to New York immediately! The Standon Museum has been robbed. Its portion of the DeGraw collection is gone!”

  The Hardys quickly made airline reservations and were on their way within the hour. When they arrived at the museum, the young detectives assisted their father in searching for clues.

  “Hm! This robbery is like all the others,” Mr. Hardy observed. “The alarm system is intact, and there’s been a clean sweep of the collection.”

  “How does the system work?” Frank asked.

  “When turned on,” his father explained, “invisible beams of light crisscross the exhibit rooms from all directions just inches above the floor. It operates on the photoelectric cell principle.”

  “I get it!” Joe interrupted. “Anyone walking into the room would break the light beams and set off the alarm.”

  “Pretty effective,” Frank added. “A thief would have to be able to float through the air like a balloon to escape detection.”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “I’d give anything to know the gang’s modus operandi.”

  After completing their investigation, the Hardys spent the night in New York, then returned to Bayport the following morning. The boys joined their father in his study to hear a plan he had in mind.

  “Five museums still have their DeGraw collections,” Mr. Hardy said. “And we don’t know which is next on the thieves’ list. The local police can’t spare men to be on constant surveillance, and the museum guards need help. My plan is to have each of us cover one and prevent a robbery, if possible.”

  “We can have Chet help us out, too,” Joe suggested.

  Mr. Hardy appeared somewhat dubious. “Do you think he can handle an assignment like this?”

  “I’m sure he can,” Frank replied.

  “All right.” The detective unfolded a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of the museums. Four of them are in neighboring states. The fifth is in California. I’ll have Sam Radley take care of that one.”

  Frank and Joe had often worked with Radley, their father’s assistant, and knew he would do a good job.

  Then Frank telephoned Chet to tell him about the plan. The stout boy was jubilant.

  “I’m ready to leave any time!” he declared. “It’ll be a sorry day for those crooks if they try to rob the place with me on guard!”

  By evening Mr. Hardy had completed all the necessary arrangements. Early the next morning Frank, Joe, Sam Radley, and Chet met in his study for a final briefing. After reviewing his plan, Mr. Hardy gave a word of warning. “Remember, we don’t know where the thieves will strike next. They’re clever and dangerous. So don’t take any chances.”

  After wishing each other luck, they started out on their individual assignments. Frank was to cover a museum in Philadelphia. He arrived in the afternoon and introduced himself to the curator, Bruce Watkins.

  “Ah, yes,” said the scholarly looking official. “Your father phoned that you were coming. I feel comforted that such famous detectives as the Hardys are investigating the recent robberies.”

  “Thank you,” Frank said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see your DeGraw collection.”

  The curator led him through a series of exhibit rooms. It was a magnificent old building with marble columns and floors. They entered a large room filled with ancient artifacts. One section of it contained the DeGraw collection.

  “Here we are,” the curator announced.

  Frank stared in awe at the scepters, crowns, and orbs displayed in a large glass case. Then his attention was drawn to a suit of armor with a red, twisted claw symbol on the breastplate.

  “This is our most popular exhibit,” the curator said proudly.

  Frank examined his surroundings. “What kind of an alarm system do you have here?” he queried.

  “The windows, doors, and most of the glass cases are well-protected,” the man answered. “We are planning to install a photoelectric cell just as soon as appropriations are made available to us.”

  “What about guards at night?”

  “We have four, but will get more from an agency as soon as we can.”

  At that moment a staff member told the curator that he was wanted on the phone. He excused himself and hurried off.

  “This is our most popular exhibit,” Watkins said

  Frank returned to the DeGraw collection and examined it more closely. Then he strolled around the other rooms. He entered one which contained large monoliths from a Pacific island, and stopped for a moment to admire the exhibit.

  As he stood there, one of the stone columns behind him silently began to topple forward. Frank was directly in its path!

  CHAPTER VI

  A Desperate Moment

  FRANK suddenly spotted the reflection of the falling column in the highly polished floor of the room. He gasped, and in a lightning move, he threw himself to one side.

  Crash! The column hit the floor with an ear-splitting impact.

  Frank was sprayed with bits of shattered rock as he tumbled across the floor. The curator, a guard, and several staff members came running.

  “What happened?” one of them shouted.

  Frank sprang to his feet. “I was almost flattened by that column,” he said grimly. “It toppled over.”

  The curator stared in disbelief. “How could such a thing happen?”

  “The column had rather a broad base,” a staff member interject
ed. “It stood firmly in the upright position.”

  “Someone must have pushed it over,” Frank remarked.

  “Nonsense!” Watkins exclaimed, obviously startled by the suggestion He hesitated for a moment. “Although I suppose it could be done by a man with exceptional strength.”

  “See here!” another staff man interrupted. “Are you suggesting that someone deliberately toppled the column?”

  “Under the circumstances,” Frank mused thoughtfully, “I must consider it a possibility.”

  “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  “For reasons I can’t divulge right now,” Frank replied.

  He drew the curator aside. “I have a hunch this museum is next on the thieves’ list. Somehow the gang must have discovered who I am, and why I’m here. Pushing that column over could have been an attempt to get me out of the way.”

  “Oh, come now,” Watkins retorted. “Aren’t you jumping to conclusions? I’m sure the whole thing was just an accident.”

  “All the same, we’d better assign more men to guard the DeGraw exhibit,” Frank urged.

  “I’ve already decided on another course of action,” the curator said. “The entire collection will be taken to our basement storeroom immediately. It’ll stay there until this whole affair of museum robberies is ended.”

  Watkins ordered all available staff members to begin work at once. Nearly two hours went by before the last item of the collection was carried into the storeroom and the door securely locked by Watkins.

  “I still recommend that guards be posted,” Frank said. “A locked door alone is not going to stop the thieves.”

  “Well—all right,” Watkins agreed, shrugging his shoulders. “But I can spare only two men. The rest will have to go about their regular duties.”

  “We can ask the local police to help,” the young sleuth suggested. “Perhaps they can spare a couple of—”

  “Out of the question!” the curator declared indignantly. “Policemen attract newspaper reporters. I’m not going to risk wild rumors being circulated that something is wrong here at the museum.”

  Frank was annoyed by the man’s attitude. Watkins was more worried about his personal image than about the protection of the collection.