The Clue in the Embers (10 page)

“Buried treasure!” Frank exclaimed. “Did he ever say anything about medallions?”

“Medallions?” Eduardo Valez mused. “No, he never did. Oh, I am so sad about the whole affair.”

The boys left, feeling sorry for him. As they passed the next apartment house, they saw Sam Radley standing guard. They gave no sign of recognition. Neither did the detective.

“I think we ought to spend the rest of this day making an intensive search of Tony's curios for that Texichapi medallion,” Joe proposed. “That's what Luis was hunting for when Mr. Scath discovered him, so maybe we've overlooked some hiding place where Tony's uncle put it.”

“We'll get Tony and Chet,” Frank answered.

At two o'clock they all met at the museum. Mr. Scath, still wearing a bandage on his forehead, smiled as the boys started off to the shed for the crates. “I hope we have better luck today!” he said.

They brought the crates to the basement and went to work. As each curio was examined closely, those to be taken by Tony were placed in a crate. The others were returned to the shelves. An hour passed. One crate had already been filled, but they had not found the medallion.

Chet Morton, still upset over leaving the museum door unlocked the night before, had worked hard, trying to make amends.

At the moment Chet was fingering a solid mahogany, highly polished ball. He picked it up and removed a foil wrapping that covered part of the surface. His sharp eyes detected a thin, almost invisible line that went completely around the circumference of the ball. In his excitement to get a closer view of it, the ball slipped out of his grasp. It hit the cement and rolled across the floor.

“Playing games?” Joe teased.

“I'm sorry,” Chet groaned, going after the ball. “I wasn't playing. I—”

He broke off as he stooped to pick up the ball. It had started to come apart at the seam. A strip of rich blue velvet showed in the opening. Then he saw the brilliant glint of metal !

Prying apart the two sections, he cried out, “Fellows, come here quick! I've found the second medallion!”

Gleaming in the light, on its velvet bed, lay the coin. It was the size of a half dollar. Carefully Frank lifted it and held it for the others to see.

“It's one of the medallions Wortman was talking about!” Frank said. “See the word Texichapi?”

“And there are strange engraved lines similar to the ones on the stolen medallion,” Joe added.

Frank slipped the coin back into the ball. “I'd like to show this to Dad and examine it very carefully,” he said.

“Okay with me,” Tony answered. “But after what happened to Joe with the first medallion, watch your step.”

The crates were taken to the Prito house; then Frank and Joe went home to talk to their father. To ensure complete privacy from eavesdroppers, the trio went to the laboratory. There they examined the ball and the medallion. They concluded that the ball had been designed originally as a secret place to hold small pieces of valuable jewelry.

The boys drew from memory the pattern of lines on the stolen coin, then traced the new ones. They concluded that the lines from the two coins, when superimposed, seemed to indicate a map.

“It must show the area near the treasure that Luis Valez is looking for,” Frank remarked.

“And the opal probably marks the place where the treasure is hidden,” Joe added. “Boy, I'd like to find that spot myself!”

“But it's in Texichapi—the land of nowhere,” Frank reminded him.

“Let's hope we can learn what country Texichapi is in,” said Mr. Hardy. “Meanwhile, you boys had better memorize the lines on this medallion and then we'll place it in my safe.”

This was done. Then the boys and their father sat down in his study and continued to discuss the mystery.

“I wonder,” mused Mr. Hardy, “whether your friend Willie knew the value of both medallions. This one feels like solid gold to me and it certainly has the same luster as a gold piece. Maybe Willie was just acting dumb because he feared Tony might refuse to sell him the coins once they were located.”

“That's quite possible,” Frank said.

“I know that you've consulted all kinds of maps to locate a place called Texichapi,” Mr. Hardy continued, “but I'm going to make another try to find out where it is.”

Being personally acquainted with various Central and South American consuls, the detective telephoned them one by one and inquired about the name. None of the men had ever heard of it.

Later in the evening Mrs. Hardy had an idea. “Fenton,” she said, “why don't you phone my friend Mrs. Putnam? Her husband Roy has just come back from an expedition.”

“The Central American explorer?” Mr. Hardy asked. “Why, that's a great idea. But it's much too late to call anyone now.”

“Not Roy Putnam,” Mrs. Hardy said. “He stays up half the night reading. I'll get him for you.”

Mr. Putnam answered promptly and Mrs. Hardy turned the phone over to her husband. The explorer became so interested in a brief account of the mystery that he offered to drive over at once.

“I'll be there in about twenty minutes,” he promised.

The family went into the living room to await him. A thunderstorm came up shortly, and Mrs. Hardy closed all the windows in the house except the one near where they were seated. The wind whipped up sharply, banging a shutter on the east side of the house. Frank went to fasten it.

Soon the doorbell rang. Joe opened the door. The explorer, a man of commanding figure, took off his raincoat and shook hands with everyone.

“It's about time we got together,” he said with a smile. “My wife speaks often about you.”

“But you're so rarely at home,” Mrs. Hardy replied.

“That's right.” Mr. Putnam smiled. “I've just returned from Guatemala, in fact.”

“I'm sure then,” Mr. Hardy said, “that you can give us a lot of help. Did you ever hear of Texichapi?”

A bolt of lightning flashed, startling them all. Then Mr. Putnam said, “When you mentioned Texichapi a moment ago, I was surprised. I never dreamed that anyone way up here would have any knowledge of that place!”

“Where is it?” Frank questioned eagerly.

“Well, first of all,” Mr. Putnam began, “have you ever visited Guatemala?”

The Hardys said they had not.

“As you know,” Mr. Putnam began, “the country stretches from the Pacific to the Atlantic, just below Mexico. It's a rugged land—full of canyons, towering mountain ranges, and volcanoes.

“It's mostly Indian in population, and has some wonderful ruins. Even out in the deepest jungle, in the most unsuspected places, one finds buried temples and palaces.”

A crash of thunder made it difficult to hear the explorer for a moment. Then he continued:

“Guatemala has beautiful cities. Colors splashed everywhere—bright red roofs, light-blue and white-walled houses, tropical flowers—parks full of them.”

“Now how about Texichapi?” Mr. Hardy asked mildly.

“Oh, yes.” Mr. Putnam smiled a bit sheepishly. “Texichapi,” the explorer began, “is a name given by a small tribe of Indians, the Kulkuls, to a mysterious and perhaps even mythical area many miles from Guatemala City. I've heard various rumors about the region.”

“What are some of them?” Frank asked. “The main one concerns a great treasure buried there,” the explorer went on, and the boys jumped in amazement. “Though I have many times tried to find out more about Texichapi, the Indians are very closemouthed. It's not inconceivable that the Kulkul tribe guards the secret to Texichapi.”

“Boy, would I like to find it!” Joe said eagerly.

Aunt Gertrude spoke up for the first time and snapped, “Why, those Indians might kill you if they caught you looking for their treasure!”

Mr. Putnam smiled tolerantly. “The Indians in Guatemala respect the white man. No, you're more likely to have trouble with an occasional band of hostile, renegade Ladinos who have fled to the mountain regions.

“Ladinos,” the explorer explained, “are Spanish-speaking, mixed-breed people. They are very proud and do no manual work like laboring in the fields or carrying loads. Mainly, they own stores and cantinas and hold political offices.”

Mr. Hardy nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Mr. Putnam, do you know whether any Guatemalans have a secret society that was organized to uncover this treasure or any other in the interest of their government?”

“Yes,” Mr. Putnam replied. “The only trouble is I don't know just which society you mean. They come and go—pop up all of a sudden, make a big noise, and disappear as quickly.”

The explorer went on to say that he had heard of no such group lately but he could find out. “If you'll allow me to use your phone,” he said, “I'll check with a friend in Guatemala City whose business it is to investigate such groups.”

“Please do so,” Mr. Hardy said, showing the visitor to the hall phone.

“They won't mind my calling at this time of night.” Mr. Putnam grinned good-naturedly. “It's three hours earlier there.”

The Hardys returned to the living room while Mr. Putnam put through his call. Several minutes passed before the man came back.

“My friend Soldo, who works for a government agency, tells me that there are rumors of another so-called patriotic society forming right now,” Mr. Putnam reported as he sat down. “His agency would welcome any information about it. If something subversive is going on, he says, there'd be a good chance of nipping the plans in the bud.”

The Hardys noticed that Mr. Putnam had suddenly slumped in his chair, giving a tremendous yawn. Almost at the same moment, Frank and Joe began to experience a queer lethargy.

Their father, too, felt himself growing drowsy. With a great effort, he tried to speak, but at the same time both his sons and Mr. Putnam slipped from their chairs to the floor, unconscious.

Fighting to remain awake, the detective got to his feet and moved across the room to assist his sleeping wife and sister. But before he could reach them, he stumbled and blacked out!

 

 

 

 

As the storm raged, the Hardy family and their guest remained in a deep stupor on the living-room floor. For twenty minutes none of the silent forms moved. Then the wind shifted, and the rain started pelting through the open window into the room.

Frank, lying nearest the window, was within its range. The continual spray across his upturned face gradually aroused him. Fighting desperately against the drowsiness that still engulfed him, the boy struggled to get up. He looked dazedly around.

“They're all asleep!” he thought. He wondered what had happened to cause this weird scene. Suddenly an answer came to Frank.

“Sleeping gas,” he decided. “Where did it come from, though?”

He went to close the window against the storm. As he did so, he noticed the screening had been cut. On the floor below the window lay a large strip of screening and several punctured, greenish pellets the size of a golf ball.

As he picked one up and examined it, Frank mused, “These are gas pellets and must have been tossed in here.”

He decided that the noise of the storm and the family's rapt interest in Mr. Putnam's story would have prevented their noticing any sound at the window.

The rest of the family and Mr. Putnam began to revive. Frank, sensing that the danger of any lasting effect had passed, turned his thoughts in another direction. Who had hurled the pellets? Suddenly he remembered the screening on the floor. Maybe their enemy climbed into the house! He could have cut a small slit first, thrown the pellets, then cut out the large piece to get through.

As if in answer to his unspoken query, Frank saw a masked man coming down the stairs! The intruder, apparently startled by Frank's unexpectedly quick recovery, jumped over the remaining steps and dashed for the front door.

Frank made a flying leap. Before the man could turn the doorknob, Frank crashed into him, sending him sprawling on the hall floor.

Catlike, the masked man leaped to his feet. A blow caught the boy on the cheekbone and split the skin. Enraged, Frank hurled himself at his adversary and knocked him against the steps!

While the fight was going on, Joe stood up unsteadily and glanced around. Out of the comer of his eye he saw the struggle and staggered to the hall. He was just in time to see Frank leap back as the man rolled off the stairs.