Read The Clue of the Hissing Serpent Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Clue of the Hissing Serpent (9 page)
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“Tell me more.”
“Unfortunately that's all we know.”
Iola looked thoughtful. “I might be able to find out more about ancient chess pieces. Would that be of any help to you?”
“Sure. How are you going to do it?”
“Oh, leave it to me,” Iola said coyly.
On the way home, Frank said, “I wonder what Iola has in mind.”
“She's pretty smart,” Joe said. “Don't worry about it.”
As they pulled into the driveway, Frank said, “Joe, I've been thinking.”
“About what?”
“Conrad Greene's place. Maybe the wiretap is on the outside of the house!”
“You only checked indoors?”
“Yes. It didn't occur to me until just now.”
“Then let's take a look tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. We'll phone him tonight.”
After dinner Frank called the Greene residence. Conrad's father answered, saying it was all right to come the next day and check the outside.
“This time you won't get wet, either.” He chuckled. “The weather bureau predicted sunshine.”
When Frank asked about Conrad, he learned that the champion was out of town conducting an exhibition tour.
“He plays ten games simultaneouslyâand blindfolded!” Mr. Greene said proudly.
Frank thanked him and hung up. When he told Joe about the grandmaster's exhibition, the boy whistled. “Wow! I've trouble playing one opponent with my eyes open!”
“You're not a genius, Joe. I keep telling you that.”
Joe gave his brother a good-natured poke in the ribs. “Well, let's see what kind of a genius you are in solving our new mystery.”
The boys waited until ten-thirty the next morning, thinking their father might call from New York, but finally Frank said, “We'd better be on our way. I wanted to tell Dad about the Ruby King, but it'll have to wait.”
The day was bright and clear. On the highway a black sedan kept behind them for a while, and Joe became suspicious. A man and a woman were in the car. But it turned off onto a side road before they reached Ocean Bluffs.
The elder Mr. Greene let them in and Frank introduced his brother.
“How's that big fellow who was with you. What's his name? Boff?”
“Oh, you mean Biff. He's fine. Mr. Greene, may we check in the house again for any bugs? Then we'll investigate outside. It could be they have tapped your line by the pole near the road.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
The boys went to work with speedy efficiency. “Nothing here,” Joe said finally. As they moved toward the front door, a shrill scream pierced the stillness.
The boys ran outside, followed by the old man. They saw a woman running frantically toward the steeply sloping cliff. A man was chasing her!
Suddenly she whirled about and in a high-pitched voice shouted, “I'll throw myself into the sea if you come one step further!”
The man hesitated, then started his pursuit again.
“Do you think it's a lovers' quarrel?” Joe asked.
“Whatever it is, it could have serious consequences. That woman might kill herself!”
The Hardys raced up to the man. “Hold it!” Frank called out. “Leave her alone!”
“You take care of him,” Joe said to his brother. “I'll try to keep the woman from jumping off.” He rushed toward the cliff.
“What's going on?” Frank asked the man.
“Don't let her do it!” he panted, throwing up his arms in despair. “She's crazy enough to do anything!”
Joe, meanwhile, had reached the woman, who stood precariously close to the edge of the cliff. He put both arms around her waist and began pulling her back. Suddenly she spun around. Now Joe was at the lip of the cliff himself! The woman tried to shove him over, and in her efforts a wig fell off her head!
“Holy crow!” Joe thought. “It's a man!”
Frank was having his troubles, too. The man, who had pleaded for help a moment before, set upon him and wrestled him toward the cliff. In the distance, Mr. Greene wrung his hands in despair. “They're trying to shove you overl” he cried out.
This was painfully evident to the Hardy boys, who had a tough fight on their hands. Frank got the better of his adversary with a karate chop. The man staggered, then ran back toward the driveway.
Frank rushed forward to help his brother. Both Joe and his adversary were still wrestling at the lip of the cliff. Suddenly, to Frank's horror, both fell over and rolled down the steep embankment, locked together in a bear hug!
As they tumbled down the sandy, rocky slope, Frank saw that the other man was getting the worst of it. His head crashed against one rock, then another. By the time both hit the narrow beach a hundred feet below, they rolled apart and lay motionless.
Frank's adversary had reached his car which was parked down the road and drove off. It was a black sedan! “We were followed after all,” Frank thought to himself.
He turned to Mr. Greene, who had come up alongside him. “They're hurt,” the boy said. “Is there a way to the beach?”
The elderly man pointed to a narrow, rutted lane some distance away, which twisted steeply to the water's edge. “It hasn't been used in years,” he said. “Part of it's been washed away by rain.”
“I'm going down,” Frank said. “Better call an ambulance.”
When Frank reached the bottom he raced over to his brother. Joe was just opening his eyes.
“You all right?” Frank asked, his throat dry.
Joe stood up cautiously and moved his arms and legs. “I guess so. Don't think I broke anything. But this other character might not be so well off.”
The boys walked over to Joe's adversary. He was lying on his side.
“Better not touch him,” Frank warned. “He might be in serious trouble.”
They bent down to get a look at the man's face.
“Good grief!” Frank said. “It's Gerard Henry!”
“The jewelry salesman?”
“That's right.”
Frank and Joe splashed water on Henry's face, but the man did not revive.
Just then two policemen carrying a stretcher came down the narrow trail.
“I'm Lieutenant Skillman,” one of them introduced himself. “And this is Officer Gray. What happened?”
Frank told him quickly. “He's still unconscious,” the young detective concluded.
The officers carefully moved the man and put him on the stretcher. Then they carried him up the cliff, while Frank helped Joe, who was still shaky and hurting.
A police ambulance stood at the Greenes' house, and Gerard Henry was lifted into it. Joe noticed that one of his ladies' shoes was missing.
“The wig got lost, too,” he commented wryly.
Just then the “phony lady” came to. He rolled his eyes and sat up, looking ludicrous in his dress. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs.
Lieutenant Skillman advised the man of his rights and began questioning him, but Henry's jaw was set tight and he refused to say anything. Frank and Joe, who had already told what had happened, filled the officers in on Henry's part in the jewelry racket.
“Will you press charges for assault and battery?” Skillman asked the boys.
“With intent to kill!” Frank declared.
“All right. You'll be called as witnesses.” Skillman handcuffed Gerard Henry and made him lie down in the ambulance.
“We only have a small jail in Ocean Bluffs,” he said, “but I think it'll be adequate. As soon as you're released from the hospital, that's where you'll go.”
Mr. Greene shook his head in disbelief as they walked back toward the house. “You boys sure got into a lot of trouble on our account,” he said. “Why do you suppose those men were trying to throw you over the cliff?”
“To get us out of the way for some reason,” Joe said.
“Let's take a look at that telephone pole,” Frank said. When they reached the end of the drive he climbed partly up the base of the pole. It was covered with creosote and tar.
“What a mess,” he grumbled as he climbed higher. At the junction he examined the wires and called down: “Here's the tap, Joe. What'll we do with it?”
“Listen, Frank, I've got an idea,” Joe called up. “Why don't we leave it and tell Conrad to pass on false information as to how he would tackle different problems in chess? He can get in touch with his partners on a public telephone and clue them in.”
“Not bad,” Frank agreed. “It would confuse his enemies.”
When he came down, Mr. Greene chuckled. “Hey, this is like reading a detective story,” he said. “I'm sure Conrad will go along with your strategy.”
It was early afternoon when the Hardys arrived home. They were met at the kitchen door by Aunt Gertrude. A look of horror crossed her face when she saw them.
“Oh, Frank, Joe!” she shrieked.
CHAPTER XII
The King's Curse
FRANK felt the blood drain from his face. “What's happened? Is Dad all right?”
“Nothing's happened to your father,” Aunt Gertrude said tartly. “But look at youâyou're a mess! Filthy, and your face is scratched, and Joe's clothes are torn and he's bruised all overâ”
“Is that all?” Frank interrupted, heaving a sigh of relief. “We thought the sky had fallen in.”
Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Hardy entered the kitchen. Worriedly she scrutinized the boys, then said, “You do look pretty bad. Are you sure you're not hurt?”
“Frank's dirty because he climbed a telephone pole,” Joe said, “and I'm a little sore from fighting a lady that was no lady. But everything's okay, Mother.”
“Have crooks been chasing you?” Aunt Gertrude demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she said. “Of course they have. Where were you?”
Frank told their story and finally managed to calm his excited aunt. “Did you hear from Dad?” he asked.
“Yes, we did,” Mrs. Hardy replied.
“Has he had any luck?”
“He said he was making good headway, that's all.”
The boys went up to their room and soon returned with clean clothes. They handed the dirty ones to their mother.
“Let me put some antiseptic on your scratches,” Mrs. Hardy said.
She went to the bathroom to deposit the clothes in the hamper and returned with the liquid. While she pressed soaked cotton swabs against the boys' injuries, Frank dialed police headquarters.
“Hi, Chief. Frank Hardy. I've got some good news. The Ocean Bluffs police captured Gerard Henry.”
“He's a slick operator,” the chief replied. “How'd they do it?”
Frank told of their adventure and how they had left the wiretap in place in order to mislead Conrad Greene's enemies.
Collig thanked him for his information. “I'll get in touch with Lieutenant Skillman,” he said. “We can tack a few more charges onto that hoodlum.”
“Like fraud, you mean?”
“That's right. Let me know if anything further develops, Frank.”
The hungry boys had just finished a snack when a youth about eighteen came to the door. He had an envelope marked Bayport Museum for the Hardys.
Frank took it and the messenger hurried off.
“Hey, Joe. I wonder what this is all about,” Frank said and slit open the envelope. On a piece of museum stationery was typed:
Frank and Joe Hardy:
May have some information to help you.
Ruby King
“Is this some kind of a gag?” Joe asked.
“It may be a trap,” Frank said. “We're pretty good at falling into those lately, you know.”
“Not this time,” Joe said. “Let's call the museum and ask about this Ruby King.”
Frank did not like the idea. “It might be like phoning the zoo and asking for Mr. Fox,” he said. “We'll go over ourselves tomorrow morning.”
“But not without bodyguards!”
The Hardys decided to phone their backup team of Biff Hooper, Tony Prito, and Phil Cohen. The latter was a slight, intense boy with a razor-sharp mind.
The three friends readily agreed to meet the boys next morning and serve as lookouts around the museum.
When they rendezvoused at nine o'clock, Joe looked at the austere stone building without windows and said, “Not a very inviting place. When I was a little kid, I used to think this was a mausoleum.”
Biff, Tony, and Phil stationed themselves on the outside. They would go in if the Hardys were not back in fifteen minutes.
Frank and Joe bounded up the marble steps and opened the heavy bronze door. Inside sat a blond young woman behind the information desk.
“We're here to see Ruby King,” Frank said.
“You'll find Mrs. King down the hall in the room marked Ancient Art.”
“You mean there really is a Ruby King?” Joe asked.
The receptionist cocked her head and looked at the Hardys quizzically. “What made you think there wasn't?”
“Oh, nothing,” Joe muttered. The boys found the proper door and entered a large high-ceilinged room. In it were plaster facades of ancient buildings, glass cases filled with artifacts, tapestries, and a few paintings.
Their eyes swept the room, finally coming to rest on a small desk in one corner. Behind it sat a buxom, dark-haired woman. She wore a blue dress and eyeglasses. Her hair was piled high on her head. She smiled as the boys approached.
“You must be Frank and Joe Hardy.”
“Yes,” Joe said, surprised, as the woman continued, “You're detectives, interested in an ancient Chinese chess piece.”
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