The Melted Coins (4 page)
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Joe was furious. “Boy, just let me get my hands on that creepy character and he won't recognize himself when I'm through with him!”
“He sure got us into a first-class jam,” Frank agreed. “And obviously for a reason.”
“I can't figure it out,” Chet put in. “If he wanted to get rid of us, why didn't he just let us go? We were leaving Cleveland.”
“He probably figured we'd go upstate and have a look at the college,” Frank said. “And they've got something to hide!”
For the rest of the day the boys went from one body shop to another, getting estimates on the repair work. They did not leave the car to be fixed, however.
“We'd better wait till tomorrow and see what happens in court tonight,” Frank decided.
“That's right,” Chet said glumly. “We might not even have enough money left to continue the trip.”
At eight o'clock the boys reported to court and sat on a bench waiting for their turn. Fines were meted out to several drivers before their case came up.
The judge was a man in his middle thirties with a touch of gray at the temples and a severe mouth. He examined the summons, then reached for another piece of paper. After studying it, he said, “You Bayporters are really up to high jinks. Don't you know it's unsafe to cut in and out along the highway?”
“I don't know what you mean,” Frank said.
“I have received no less than three complaints from motorists in this area today.” He read Frank's license plate number. “That's you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“These drivers,” the judge went on, “said you were cutting in and out of traffic endangering their lives!”
“That's a lie!' Joe said hotly. ”Somebody is trying to frame us!”
The judge frowned. Unimpressed by Joe's protest, he announced, “I sentence you to a fine of fifty dollars and three days in jail!”
CHAPTER IV
Treasure Below
“BUT that's not fair! You can't do this to my brother!” Joe declared. “He's innocent!”
“Silence!” the judge replied. “Something has to be done to make an example of young people using our highways to play games!”
“But, Your Honor, those complaints are faked!” said Frank. “Won't you please give us a chance for an investigation of our own?”
The judge studied the three boys for a moment, then said, “I'll give you four days of grace before you start to serve your sentence. You are not allowed to leave this area. Next case!”
Frank hurried to the nearest public telephone. With Joe and Chet crowding around him, he dialed their home in Bayport. No one was there.
“Try Radley,” Joe advised. Sam Radley was Mr. Hardy's operative. He was home.
Frank explained his predicament and said, “Sam, this is a real SOS. If I can't prove I was framed I'll be spending some time in the cooler.”
“Okay. Where are you staying?”
“In the Ohio Motel. We stayed there before and I'm sure we'll get another room.”
“I'll catch the next flight out and meet you there,” Sam said.
Radley arrived at the motel early the next morning. “Good thing I was home,” he said with a grin. “Your father's out of town on his mail fraud case. Now give me the details!”
Frank reported what had happened the night before, and Radley started to work at once. It did not take the experienced detective long to check out the complaints against Frank. One was from a man who had died the year before. Another man had moved and was a resident of California. The third complaint was fictitious.
When Sam met the boys for lunch in the motel coffee shop, he waved a piece of paper in his hand. “All right, you're off the hook. Here's your release, signed by the judge!”
The trio broke into relieved exclamations and questions.
“How'd you manage to get hold of the judge so fast?” Frank asked, almost unbelieving.
“Don't ask me. It was one of my greater achievements.”
“Sam, thanks a million,” Joe said. “Without you we would have been sunk.”
“Forget it. When are you going to hit the Indian trail?”
“As soon as we rent a car,” Frank said.
“Okay. I'll take the convertible to a shop and have it repaired,” Sam went on. “All you have to do is pick it up later.”
“Great!” Joe said. “Then are you going back home?”
“No. I'll stay here for a few days and check out the Magnitude Merchandising Mart. I want to meet that doll Chet's been talking about!”
Frank chuckled. “You might be marching into a lion's den. Better watch your step.”
“Never fear. If you run into any trouble, call me at the Ohio.”
“Will do. And thanks again, Sam!”
An hour later the boys set off in a rented hard-top. With Chet at the wheel, the Hardys relaxed and Joe studied the road map.
“We'll go through Hawk Head on our way to Yellow Springs,” Joe said. “So let's stop at the Rideaus' for dinner.”
Late in the afternoon they arrived in the little town. A gas-station attendant directed them to the Rideau home, which was Victorian gingerbread style, large and comfortable-looking. It was surrounded by wide sloping lawns. At the rear an old barn sat on a high knob of ground.
They pulled into the drive, got out, and stretched. Instantly a screen door banged open and the two German shepherds streaked out, barking.
“Hello, doggies,” Chet said nervously. “Nice doggies...”
They raced toward him with muffled growls.
“Hey, look, we're friends,” Frank said.
One of the dogs jumped up on Chet, and draped his forefeet over the bov's shoulders. Chet backed up, stumbled, and landed flat on his back. Frank made a dive for the car and Joe leaped for the lower limb of a nearby maple tree. He swung onto the branch and looked down on the other dog, who stood with his paws against the trunk.
As Chet struggled, Mrs. Rideau came out of the front door. “Tay! Boots! Come back here this instant!”
The animals turned and trotted toward their mistress. Chet got up groggily, Frank emerged from the car, and Joe jumped down from the tree.
“Hello, Mrs. Rideau,” Frank said. “Do you remember us?”
“Why, of course,” the woman replied. “Come on in. Don't mind these brutes. We need them to protect our home.”
Joe wondered why, in a peaceful little town like Hawk Head, they needed that much protection. Chet brushed off his clothes and followed Frank and Joe into the old-fashioned living room.
“Please sit down,” Mrs. Rideau said. “I'll get the doctor. He's in the basement with his coins.”
She left the room and the boys heard her footsteps going down the basement stairs.
Frank looked around. The room contained overstuffed, well-worn furniture. The walls were decorated with pictures, and certificates testifying that Dr. Rideau had won several prizes for his coin collection.
Footsteps sounded in the hall and the elderly man preceded his wife into the room. He was dressed in baggy slacks and a sport shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
He shook hands with his callers. “Welcome to our home,” he said and eased himself into one of the big armchairs. “We didn't expect to see you so soon.”
“We're on our way to Yellow Springs,” Frank said.
“Some business with the Indians?” the doctor asked, with a frown of disapproval.
“Yes,” Joe said. “We have to do a little investigating for our father. He's a detective.”
“Do you know anything about the Senecas at Yellow Springs?” Frank asked.
Their host shot a quick glance at his wife, clearing his throat. “Yes, we know about them. By the way, we got our car repaired, and it turned out it was tampered with!”
Frank realized the man was deliberately changing the subject. But before he could ask any questions, the doctor began to speak about his coin collection, which apparently was a tremendously valuable one.
“If you have any money to invest,” he said with conviction, “put it into coins. They will never lose their value. Better than stocks and bondsâa hedge against inflation.”
“You must have quite a treasure,” Chet spoke up.
“Indeed I do! I have a vault in my cellar full of coins.”
Joe gave a whistle. “Isn't it risky to have so much money around, Doctor?”
The doctor assured them that he was well-protected. The vault was made of concrete and steel and the combination was known only to him and his wife.
“And we have the dogs to protect us, too,” Mrs. Rideau put in. “They are very friendly with people they know, but with strangersâ”
“You don't have to tell us!” Chet blurted out. “One of them almost ate me up!”
Mrs. Rideau smiled. “Not really.”
At that moment the animals pawed at the front door and Mrs. Rideau let them in. They lay down on the living-room rug, their front paws supporting their heads, and carefully watched the callers.
The doctor cleared his throat again. “To tell the truth, we had a little trouble recently.”
“Trouble?” Frank asked. “Tell us about it.”
The man said that ever since their return, they had noticed indications of someone trying to get into the house: sounds of prowlers and rattling door handles had awakened them at night. They had also found that a window screen had been jimmied.
“Thank goodness for the dogs,” Mrs. Rideau said. “They scared away whoever it was.”
“There seems to be a connection between the tampered car and these disturbances,” Frank said. “Do you have any suspicions?”
“Yes!” Mrs. Rideau said emphatically. “The Senecas!”
“Why do you suspect the Indians?” Chet inquired.
“Because there is a rumor among them that I have their melted coins!” Dr. Rideau replied.
“Melted coins?” Joe repeated. “What good would they be to you? And what good are they to them?”
“They have no value for a collector whatever,” answered the doctor. “And their gold value is not high. But I suppose the Indians feel that they are valuable.”
“It was the Senecas all right,” Mrs. Rideau said stubbornly. “We can't prove it, of course.”
The boys did not know what to make of the strange story, but before Frank could ask any further questions, Mrs. Rideau said:
“I think you boys have heard enough about coins. Will you stay to dinner with us?”
“And it would hardly be advisable to continue your trip tonight,” the doctor added. “You're welcome to stay till tomorrow.”
“We'd love to have dinner with you,” Frank said. “But don't bother making extra beds. We can put up at a motel.”
“Nonsense,” Dr. Rideau replied and launched into a lecture on thrift. “You'll never get rich spending money needlessly. Stay with us.”
Chet immediately visualized a comfortable guest room with a soft feather bed upstairs. But that was not the plan. “You can sleep in the barn,” the doctor went on. “We have tenants who occupy the second floor.”
Mrs. Rideau headed for the kitchen. “Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes.”
When they had eaten heartily of lamb chops, mashed potatoes, and broccoli, Joe felt he could sleep anywhere. He drove the car around to the barn, which had a sloping ramp leading up to the doors. The boys pulled them open and found folding cots with thin mattresses prepared for the night.
“The Waldorf it's not.” Joe chuckled. “But I suppose it'll be all right.”
“I'm so full and tired that I couldn't care less where I sleep,” Chet said.
“Okay, let's go back and say good night to the Rideaus, then we'll turn in,” Frank suggested.
As they walked toward the house the front door opened and two men walked out. They turned left and the boys did not get a good look at them.
When they asked Mrs. Rideau about them, she explained that the two men were Professors Mockton and Glade. “They have been staying with us for several months,” she said.
“Professors?” Chet pricked up his ears.
“Yes. They are actually researchers,” the woman replied. “They're studying the Indiansâcollege professors, you know.”
Before going back to the barn, Frank and Joe got flashlights from their car and laid them beside their cots. Then they settled down for the night. Chet could not get comfortable, finding his hips a little too broad for the narrow cot.
“We should have gone to a motel after all,” he grumbled. Sitting up, he looked around in the gloom. He spied a pile of hay near the door. “That's better,” he said. He threw his mattress on top of it and sank down into the hay.
Soon all was quiet, except for the even breathing of the boys. In the middle of the night Chet woke up. Something heavy was resting on his chest. His fingers explored cautiously and encountered coarse hair!
He yelled.
Frank and Joe sat bolt upright. “What's the matter, Chet?” Frank asked.
“Something's on my chest!”
The Hardys grabbed their lights and turned them on. The object on Chet was a grotesque red Indian mask. It was the ugliest face they had ever seen!
CHAPTER V
The Ghost Driver
CHET had been frightened by the feel of the hairy mask lying on his chest. Now, with the yellow glow of the flashlights full upon it, he picked it up with a sound of disgust.
The mask had horrible featuresâleering eyes made of copper, a large twisted nose, and a grotesque misshappen mouth. The hair was a long, white tangled mass.
Other books
Listening to Billie by Alice Adams
The Invisible Enemy by Marthe Jocelyn
The Grasp of Nighttide by Sadaf Zulfikar
Texas Tiger TH3 by Patricia Rice
Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin
Blood Lure by Nevada Barr
The Bachelor's Sweetheart by Jean C. Gordon
Bangkok (That Wedding Girl Book 3) by Way, Maggie
The Malacca Conspiracy by Don Brown
The Black Chapel by Marilyn Cruise
