Read The Mystery of the Chinese Junk Online

Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Mystery of the Chinese Junk (13 page)

BOOK: The Mystery of the Chinese Junk
2.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“Hey! A real feast!” Joe cried. “All for us?”
“Any objection?” Aunt Gertrude retorted mysteriously.
“I'll say not. But—”
Joe's unspoken thought was drowned out by the alarm buzzers, followed almost immediately by the ringing of the doorbell. Frank and Joe rushed to the front hall and opened the door to find Chet, Tony, Biff, and Jim assembled on the porch.
“What's this? A convention?” Frank asked in surprise.
“Sure—a starving one. Your aunt invited us,” Chet announced. “Wow! Do I smell roast beef?”
The boys crowded inside, laughing and joking. Aunt Gertrude poked her head into the living room to greet the newcomers. Her eyes twinkled behind her spectacles as she added to Frank and Joe:
“You two can have
your
little mysteries, so I thought I'd arrange one myself!”
“You're tops, Aunty!” Frank said, hugging her.
The boys ate heartily of the delicious dinner, Chet finishing off half of one chocolate pie. Then the brothers and their friends, in assembly-line fashion, helped Miss Hardy clear the table and wash the dishes.
When they returned to the living room, Biff picked up the comic section of the Sunday newspaper. As he chuckled over a series on Psycho the Cat, Frank's eyes were narrowing on a headline in a report from Fremont, a town not far away.
Safe Cracked as Women Sleep
Quickly the young sleuth read the story. Dr. Montrose of Bayport had treated an elderly widow, Mrs. Velman, and her unmarried sister, Miss Anker, at his office. They had returned home and fallen into a deep sleep.
“According to the story told by Mrs. Velman and Miss Anker,” the newspaper article went on, “the women had slept for several hours.
“‘When we awoke,' Mrs. Velman said, ‘the safe was open, and our securities stolen!' ”
Frank whistled and read the account aloud to Aunt Gertrude and the other boys. “Aunty, that sounds like your experience!”
“Are you implying,” Biff spoke up, “that Dr. Montrose may be the thief—or at least is in league with one?”
“I'm not accusing anyone,” Frank replied, “but it's all mighty funny.”
Chet spoke up. “Boy, I wish I'd come here soon enough that day to catch him!”
“I am confused,” said Jim Foy. “Do you mean that Dr. Montrose is paid by the burglar to put people to sleep?”
“It could be figured that way.” Frank nodded.
“I'm going to find out!” Joe declared, as he jumped from his chair and dashed to the hall telephone.
CHAPTER XV
Hunting an Intruder
JOE consulted the telephone directory, then dialed Mrs. Velman's house. After explaining who he was and saying that his aunt had fallen asleep under similar circumstances, he found the elderly widow very co-operative.
“Did Dr. Montrose give you and your sister sleeping pills?” Joe asked.
“Why—uh—yes, he did. Said we were to take them as soon as we got home. We felt fine when we woke up—that is, until we discovered the robbery.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” the young sleuth prodded.
“I'm afraid not.”
Joe said that he hoped the police would soon recover the securities, thanked her, and said good-by. He returned to the living room and reported what he had learned. At once Aunt Gertrude said, “Dr. Montrose certainly looks suspicious.”
“There are lots of reasons for talking to the doctor,” said Frank. “First, he was staying at the hotel when the Zeus typewriter was stolen; second, he
could
be a thief, or in league with one; next, he advises patients, mostly elderly widows, on stock investments; and last, for a doctor who ought to be on the job he's a pretty elusive person—doesn' t have a nurse or an answering service.”
“I agree one hundred per cent,” said Joe. “Let's call on him right now!”
Aunt Gertrude held up her hand. “Not yet,” she said. “I guess you'd forgotten that the Forsythes, our new neighbors, are coming over to tea.”
The brothers groaned, then apologized. The other boys left and in a short time Mr. and Mrs. Forsythe arrived with two children, a boy of ten and a girl of eight. Frank and Joe, though chafing under the delay, were polite and friendly.
A light supper was served at six. As soon as the meal of sandwiches and ice cream was over, and the Forsythes had left, Frank and Joe set off for Dr. Montrose's house. They would surprise the man and not give him time to hide any telltale evidence.
“If he's not at home,” Frank said, “we'll look around the grounds and see if we can learn anything to connect him with the mystery.”
As on their previous call, the Hardys found the chain across the entrance driveway, so they parked on the public road. The boys walked up the path through the wooded approach and rang the doorbell. No one answered.
After ringing several more times, with no response, Frank muttered, “Looks as though he's not at home.”
“Or else just not seeing callers,” Joe added.
Disappointed, the boys made their way around the outside of the house, looking for discarded letters or other possible incriminating clues. As they passed a pair of tall French windows opening off the first floor, Joe seized his brother's arm.
“Wait!” he whispered. “I think someone's in there!” He pointed to one of the windows.
Frank also caught a fleeting glimpse of a tall figure moving about inside. The two boys silently went up and peered through the glass. The next instant both stiffened as a steely voice behind them rang out:
“Why are you two spying here?” The boys whirled about. There stood Dr. Montrose, wearing a hat and scowling accusingly. But his harsh look turned to a smile of welcome as he recognized them.
“Why, Frank and Joe Hardy!” he exclaimed. “This is a surprise! What brings you here? Is your aunt ill again?”
“Oh, no, she's better, thank you,” Joe replied. “We came here to ask you about something. When you didn't answer the bell, we decided just to look around.”
“I see. Well, come inside,” the doctor urged cordially.
As the two boys accompanied him into the house, they glanced at each other, thinking, “He's not acting like a guilty person!”
Dr. Montrose clicked on a light and laid his hat on the table in the wide hall. He invited them to follow him into a parlor and sit down.
Frank and Joe glanced around, trying not to appear too curious. The atmosphere was musty, as if the whole house needed an airing, and the gilt-trimmed plush furniture looked old and very worn. The windows were hung with heavy red draperies.
“I suppose you're wondering why we were looking in the windows,” Frank said to the doctor. “The fact is, when no one answered our ring we assumed you were out. But we thought we saw someone inside.”
“It surprised us,” Joe added, “because we understood you live alone.”
“That's right.” Dr. Montrose nodded. “No one else is here.”
Joe purposely put on a puzzled look. “That's strange,” he insisted. “I'm positive I caught a glimpse of a person moving around. You don't suppose it was a burglar?”
The doctor laughed, evidently undisturbed. “It was probably only an illusion caused by the shadows. Well, perhaps I'd better look around—just to make sure.”
Frank seized the opening. “We'll help,” he offered. “It might be safer with three of us, if there is an intruder.”
“Hmm, certainly. That's very kind.”
Both boys thought they now detected a certain reluctance in the doctor's manner. Nevertheless, he led them through the various rooms on the first floor. Apparently the mansion had not received a thorough house cleaning in a long time. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and much of the furniture was still draped with white dust covers. The once-expensive carpeting was threadbare and soiled.
After checking the huge, old-fashioned kitchen and peering into the butler's pantry, Montrose led them back to the sweeping spiral staircase in the main hallway.
“We'll take a glance upstairs,” he murmured.
The dried-out wooden steps creaked underfoot.
“Boy, this place seems a million years old!” Joe whispered to his brother.
The searchers looked into all the bedrooms, one by one, and then into two enormous antique bathrooms with tubs mounted on ball-claw feet. The white tile floors were chipped.
Next the doctor mounted a narrow rickety staircase that led upward to the attic storage rooms. Frank and Joe followed. The musty staleness that assailed their lungs caused them to cough.
“I dare say we could do with some air conditioning up here,” Dr. Montrose apologized with an affable smile as they reached the hot, stifling loft.
Frank and Joe agreed wholeheartedly. Dr. Montrose switched on an overhead bulb, revealing an assortment of discarded articles. There were several battered trunks, a rusty bird cage, and piles of yellowing newspapers. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust.
“No intruder has been up here or we'd see his footprints.” The doctor chuckled.
Although the brothers had to agree, Frank and Joe still looked behind every piece big enough to conceal a person—or a typewriter. They found nothing suspicious.
When they returned to the second floor, Frank pointed to a latched door at one end of the hall.
“We haven't looked in there,” he said.
“Just a small closet,” Dr. Montrose replied casually. “No one could hide in it.”
He proceeded down the spiral stair well to the first floor, with Joe following. Frank, lingering behind, determined to check the closet himself.
Moving quickly down the hall, he opened the door and peered inside. The next instant a tall figure loomed up out of the pitch-dark space.
Before Frank could take action, he was seized by powerful hands. The boy started to yell, then the sound was choked off by his assailant's crushing grip. The man was almost a head taller than Frank, and in the dim light of the hallway it was impossible to see his face.
Frank fought furiously to free himself. The locked pair swayed and stumbled in a wordless struggle. Then one hand of Frank's opponent grasped the boy's throat and banged his head against the closet door jamb.
The impact sent a flash of pain shooting through Frank's skull. With a groan, he blacked out!
CHAPTER XVI
Signals
MEANWHILE, Joe and Dr. Montrose had reached the first floor. It was a moment before they realized that Frank was not behind them. Then they heard sounds of a commotion upstairs.
“Hey! What's going on?” Joe cried. He ran back to the staircase and dashed up two steps at a time. The doctor followed, pantingly urging caution.
By the time they reached the second floor, the scuffling noises had ceased. Frank was nowhere in sight.
“Frank!” Joe yelled. “Hey, Frank! Where are you?”
The closet door stood ajar. Dr. Montrose switched on the hall light and Joe peered inside. The place was empty.
“He must be up here somewhere!” Joe exclaimed frantically.
They peered into every bedroom and both bathrooms, but found no trace of the other Hardy boy. Then Joe noticed a clothes chute in one wall of the hallway and yanked it open.
“It leads down to the cellar,” Dr. Montrose explained. “But surely he didn't—”
Without waiting to hear more, Joe dashed downstairs again. “Which way to the cellar?” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Through the kitchen!” Dr. Montrose answered, hastening down the steps behind him.
Joe sped on and descended the cellar steps, pausing only long enough to flick on the light switch. The basement was like a huge cobwebby tomb.
Only a single light bulb was working, but Joe noticed a wooden partition at one end of the basement with the words, LAUNDRY ROOM, in faded paint on the door. He struggled with the latch a moment, then yanked the door open.
“Frank!”
he cried in mingled relief and alarm.
His brother lay stunned at the bottom of the clothes chute. Joe slipped one arm under Frank's shoulders and raised him to a half-sitting position. In doing so, Joe felt a sizable bump on the back of his brother's head.
Dr. Montrose had arrived on the scene by this time and hastily examined Frank.
“Frank's had a nasty blow,” he murmured, “but I think he's coming around.”
After the doctor and Joe had chafed the victim's wrists for a few moments, Frank opened his eyes and groaned.
“O-oh, my head! ... Wh-where am I?”
“Down in the cellar, pal,” Joe replied. “Take it easy for a bit, and then tell us what happened.”
After collecting his wits, Frank related how he had looked into the closet and been taken off guard by his huge assailant. “Where is he now?”
“Not upstairs, that's sure,” Dr. Montrose pointed out.
Joe pointed to an open window above the laundry tubs. “That's how the guy escaped. After he dumped Frank into the chute, he must have slid down behind him and ducked out.”
The doctor looked at the boys blankly. “But what did he want? There is nothing of great value in the house.”
The Hardys exchanged puzzled glances. They were wondering the same thing. It occurred to both boys that the intruder evidently had some knowledge of the layout of the house.
Dr. Montrose and Joe assisted Frank upstairs and made him comfortable in a lounge chair. Here the doctor gave him a whiff of spirits of ammonia and a glass of water. In a few minutes the young sleuth felt fully recovered, except for a throbbing bump on his head.
BOOK: The Mystery of the Chinese Junk
2.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Legacies by Janet Dailey
In Love and War by Tara Mills
Party Games by E J Greenway
Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
The Intelligent Negotiator by Charles Craver