The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge (13 page)

The older boy was Andy Pulaski; the other, three years younger, was Rick. “We're brothers and we live on Church Street,” declared Andy. He said they often came to the shack to play, but a rough-looking man had scared them away several times.

“He's a bum!” Rick said, nodding his head vigorously. “I can tell, 'cause he doesn't shave.”

“Well, you can play here all you want,” said Frank. He reached down and pulled the brief case from under the mattress. Then, leaving the boys to their fun, the young sleuths hastened away.

In the seclusion of a grove of trees, Frank and Joe stopped to examine the brief case, while Tony looked on.

Both sides were scorched and charred, and the place where initials would normally be imprinted was covered with dried mud.

Frank took out his knife and scraped away the crusty dirt. The initials showed up clearly—F.H.!

“DAD's brief case!” Joe exclaimed. He opened it and looked inside. The case was empty, except for a gritty white substance in the bottom.

“Limestone!” Frank said, “Come on, fellows.”

On the double he led them back to the shack, where the two Pulaski youngsters were playing. Frank asked more questions about the man who had chased them away, but the children were vague in their descriptions.

“When he yelled ‘Scram,' Rick and I just ran,” Andy said.

“He scared me,” Rick added. “I didn't look back.”

Joe produced the sketches which Phil Cohen had made. “Did that fellow look like any of these?” he asked.

The children looked at the sketches and shook their heads.

“Well, if he comes back and chases you away again,” Frank said, “please tell us. We'll be staying at the Eagle Hotel. Ask for Frank, Joe, or Tony.”

“Are you detectives?” asked Andy.

“Sort of,” said Joe.

“Gee, we'd like to know how to be real detectives,” said Rick. “Will you show us someday?”

“Maybe,” Joe replied. “See you later.”

Leaving the boys, Frank, Joe, and Tony made their way back to town. First, they stopped at the police station to report to Lieutenant Murphy what they had found and to leave the brief case there for safekeeping.

The lieutenant made a note of their investigation, saying he would be on the lookout for the vagrant. He added, “Maybe the old geezer found your father's brief case somewhere. Doesn't mean he stole it.”

Frank agreed that they should not jump to conclusions, but said he still believed that the shack dweller must be considered a suspect.

“And what about this light in the sky called Rosy?” Joe asked.

“Oh, that,” Murphy said with a shrug. “I've never seen it myself. Who knows what to believe?” Chuckling, he added, “These hill folks tell some awful tall tales.”

Frank told the police officer that they would be staying at the Eagle Hotel, in case any new leads turned up.

The boys went directly to the hotel, located two blocks from the station house. It was an old frame building with a small lobby. The boys registered as Frank Brown, Joe Jones, and Tony Wilson and paid in advance for one night's lodging.

“No bags?” the clerk asked.

“We're traveling light,” Frank replied.

The clerk summoned the bellman, a stoop-shouldered and shifty-eyed individual. He led the boys to a room on the second floor, in which there were twin beds and a cot. After showing them the bath, the man left.

Meanwhile, the three boys plopped into their beds. But the next instant Frank jumped up and said, “There's something I forgot to ask Murphy.” He went to the telephone and had a call put through to the lieutenant. Frank questioned him about limestone deposits in the area. He was told that there undoubtedly were some in the caves and in a natural bridge deep in the woods.

“But nobody goes there,” the officer said.

“Why?”

“Dangerous terrain.”

Frank was about to quiz Murphy further, when he heard heavy breathing on the line. Quickly he thanked the lieutenant and hung up.

“An eavesdropper!” Frank said.

“The bellman, I'll bet,” Tony exclaimed. “Phil warned us about him.”

Joe bolted the door lock, while Frank switched on an antique radio atop the bureau. A shrill jazz tune welled up.

“Nobody can overhear us now,” Tony said. “Where do we go from here, fellows?”

“Find Rosy,” Frank said promptly. “If we do, I'm convinced we'll also find the baron. My guess is he's behind that black magic.”

“First, I want a good, hot bath,” Joe said, stripping off his clothes.

He was in and out of the tub quickly. Tony followed. By the time Frank had finished toweling himself and stepped back into the bedroom, both Joe and Tony were sleeping soundly. Frank, too, stretched out, and despite the late-afternoon sunlight streaming in, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The boys awakened to find it dark outside. Tony checked his watch. “Nine-thirty! Did we ever need that sleep!” he said.

“And I could use some chow, too,” Joe declared.

They dressed and were about to leave when Frank suggested he and Joe take along the short-wave, the binoculars, and the rope. “Just in case somebody breaks in,” he said.

As the boys walked through the lobby, they noticed the bellman, his head tilted forward, apparently dozing. He did not stir as the trio passed. They found a diner several doors from the hotel, and had a hearty, though inexpensive meal.

“How's our money holding out?” Joe asked as Frank paid the bill.

“For payroll robbers we're pretty broke,” Frank quipped, then added seriously, “It's time we phoned Radley.”

On the street once more, the sleuths found a public booth and Frank called Sam's number collect. Radley was not home, but his wife accepted the charges. She said that her husband had gone to the airport and met Biff and Phil. An examination by a doctor showed that Biff had, indeed, suffered a severe sprain.

The woman reported that Mr. Hardy continued to gain strength, but it would take time to overcome his lapse of memory.

“Your mother and Aunt Gertrude are fine,” Mrs. Radley added. “Any message for them?”

“Tell them we're okay,” Frank replied. “Thanks, and good night, Mrs. Radley.”

Back at the hotel, the boys went quietly to their room. Frank turned the key, opened the door, stepped inside, and switched on the light. As he did, something white appeared from under the connecting door of the adjoining room.

Joe leaped to snatch it up. “A message!” he said, unfolding the sheet of paper. He read it aloud:

“‘Get out! This is your last warning!' and signed ‘the baron'!” Joe held out the paper and they all saw beneath the name the now-familiar spiral sign.

Before the Hardys could stop him, Tony rushed out into the hall. In two strides he reached the adjoining room and tried the door. It was not locked, and he pushed it open. The room was pitch-dark. The light from the hallway failed to show any occupant. Tony slipped inside and felt for the light switch, but before his fingers could reach it, the door suddenly slammed shut. A brass-knuckled fist crushed against the side of his head and he went down in a heap!

A moment later the Hardys reached the closed door and pushed against it.

“Something's propped against the other side,” Joe said.

He and Frank put their shoulders against the door and shoved it open enough for Frank to squeeze inside. He found the switch and flicked on the light. Frank gasped. Tony lay unconscious behind the door!

Frank ran to the open window, which opened onto a fire escape. Nobody there. He tried the connecting door to their room. Locked. Whoever delivered the note and the knockout blow had made a neat getaway.

The Hardys carried Tony back into their room, where he was revived with a cold compress. He stood up shakily.

“Whoo!” he said. “I'm—dizzy.”

“We'd better get a doctor,” said Joe. “You may have a concussion.”

Joe snatched up the sheet of paper

Frank decided to use a telephone outside the hotel, to call a physician and to report the attack to the police. He returned saying that a Dr. Jones was on his way.

All the boys were relieved when the examination indicated Tony needed only a few days' complete rest before resuming normal activity. When the doctor had left, the young detectives were in a quandary as to where Tony might stay.

“It better be some place unknown to the baron,” Frank remarked.

“You're right,” said Joe. “That gangleader is picking us off one by one—divide and conquer.”

“I've got an idea,” Frank said. “How about those two kids we met at the shack?”

“Good night,” Tony moaned, “I don't want to stay in that dump!”

“No, not there,” Frank went on. “Remember Andy and Rick want to be detectives? Maybe their mother would put you up until you feel better. Meanwhile, Joe and I will look for Rosy and the baron.”

The Hardys thought they should leave the hotel at once. “One attack's enough,” said Joe.

Tony was able to navigate with the Hardys' help, so the boys took their belongings and went downstairs. Nobody was in sight, not even the desk clerk.

Outside, they soon got a taxi and climbed in. The driver was familiar with Church Street and knew where the Pulaski brothers lived. He let the boys off in front of a modest, neat-looking house.

Frank rang the doorbell. A tall, lean man answered.

“Mr. Pulaski? Sorry to bother you so late.”

“Yes. What can I do for you fellows?”

Quickly Frank explained about Tony, without giving specific details of the mystery. He did say that he and his brother Joe were working on an important case.

“We met your sons Andy and Rick,” Frank went on, smiling. “They told us they'd like to be detectives, so we thought maybe Tony could give them some pointers in exchange for your giving him shelter. Of course we'll pay you—”

Mr. Pulaski broke in. “Don't you worry about that. Be glad to help you out. Come on inside. My wife's right smart 'bout takin' care of sick folk.”

Mrs. Pulaski proved to be a cheerful, kindly woman. “We've got a spare room all ready,” she told Tony. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, ma'am. That's swell.”

Just then footsteps sounded on the stairway and Andy and Rick, in pajamas, scampered joyfully into the living room.

“I knew you'd all come back!” Ricky said. “ 'Cause you're going to show us how to be detectives.”

When they heard that Tony was to stay for a few days the youngsters were overjoyed. Frank now cautioned the family, “We'd appreciate it if nobody else knows he's here.”

The Pulaskis all readily agreed, eager to assist the young sleuths in the mystery. Sure that Tony was in good hands, Frank and Joe thanked the family and left. They walked through Boonton, found the road over which they had ridden in Teeple's wagon, and began to hike back toward the wilderness. The night was cool and moonlight bathed the countryside.

Three miles out of town a panel truck rumbled up behind them and the boys thumbed a ride. The driver, an affable young man, took them to the place where they had met Mr. Teeple and the Hardys hopped out.

Using their flashlights, they found the trail over the ridge and made their way back to the dense woods. The boys kept a constant alert for the rosy glow, but the sky remained dark.

“Guess Rosy's taken the night off,” Joe said as they carefully skirted the pit into which Biff had fallen. The trap had not been reset.

“What do you make of that, Frank?”

“They think we've cleared out.”

“But what about other snoopers?”

“Oh, I guess the baron thinks he has everybody else under control and scared. Just as well for us.”

The boys continued on to a spot not far from the trailers. There they stopped to rest.

“As soon as possible, let's talk to Chet. Maybe he's found some new evidence,” said Frank.

The loud chirping of birds awakened the Hardys to a bright, hot morning. Nearby was a tall tree which they climbed for a better view of the road-building operation. Activity was already under way, as engines coughed and the various crews began their day's work.

Joe pressed the binoculars to his eyes. “I see Chet!” he said. “Take a look.”

Chet was shoveling dirt by the roadside, not far from the bridge. The Hardys shinned down the tree, then advancing cautiously on stomachs and elbows, edged closer for a better look. Now Frank had the glasses trained on Chet's face. The stout boy kept glancing at the bridge, frowning. Finally he edged his way steadily to the span.