He decided the hut would be the best place to plant the wolf skin, and did so the next day. Following that he tipped off the sheriff.
“What made you trail us tonight?” Joe asked.
Clermont shrugged ruefully. “I was shadowing Yancey and saw him come to your cabin. So I wanted to find out what you two were up to and how you fitted into the picture.”
“Now you know,” Joe said with a dry grin.
The Hardys decided to let the Frenchman go. As an alien, he would not be hard to trace, especially since they knew his car license.
Continuing their journey, they found the rendezvous house empty. With their car parked out of sight from the road, they sat waiting for Tabor and the crooked contractor to arrive.
Suddenly a red light flashed on the radio. Chet was calling.
“What’s up?” Frank asked.
“Karel Tabor and his son drove away from their house about ten or fifteen minutes ago,” the boy reported. “I just got back to our place.”
“Any idea where they were going?”
“Looked to me like they were heading north to get on Route 30,” Chet replied.
“Okay, Chet. Thanks a lot,” Frank said and turned off the radio.
“Route 30?” Joe muttered. “That would be in the opposite direction from herel”
A cold suspicion began forming in Frank’s mind. He looked thunderstruck. “Joe! Something tells me we have been decoyed from the real action!”
“You mean Neal Xavier conned us?”
“Sure do! But he may have spun us that yarn for his boss’s sake!”
“Where could the Tabors be heading, Frank?”
“If they’re taking Route 30, I can only think of one place.”
“Eagle’s Nest!” Joe exclaimed.
“Right! Let’s not waste any more time hanging around here!” Frank revved the engine and they headed back the way they had come, then swung off on a shortcut which skirted Hawk River. Soon they were rolling north on Route 30 as fast as the law would allow.
Nearing Indian Lake, they detoured to a side road and parked about a half a mile from Eagle’s Nest. By approaching the site on foot through the woods, they hoped to avoid being spotted.
Joe carried a long-range walkie-talkie hooked to his belt for emergency contact with Chet. Suddenly he gripped his brother’s arm. “Look!”
In a deep, wooded ravine just ahead, they glimpsed the flickering light of a concealed campfire!
“That may be the Tabors and whoever they came to meet!” Frank declared. “Come on, let’s try and get close enough to see their faces!”
The boys pressed forward cautiously. As they started down into the ravine, Joe lost his footing and crashed loudly into the dry brush.
Their quarry heard the noise. Almost instantly the campfire was doused, as if smothered by dirt or a blanket. Figures burst from the little clearing and dashed off in the moon-dappled darkness.
The boys were about to give chase but stopped short with a gasp. A weird, glowing wolf-creature had just leaped into view at the bottom of the ravine! Its fangs were bared in a ferocious snarl as it charged in the Hardys’ direction!
“Leaping lizards!” Joe blurted. “It’s a werewolf!”
19
The Werewolf
The beast came at them like a demon of the night, its ears laid back, eyes ablaze with savagery! One glimpse of its deadly fangs told the boys they were facing a killer!
“The dart gun!” Frank cried, shaking off an instant of paralyzing fear.
They raced back to their car and around behind it. Frank unlocked the trunk, yanked out the gun, broke it open at the breech and rammed home the tranquilizing dart cartridge that Joe handed him. By now the four-legged fury was close enough to spring for his throat.
Frank whipped up the gun and fired pointblank. Bla-a-am! The shot thundered through the night air. He saw the creature shudder and jerk in mid-leap. Then it was upon him. He went down beneath the glowing beast, holding the gun crosswise as a barrier while he struggled to keep its jaws from his throat!
Joe grabbed the animal from behind, clutching it by the nape of the neck. The wolf-creature growled furiously as he sought to wrestle it away from his brother. But in a few moments it began to weaken from the effects of the dart anesthetic and finally it collapsed limply at their feet.
Both boys were trembling violently. It seemed a miracle that neither had been slashed by the beast’s rending fangs.
“Boy, you nailed it just in time!” Joe panted.
“Look here,” Frank said, pointing with the toe of his shoe toward the animal’s belly. Its glowing fur appeared to be laced up on the underside of its body, from its throat clear back toward its tail!
For a moment Joe could only stare in amazement. “Well, for crying out loud!” he muttered.
The boys undid the lacing and, after considerable effort, managed to remove the creature’s false coat. Its glowing pelt had obviously been made from synthetic fur colored with fluorescent dye and crafted with great care so as to encase the animal snugly, even including a head mask and four “leggings.”
The beast itself was a huge, deep-chested Doberman pinscher!
“It’s Neal Xavier’s guard dog!” Frank exclaimed.
There was no time to assess their amazing discovery. Both boys felt it was more important to find out what the campfire plotters were up to and, if necessary, thwart their latest move.
“They may be planning to ruin Eagle’s Nest or wreck the restoration work somehow!” Joe conjectured.
“Could be,” Frank said. “That would make four Chelsea building disasters. If that’s their game, we’ve got to stop them, Joe!”
Flashlights in hand, the Hardys hurriedly retraced their steps to the ravine. Probing downward, they reached the site of the campfire and continued on past it, playing their beams cautiously right and left in hopes of picking up the fugitives’ trail.
“Hold it, Joe!” Frank called out suddenly.
“What’s the matter?”
“Hear that crackling noise?”
Joe listened a moment, then gasped, “Oh, oh! I sure do!”
Both boys had the same thought. A brief reconnaissance soon confirmed their fears! In their haste to douse the campfire, the fugitives had failed to extinguish it completely, and now some of the surrounding leaf litter and undergrowth had evidently caught fire from the embers! Parched from the hot, dry August weather, the brush would go up like tinder and the trees themselves would soon be ablaze!
“Good grief! We’d better get out of here, Frank!”
“You’re telling mel”
The boys tried to run back towards their car, but found the way blocked by a wall of flames. Veering in a different direction, they sought to clamber out of the gully by one of its steeper walls. But the night breeze was spreading the blaze fast, and wherever they turned, a scorching, crackling barrier of orange-yellow flames seemed to bar their progress. Soon the whole ravine was ringed with fire!
“We’re trapped!” Joe started to exclaim in despair, but he choked back the words in his throat and snatched up the walkie-talkie from his belt. He began beaming out a call to Chet, describing their horrible plight.
“Come on! Over this way, Joe!” Frank called.
Joe hurried to join him. “Where’re you going?”
“There’s a creek that runs through this ravine. I caught a glimpse of it in the moonlight when we were creeping up on the campfire. That’ll give us a fighting chance to survive, if we can find it!”
Blundering about in the firelit darkness, the Hardys eventually reached the shallow, boggy stream. Frank had hoped that, by wading its full length, they might make their way out of the trap. But blazing trees came crashing down across the creek to block their escape. Finally they realized that their only hope was to stay hip-deep in the water and wait for rescue, or else for the fire to burn itself out.
Meanwhile, Joe continued to radio for help. But no response came over the
walkie-talkie’s loudspeaker.
“What’s wrong? Why doesn’t Chet answer?” Joe said in frustration.
“This ravine we’re in or the heat waves from the fire may be interfering with our reception,” Frank guessed.
“Let’s hope it hasn’t spoiled our transmission!”
The heat from the fire on both sides of the creek was intense. The boys splashed themselves with water to make it more bearable. Suddenly they were startled to attention by a noise from somewhere overhead.
“That’s a plane, Frank!”
“I know! There it is!” The older Hardy boy pointed, “Let’s try signalling with our flashlights!”
They aimed their beams skyward and waved their flashlights back and forth. Whether such feeble signals could be seen among the flames seemed doubtful, but their hopes were buoyed by the appearance of possible help.
“Look! The plane’s circling, Frank!”
“The pilot must have seen us, or at least he’s noticed there’s a forest fire down here. Maybe he’ll radio for help!”
What followed seemed like a miracle to the boys. A whitish stream began to spew downward from the circling aircraft. Hissing smoke billowed through the ravine as it hit the trees.
“It’s chemical foam!” Frank cried joyfully.
Presently the pilot’s voice came through over Joe’s walkie-talkie. “Do you read me, Hardys? ... Come in, please! ... This is Jack Wayne in Skyhappy Sal!”
“We read you, Jack! And do you ever sound good!” Joe responded. “Just keep dumping that foam!”
After a few more passes by the plane, the blaze gradually sputtered out. As soon as the fire-blackened woods cooled enough underfoot to permit their passage, Frank and Joe clambered out of the ravine.
A few hundred yards beyond, they reached the road bordering Indian Lake. Ahead and to the right, they could glimpse Eagle’s Nest looming on the hillside in the moonlit darkness. The boys ran toward it. Parked near the roadside was a light-colored four-door sedan. Frank and Joe recognized it as the Tabors’ car, which they had seen standing in the driveway of the family’s house. Something else lay on the roadway nearby.
“Frank, it’s another wolf skin!” Joe exclaimed, pausing long enough to snatch it up. “Wow! Look at those fangs, and the claws feel razor-sharp!”
“This one’s got straps, too, for buckling it on!” Frank noticed, playing his flashlight over the furry disguise.
“But never mind all that now, we can examine it later. Let’s find out what’s going on at Eagle’s Nest!”
Flinging the wolf skin over the hood of the car, the Hardys hurried up the hillside. Frantic voices reached their ears.
“Help! Help!”
By this time, they were nearing the old timber mansion. Frank shone his flashlight in the direction of the cries. Two figures could be seen on the upper-story porch.
“It’s Mr. Tabor and John! They’re tied up!” Frank gasped.
The Hardys reached the building, ran inside and up a stairway. Making their way through the ancient structure, they came out on the porch and began untying the Tabors.
“The scoundrels who tied us used guns to make us call for help!” Karel Tabor exclaimed.
“Where are they?” Joe asked, working busily.
“You didn’t see them?” put in John. “They must have gone out a different way than you came in.”
At that moment they heard a resounding thud, and the whole porch quivered. More blows followed.
“Great Scott!” cried the elder Tabor. “This porch is braced with temporary supports, and they’re knocking out the props with sledgehammers!”
As he spoke, there was a loud rending, creaking noise and the porch started to give way! The Hardys’ hearts were in their mouths as they realized they would be dumped down the steep hillside to their deaths on the rocks far below!
20
Battle Royal
The porch swayed and teetered perilously beneath their feet. “Quickl” Frank cried. “Back inside!”
Mouldy timbers were cracking and splitting, ancient wooden pegs coming loose! Without bothering to finish untying the two prisoners, the Hardys dragged them frantically into the building through the open doorway.
Not a moment too soon! Scarcely an instant after they were inside the old mansion, a deafening crack resounded through the night air. The porch broke loose and crashed down the hillside!
With deft fingers, Frank and Joe finished undoing the ropes. “We’d better get out of here pronto!” Frank urged, straightening up from his task. “No telling what those crooks’ll do next!”
The answer was soon apparent as the Hardys and the Tabors hurried to the stairway leading to the ground floor. Half a dozen figures were about to swarm up from below. Evidently the gang had realized that their intended victims had escaped destruction, and they were coming up to finish them off in person!
Frank and Joe recognized Neal Xavier’s sharp-eyed visage among the upturned faces of their enemies, visible in the glare of the Hardys’ flashlights.
“Come on! Grab some of these loose timbers!” Joe yelled to his companions.
The floor of the musty old mansion was strewn with boards, beams and other debris. Together the Hardys seized one good-sized plank and hurled it into the midst of their onrushing foes. Karel and John Tabor followed suit.
All four rained more wooden missiles on the crooks below. Then, before Xavier and his accomplices could recover their weapons and collect their wits, the group rushed down the stairway and leaped on them, kicking out and punching in all directions.
Despite the odds, the four held their own in the wild melee that followed. Even so, the outcome might have gone against them had two more fighters not joined the fray. The newcomers waded in, fists flying. One of the enemy quickly went down for keeps, then another, as punches connected with jaws. In the shadowy gloom, illuminated by moonlight streaming through the gaping windows and open sections of walls that were being replaced or repaired, Frank finally recognized their welcome allies.
“It’s Dad and Jack Wayne!” he shouted to Joe.
The fight soon ended as the crooks lost heart. Neal Xavier tried to get away, but Frank brought him down with a flying tackle.
Fenton Hardy explained to his sons that he and Jack had been flying to Hawk River when they picked up Joe’s radioed calls for help. Jack had landed at the airfield near Hawk River just long enough to load a tank of fire-fighting foam onto the aircraft. Then, within minutes, they had flown to the scene.
“It took a while to find a place to set down after the fire was out,” Jack added, “but I guess we got here in time.”
“You couldn’t have timed it better!” Frank said gratefully. “Boy, that was some scrap!”
Joe was nursing a set of badly skinned knuckles. “If this joint was Dark Eagle’s castle,” he said with a wry chuckle, “I guess you could call what happened a battle royal!”
From among the workmen’s supplies inside the mansion, Karel Tabor produced several lanterns, and Fenton Hardy proceeded to interrogate the prisoners. Besides Neal Xavier, they included the crooked contractor with whom he was involved and three of the latter’s gangster stooges, as well as another man, who proved to be a male nurse from the Pine Manor Rest Home.
Mr. Tabor looked pale and exhausted from the night’s hectic events. However, his color gradually returned after taking some of his heart medicine, and he seemed jubilant over the fact that the mysteries troubling his firm and his family were at last being resolved.
The Hardys learned that he had discovered several serious engineering errors in Xavier’s architectural work. He also found out that Xavier had taken bribes to let the contractor use cheaper, substandard materials than the specifications called for on construction jobs which he carried out for Chelsea Builders.
“Why didn’t you report him?” Fenton Hardy asked.
“I was afraid if the news leaked out it would harm our firm’s good name,” Karel Tabor replied. “So I a
greed to say nothing if he would promise to reform and return the bribes. To ensure this, I recorded his full confession on tape.”
“And that’s why you said nothing when Joe and I came to your office?” put in Frank.
“Exactly. I left it to Neal’s own conscience as to how much he would tell you about the stolen contents of the safe.”
Xavier had cleverly twisted this situation to throw suspicion first on Upton Associates and then on his trusting boss, Karel Tabor himself, who was unaware that Xavier had, in fact, arranged the safe robbery with the help of the contractor’s gangster associates in order to get rid of the incriminating tapes.
Xavier had joined Chelsea Builders with high ambitions, hoping some day to become the firm’s president. Under Fenton Hardy’s shrewd questioning, he confessed that he had connived with the same accomplices to cause the various building disasters and thus force Karel Tabor into early retirement.
However, John Tabor posed a new threat to his ambitions. The young architect was so brilliant, it seemed likely he would be chosen to succeed his father as head of the company. So Xavier devised the werewolf plot in order to drive the young man out of his mind, or at least make him appear unfit to run the firm.
From friendly chats with his boss, Xavier already knew about the family werewolf legend, and he gleaned other information by calling Desmond Quorn. At first he had pestered John with disturbing phone calls, disguising his voice. Later, after recommending the Pine Manor Sanatorium to the young man’s father, he had harried John further with ghost voices by means of electronic gimmicks planted with the help of a friend who worked there as a male nurse. The latter was an expert hypnotist. While pretending to help John relax, the nurse had implanted post-hypnotic suggestions to make him behave suspiciously when he returned home to Hawk River.
On learning that the Tabors planned to call in the Hardy boys, Xavier had carried out the various incidents in Bayport to try and scare them off the case. He had also been the limping masquerader at the barbecue party—another step in his war of nerves against the Tabors.
Night of the Werewolf Page 12
