CHAPTER VI
Symbol in Brass
FOR a moment Frank thought his brother must be joking. Then he, too, put his face to the window-pane. Beneath the room’s furniture he could see only gaping darkness!
“This is crazy!” Frank muttered. “That furniture can’t just stand in mid-air!”
“If only we could see better,” Joe said, flattening his nose against the glass in an effort to peer downward. Suddenly Frank gave a warning hiss and yanked Joe into a crouched position.
“What’s wrong?” Joe whispered.
Frank pointed off beyond the rear of the house. In the distance a tiny light could be seen moving among the trees. The boys shrank back into the shadows of some shrubbery.
As they waited, Joe’s eyes fell on what looked like an old coin. It was lying on the ground in the patch of light outside the window. Joe reached out and pocketed it.
Meanwhile, the oncoming beam was zigzagging slowly about the grounds. Minutes went by. A night breeze sighed eerily among the hemlocks and cypresses. Bit by bit, the light moved closer to the boys’ hiding place.
Frank strained his eyes in the darkness. Suddenly his scalp prickled. “Joe!” he gasped. “Do you see what I do?”
“I sure do!” Joe gulped.
The light was being carried by a ghostly white-robed figure! But common sense told the boys the figure must be human.
“This is our chance to lay that spook story to rest once and for all,” Frank whispered.
Joe glanced at his brother. “You mean we rush the ghost?”
“Right—but not yet. Wait till I give the word.”
The white figure flitted along, pausing every so often amidst the tall underbrush. For a time it seemed to be approaching the house. Then the light moved off in another direction.
Frank put his mouth close to Joe’s ear. “Let’s sneak up and take Mr. Spook by surprise now!”
Silent as shadows, the Hardys darted out from the shrubbery. Moving with swift steps, they closed in toward the phantom figure. But Joe, overeager, caught his foot in a tangle of underbrush and thudded to the ground.
The “ghost” whirled, evidently startled by the noise. The flashlight it was carrying raked the two boys, then winked out abruptly. An instant later the figure had slipped away into the darkness!
Frank halted only long enough to make sure his brother was unhurt, then raced in pursuit. Joe scrambled to his feet.
By now the white-robed figure was nowhere to be seen. Then Joe suddenly glimpsed something pale among the trees. Was the spook trying to evade them by doubling back toward the house? Joe sprinted to intercept it.
He saw the phantom figure pass between two trees. Instantly the faint ringing of an alarm bell could be heard from inside the mansion!
“There must be another electronic-eye beam between those trees!” Joe realized.
Floodlights blazed on around the house. The front door burst open and three men dashed outside. The ghost, meanwhile, had veered to the left and was disappearing into the darkness again—this time toward the road, but away from the Hardys’ car.
Joe halted, uncertain what to do next. If he continued the pursuit, he would risk being cut off by the men from the house before he could get back to the convertible.
“For all I know, they may be the ones who blew up our boat!” he said to himself.
As the men came closer, Joe made a fast decision and darted off among the trees. A moment later he was startled by a rustle of shrubbery close by. A shadowy figure was running alongside him! “You okay, Joe?”
“Yes. But wow! Don’t give me heart failure like that!”
The sounds of pursuit grew fainter and presently the two boys reached sloping ground and headed toward their car.
Both boys hopped into the convertible. Frank keyed the starter and the engine came alive with a roar. Spinning the wheel, he sent the car zooming down the lane. “Talk about fast getaways—!” Joe panted as they reached the highway.
“Did you get a look at those men from the house?” Frank asked.
“Not too good a look, but I think one of them may have been Noel Strang.”
As the brothers came in the kitchen door of the Hardy home, they heard a loud buzz from the basement.
“The short-wave radio signal!” Frank exclaimed. He and Joe hurried downstairs and switched on the powerful set which the Hardys used for secret communications.
“Fenton H. calling Bayport. Come in, please.” The last words swelled to stronger volume as Joe tuned the receiver.
“Bayport to Fenton,” Frank said. “We read you loud and clear!”
“Good! I hoped I’d catch you boys in.”
“How’d that telephone tip pan out?” Frank inquired eagerly.
“It hasn’t so far,” Mr. Hardy reported. “The Wanda didn’t arrive until six this evening. Its passengers are all wealthy people, and there’s a fair amount of jewelry aboard. But as yet we haven’t turned up a single clue that might indicate a robbery is planned.”
“Do you think the tip was phony?”
“Too early to tell yet. The police have a dragnet out but they haven’t spotted any likely suspects. Of course it’s possible the jewel thieves called off the job for some reason.”
“Dad, it’s also possible the gang wants you stymied there in East Hampton while they prepare to pull a job somewhere else,” Frank pointed out.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mr. Hardy agreed. “Meanwhile, Sam and I can’t do much. What’s the picture there in Bayport?”
Frank rapidly briefed his father on the day’s developments. Mr. Hardy was stunned to hear about the bombing of the Sleuth and the attack on Joe at Filmer’s Gemstone Shop. Also, he was intrigued by the Motor Vehicle Bureau’s report.
“I’m sure I’ve heard that name, Aden Darrow, but I can’t place it,” the detective said. “Try checking my criminal file.”
After a hasty conference with his operative, Sam Radley, Mr. Hardy added, “Son, the way things are popping there in Bayport, I think Sam had better fly back and help you boys with your investigation. I’ll get hold of Jack Wayne. He should be able to land Sam there by midnight.”
“Okay, Dad. We’ll meet Sam at the airport.”
After signing off, Frank and Joe hurried upstairs to their father’s study. A thorough check of his file revealed no criminal listed under the name of Darrow.
“Dad must’ve been mistaken,” Joe concluded.
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were watching a movie on television. The brothers joined them.
“I suppose you boys would like a snack,” their aunt said after the program ended.
“We wouldn’t object,” Frank replied with a grin.
As Miss Hardy went out to the kitchen, Joe suddenly remembered the coin he had picked up near the mansion window. As he examined it the young sleuth gave a cry of excitement.
“Frank! Take a look at this!”
The coin appeared to be a brass lucky piece. On both sides it bore the design of a dragon!
“Wow! The same design Chet saw on that tiled square!” Frank exclaimed.
The boys began to discuss their new clue excitedly. Mrs. Hardy also looked at the lucky piece and pointed out the design of a violet above the dragon’s head. Soon Aunt Gertrude returned to the living room, carrying a tray of sandwiches, cookies, and milk. She, too, became curious and asked to see the brass coin.
“Why, this belonged to old Jerome Perth!” she announced triumphantly.
“How do you know?” Joe asked.
“From the design—that’s how,” Aunt Gertrude retorted. “It was his personal trademark.”
“Aunty, you’re wonderful!” Frank exclaimed.
“That swindling old reprobate used to hand out these pieces right and left,” she went on. “Especially when anyone asked him to contribute to charity! Used to say these would bring the holder luck, which was more important than money.” Miss Hardy sniffed. “The dragon was appropriate!”
&n
bsp; “Well, since this is the design Chet described—the one he saw on the tiled square—we know he didn’t imagine it,” Joe said to Frank.
“But we still don’t know its purpose,” Frank pointed out.
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were keenly interested when they heard of Chet’s experience. Mrs. Hardy puckered her brow thoughtfully. “Gertrude, wasn’t there once a summerhouse near the Perth mansion?” she asked.
“I believe there was, Laura. Seems to me it fell into neglect and was torn down. Why?”
“I was just wondering if that tiled surface might have been the floor of the summerhouse.”
Joe snapped his fingers excitedly. “I’ll bet you’ve hit it, Mother!” he exclaimed.
Frank nodded in agreement. “But in that case, why couldn’t we find it this morning?” he mused.
Before anyone could answer, the TV late news came on. “A bulletin just handed me,” said the newscaster, “states that a daring jewel robbery was pulled in Chicago at ten o’clock tonight. More than one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of uncut gems were stolen from the Spyker Jewelry Company. No further details as yet.”
“Wow! That phone tip of Dad’s must have been a fake!” Joe exploded. “I’ll bet Strang wanted to make sure Dad was safely sidetracked on Long Island before the gang pulled this new job!”
Frank sprang to his feet. “Come on, Joe! We can do some more detective work tonight!”
CHAPTER VII
A Fast Fade-out
“WHAT do you have in mind, Frank?” Joe asked.
“You weren’t sure Noel Strang was one of those men at the mansion tonight,” Frank explained, “but we do know we saw him this morning.”
“So?”
“If he was involved in this latest jewel robbery, he must have flown to Chicago. It’s the only way he could have reached there in time. Maybe we can check that out at the airport.”
“Smart idea!” Joe agreed. “Wait—I’ll get the photo of Strang—we can use it if we need to ask the airlines’ personnel whether or not they’ve seen him.”
The Hardys reached the airport a few minutes before twelve. Joe said, “Let’s start by checking the passenger lists for today’s flights to Chicago.”
“Strang wouldn’t have used his own name if he were en route to commit a crime,” Frank objected.
“Maybe not, but how about one of his aliases?” Joe pointed to a paper with typewritten data pasted on the reverse side of Strang’s photo.
“Hey! That’s a thought!”
At each of the airline desks, the boys asked to see passenger lists for all flights to Chicago since that morning. Neither Strang’s name nor any of his known aliases was listed.
Joe showed one desk clerk the photo of Strang, but the man shook his head. “All the airline employes who are here now came on duty within the last hour.” Then he pointed to a porter who was lounging near a flight gate. “You might ask that skycap over there. And try Benny at the newsstand.”
“Thanks. We’ll do that.”
The boys showed their photograph to the porter and the newsstand operator. Neither recalled seeing such a man.
“How about charter flights?” Joe asked, “Let’s check on that at the information desk.”
The attendant on duty told the boys that they would have to inquire about this at the control tower. “That’s where the flight plans are filed,” he explained.
Before the Hardys could visit the tower, Joe spotted a plane coming in. “Skyhappy Sal!” he exclaimed.
This was a charter ship of the Ace Air Service, operated by Jack Wayne. Jack was a veteran pilot who often flew assignments for Fenton Hardy. The brothers were soon shaking hands with Jack and his passenger, Sam Radley.
“Good flight?” Joe asked the wiry investigator.
Sam nodded. “Fast and smooth. Your dad thought you boys might brief me right away so we can plan some action.”
“We can start now,” Frank told him, then gave an account of the events that had taken place in Bayport. He told of the jewel robbery in Chicago, and added, “Joe and I were about to ask the tower if Strang might have taken off for Chicago on a charter flight.”
“I can do that,” Jack offered. “I know the dispatcher.”
“Swell,” said Frank. “Here’s a photo of Strang—one of the men in the tower may recognize him, if he took a special flight out of here today. In the meantime, there’s something the rest of us can be doing.”
“What’s that?” Radley asked.
“Check the airport parking lot and see if Strang’s foreign sports car is here.”
“Good thinking, Frank,” Radley said approvingly. “Your dad will tell you that a smart detective never takes anything for granted.”
While Jack Wayne started off to the control tower, the Hardys and Sam Radley headed for the parking area. Although it was now past midnight, there were still several cars on the lot.
As Sam and the boys began their inspection tour, a man stepped into view from between two rows of parked cars. Bull-necked and powerfully built, he had crew-cut hair and was wearing a loud sports jacket. At sight of the detectives, he hastily turned and retreated.
Sam Radley was startled. “That was Duke Makin!” he whispered.
“The racketeer and con man?” Joe asked, having heard his father mention the name.
“Yes,” Sam replied. “I wonder what he’s doing here.” His sleuthing instincts aroused, the detective strode forward to investigate. Frank and Joe followed eagerly.
Suddenly an engine roared and a car came zooming out of the darkness. Sam and the Hardys had to leap out of the way as it screeched past!
“That’s Strang’s sports car!” Frank shouted.
Makin was hunched at the wheel. A figure appeared to be huddled in the space behind the front seat, but the car whizzed by too quickly for a clear view. It swung out onto the road.
“Come on! Let’s follow him!” Frank urged.
The Hardys and Radley ran to the boys’ convertible, leaped in, and took off. But the chase seemed hopeless from the start. Makin, speeding recklessly, already was out of sight.
Frank gunned the convertible along for a few miles, but after they had passed several crossroads and turnoffs, all three agreed to abandon the pursuit as hopeless. Glumly, Frank headed back to the airport.
“What do you suppose Makin was up to, Sam?” he queried. “Think he could be in with Strang on the jewel robberies?”
Radley frowned and shrugged. “Must be some kind of tie-up, if he’s using Strang’s car. Trouble is, we don’t even know for sure that Strang’s involved in the robberies.”
“Looked to me as if someone was hiding in the car,” Joe remarked. “Maybe that was Strang himself, trying not to be spotted.”
“Could be,” Radley agreed. “But if so, why was he hanging around the airport parking lot at this time of night?”
When they arrived back at the airfield, Jack Wayne had important news. A charter plane—owned and piloted by a man named Al Hirff—had taken off at 9:37 P.M. The flight plan listed its destination as Chicago, and the ship was carrying a passenger named Norbert Smith.
“One of the tower operators was down on the field at the time,” Jack went on, “and he saw the passenger getting aboard. He says the guy looked just like this photograph of Strang!”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Joe exclaimed. “For one thing, Strang wasn’t the fellow hiding in his own car.”
“Do you know this man Hirff?” Frank asked Jack.
“I’ve seen him,” the pilot replied. “He rented hangar space here about a week before I flew Sam down to Florida.”
“Jack,” said Radley, “could you stick around here and let us know when the plane gets back?”
The pilot nodded. “Sure. I have a cot in the office. Maybe I can get chummy with Hirff and pick up some information for you.”
“Good idea,” said Frank. “One thing more, Jack—keep an eye out for a black foreign sports car with a dented tr
unk. It may come here to pick up Strang when he gets back.”
“Wilco!” the pilot promised.
Radley was to bunk in the Hardys’ guest room overnight. As they drove home, the boys discussed the situation with him.
“The plane took off at 9:37,” Joe mused. “And the robbery took place at ten o’clock. It’s a cinch Strang couldn’t have made it to Chicago in time to pull the job!”
“Maybe he planned it that way,” Frank reasoned, “so he’d have a clear alibi in case his movements were checked. He could have had confederates steal the jewels. Then Strang showed up in Chicago immediately afterward to take charge of the loot and give the robbers a fast lift out of town.”
“You may have the answer,” Radley agreed.
When they arrived home, Mrs. Hardy greeted them with the news that her husband had radioed again. “He heard about the Chicago jewel robbery right after you left Long Island, Sam. He wants you to contact him at once.”
Radley and the boys hurried downstairs and warmed up the transmitter. Soon Fenton Hardy’s voice came over the speaker. Frank and Joe quickly reported the latest developments.
“Great work, sons!” the detective congratulated them. “This is the first solid clue we’ve had that may link Strang with the jewel thefts.”
“Want us to have him picked up for questioning if he comes back to Bayport?” Frank asked, taking the microphone from Joe.
“No, the local police would have no jurisdiction. Anyhow, they’d need a warrant from Chicago,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Besides, unless Strang were foolish enough to be carrying the loot with him-which I’m sure he isn’t—we still have no real evidence against him. Until we do, there’s no sense tipping our hand.”
“How about me, Fenton?” Sam Radley put in.
“I’ll probably need your help to cover all the angles in Chicago. Tell you what, Sam. If Strang is back in Bayport by eight tomorrow morning, stay there and work with the boys. Otherwise, hop the eight-thirty commercial flight to Chicago and I’ll meet you at O’Hare Airport. Tell Jack to stick around and give the boys a hand.”
The Disappearing Floor Page 4
