The Yellow Feather Mystery

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “I’ll check behind those bushes,” Skinny of fered.

  “Wait! Let me go first,” Joe ordered.

  He had hardly pushed the branches aside and started down an incline when he uttered a cry and raced ahead. Half-hidden by more shrubs, a trussed figure lay twisting and squirming in a snowbank below.

  “It’s Frank!” he shouted.

  Joe quickly removed the gag; then whipped out his pocketknife. Skinny, who had caught up to him, watched him cut through the bonds.

  Frank was stiff from the cold. Joe helped him to his feet and he moved around to revive his circulation. Then he told how the two masked figures had caught him by surprise.

  “Did you get a look at them?” Joe asked.

  “No. They wore ski masks. But it wouldn’t surprise me,” he continued, “if one of them were Benny Tass!”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “One was exactly Benny’s size and build. And he’d want to get square for our accusing him of running into our car.”

  “Right. And now, we’d better get you home,” Joe insisted.

  As the boys walked through the woods, Skinny spoke up for the first time.

  “Gee, Frank, you might have frozen to death,” he said. “Do you really think Benny’s that bad?”

  The Hardys realized that in their excitement they had taken Skinny into their confidence—perhaps unwisely. If he mentioned this to any of the other boys, it might endanger their work. Joe was just about to ask Skinny to guard their secret when the boy saved him the trouble.

  “You don’t want me to say anything about this, do you?” he asked. “But I’ll watch Benny Tass if you like and let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said. “You could be a great help!” Skinny’s chest swelled with pride. As they reached the campus, he announced that he was going to start shadowing Benny at once and left them.

  “Before we go home, Joe,” said Frank, “I think we ought to tell Kurt about the coffee incident. And we’ll have to report it to the police.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it. You get in the car and turn on the heater,” Joe proposed.

  He hurried off to the headmaster’s office but the man was not there. After asking a student where Kurt’s bedroom was, Joe went to it and knocked.

  Kurt poked his head out. His manner was anything but cordial.

  “May I come in?” Joe requested. “I have something very private to talk to you about.”

  “Private?” Kurt repeated. He looked more annoyed than curious. “Well, all right, come in. But I’m very busy. I can give you only a minute.”

  “It won’t take that long to save your life,” Joe retorted, annoyed by the man’s attitude.

  “What do you mean?” Kurt flared.

  Briefly Joe told the story of the poisoned coffee, suggesting that the headmaster be wary of a similar incident. To the boy’s amazement Kurt broke into a sardonic laugh.

  “Well, if I ever heard of a ridiculous story, that’s it!” he exclaimed.

  Joe felt hot anger rising in him at the man’s reaction.

  “My story is straight,” he said. “And I’m going to report the incident to Chief Collig of the Bayport police.”

  Instantly Kurt’s attitude changed. He mumbled an apology. “I thought you were joking. Now, in regard to the police—let me handle it. I don’t want the story spread all over the school. I’ll call the chief and explain.”

  Joe gave him a cold stare. “Well, okay,” he said and left. He hurried to the car, jumped in, and slammed the door. As Frank started the motor, he remarked:

  “What’s up? You look pretty upset.”

  After telling Frank of Kurt’s cutting remark, Joe added, “I guess he doesn’t think much of us as detectives.”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Frank advised. “And, by the way, we’d better not mention my little adventure at home. No use worrying Mother.”

  Joe agreed, and added, “What do you say we go back to the Academy tonight when no one’s expecting us and do some sleuthing?”

  “Good thought.”

  After dinner Frank and Joe picked up their repaired convertible and set off. Joe parked the car on a side road near the school grounds, and from there they made their way on foot to the apparently deserted campus. Few lights were in the windows of the main building.

  Suddenly Frank gripped Joe’s arm. “See that light over the dining room—isn’t that Elias Woodson’s study?”

  “Sure is. Somebody must have sneaked in. I’m going to take a look!” Joe announced. When the boys reached the bay window beneath the study, he added, “Give me a hand up, will you?”

  Frank bent over and Joe climbed to his shoulders. From there he was able to haul himself onto the sloping roof below the study window. Cautiously he raised his eyes to the level of the sill.

  In the dim light Joe could see a man in a dark overcoat and hat, his back to the window, busy examining the drawers of a desk which stood against the opposite wall. Evidently disgusted at not finding what he wanted, the man slammed them shut, one after another.

  Then he turned. He was completely masked! Joe’s heart pounded with excitement. Was this the Yellow Feather?

  The boy watched for several seconds as the masked figure began a thorough search of the rest of the room.

  “Maybe we can trap him in the study,” Joe thought and started to climb down.

  But as he moved he lost his footing on the sloping roof. Unfortunately the noise alerted the masked man. As Joe grabbed the sill, he saw the intruder make for the door and disappear.

  With a warning cry to his brother, Joe swung himself to the ground. In a few whispered words he told what had happened.

  Together the boys dashed to the main entrance of the building, hoping to catch the intruder. As they reached it Frank and Joe were halted by a sudden command.

  “Stop where you are!”

  The voice, coming from the doorway, had a ring of authority. The order was followed by the beam of strong flashlight which caught them squarely. Henry Kurt, bareheaded, stepped toward the Hardys, scowling.

  “Oh, it’s you two again!” he exclaimed, clicking off his light. “I thought you were students breaking rules. What are you doing, anyway?”

  “Mr. Kurt!” Joe cried. “I just saw a masked man in Mr. Woodson’s study. Help us catch him!”

  The headmaster stared at them in disbelief. “Nonsense! How could you see anyone in an upstairs room with no light in it? That room is locked, anyway.”

  “I know what I saw,” Joe insisted. “We must—”

  As if he were placating small children, Kurt stepped aside and let the boys in. “Go ahead and look.”

  The man was completely masked

  He followed them up the stairs. The study door was locked and no crack of light showed beneath it.

  “I hope this satisfies you,” Kurt remarked with exaggerated politeness. “I’m sorry I have no key or I’d let you in. And now, with this farce behind us, I have something to say to you. You make up such fantastic stories about other people breaking into private property. But what about yourselves?”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked. “We have permission to work on the mystery of the Yellow Feather. Your permission. We haven’t broken into any place.”

  “Then what were you doing in my private office?” Kurt stormed.

  Joe was indignant. “We weren’t there!”

  “Come with me!” Kurt commanded. “I have proof that you not only were there, but broke in!”

  Thunderstruck at the headmaster’s charge, the Hardys followed him downstairs.

  “What in the world is he up to now?” Joe whispered to his brother.

  “I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I guess we’ll find out.”

  Kurt reached the office and pointed to the door. “First of all,” he said, “the lock has been jimmied. Quite obvious, isn’t it?” His tone was sarcastic.

  The boys inspected the spring lock of the door a
nd saw that the mechanism, indeed, had been forced.

  “What makes you think we did it?” Frank asked angrily.

  “I came in here tonight to go over some papers,” Kurt said icily, “and found this!”

  He walked ahead inside and stopped before the table. On it was a man’s hand-knitted scarf. Woven into it were the initials F. H.!

  “My scarf! ”Frank cried.

  “Just as I thought,” Kurt said triumphantly. “Now suppose you explain what it is doing in my private office.”

  Embarrassed, Frank fingered the scarf, a Christmas gift from Callie Shaw. Quickly he thought back over the day’s events. Then suddenly he snapped his fingers.

  “Now I know!” he exclaimed, looking Kurt straight in the eyes. “This scarf was stolen from me this afternoon during a scuffle.”

  “Which means,” Joe added, “that someone tried to frame my brother by planting it here.”

  Kurt glanced incredulously from one boy to the other, waiting to hear more.

  “And if you want to know whom I suspect,” Frank went on, “it’s Benny Tass.”

  The headmaster started in surprise. Then quickly regaining his composure, he said. “Ridiculous! Tass is one of our finest boys.”

  Frank and Joe made no comment.

  “Besides,” Kurt went on, looking at Frank, “why would Tass want to frame you?”

  “That’s something we’d like to find out,” Frank replied. “He seems to have gone out of his way to make things uncomfortable for us.”

  He explained about the near accident in the car the previous night, watching the man carefully to see if he would show any sign that he had been with Benny. But Kurt’s face remained expressionless.

  Then Frank gave details of the attack on him that morning.

  “Oh, bosh!” Kurt exploded. “In no case are you sure that Tass was a guilty party. And I’m convinced he wasn’t. As far as hunting is concerned, I did give him permission, because he’s older and more responsible than the other boys here.”

  “Then have you any idea who planted my scarf in your office?” Frank asked.

  “Well, since you insist that you didn’t force your way in here, there’s only one answer. I believe it might have been the Yellow Feather. He attacked you and left the scarf to throw suspicion away from himself.”

  Kurt paused, then added, “And if he’s going to prowl around here at night, it might be smart to have you boys on hand to track him down.”

  “I agree,” Frank replied. “How about our starting tonight?”

  “Very good. Take the guest room Greg vacated.”

  The boys thanked Kurt and turned to leave. Nearing the door they exchanged knowing glances. Not fully trusting the man, Joe left the door open a crack in case he should want to go back and check up on Kurt’s movements.

  The boys did not mention their thoughts aloud. But when they reached a pay telephone booth on one side of the corridor Frank paused and said in a loud voice:

  “Joe, we’d better call Mother and tell her we’re staying overnight.”

  While Frank dialed the Hardys’ number, Joe stood outside, mulling over Kurt’s sudden proposal.

  “I wonder if he’s laying some sort of trap for us?” Joe asked himself.

  Walking back to the office, he could hear the headmaster moving noisily about inside. The door was still slightly ajar, affording him a view of the room without being seen himself.

  Kurt stood in front of a filing cabinet. He drew out a bunch of small keys and inserted one into the lock at the top. Then he pulled the bottom drawer open and took out a folded piece of white paper.

  After giving it a quick glance, the headmaster smiled, then put the paper in an inside pocket of his jacket and pushed the drawer shut.

  As he walked toward the door, Joe dashed back to the telephone booth.

  Frank had just hung up and was stepping from the booth when Kurt walked down the corridor and spied the boys.

  “Hello! Not in your room yet?” he asked, evidently annoyed.

  “We called home to report where we are,” Frank replied.

  This seemed to satisfy Kurt. He said good night and walked off.

  “Well, what do you make of him?” Frank whispered as they climbed the stairs.

  “Either Kurt’s on the level or he’s the biggest fraud alive,” Joe replied.

  When they reached the guest room, Joe told his brother of Kurt’s actions in the office.

  “What do you think was on that paper?”

  “I’ll bet it has something to do with the Woodson estate,” Frank replied. “Kurt wouldn’t be so sure he can get this school if he didn’t have some kind of proof. For some reason he doesn’t want to produce it yet, though.”

  “It would be a big help if we could get a look at that paper,” Joe remarked as he lay down on one of the twin beds.

  “Fat chance we have of checking Kurt’s pocket,” Frank replied as he pushed up the window and peered outdoors. “Wow, it’s sure cold tonight. Well, I guess we’re safe from attack here.” He laughed. “No roofs or trellises for anyone to climb.”

  Joe nodded. “Might as well turn in for the night.” He snapped the lock on the door, switched off the light, and soon was sound asleep.

  Frank had no idea how long he and Joe had been deep in slumber when he was suddenly awakened by a thud against the wall of the building. Springing out of bed, he rushed to the window and glanced out.

  “Joe!” he whispered. “Come look!”

  Directly beneath the sill was the top of a ladder! It trembled slightly under the weight of a shadowy figure climbing upward.

  CHAPTER VII

  A Thwarted Intruder

  By this time Joe was awake. Seeing his brother at the window, he rushed over to him and looked out into the darkness. Silently the intruder on the ladder continued rung by rung toward the bedroom. It was impossible from this height to identify him.

  “Let’s wait till he steps in before we jump him,” Frank whispered.

  Both boys tensed, shivering a little as the cold wind blew against them. They pressed close to the wall at each side of the window.

  Suddenly the ladder gave a twist and began to slide to one side. It scraped against the brick exterior, pulling ivy vines loose in its descent. It hit the snow with a muffled thump, and the would-be intruder was flung off into a pile of snow. He struggled to his feet, then dashed away into the night.

  “What luck!” Frank exclaimed. “We almost had him!”

  “Do you think that was the Yellow Feather trying to get us?” Joe asked excitedly.

  Frank was already reaching for his trousers.

  “Come on, Joe. Let’s go get that second-story man.”

  The boys flung on their clothes and tiptoed hurriedly downstairs. They met no one. Finding the spot where the man had fallen, the boys followed his trail of footprints for a hundred yards. But here they were lost in a maze of crisscross prints which students had made.

  Returning to the ladder, Frank flashed his light about, hunting for clues in the snow beneath their window.

  “Holy crow!” he exclaimed. “Two sets of footprints! ”

  “So the guy had an accomplice!” Joe remarked.

  “But if that were the case,” Frank said reflectively, “why did he let the ladder fall?”

  “Beats me,” Joe answered. “They sure were a couple of bunglers. Maybe two students playing a joke.”

  “I doubt that,” his brother replied.

  The rest of the night passed quietly. In the morning Frank sat on the edge of his bed, yawned, and stretched. Joe was already half-dressed.

  “Toss me my pants, will you?” his brother requested as he looked for his shoes and socks.

  “Where are they?”

  “Right over there on the chair next to—Hey!” Frank leaped to his feet. “They’re gone!”

  A quick look around confirmed the fact that his slacks had been taken from the room.

  Joe walked to the door and yanked it
open. Someone had unlocked the door during the night!

  “Jumpin’ catfish!” he shouted. “Whoever stole your pants could have murdered us in our beds!”

  “Could be that the prowler and the pants burglar weren’t the same person,” Frank commented. “But how am I going to get out of here without trousers?”

  “Maybe we can borrow a pair.” Joe chuckled. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  He had just stepped from the room when the noise of running feet and roars of laughter sounded through the corridor. Three young boys dashed wildly past. Joe recognized one of them.

  “Skinny Mason!” he called. “What’s all the hurry?”

  “Somebody’s pants are hanging from the bell tower!” The youngster giggled. “And they say Mr. Kurt is about to blow his top.”

  Joe followed Skinny down the stairs and outside. High above the school, on the very top of the tower, Frank’s slacks were fluttering in the breeze!

  Suddenly a voice hissed in Joe’s ear, “You’re a detective. How do you account for this?”

  Joe wheeled around to face the headmaster. “I can’t account for how the pants got up there,” the chagrined Joe was forced to admit, “but I can tell you whose they are. They’re my brother’s!”

  Kurt looked at Joe in disgust. Then he turned to one of the students standing nearby.

  “I want every boy out here within five minutes,” he ordered. “Pass the word.”

  It did not take long to round up the students. But when Kurt demanded that the culprit step forward, there was nothing but a general shuffling of feet.

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this!” Kurt thun dered.

  After telling them that such behavior reflected on the dignity of the school, he quizzed the students on what they knew about the tower itself.

  “The stairs were condemned and torn down long ago,” he stated. “Do any of you know another way the prankster could have reached the top?”

  There was an uneasy silence until Benny Tass spoke up. “Maybe someone climbed out from one of those attic windows onto the catwalk around the tower and just threw the pants to the top,” he suggested. “But I don’t know anything about it.”