The Clue in the Embers (9 page)

“In any case,” thought Frank, “the salesman at Callie's was a spy!”

The girl ran to his side. “I told you! I'm the cause of this!” She quickly repeated her story of the salesman to the others.

“Did you mention fireplace Number Twelve to the man?” Frank asked.

“Yes, I did. Oh dear!”

Frank put a hand on her shoulder. “Callie, no real harm has been done, so forget it,” he said soothingly.

A crowd quickly gathered and began to ask questions. The gray-haired attendant, who had been making another fire, hurried over.

“I didn't put anything but wood and paper in the fireplace,” he said nervously.

“Was anyone near this spot while we were gone?” Joe asked him quietly.

The attendant said a man with a mustache had offered to help him lay the fire in Number Twelve. “I told him I'd do it myself,” the man continued. “He did hang around, though.”

The Hardys did not voice aloud the suspicion that the salesman had told Torres or Valez the picnic plans. They merely assured the attendant that he was not to blame. The girls found another fireplace, and Chet and Tony carried the baskets over to it.

“Joe,” said Frank, “we'd better search the embers in Number Twelve. We might find a clue.”

“Right.”

After sprinkling a can of water over the still-burning wood, they raked through the damp remains for evidence.

“Guess this is it,” Frank said. He pulled out a small metal container. “A homemade bomb.”

“This character, whoever he is, isn't fooling around,” Joe said grimly.

“That's for sure,” said Frank and reached into the ashes. He took out a window-shade bracket. “Take a look at this.”

“Must have been part of the device that triggered the bomb!” Joe said. “Say, didn't Chet tell us that our friendly superintendent bought some brackets at the hardware store?”

“Right,” Frank replied. “Valez is definitely mixed up in this!”

The boys decided that they would say nothing to their friends about the find, but the next morning would investigate Eduardo Valez again. Try as they might, the group found little pleasure in the meal. The shock of the explosion and the narrow escape of Chet and Iola from serious injury had caused them all to lose their appetites.

“Even I don't feel hungry,” Chet lamented. “We should have eaten on the way out here.”

Iola phoned Len to come and get them.

“At least,” Frank said, smiling, “we had fun here before the explosion.”

Early the following day Mr. Hardy and his sons drove across town to question Eduardo Valez.

“Good morning,” the superintendent said affably as the boys introduced their father. “Come right in.”

“Mr. Valez, you'd better tell us the truth this time!” the detective said as they entered the apartment.

“Wh-what do you mean?” the man replied. The detective told in detail the happenings at the amusement park. As he unfolded the account of the explosion and the narrow escape of the young people, Valez's face whitened.

“I—I am not the man you are searching for,” he said slowly. Looking at Joe and Frank, he said, “I am sorry I did not tell you the truth at first. Now I will explain.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hardy said. “Go ahead.”

“The man with the black mustache,” Mr. Valez continued with a pained expression, “is my brother. He is the—what you call—black sheep of our family. Six of us children and he is the only one to break the law.”

“What is his name?” Mr. Hardy asked.

“Luis.”

“Where is he now?” Frank asked.

“I do not know, but he was staying with me for a short time.”

“Which explains the mustache mystery,” Joe remarked to Frank.

“Luis sneaked into this country,” Valez went on. “He promised me the day before yesterday he would return to Guatemala at once, so I did not turn him over to the authorities when they came here asking about a mustached man. Luis left here while I was on an errand at the hardware store.”

“Buying brackets,” Joe murmured.

“Did you say something about brackets?” Valez asked quickly.

“Yes. We found a bracket in the remains of the fire,” Joe replied.

“That is what I went to the hardware store to get,” Mr. Valez added. “There was a bracket missing from one of my apartments. So I had to buy another. And I got a new shade while I was there. Luis must have taken the old bracket.”

The superintendent went on to tell Mr. Hardy and the boys that he was astonished to learn that his brother had become a suspect in a case of violence. “I thought Luis had come to the United States to get away from some little trouble at home. He said it blew over, so he was going back. Always I have defended my brother,” said Eduardo, clenching his fists, “but now I see I can no longer do this.”

“Is there anything else you think we should know?” Mr. Hardy asked.

“Maybe this is not important,” Valez replied, “but a couple of small mahogany objects disappeared too. Luis might have them with him.”

The Hardys quizzed the superintendent about the possibility of a connection between mahogany and any Guatemalan superstitions. Valez explained that among certain people in Central America there was one such superstition, adding, “It's said if a person sends the ashes of a piece of native mahogany to his enemy, that man will be rendered powerless to harm the sender!”

Frank frowned. “That's a very strange idea.” Valez could give the Hardys no further information, so the detective and his sons thanked the superintendent and left. On the sidewalk, Frank and Joe speculated on the mysterious piles of warning embers and ashes.

“Luis must have burned some of his brother's mahogany pieces,” Frank stated.

“But why the chicken bones?” asked Joe. “Unless,” he added thoughtfully, “he didn't have any of Eduardo's wood pieces handy at the time. He probably figured we wouldn't know the difference.”

Around the corner, where Mr. Hardy had parked his car, the trio met Sam Radley. The assistant reported that the mustached man had not been back to the apartment while either he or his relief man was on duty.

When the Hardys returned home Aunt Gertrude told the boys that Tony Prito had called. He had told her that Mr. Scath had estimated the collection to be worth about two thousand dollars and had asked him to take away the things he wanted.

“You're supposed to go over there with Tony this evening,” Aunt Gertrude concluded.

Shortly after dinner Frank and Joe drove off in the convertible to Tony's. There, they transferred to Mr. Prito's small pickup truck.

“Let's get Chet,” Joe said. “I'll bet he's just sitting around worrying about the threat he received. Maybe he'd enjoy helping us.”

The others grinned and Tony said, “You know how he loves to work—not at all!”

Chet was finally persuaded to join the group and they drove off. The museum had closed for the evening by the time the boys arrived. Mr. Scath suggested that the four boys go to the storage shed at the rear of the museum grounds for some crates and pack the articles in them.

Tony donated some pieces to the museum which the curator had selected, then said, “We'll carry the rest of the stuff back to my place. Let's put it in the cellar.”

As the boys went to the rear door, Mr. Scath handed the key to Chet, who was the last one out. The four crossed the dark yard and entered the shed. A stack of various-sized crates was piled near the door.

“Now I know why you asked me to come along,” Chet said. “You needed a strong man like me.”

“That's right.” Frank laughed. “So we'll give you the privilege of carrying two crates instead of one at a time.”

“Okay.” Chet grinned. “I'll take two little ones.”

Suddenly Joe put his finger to his lips. “Sh-h!” he warned.

The boys stopped short. A faint cry had sounded from the museum.

“Help!”

It was Mr. Scath's voice.

“Help!” The cry died out.

 

 

 

 

DROPPING the crates, the boys ran to answer Mr. Scath's call for help. After the two outcries, they had heard nothing more.

“I don't see how anyone could have broken in,” Frank said.

“I'm afraid it's my fault,” Chet admitted as they reached the rear entrance. “I didn't lock this door. Thought we'd be right back.”

“Someone must have sneaked in here the moment we left,” Joe groaned. “I hope Mr. Scath hasn't been struck by a shot from the blowgun!”

Frank turned the knob and they hurried inside. Chet locked the door.

“Be careful of a sniper!” Frank warned the others. “And keep together!”

The curator was not in sight and when Frank called he did not answer.

“He must be on the side of the building nearest the shed,” Joe suggested. “His voice wouldn't have carried from the other sections.”

He led the way into the Egyptian Room and switched on the lights. Mr. Scath was sprawled on the floor, unconscious! The boys rushed over.

“There's blood on his face!” Tony exclaimed. “He's been hit in the head!”

“And look at his pockets!” Frank cried. “They've been pulled inside out. Joe, you and Tony search the building for the assailant, while Chet and I attend to Mr. Scath.”

Joe and Tony headed for the opposite end of the museum. Frank and Chet knelt beside the injured man and inspected the head wound. Fortunately it was not deep and the curator's color was returning to normal. A moment later Mr. Scath gave a low moan and his eyes flickered open.

“Help me up,” he said feebly, trying to rise.

“Lie still,” Frank urged. “Don't try to move.”

He recalled having seen a first-aid kit in the curator's office and asked Chet to get it.

The stout youth hurried off. A whiff of spirits of ammonia revived Mr. Scath. Frank gently swabbed away the blood. Luckily the man had been struck only a glancing blow.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“My head feels clearer,” Mr. Scath replied. He sat up with Chet's assistance.

“Here, let me put a patch over that cut,” Frank said.

When this was done, the boys helped the curator to his feet and back to his office.

“What happened?” Frank asked, after Mr. Scath had seated himself in a comfortable chair.

“I was in here alone, waiting for you fellows, when I heard a noise in the Egyptian Room. I went to investigate.”

“Did you see someone?” Chet asked.

“Yes. There was a masked man standing alongside the first big column. He demanded that I hand over the Texichapi medallion from Tony's collection.”

“Yes?” Frank said eagerly as the man paused.

“I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about,” Mr. Scath continued. “Then he pulled out a blackjack and threatened me. I got a bit flustered—tried to fight him off—and I shouted a couple of times, hoping you'd hear me. Then he struck me and I blacked out!”

“What was his build?” Frank asked.

“Short, thin. Had black hair.”

Frank whistled. “The blowgun man or Torres! We'd better phone the police.”

“If it was Luis Valez,” Chet exclaimed, “he didn't go back to Guatemala after all!”

Frank nodded, then called Chief Collig and told him about the attack.

“We'll be right there!” the chief responded.

Meanwhile, Joe and Tony had searched the entire north section of the museum without finding the curator's attacker. The skylight had been checked but found to be locked on the inside. The boys went back to join the others.

Not finding them there, they decided that Chet and Frank must have led Mr. Scath back to his office. As they were about to check there, Joe suddenly noticed something on the floor. He picked it up. “Tony!” he exclaimed. “This is a new Guatemalan coin!”

“Do you think the guy who slugged Mr. Scath dropped it?”

“That's my guess. Let's check your curios,” Joe suggested. “If the intruder was Valez, that's what he was after.”

They went through a gallery containing old musical instruments and jewelry. As the ceiling light was turned on, the boys gasped. The glass had been neatly removed from one of the cases. Every ring, bracelet, and necklace was gone!

At that moment a siren sounded at the front entrance and the night bell rang insistently.

Joe and Tony hurried to the museum office as Chief Collig strode in with two other officers. Frank, who had let them in, followed. Quickly they were told about the accident and theft, and started a thorough search of the building. But it was soon ascertained that the attacker had escaped.

Chief Collig said, “From now on we'll keep a guard around the place on a twenty-four-hour basis. Sampson, you stay here right now. I'll send out a teletype on the missing jewels and a description of the intruder.”

Mr. Scath handed a spare key to Sampson, then said to the boys, “Come back another time and pick up the curios.” Everyone but the officer on duty left.

The next morning Frank and Joe decided to question Eduardo Valez again, hoping he might have heard from his brother.

“No, I have not heard from him since you were here with your father,” the man replied.

“Did Luis ever tell you the exact nature of the trouble he had in his country?” Frank asked.

“No,” the superintendent replied. “He did say something about an argument over a buried treasure, but Luis is such a braggart I paid little attention.”