The Clue in the Embers

by Franklin W. Dixon

  CHAPTER XIV

  Confessions

  As the storm raged, the Hardy family and their guest remained in a deep stupor on the living-room floor. For twenty minutes none of the silent forms moved. Then the wind shifted, and the rain started pelting through the open window into the room.

  Frank, lying nearest the window, was within its range. The continual spray across his upturned face gradually aroused him. Fighting desperately against the drowsiness that still engulfed him, the boy struggled to get up. He looked dazedly around.

  “They’re all asleep!” he thought. He wondered what had happened to cause this weird scene. Suddenly an answer came to Frank.

  “Sleeping gas,” he decided. “Where did it come from, though?”

  He went to close the window against the storm. As he did so, he noticed the screening had been cut. On the floor below the window lay a large strip of screening and several punctured, greenish pellets the size of a golf ball.

  As he picked one up and examined it, Frank mused, “These are gas pellets and must have been tossed in here.”

  He decided that the noise of the storm and the family’s rapt interest in Mr. Putnam’s story would have prevented their noticing any sound at the window.

  The rest of the family and Mr. Putnam began to revive. Frank, sensing that the danger of any lasting effect had passed, turned his thoughts in another direction. Who had hurled the pellets? Suddenly he remembered the screening on the floor. Maybe their enemy climbed into the house! He could have cut a small slit first, thrown the pellets, then cut out the large piece to get through.

  As if in answer to his unspoken query, Frank saw a masked man coming down the stairs! The intruder, apparently startled by Frank’s unexpectedly quick recovery, jumped over the remaining steps and dashed for the front door.

  Frank made a flying leap. Before the man could turn the doorknob, Frank crashed into him, sending him sprawling on the hall floor.

  Catlike, the masked man leaped to his feet. A blow caught the boy on the cheekbone and split the skin. Enraged, Frank hurled himself at his adversary and knocked him against the steps!

  While the fight was going on, Joe stood up unsteadily and glanced around. Out of the comer of his eye he saw the struggle and staggered to the hall. He was just in time to see Frank leap back as the man rolled off the stairs.

  Frank, momentarily dazed by the impact of his tackle, raised both fists as his adversary scrambled to his feet and pulled a blackjack from his pocket.

  “No, you don’t!” Joe roared. He leaped forward and swung a left uppercut to the man’s chin that sent him to the floor.

  Both boys jumped the intruder, stripped him of his blackjack, and pulled off his mask. The blowgun suspect!

  “You’re Luis Valez!” Frank accused him.

  “You have made a big mistake,” the suspect replied.

  Holding the man in a tight grip, the boys searched him quickly. Frank located a gas pellet in one of their prisoner’s jacket pockets. In another, Joe felt something smooth and hard. He pulled it out. The Texichapi medallion!

  “How did you get into the safe?” Frank asked in a steely voice.

  The man admitted hacking it with a hachet which he had left upstairs. Then he refused to answer any more questions.

  Frank, recalling that gas sometimes made a victim talk, decided to use a ruse to make Valez confess! Pretending to tear open the end of the pellet he had found, he said in a firm voice:

  “This will make you talk!”

  The ruse worked. “Don’t do that!” the man cried, terrified. “I will tell everything!”

  By now, the others in the living room had recovered from their enforced sleep. They were amazed that the boys had caught the burglar.

  Frank said to the man, “Now tell your story.”

  “You are right,” the stranger began slowly. “I am Luis Valez from Guatemala. But please do not arrest my brother Eduardo. He knows nothing of what I do.”

  “And what are you doing?” Mr. Hardy asked.

  “I cannot tell you. All I want is to be shipped home to Guatemala.”

  “How can you go back without this medallion?” Joe asked, holding it up. “You wouldn’t be very popular if you returned empty-handed.”

  The man hung his head and Frank demanded to know who had sent him to steal the coin. The dejected Guatemalan admitted that it was Torres, head of a patriotic society of which he was a member.

  “We are searching for the treasure of Texichapi,” he said quietly. “That is why we wanted this coin.”

  “And that’s why you stole the matching medallion,” Joe said.

  Valez denied this.

  “How do we know you’re not just part of a gang that’s planning to keep this treasure and not give it to your country?” Mr. Hardy asked. “You’ve got a great deal of explaining to do. The police will want to hear it.”

  Frank went to the telephone and called headquarters. “We didn’t have to go chasing the blowgun man this time,” he told the lieutenant on duty. “Caught him right in our house. He’s the one who fired at Joe.”

  As Frank hung up, Valez protested vigorously that he had never seen Joe before tonight. In spite of the Hardys’ accusations, the man stuck to his story. He admitted trying to buy Tony’s curios, but denied having sent any threats or knowing anything about the stolen scimitar, the ashes, the museum theft, or the explosion in the picnic fireplace. He became sullen and seated himself on the steps, staring at the floor. But the Hardys knew he was lying.

  Mr. Putnam, who until this moment had been looking on, got up and approached Frank and Joe. “Good work, boys!” the explorer praised them. “By the way, my friend in Guatemala will be glad to help you at any time. And now I think I’d better get home.”

  The Hardy family thanked him for coming and for the information he had given them.

  “Just call me if you need anything,” Mr. Putnam said as he started for the door. Then he smiled. “But next time ask your other guests to leave their sleeping gas at home.”

  When Mr. Hardy returned from escorting Mr. Putnam to his car, he said, “It’s too bad Willie Wortman isn’t here too. He probably could give us some valuable information about Valez.” The detective winked at his sons.

  At the sound of the sailor’s name, the prisoner leaped to his feet. “Willie Wortman!” he exclaimed. “What do you know about him?”

  “Plenty,” Joe said noncommittally.

  “How did you meet him?”

  “Willie paid us a visit,” Frank replied, “and told us about the medallions.”

  The Guatemalan’s face went white with fear.

  “Valez, what do you know about Wortman?” Mr. Hardy asked.

  The prisoner admitted having met Wortman in a Guatemalan seaport. “That sailor!” Valez snorted in disgust. “I fix him! He talk too much!”

  When Valez had cooled down a little, Frank asked him where Wortman was at the moment.

  “I don’t know,” Valez replied. “I have not seen him for a long time.”

  The Hardys decided that there was little use in trying to question the man further.

  “Here come the police!” Joe said as a car pulled to a stop in the Hardy driveway.

  Before leading Valez away, Chief Collig informed the Hardys that the stolen museum jewelry, including the scimitar, had been located in various pawnshops around the state. All of the proprietors described the seller as a dark-haired and mustached man who spoke with a Spanish accent. He had given his name as Romano.

  Still protesting that he was innocent, Valez was handcuffed and led through the downpour by two officers to the waiting car.

  The next morning a surprise awaited Frank and Joe when they joined their father at the breakfast table.

  “Boys,” he said, “I’ll stake you to a trip to Guatemala—that is, if you want to go.”

  “Wow! Do we!” Joe exclaimed and Frank beamed.

  The detective said he felt that they had come to an impasse in solving the
mystery from the Bayport end. Furthermore, if an unscrupulous group was after the ancient treasure, the Guatemalan government would no doubt appreciate having it located by honest people.

  “So we have two assignments,” Frank said. “To find the treasure, and to keep it from being stolen.”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “I’d like nothing better than to go with you, but since I’m on an important government case, I can’t leave the country. I would like you to have someone with you, though. How about Tony and Chet?”

  “Let’s find out,” Frank urged, and went to the phone.

  Both Tony and Chet were flabbergasted to hear about all that had transpired at the Hardy home in the space of a few hours. The idea of a trip intrigued them, and Mr. Prito and Mr. Morton gave permission for their sons to go.

  The boys booked a flight for ten o’clock the following morning. It would land them at one New York airport from which they would go to another field for the journey to Guatemala.

  As the Hardys each packed a suitcase and a duffel bag, their father recommended that they again test their memories on the markings on the two Texichapi medallions. Both had them letter-perfect.

  “I think Tony and Chet should also learn them,” Frank said, and phoned the boys to come over.

  “Let me tell you a trick,” Mr. Hardy said. “You begin, Chet. Take a good look at our drawings and then, with your eyes closed, sketch them in your mind. Mark Twain did this to memorize the Mississippi River when he was a cub river pilot.”

  Soon both boys had memorized the strange lines which the Hardys believed were directions to the treasure.

  At eight o’clock Mr. Hardy left. He wished the boys luck on their exciting trip, reminding them to get in touch with Mr. Putnam’s friend at the consulate if they needed help.

  “Sam Radley will drive you to the airport and keep his eyes open for suspicious persons.”

  When Sam appeared the next morning he reported that Luis Valez had refused a lawyer and admitted nothing.

  “He may change his mind,” Frank remarked.

  As he and Joe kissed Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude good-by, both women came close to shedding tears. “Please take good care of yourselves,” their mother pleaded, and their aunt said, “Watch out in those mountains, you could catch your death of cold!”

  Sam Radley, in high spirits, cheered up the women with his jokes, then he and the brothers drove off to pick up Tony and Chet. At the airfield, while the boys were waiting for their bags to be weighed, a familiar voice said, “Hello, there!”

  Willie Wortman! The big redhead seemed as jovial as ever. “I missed you by a few minutes at your house,” he said. “I was up this way and dropped by to see how you were making out with those medallions. I’d sure like to get ‘em back.”

  The four boys looked inquiringly at one another. Did he or did he not know anything?

  Feeling that secrecy was the best policy, Frank said, “Willie, we’ve had no luck so far.”

  “That’s a shame,” Wortman said. “Don’t forget the curse that’s on them. I expect bad luck to overtake me any time.”

  The Hardys felt sure that Willie’s trip to Bayport had something to do with the man who was now in jail. Watching the seaman closely, Frank said, “Your friend Luis Valez was arrested last night.”

  “Valez arrested!” Wortman cried out. “What for?” Then the sailor suddenly realized what he had said. His eyes opening wide, he asked, “How did you find out I know Valez? Did he tell you?”

  “No.” Joe grinned. “We just guessed it.” Wortman took no offense at this. “You are good detectives,” he said.

  Joe went on, “Valez is the fellow who told you about the medallions’ curse, isn’t he?”

  Paling slightly, Wortman nodded. Joe now questioned him about the man with him on the New York street. Willie denied having been with anyone.

  Frank looked straight at him. “Do you know a friend of Valez’s who sells kitchen gadgets?”

  “No.”

  Just then an announcement came over the loudspeaker that it was time for passengers to board the New York flight.

  “Come on,” Tony urged.

  Frank hung back a moment. “Willie,” he said, “that salesman was responsible for us boys and some girls nearly being seriously injured. That’s one of the reasons Luis Valez is now in jail. You’d better watch the company you keep!”

  The boys moved off, leaving Wortman with his jaw sagging and his eyes popping.

  When they reached the gate, Sam Radley was waiting for them. In a loud voice he called, “Have a swell trip, fellows!”

  The detective took hold of Frank’s arm and pulled him aside. In a quick whisper he said, “Frank, I found out there’s a Ladino man on the plane masquerading as a woman. I’ve got a hunch that it has to do with your case. Watch out!”

  CHAPTER XV

  Volcano!

  AMAZED by Sam Radley’s warning about the masquerader on the plane, Frank hurried after the others.

  “What did Radley tell you?” Joe asked as the quartet started up the ramp steps to the cabin.

  “Let you know later,” Frank said in a low voice. The boys gave their boarding cards to the attractive stewardess, then took their seats.

  The giant plane taxied out along the runway and swung into position for the take-off. The signal came from the tower and within seconds they were in the air headed toward New York.

  As the craft flew out over Barmet Bay, Frank, pretending to be trying for a better view of the harbor, leaned close to his brother. “Sam thinks there’s a Ladino man dressed as a woman on the plane,” he whispered tensely. “I guess he got a good look at her through his magnifying spectacles and figures she has a shaven face and is wearing a wig. He thinks this ‘woman’ may be mixed up in our case.”

  “Good night!” Joe exclaimed under his breath. “But say, what gave Sam the clue to his Ladino stuff?”

  “Don’t know. That’s what I mean to find out.” Sitting back in his seat, Frank joked with Tony. He got up, leaned over his friend’s shoulder, and in between laughs told him the news.

  “Pass it on to Chet,” he whispered. Then he started to look through a magazine.

  “Do you think this person is trailing us?” Joe asked softly. “I thought with Valez in jail we were safe.”

  “There’s a whole patriotic society, remember?” Frank remarked.

  A little while later he stood up, saying he was going to look for the Ladino. Halfway down the aisle he spotted someone he suspected. A woman seated alone!

  She had very dark skin and black eyes, and wore a dark-blue dress with a small white collar. Her hair was black with a Spanish-type comb in it. A narrow shawl was pulled around her bony shoulders. She was reading a book.

  “That’s a man wearing a wig, all right,” Frank thought as he reached the stewardess and asked to see the passenger list.

  The Spanish-looking woman was listed as Mrs. John Macky, New York City.

  As Frank walked toward his seat he saw that the so-called Mrs. Macky was turning the pages of her book. Her hands were large and masculine.

  A moment later he said to Joe, “Radley was right. And I have a hunch the fellow in disguise may be Torres minus his mustache. He has a prominent chin, as Dad said.”

  Joe was thunderstruck. “Do you think Willie was here to see him off?”

  “Who knows?” Frank replied. “Anyway, Radley will keep an eye on Willie.”

  The problem of what strategy to pursue raced through the Hardys’ minds. Was the suspect really Torres, and did he know that the boys were headed for Texichapi? If so, they must try to elude him and in turn follow him.

  At Frank’s suggestion he and Tony exchanged places and the Hardys’ friends were told of the plans.

  “Wait until we arrive in New York before we take any action,” Frank said. “Then we’ll use an FBI tactic. Let the enemy follow us till he tips his hand.”

  When the plane reached the airport, the boys succeeded in being the first to
descend the steps to the runway. Mrs. Macky, they noted, was not far behind. As Frank had planned, the quartet walked shoulder to shoulder to the baggage counter to await their luggage.

  Suddenly the boys stopped dead in their tracks.

  “Tony Prito!” a loud voice was calling. “Telegram for Tony Prito!”

  Seeing the youth hold up his hand, a messenger hurried over, handed him an envelope, and left.

  “Who could be sending me a telegram?” Tony mused. “My folks?”

  Opening the envelope, he pulled out the message. It was not a telegram at all, but a hand-printed warning: Stay out of Guatemala or your life will be in danger!

  “And the thing’s full of ashes!” Chet whispered.

  “Where’s the fellow who gave it to us?” Joe asked. “We’ll find out where this came from!”

  But he had disappeared.

  “This settles it,” Frank said grimly. “We get out of here as fast as we can.” He looked around for “Mrs. Macky,” but the masquerader was not in sight. “Come on, fellows!”

  By this time their luggage had come through and the boys quickly claimed it. Frank whispered directions and they followed him to a limousine that would take passengers into the heart of the city. In the line of those waiting stood Mrs. Macky!

  “We’re in luck!” Joe thought elatedly.

  The Bayport group waited until the suspect was seated in the limousine and other people piling in. Then they made a dash for a waiting taxi and rode off.

  “Good work, Frank,” Joe said.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Frank directed him to the international airport where they would board the plane that was to fly them to Guatemala. When they reached the mammoth, busy airport, Tony began looking around frantically.

  “What’s up?” Joe asked.

  “The number of bags,” Tony replied. “We had eight. And now I can count only seven!”

  Tony was right. One bag was missing!