“What do those words mean, sir?” Frank asked.
“I suppose you could call it a warning. They stand for Beware! Bad luck!” The professor brushed some ashes off his vest and flashed the Hardys a quizzical look. “Where did you run across them?”
“On our front door,” Joe replied with a wry smile.
As the boys were driving away from the college, Frank said, “I guess this practically proves that our unknown caller was Jemal Raman. He’s a Hindu.”
“Could be,” said Joe. “But the language might also apply to that elephant trainer, Kassim Bey. That is, assuming Pop Carter’s mistaken and Bey is still alive.”
“Pop said Kassim Bey was a Pakistani.”
“Sure, but Pakistan used to be part of India, and the two countries are right next to each other. It wouldn’t be surprising if he could read and write Hindi.”
“Guess you’re right,” Frank conceded, scratching his head. “But if Pop Carter says Kassim’s dead, let’s leave him that way unless we find out otherwise. Jemal Raman’s a big enough headache!”
When they reached their house, the Hardys decided to phone the airship crewman who called himself Hector Maris and give him a chance to explain why the photograph on his college application differed so drastically from his appearance.
“Of course it’s still possible there are two Hector Marises,” Joe mused.
Frank shook his head. “No chance. I took a good look at the data on his college application. It matched the Quinn Air Fleet personnel data all the way.”
After dialing the air-fleet terminal, Frank was told that Maris had not reported for work that day. Nor had he answered the telephone.
“Looks as if we’re up against another blank wall,” Frank remarked. His hand was still on the receiver when the phone rang. He answered, “Hardy residence.”
“Frank?” said a voice at the other end of the line. “This is Leroy Mitchell, the park attendant at Wild World. I met you and your brother on Monday when you went through lion country.”
“Hi, Leroy,” Frank said, recalling the black youth instantly. “Good hearing from you. What’s new?”
“I understand you Hardys are looking for a man with a mustache.”
“How did you know?”
“Your friend Phil Cohen told Chet Morton, and Chet told me when I was talking with him at the hot-dog stand.”
“Well, it’s true,” Frank confirmed. “Have you seen the guy?”
“No, but I have something else that may interest you,” Leroy reported. “Did you notice the two dudes in the car just behind you, when the elephant started kicking up all that fuss?”
“Yes, two wise guys in sport shirts, munching popcorn.”
“Right, they’re the ones. I came to see what was going on just as the guard pulled your car out of line and took you to see Pop Carter. They were laughing and carrying on like it was all a big joke.”
“It probably was, to a couple of loudmouths like them,” Frank said wryly. “Why? What about them?”
“Well, I saw those two even before that,” Leroy said. “They were in one of the cars that pulled up to watch when you stopped to check out that hollow tree. And that’s not all.”
“What else?”
“Those same fellows drove through the animal park again today, and they sure don’t look like nature lovers! I felt they were up to no good. When my partner relieved me at the gate booth,” Leroy continued, “I went to tell Chet. Believe it or not, I spotted them again. They were skulking among some bushes, snapping a picture of Chet!”
CHAPTER XIII
The Sea-Faring Stranger
FRANK was alarmed. He at once thought of the snapshot of himself and Joe that they had found tucked between the pages of the elephant book in the cave on Rocky Isle.
If a gang member had photographed the Hardys unaware so the others would recognize them and harass them, maybe they were now planning to annoy the boys’ friends.
“Are the two guys still n the park?” Frank asked.
“Yes. Chet’s keeping an eye on them.” Leroy explained that their chum had been temporarily assigned to clean up candy wrappers, soda bottles, and other litter, which gave him the opportunity to keep the suspects in view at all times.
The black youth added that he himself would be working for the rest of the afternoon in the amusement park area, and that he would look for the Hardys near the salt-water-taffy booth.
“Good! We’ll be right over. And thanks for calling, Leroy!”
Frank filled Joe in on the phone conversation, then the brothers hopped into their car and headed for Wild World. On the way, Joe said, “If Leroy’s hunch is right, those two guys could be the ones who jumped us in the woods!”
“Just what I’m thinking,” Frank agreed. “And later they followed us to see if we got the message in the hollow tree.”
But a bitter disappointment was in store for them. When the Hardys reached the park and went to the amusement area, they found Chet waiting, long-faced, with Leroy.
“What’s the matter?” Joe asked.
“I lost them,” the plump youth reported.
“How come?”
It turned out that Chet’s help had been enlisted by a frantic mother trying to find her lost child. By the time the little boy had been located, watching the roller coaster and smearing his face with a huge tuft of pink cotton candy on a stick, the suspects had disappeared.
“Never mind, Chet,” Frank said. “At least you lost track of them for a good cause.”
“That’s what you think,” Chet retorted glumly. “When I tried to take the kid’s arm and lead him back to his mother, the little brat kicked me in the shins.”
The Hardys could not help laughing at the sour expression on their pal’s moon face. But Leroy shook his head, obviously much disappointed that his first detective effort had misfired.
“It’s a tough break,” he grumbled. “I’m sure there was something fishy about those guys. They seemed to be a couple of hoods, you know, completely different from the people who normally drive through the animal park. Most of our customers are families with children or high school students with their friends. But these two were toughies. They looked like they couldn’t care less about wild animals. Yet they not only showed up on Monday, when you fellows were here, they came back two days later for another visit!”
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to convince us, Leroy,” Frank told him. “I’m sure your hunch is right. The fact that they were snapping Chet’s picture practically proves they’re part of the gang we’re after.”
“And I’m sure glad you tipped us off,” Joe added. “This opens a whole new angle on the case.”
Leroy brightened under their appreciation. So did Chet.
“What did these men look like?” Frank asked. “Getting a full description of them could be a real break.”
“Well, one was wearing a denim jacket and jeans,” Chet said. “He was dark haired with a big underslung jaw and a dimple in his chin.”
Frank nodded. “That jibes with what I remember from those glimpses in the rearview mirror when we were watching the elephants.”
“And the other one,” Leroy added, “was wearing a turtleneck shirt and black-and-white checked pants. He had long sideburns and a big bumpy nose with a bulge on the end of it.”
The same thought clicked in both Hardy boys’ minds. Joe snapped his fingers. “The peddler who gave Aunt Gertrude that Vinegareen container!”
“Check,” Frank nodded. “No wonder her description of him rang a bell!”
Chet and Leroy were astounded to hear how the vinegaroon scorpion had been slipped into the Hardy household.
Before either could comment, a voice called out, “Hey, Frank! Joe!”
The boys turned around and saw Biff Hooper hurrying toward them in his green park-attendant’s uniform.
“What’s up, Biff?” Frank asked.
“Pop Carter wants to see you.”
“What about?”<
br />
Biff shrugged uncertainly. “Search me, but it must be important. He seemed worried. He just said, ‘Try to find the Hardy boys, Biff, as quick as you can. They must be somewhere in the park.’ ”
“How would he know that?” Joe wondered.
“The quickest way to find out is to ask him,” Frank said logically.
The Hardys hurried toward Pop Carter’s bungalow. They found the white-mustached park owner in his office.
“Biff said you wanted to see us, sir,” Frank greeted him.
“That’s right, boys. I had a mighty strange telephone call just a few minutes ago.”
“From whom, Mr. Carter?” Joe inquired.
“Wouldn’t give any name, but it must be someone at Wild World because he knew you were in the park. Said he’d just seen you himself, near the rides.”
“What did he want?” Frank asked.
“Wanted me to get a message to you, but not to call out your names over the public-address system. He was very insistent about that.”
“And what was the message?”
“He wants you lads to meet him—alone—in that little clearing between the boat pond and the animal fence. Said you’re to look for an old man with a cap, that he’s got some important news for you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Carter!” Joe exclaimed. “Let’s go, Frank!”
“Hold it, fellows!” the park owner blurted. His usually cheerful face appeared agitated. “I’m not so sure you should go there, at least not alone.”
“Why not, sir?”
“How do we know it’s safe? Something mighty funny’s going on around here, and there may be a criminal angle to it. I wonder if I did right, unloading my troubles on you. Maybe some enemy of mine’s trying to get back at me and give the park a bad name by hurting you boys.”
“I doubt it, sir,” Frank replied, a little more confidently than he felt. “If your caller were planning something underhanded, surely he wouldn’t advertise it in advance, or try to do it right in the center of the park.”
Pop Carter paced back and forth, worried. “At least take a guard along with you!”
“That might spoil everything,” Joe argued. “You said yourself he wants us to come alone. If he really does have information for us and spots a guard, he may be scared off.”
After a hasty discussion, it was agreed that a guard would keep a distant watch on the boat pond. The Hardys would pass there en route to the meeting spot, and if they did not return within fifteen minutes, he would raise an alarm and the park gates would be closed.
Frank and Joe hurried off to keep the rendezvous. The clearing was well screened by trees and other vegetation. There was no one in sight. The boys seated themselves on a lone bench and waited.
Presently the bushes parted and an old man hobbled out. He was stooped and wore the battered white cap of a ship’s officer, with the visor pulled low over his forehead. His clothes looked shabby, and, instead of a shirt, he had on a seaman’s jersey under his blue jacket. His face, stub-bled with a grayish growth of beard, was twisted into a permanent scowl by a long scar down one cheek.
The fellow glared at the boys intently as he came toward them, looking around suspiciously. Frank and Joe felt a twinge of uneasiness.
“So you weren’t afraid to meet me, eh?” the stranger cackled. Then his voice became twenty years younger as he added, “I’m glad you came, sons!”
“Dad!” both boys exclaimed in astonishment.
“Excuse the disguise,” Fenton Hardy said with a chuckle, “but I didn’t want to take a chance on the Scorpio gang finding out I was anywhere near Bayport.” He shook hands warmly with Frank and Joe, and added, “From what you’ve told me, I figured you might turn up at Wild World, and luckily you did. I spotted you as you came into the park.”
The boys exchanged detailed reports with their father, bringing him up to date on their activities.
“You really think the Scorpio gang’s in the Bayport area?” Frank asked.
“I’m sure of it,” Mr. Hardy declared, “especially after what you two have just told me. I’d better go now, sons, but I’ll keep in touch. You carry on as you’ve been doing, but be cautious at all times. And take care of your mother and Aunt Gertrude.”
“We will, Dad,” Frank and Joe promised.
Frank and Joe felt a twinge of uneasiness.
On their way out of the park, they passed Chet and Leroy again.
“Everything okay?” Leroy inquired, searching their faces.
“Sure is,” Frank assured him with a grin.
“Listen,” Chet said, “We were talking to Biff, and we decided to have a picnic here tomorrow evening. Biff and Leroy will bring their girl friends, and you two can ask Iola and Callie.”
“Great idea,” Joe said.
“How about Phil and Tony?” Frank asked.
“They’ll just be coming on duty,” Leroy said, “but I’m sure they can eat with us.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Chet promised. “Another thing. How about coming out to the farm later on this afternoon, when I get off work? I have something terrific to show you.”
“Okay,” the Hardys agreed.
Driving home, Frank suddenly muttered, “Oh, oh!”
“What’s the matter?” Joe asked.
“That green sedan’s on our tail again!”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely. Same driver, same radio antenna.” As he spoke, Frank suddenly slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street.
“What are you doing?” Joe exclaimed.
“Having a showdown with this guy!” Frank leaped out of the car and started toward the green sedan behind them.
But its driver evidently panicked at the sight of the boy’s determined face. He backed up, U-turned illegally, and sped off with a roar of exhaust.
“Take the wheel and pull over,” Frank instructed his brother hastily as horns began to honk.
“Did you get his license?”
“I sure did. I’m going in that drugstore to call Chief Collig.”
Phoning police headquarters, Frank quickly checked out their shadow’s license via computer hookup with the State Motor Vehicle Bureau. Then he looked up the owner’s name and address in the phone directory and dialed his number. A woman’s voice answered. Frank asked to speak to the owner.
“I’m sorry, he’s not here,” she said. “Who’s calling, please?”
Frank deliberately slurred his own name in replying and asked, “Can I reach him in Bohm’s office?”
“Certainly,” the woman said. “He doesn’t get out of work until five.”
CHAPTER XIV
The Yelping Lion
Joe saw the triumphant look on his brother’s face as Frank returned to the car. “Any luck?” he asked.
“You bet!” Frank grinned. “It was Clyde Bohm who sicked that guy on us.” He explained how he had found out.
“Nice going,” Joe said. “We might’ve known it was Bohm. The shadowing started right after we left his office.”
“Sure. Not only that, but remember how he excused himself for a few minutes? He probably went to tell the guy to wait in his car and follow us.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“Wait’ll we hear from Sam Radley,” Frank replied. “Then we’ll put pressure on Bohm.”
Later that afternoon, the Hardy boys drove to the Morton farm as Chet had requested. Mrs. Morton told them with a smile that their pal was out in the barn. Chet was not alone. Iola and Biff Hooper were with him, and so was Biff’s huge Great Dane, Tivoli. Iola wore a pretty blue-and-white terry-cloth beach jacket, and Chet’s barrelchested figure was encased in a red bathrobe. He was tying what looked like a black string mop, or several of them, to Tivoli’s head, while Biff clutched the Great Dane’s collar.
The Hardys eyed the scene with mystified grins.
“Mind telling us what you’re doing to that poor pooch?” Frank inquired.
“This is no pooch,” Che
t retorted. “He’s Simba the lion, king of the jungle, and this black wig will be his mane.”
“I thought you were the king of the jungle,” said Joe.
“No. I’m Jungle Man. Get down, you idiot!” Chet blurted as the huge dog reared up on its hind legs and began lapping his face. Standing erect, Tivoli was taller than the boy.
“That critter’s really gotten enormous,” Frank remarked in awe.
“Right. He’ll probably make a pretty good lion at that!” Biff chuckled proudly.
“What do you feed him?”
“Better ask what we don’t feed him. He’ll eat anything he can wrap his jaws around, possibly including Chet!”
“Listen! Jungle Man can handle any kind of wild beast!” the plump performer boasted as he finished tying the black mop under Tivoli’s chin.
“What have you got in mind, Chet?” Joe asked.
“Stick around and you’ll see.”
Joe turned to Jungle Man’s sister. “Are you part of the act, too?”
Iola giggled, looking a bit embarrassed. “Chet talked me into it. I owe him five dollars, but he promised to cancel the debt if I’d be his assistant.”
“Sounds like blackmail to me,” Joe cracked.
“Go ahead and make fun, wise guy,” Chet said confidently. “I’ll bet we get offers from television once our act premiers, and maybe even from Hollywood!”
“You mean they’ll offer you money to keep the act out of sight?”
“Very funny!”
“On second thought,” Joe corrected himself with a glance at Iola, “at least part of the act will be worth looking at.” She blushed.
Chet sniffed and turned to her with a dignified air. “Just ignore the remarks from the peanut gallery. Let’s get ready for costume rehearsal!”
He flung off his robe and Iola did likewise. She was wearing a bikini swimsuit, but despite her attractive costume, the boys couldn’t help goggling at Chet. His beefy figure was revealed by a suit of fake leopard-skin tights that strapped over one shoulder.
“Sufferin’ snakes! Where’d you get that?” Joe exclaimed.
The Sting of the Scorpion Page 8