The Clue of the Hissing Serpent

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Such as?”

  “Such as by airplane!”

  “We should have thought of that before!” Frank said. “Come on. Let’s call the airport!”

  At home the boys took turns telephoning all the airlines using the local terminal. One after another the replies were negative. No coffins had been shipped out. No rectangular boxes, nothing to indicate that the Ruby King had been flown away.

  “Here’s a strictly freight service,” Frank said, scanning the phone book. “Premier Airways.” He called the number and talked with a friendly agent. Two coffins had been transported to the West Coast the day before. Both were from local morticians and had been properly documented.

  Frank pressed further. “We’re looking for a wooden figure. Very valuable. That’s why it was stolen.”

  “Oh, stolen goods! We’d like to help you, but—Hold on. Could it have been hidden in a rug?”

  “Sure could! Was a rug part of your cargo?”

  “Yes, yesterday. A large one, wrapped in heavy brown paper. One end was torn, and now that you mention it, I saw something wooden showing through.”

  “Where was the destination?” Frank’s heart thumped with excitement.

  “Wait a minute, I’ll check.” The answer came shortly. “We shipped the rug non-stop to San Francisco. Final destination was Hong Kong!”

  “Then it’s out of the country by now,” Frank said.

  “Sure. Matter of fact, it must have arrived about a half hour ago.”

  Frank thanked the clerk and hung up, shaking his head. “Boy, did we get faked out! Now what are we going to do?”

  “Call Chief Collig,” Joe suggested and dialed headquarters. After he told the chief the bad news, Collig said, “This isn’t our day. I just learned that Gerard Henry was seen in town the night before last. But he slipped away before we could apprehend him.”

  Frank and Joe sat in gloomy silence until Joe suggested they have some lunch. As they were eating their sandwiches, Chet walked in the back door.

  “Hi, guys,” he said breezily. “What’s new with his Majesty?”

  “It’s in Hong Kong,” Joe said.

  Chet shook his head when he heard the story. “Tough break,” he said. Then he turned to Aunt Gertrude. “You haven’t signed my cast. Tell you what. I’ll let you autograph it in exchange for a piece of pie.”

  He offered a pen to Miss Hardy. She signed her name on the white surface, which by now had been crisscrossed by other signatures. “There,” she said. “If it weren’t for that Ruby King and those cutthroats connected with it, you wouldn’t have broken your arm.”

  “It’s all in the line of duty,” Chet said with a grin. “Anything for my friends.”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. Frank answered it. Outside stood a man who introduced himself as Peter Carpenter and presented credentials indicating that he was from the security section of the International Insurance Company.

  “I’d like to speak to Fenton Hardy,” he said.

  “He’s not here at the moment,” Frank told him. “But won’t you come in? Maybe my brother Joe and I can help you. I’m Frank Hardy.”

  “I’ve heard of you,” Carpenter said. “Yes, I’ll talk to you.”

  Frank led the visitor into the living room where Mrs. Hardy, Aunt Gertrude, and Joe joined them. Chet lingered in the kitchen over a slab of peach pie with an ear cocked to the living room.

  “We would like either your father or you to accept an assignment for us,” the man began.

  “Sorry, but we’re busy on something else. So is our father,” Frank said.

  “You mean the Ruby King?”

  “How did you know?”

  “That’s the case I’m referring to. It was insured with us.” Carpenter produced a file and went on, “My company stands to pay a sizable settlement unless the chess piece is found. We want you to find it!”

  “Mr. Krassner asked us to do the same thing,” Joe said. “Unfortunately we have reason to believe that the Ruby King has been shipped out of the country. It might be in Hong Kong.”

  “Then you must fly to Hong Kong immediately!”

  CHAPTER XVI

  A Bold Caper

  “YOUR father could join you once your preliminary investigation is underway,” Mr. Carpenter continued. “Your age also is in your favor. You can pose as students or tourists.”

  Frank and Joe were dumfounded! They tried to take the proposal calmly, but their hearts raced with excitement at the prospect of a trip to the Orient.

  “We’ll talk it over with Dad,” Frank said. “How can we get in touch with you, Mr. Carpenter?”

  “I’ll be in my office until tomorrow afternoon, and I do hope you’ll accept the assignment. All expenses paid and a fee based upon a percentage of the money you save us.”

  Seconds after the man left, Chet burst into the living room. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Did I hear that man say something about going to Hong Kong?”

  “You did,” Aunt Gertrude said. “And the answer is no!”

  “Now, Gertrude,” Mrs. Hardy said, “it might not be such a bad idea.”

  “Bad! It’ll be a calamity! We’ll never see these boys again. They might be kidnapped and taken to an opium den!”

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Chet spoke up. “With me to help them they’ll be perfectly safel”

  “Chet, you’ve got a broken arm,” Joe said. “You couldn’t help.”

  “What do you mean? I can really conk someone with this cast!”

  “Look, old buddy,” Frank said, and put an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “The insurance company will only pay for our expenses, not yours.”

  “I’ve got a couple of dollars,” Chet said. “And besides, I like Chinese food!”

  “No!” Joe said.

  “Aw, shucks!” Chet tried to smile as he left the Hardy house. “Will you bring me a souvenir at least? Like a carved dagger?”

  “Too dangerous,” Frank replied. “How about an incense burner?”

  “Phooey!” Chet said, and a minute later his car sputtered off.

  Frank and Joe contacted the airport. There were no flights available until two days later, and that plane would leave early in the morning.

  “I’m sure Dad’ll go along with the idea,” Joe said. “Let’s get passports and our inoculation shots right away.”

  “Good. Then we’ll visit Mrs. Krassner. Maybe she’ll give us a letter of introduction to her family.”

  Tingling with excitement, Frank and Joe drove first to the doctor for the necessary shots, then to the banker’s estate where Mrs. Krassner received them cordially. Her husband was at his office. When she heard that they planned to go to Hong Kong, the Chinese woman’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t think it would be too dangerous?”

  “We’ve handled risky assignments before,” Frank assured her. “Could we meet your family, Mrs. Krassner?”

  “I’m sure they’d be delighted to help you in any way. Are you certain the Ruby King was taken there?”

  “Reasonably certain,” Frank said.

  Mrs. Krassner went into the library, where she penned a note in Chinese. “Give this to my father, Moy Chen-Chin,” she said.

  “Any directions?” Joe asked.

  Mrs. Krassner smiled. “Everybody knows Moy Chen-Chin.”

  On the way home the young detectives exulted over this rare opportunity. “Should we tell Conrad Greene about this tonight?” Joe asked.

  “Sure. Why not? After the exhibition,” Frank said.

  At dinner that night Mrs. Hardy said, “Boys, where are your appetites? You’re just picking at your food.”

  “I guess we’re too excited,” Frank said. “Hurry up, Joe. The chess exhibition starts soon.”

  The VFW hall, a barnlike auditorium, with wooden folding chairs, was half-filled when the Hardys arrived. On the stage was a long table, where six of Conrad Greene’s opponents were already seated.

  “Conrad will probably come through
the back door,” Joe said. “He’s not one to rub elbows with the peasantry.”

  The boys looked about, nodding here and there to friends and neighbors. Suddenly a scuffling sounded from backstage.

  “Help! Help!” a man screamed.

  “That’s Conrad!” Frank cried out.

  The Hardys ran forward and vaulted onto the stage. There was a door on either side. Joe took the left, Frank the right. The room behind was empty! They raced out the back door and looked around. Nobody was there but a boy of about ten.

  “I saw him!” the boy volunteered. “I saw everything!”

  “Tell us what happened. Hurry!” Joe urged.

  The youngster said he was parking his bicycle when he noticed a man enter the building.

  “Then two guys jumped from a car and pounced on him. I saw it right through the door there. The man screamed and kicked, but the two bad guys dragged him to the car.”

  “Where’d they go?” Frank asked.

  The boy indicated a side street, which led to the dock area.

  Frank and Joe thanked the boy and hurried to a nearby telephone booth, where they called police headquarters. Collig was off duty, but a lieutenant took the report that Conrad Greene had been kidnapped. He said he would dispatch a car to the VFW Hall to check out the incident.

  After he hung up, Joe said, “Frank, maybe they took Greene to the Queen Maru! I still think Ono’s in with the serpent gang!”

  “The ship’s not due to sail until midnight,” Frank said. “We’ll have a little time. Let’s go down to the dock.”

  They were just pulling up to the pier when Frank cried out, “Hey! Look!”

  The Queen Maru was moving slowly away from her berth!

  “She’s leaving ahead of time,” Joe said. “Come on, Frank. We’ve got to stop them!”

  The boys called headquarters again. Chief Collig had been notified and was there busily organizing a search for the kidnapped man.

  “We think he’s on the Queen Maru!” Frank said. “She’s sailing ahead of schedule.”

  “Good work, boys,” the chief said. “I’ll send the police launch to intercept them.”

  “We’ll go in the Sleuth,” Frank said. “Meet you out in the bay!”

  The Hardys’ sleek speedboat was berthed three blocks away. The boys ran to the boathouse and in minutes were streaking across Barmet Bay, their powerful searchlight skimming over the wave tops.

  In a few minutes the gray hulk of the Queen Maru loomed on the dark horizon. Joe was at the wheel of the Sleuth and circled the slow-moving cargo ship.

  “There’s not a soul on deck,” Frank remarked.

  He looked back toward the harbor. The Queen, despite her lumbering pace, was putting more and more distance between Bayport and the open sea. Near the three-mile limit, the boys spied a light racing toward them from a distance.

  “Here comes the launch,” Frank said.

  The police boat approached with signal lights blinking. The message was easily translated by the Hardys. “Police. Stop immediately!”

  Seconds later the lights blinked again. “Lower a ladder. We are boarding.”

  The launch pulled alongside the freighter. Three officers scrambled up to the deck. Frank and Joe latched the Sleuth onto the launch and climbed up behind them.

  The party was met by Captain Ono, his face wreathed in a broad smile.

  “What can I do for you now?” he asked, fixing the Hardys with a long look.

  “There’s been a kidnapping,” Chief Collig said. “We think the victim may be on your ship.”

  Ono bowed. “Go ahead and search. I have neither a box nor a prisoner.”

  The police began a careful search of the holds, galley, crews’ quarters, and the captain’s cabin as well. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe sauntered over the deck.

  “Let’s check the lifeboats,” Frank suggested.

  They looked beneath the canvas cover of each one, but could see nothing suspicious. Just as the police emerged from the holds, they approached the last lifeboat.

  At one end of it, the sea breeze fluttered a piece of the covering which had come loose.

  “Watch it, Joe,” Frank warned. “It might not have been the wind that tore off the canvas!” He signaled Chief Collig. “Over here!” he called.

  The officers ran to the lifeboat. One flashed his light under the canvas, then barked a crisp order. “Come out with your hands up!”

  The cowering figure of a man emerged above the gunwale.

  “Holy crow!” Joe exclaimed. “It’s Gerard Henry!”

  CHAPTER XVII

  The Chinese Note

  THE prisoner looked surly as the police pulled him to the deck and snapped on handcuffs. Captain Ono, who came running up, was flabbergasted.

  “Is—is this your kidnapped man?” he asked.

  “No,” Collig replied. “But he’s an escaped felon.”

  “How did you get on my ship?” Ono asked Henry sternly.

  The man confessed that he had climbed a rope and reached the deck shortly before the Queen sailed. Collig turned to Ono. “Why did you leave ahead of schedule?”

  “All was in readiness. So why wait?”

  “Did you notify the harbor master?”

  “Of course. We adhere to proper procedure.”

  The prisoner was led down to the police launch and Ono was told he could proceed. Frank and Joe hopped into the Sleuth and headed home.

  When they arrived they received a phone call from their father. Frank answered it. He told about their proposed trip to Hong Kong and asked, “Is it okay with you, Dad?”

  “Sure. I’ll follow you as soon as I can. Right now I’m going to Dallas. Seems a branch of the tailoring-jewelry racket has sprung up there.”

  The next morning at breakfast there was a knock on the back door and Phil Cohen entered.

  “Hi, Phil,” Frank said. “What brings you over here so early?”

  Phil looked serious. “I noticed something funny and wanted to talk to you. It’s about Chet.”

  “What about him?”

  “He went into Paul Goo’s Chinese Laundry yesterday afternoon.”

  “Nothing funny about that,” Joe said. “Maybe he took his shirts.”

  “You know his mother does all his laundry. He took nothing and picked nothing up. Before he went in he glanced up and down the street as if he wanted to make sure no one saw him. It looked suspicious to me.”

  “Hml” Frank said thoughtfully. “Why would he do that?”

  “That’s just it. It’s not like Chet,” Phil said. “Maybe he got mixed up in your Chinese mystery somehow, being that he spends so much time with Krassner—”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this right now,” Frank broke in. He picked up the telephone and dialed the Morton farm. Chet answered.

  “Hey, old buddy,” Frank said, “what were you doing in Paul Goo’s laundry yesterday?”

  There was silence on the other end. Then Chet said, “Who told you?”

  “A little Chinese bird. What were you doing there?”

  “Nothing much. Just got some lechee nuts.”

  “Tell me the truth, Chet!”

  “I am. Is it against the law to visit a Chinese laundry?” Chet would say nothing more.

  When he hung up, Frank felt uneasy. “Let’s check out the laundry,” he suggested.

  “Right,” Joe agreed. “But first we’d better stop at headquarters. Maybe there’s some news on Conrad.”

  “See you later,” Phil said. “Let me know what develops.” He left through the back door when giggling voices of girls could be heard in the front. After a brief knock, Joe opened the door and Callie Shaw and Iola Morton breezed in.

  Frank grinned at Callie, a pretty blond girl with brown eyes, whom he often dated. “Hi. What’s up?”

  “We’re selling tickets to a benefit.”

  “When, where, why?”

  “Tonight in our barn,” Iola said. “Eight o’clock sharp.”

 
“But for whose benefit?” Joe inquired.

  “That’s our secret. You’re coming, of course.” Iola reached into her pocket and pulled out two tickets. She handed them to Joe. “You can pay us later,” she said.

  Just then Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude came in and greeted the girls. As they chatted, the boys drove off to headquarters. There they learned two pertinent facts. Nothing had been heard from Conrad Greene, and they were told that Paul Goo, the Chinese laundry owner, had an impeccable reputation.

  “He’s been in this country a long time,” Chief Collig said. “A friendly old duck. Likes kids.”

  Frank and Joe thanked the officer, then drove to Mully Street. It was the main thoroughfare of Bayport’s Little Chinatown. They passed two restaurants, a Chinese grocery, and a gift shop before coming to Paul Goo’s place. They parked and went in. A tinkling bell announced their presence. The interior of the shop smelled of soap, starch, and steam.

  Behind an ironing board stood Paul Goo, a spare, elderly man, whose eyes were shuttered in deep fleshy folds. “Hello,” he said with a smile. “You have some shirts?”

  “Not today,” Frank said. “We want to ask your prices.”

  “Oh yes. Very reasonable here.” Goo handed the boy a small printed paper listing his services.

  “Thank you,” Frank said. “Do you have lechee nuts?”

  The elderly man blinked. “Sure. For my friends.” He put a hand beneath the counter, produced two of the thin-shelled nuts so popular with Orientals, and handed one to each boy.

  “Thank you,” Joe said. “You are very kind.”

  They turned to go, but Frank hesitated a moment. “Are you from Hong Kong, Mr. Goo?”

  The laundryman smiled broadly. “Yes. How you guess? Most people in Little Chinatown are from Hong Kong.”

  Outside, the boys cracked the nuts. “Not bad,” Joe said. “What do you think of Goo, Frank?”

  “He seems all right. But you never can tell. Let’s put a tail on good old Chet and find out what’s going on.”

  Joe snapped his fingers. “Phil Cohen would be a good man for the job!”

  The Hardys stopped at Phil’s home. The sound of piano playing drifted across the front lawn and the boys found their friend busily composing a song.