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The Stone Idol

Page 11

by Franklin W. Dixon


  When the young detective spoke to the antique dealer, Bertrand was disturbed to learn that the idol had not been legitimately acquired from Easter Island.

  “You’ll have to find the Scandinavian collector who sold it to Kim,” he told Frank. “I never spoke to the man. I suggest you fly back to New York and talk to my partner.”

  “If we could figure out who sent Mr. Kimberley that secret message about the sculpture’s hiding place, it would help, too,” Frank said.

  “I questioned my staff, and they deny knowing anything about it,” Bertrand said. “If you locate the collector, you might get the answer to this question.”

  The boys were on the next flight out of Easter Island. They spent the night in Santiago, then continued on to New York.

  “I still wonder if Bertrand’s on the level,” Frank observed.

  “So do I,” Joe agreed.

  “I wonder if he really wants us to find the collector. He seemed uneasy about the whole thing. He might know more than he told us.”

  “He might be afraid we’ll discover that the two of them were in on the theft of the idol,” Joe agreed. “The collector stole it, and Bertrand told him to sell it to Kimberley. Later Bertrand stole it from Kimberley. That’s one theory anyhow.”

  “Perhaps he has reason to believe we’ll never find the Scandinavian,” Frank said. “And he’s the only person who can expose the whole thing.”

  When they arrived at Kennedy Airport, the boys checked into a nearby hotel. The following morning, they phoned Kimberley, who told them to come to his office. They found that he had shaved off his beard.

  Frank and Joe recounted the story of the stone idol, ending with the statement that it was permanently back on Easter Island.

  “It looks as if the Scandinavian collector who sold you the sculpture is a crook,” Frank concluded. “You’ve got to tell us who he is.”

  “I tried to find him myself in the meantime,” Kimberley said. “Unfortunately, my investigation proves that he does not exist. The man who sold me the idol gave me forged documents and a phony name!”

  Agitatedly, Kimberley began to scratch the right side of his chin with his thumb. “I was cheated!” he cried. “Fooled by a thief!”

  Suddenly the truth dawned on Frank and Joe at the same time.

  “You have a scar in the same place as Julio Santana!” Joe cried out. “He was cut by one of the stone knives in the sacred cave when he put the idol back on the altar. You got cut when you reached in and stole it!”

  Kimberley turned ashen white and jumped up from behind his desk. Flinging Joe aside, he tried to push his way past Frank and out the door. But after a short scuffle, the boys subdued him and shoved him back in his chair.

  Frank called the police, and soon two officers arrived. They handcuffed the prisoner and informed him of his rights, then Frank gave them the details of their investigation.

  When he had finished, he turned to Kimberley.

  “You forged the bill of sale for the idol after you returned from Easter Island, and you grew a beard to hide the wound you received from the stone knives!”

  “Then you hid the idol in the secret compartment in Bertrand’s office before you went to your hotel,” Joe took up the story. “The sculpture was not in your handbag when you brought it to your room. Then you waited to pick up your watch until Bertrand was there so he’d be alone with the bag and could be accused of the theft!”

  “Prove it!” Kimberley snarled.

  “We will. We know you made up the secret message by cutting words from a newspaper and pasting them on a sheet of South American Antiquities stationery. Then you gave us the note so we’d find the idol and have Bertrand arrested!”

  An evil smile curled around Kimberley’s lips. “All you have is a harebrained theory. Pure conjecture. I would have no reason to do what you accuse me of.”

  Suddenly Joe grinned. “But we can prove it. Iko Hiva saw you come up the rope ladder from the sacred cave. He says you were carrying the stone idol, and he’ll be glad to identify you in court.”

  Frank realized his brother was bluffing, and took it one step further. “We also know what your motive was. Mr. Bertrand knows you’ve been stealing from the company. He’ll testify to that. And he can prove it by the records you falsified!”

  Kimberley fell right into the trap. His nerve broke and he began to confess.

  “I was afraid Bertrand would find out that I faked our financial records,” he said, his voice shaking. “So I decided to get rid of him and acquire control of the business.”

  “That’s what you accused him of wanting to do,” Joe observed.

  “I had to ascribe a motive to him,” Kimberley muttered, “in order to set him up. When everything was ready, I advertised for a detective because I needed someone who could read the false clues I left in Santiago.”

  “We followed them at first,” Frank admitted. “Then Santana messed everything up for you by snatching the stone idol from us.”

  “That’s when your scheme began to come apart,” Joe added. “But it took us a long time to figure out what was going on. The razor did it.”

  “What razor?” Kimberley grated.

  “The one you used to shave your beard.”

  Kimberley hung his head. “I grew the beard because initially the cut was obvious. But I found it very uncomfortable, so I finally removed it. I didn’t think anyone would notice the scar.”

  “It is so slight that we wouldn’t have,” Frank admitted, “except you touched it just like Santana touched his fresh cut while we talked to him on Easter Island.”

  Kimberley shrugged. “Now it’ll be easier for Iko Hiva to identify me.”

  “Actually, it won‘t,” Joe said. “I only made that up in the hope you’d confess.”

  Kimberley jumped up and let out a string of curses, while the two officers looked admiringly at the boys.

  “I also dreamed up the story about Bertrand discovering that you’ve been stealing from South American Antiquities,” Frank added.

  Kimberley was so crushed to learn the Hardys had tricked him into a confession that he offered no resistance when the two officers led him away.

  The boys looked at each other. Both were relieved that the case was solved, but at the same time they were wondering if they would ever get another assignment that could top the one that took them to such exotic places as Easter Island and Antarctica.

  Another mystery, The Vanishing Thieves, was to come up soon and would require their best sleuthing skills, even if it did not take them quite as far as the South Pole.

  Just then the telephone rang. Frank answered. It was Bertrand from Santiago.

  “Where’s Kim?” he asked. “How come you’re on the line?”

  “Mr. Kimberley’s at the police station,” Frank replied. “He—”

  “Good! Make sure he stays there!” Bertrand thundered. “He’s been stealing from the firm for a long time. I just found out!”

  Frank raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

  “That’s right. I checked our books. I suspected him ever since you boys told me how he hired you. But I couldn’t say so because I had no proof.”

  “How did you get it?” Frank asked.

  “I phoned Kim after you left Easter Island and demanded to know who the Scandinavian collector was. He was so evasive that I decided to go through our financial records with a fine-tooth comb. And there was my proof. He must be arrested at once!”

  “Consider it done,” Frank replied. “And thanks for the information.”

  “What information?” Joe asked as Frank hung up.

  “Bertrand wants us to know Kimberley’s been cheating him for a long time! How about that!”

 

 

 
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