“I still think we oughta find out how they got here first!” Rawlin protested. “There might be others!”
“It’s obvious they came by boat or plane,” Cartoll concluded. “Have your men conduct a search of the area as soon as it is light.”
“If only there was some way to warn Tiller,” Frank thought frantically as he and his brother were led away by the guards.
The east tower room was situated at the top of a long, winding stone stairway. One of the guards unlocked the door and ordered the boys inside. The other one brought some bread and a jug of water, then the door was shut behind them.
When their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, they were startled to see an elderly man with shaggy gray hair and a beard seated at a wooden table.
“Are you prisoners of Cartoll too?” he asked in a weak voice. “I have not seen you before.”
“Yes,” Frank replied glumly. “And who are you?”
“Leroy Ellis.”
Frank and Joe looked at each other in surprise, then Frank introduced himself and his brother. “Any relation to Clay Ellis?” he added.
“He’s my son. You know him?”
“We’ve met him not long ago. Why are you a prisoner?”
“Because I refuse to help Cartoll with his crazy schemes. And I’m being used as a hostage so my son won’t go to the authorities.”
“So that’s why Clay wouldn’t tell us anything,” Joe said, munching on a piece of bread.
“Perhaps you can tell us what’s going on around here,” Frank said. “Who is this Cartoll?”
The old man explained that Cartoll was the great-great-great grandson of a notorious eighteenth-century pirate who had established a kingdom on the island.
“We read about him and his Empire of the Twisted Claw in an old book,” Joe interrupted.
“If you’re familiar with that part of the story,” Ellis said, “I’ll bring you up to date.”
He explained that he came upon the island more than a year before while sailing his ketch around the Caribbean. He was accompanied by his son, who was on vacation from his job as radioman for a reputable shipping firm. They were impressed with the old buildings of the village and the friendliness of the natives.
During their stay, Cartoll arrived on the island and declared himself heir to his ancestor’s kingdom. He forced the natives to be his subjects and revived the Empire of the Twisted Claw.
“He’s mad and must be stopped!” Ellis insisted.
“What about the Parrot ships?” asked Frank.
The old man scowled. “Cartoll owns the ships and uses them for smuggling purposes. It’s that scoundrel’s way of financing his so-called royal enterprises.”
Frank went on, “Do you know why he’s so determined to get his hands on the DeGraw collec tion?”
“It’s another of his crazy quirks,” Ellis replied. “The items in that collection were owned by the original pirate king. They were being brought here to the island by a galleon when a sudden storm came up and sank the ship.”
“And now Cartoll thinks the stuff belongs to him by reason of inheritance?” Joe queried.
The old man nodded. “Of course the idea is absurd. But such things are meaningless to a person of his mentality.”
After their talk, the Hardys’ thoughts turned to the possibility of escape.
“Your chances are slim,” Ellis warned. “There are too many guards inside the palace.”
Joe pointed to the only window in the room. It was a small, lancet-shaped opening covered with metal bars. “Maybe we can get out through there,” he suggested.
Ellis smiled. “I had the same idea once.” He reached inside his sleeve and pulled out a pointed piece of metal about the size of a pencil. “I began using this to dig away the stone around two of the bars. After that, I could stick my head through and realized escape was hopeless. There’s a forty-foot drop to the ground.”
The boys examined the window and saw where Ellis had scraped away the stone at the base of the bars. He had cleverly filled the depressions with loose dirt to prevent his work from being discovered.
Joe pushed away the bars and gazed down. “It is quite a drop,” he said.
“I have an idea,” Frank put in. “We’ll tie our jackets and belts together to form a line. It won’t reach all the way to the ground, but at least it’ll lessen the height.”
“I have a blanket you can use,” Ellis added.
The boys quickly knotted the articles together. Then Frank estimated its length. This will take us within fifteen feet of the ground.”
“A cinch,” Joe commented with a grin.
Frank glanced at his watch. “It’ll be daylight within a couple of hours. We’ll have to work fast.”
Frantically the Hardys dug away the stone until the lower ends of two more bars were exposed. Then they pushed and pulled with all their strength until the upper ends loosened and tore free.
“All set?” Joe asked as he secured the line to one of the remaining bars.
“I—I’d like to go with you,” Ellis said shakily. “But I don’t know if I can make it.”
“We’re not leaving you behind,” Frank said firmly. “You can do it. My brother and I will go first. We’ll be waiting to help break your fall.”
The Hardys slid down their makeshift line, then dropped the remaining distance to the ground.
Next, Mr. Ellis emerged from the window above. He gripped the line and started to descend.
But at the halfway point he came to a halt. The man obviously was frightened.
“Don’t stop now,” Frank muttered anxiously.
There was a short pause. Then Ellis continued and finally made a soft landing with the boys’ help.
“Now what?” Joe asked in a hushed voice.
“Let’s head back to where the Yellow Parrot is anchored,” Frank urged. “Somehow we’ve got to get hold of a raft or a boat and warn Dan Tiller.”
Dawn was breaking as the trio dashed out of the village and along the rugged trail leading to the beach.
Upon reaching their destination, they were stunned by what they saw. Tied to a mooring close to the Yellow Parrot was Tiller’s amphibian!
“Dan’s been captured!” Joe exclaimed.
Frank was too shocked to speak. He stared at the plane, realizing that their only means of escape had fallen into the hands of Cartoll!
CHAPTER XX
Island Rescue
AT the sound of men approaching from behind, the boys and Mr. Ellis quickly hid in some brush.
“I don’t like what you’re planning to do,” came Rawlin’s voice. “It’s too risky.”
“Your opinion couldn’t interest me less,” a second man replied.
“That’s Cartoll!” Joe whispered.
“But you already have most of the DeGraw collection,” Rawlin went on. “And the gang you hired has been arrested. Why take chances?”
“You don’t understand,” Cartoll countered. “That portion of the collection at the Norwood Museum in Connecticut is of special interest to me. The armor was made for my ancestor’s exclusive use. I must have it.”
“So you’re bent on stealing the stuff yourself,” Rawlin said in disgust.
“Not exactly. You and some of the crew are going to help me. And thanks to the Hardys, we have a plane at our disposal. We’ll be there in no time!”
The men walked by the hidden trio. They halted when they reached the beach. The Hardys could still overhear their conversation.
“But I’ve never done anything like that before,” Rawlin protested.
“There’s always a first time,” Cartoll said sarcastically. “Don’t worry,” he added. “With the gang captured, the museum will surely be off its guard. We won’t have any trouble.”
Rawlin shouted to a crewman on the deck of the Yellow Parrot and ordered him to bring a dinghy ashore. Soon the men were being rowed out to the ship.
Frank’s and Joe’s pulses quickened as they waited and wat
ched. Suddenly Tiller appeared on the deck. He was being pushed along by two hefty crewmen. They ordered him over the side and into another dinghy. Then they took him to his amphibian.
“Tiller’s removing the long-range tank,” Joe observed after a while.
“Right. He’s making room for Cartoll and his cohorts,” Frank added. “But he still has enough reserve in his main tanks to reach Cambrian and refuel before going on.”
“Maybe he’ll try to make a break for it there,” Joe said.
“I doubt that your friend will get a chance to escape,” Mr. Ellis warned. “Cartoll is clever. He’ll be watching like a hawk!”
More than two hours had passed when the Hardys saw Cartoll, Rawlin, and three other men leave the ship and board the plane. Then Tiller started the engines and taxied out to clear water. He applied take-off power and the craft left a churning wake behind as it sped along. Soon it rose off the water and disappeared to the north.
Frank sighed. “We’re in bad shape! Tiller and his plane might never come back here, and even if Cartoll brought him back, how could we contact him?”
“Might as well resign ourselves to being hermits from now on,” Joe quipped in dark humor.
Mr. Ellis turned to the boys. “I’ve got an idea,” he said slowly. “There’s a good chance it might work.”
“What’s that?” Frank inquired.
“I have earned the respect of many of the natives, including the village leader. Their fear of Cartoll prevented them from getting together and ousting the tyrant. Now that he’s away, maybe I can talk them into action!”
“If only you could!” Joe said excitedly.
“It’s awfully chancy,” Frank warned.
“But it’s our only alternative. I’m going back to the village,” Ellis declared. “At least it’s worth a try.”
“We’ll go with you,” Frank said.
“No, it’s better I go alone,” the man insisted. “You fellows keep an eye on the Yellow Parrot. Maybe you’ll spot my son.” He scrambled to his feet and disappeared down the trail.
The Hardys grew more impatient as the hours dragged by. All was quiet aboard the ship. Sunset was less than an hour away when the boys heard sounds of commotion from the direction of the village. They sprang to their feet just as two guards in shiny breastplates came running down the trail. The young detectives flung themselves at the men and caught them above the knees. Their opponents somersaulted into the air and crashed to the ground.
A split second later two more guards appeared. The boys attacked. Locked in a struggle, they and the men tumbled down the trail and onto the sandy beach. A crowd of natives arrived and seized the guards.
“It worked!” Mr. Ellis shouted joyfully as he pushed his way through the group. “We’ve got the scoundrels on the run!”
“Look!” Joe yelled to his brother as he pointed toward the Yellow Parrot.
Frank turned to see the ship getting underway.
“My son is still aboard!” the old man cried out.
A minute later an amphibian, much larger than Tiller’s, roared low overhead. It turned and landed on the water nearby.
As the plane taxied toward the beach, its aft cabin door sprang open. The boys were startled to see their father’s head appear. “Hello, sons!” he shouted. “Are you all right?”
“Starved, but okay otherwise,” Frank called back.
A rubber raft tossed over the side. Mr. Hardy climbed into it. Then Chet emerged and joined him. Together they paddled ashore.
“Are we glad to see you!” Joe declared with relief. “But how did you know we were in trouble?”
“I have an excellent view of the airport from my hotel room in Cambrian,” the detective explained, “and happened to spot Tiller’s amphibian come in for a landing. Naturally, I thought you had returned. When Chet and I went to the field, we were startled to see the plane taking off again. I knew something was wrong.”
The detective said that he then contacted air-sea rescue and an aircraft was made available for an immediate search.
“Luckily,” Mr. Hardy added, “Ellis hadn’t stopped sending his signal.”
“Looks as if you’ve had a bit of excitement around here,” Chet observed. He stared at the captured guards. “Who are these characters in the tin coats?”
Frank and Joe told him about their recent adventure. Then they introduced Mr. Ellis
“We owe a lot to you and your son,” Mr. Hardy told the gray-haired man.
“Thank you,” Mr. Ellis replied. “But Clay is still aboard the ship. What can we do?”
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Hardy said. “I’m going to request an international alert. The Parrots will be seized wherever they try to put into port. Your son will be all right.”
Darkness was approaching rapidly. Frank glanced at his watch. “We still have Cartoll to deal with,” he interjected. “He and his men have several hours head start on us. We’ll have to move fast!”
Mr. Ellis joined the Hardys on the flight back to Cambrian. While en route, the pilot contacted Miami on his high-frequency transmitter at Mr. Hardy’s request. He asked that a message, warning about the intended robbery, be relayed to the authorities in Norwood. A full description of the thieves was included.
Upon arriving at their destination, Mr. Hardy and his party quickly gathered their luggage. After saying good-by to Mr. Ellis, they boarded the last shuttle flight of the evening to Miami.
“I’ve never traveled so many miles in so short a time before,” Chet remarked wearily as the plane approached the Florida city.
In Miami, Mr. Hardy telephoned Jack Wayne and instructed him to meet them at La Guardia. Then he and the boys boarded a jetliner and were soon speeding northward.
The flight to New York was smooth and fast. Jack was waiting when they arrived and flew them directly to Norwood. There a patrol car was standing by to take Mr. Hardy and the boys to the museum.
“We caught all but one of the thieves,” the policeman announced as they drove, “thanks to the information you sent us.”
“Which one of them got away?” Frank asked quickly.
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the chief,” the officer replied. “They were real amateurs. Broke open a door at the rear of the museum and set off an alarm hooked up to headquarters.”
“The gang forced a pilot by the name of Tiller to fly them here,” Joe said anxiously. “Any news from him?”
“He landed his plane on the lake near here. Later a state trooper happened to spot it anchored close to shore. He investigated and found the pilot tied and gagged in the cabin. The fellow’s okay and is at headquarters.”
When they arrived at the museum, several patrol cars and a police van were parked at the curb. Inside the van were Rawlin and the three crewmen. Cartoll was missing!
“Where’s your boss?” Joe demanded.
“I don’t know,” Rawlin snarled. “And don’t ask me any more questions because I’m not talking.”
Frank rubbed his chin dubiously. “Cartoll couldn’t have vanished into thin air!” He turned to the police chief. “Mind if we go inside the building and have a look around?”
“Go ahead,” the officer answered. “But I doubt that you’ll find anything.”
Joe and Frank entered the museum and hurried to the exhibit room where the DeGraw collection was displayed.
The room was dark. Frank found the switch and turned on the lights. The boys looked around. Everything was intact. On the far side of the room, armor engraved with the symbol of the twisted claw stood on a pedestal.
As they turned to leave, Joe suddenly grabbed his brother’s arm. “Hold on!” he whispered. “I might be seeing things, but I’m sure that figure on the pedestal moved!”
Cautiously they walked toward the spot. Frank stepped forward and lifted the visor.
A face stared at him. Cartoll! With a curse, the man sprang at the youths. A violent struggle followed. Joe screamed for help. The noise brought Mr. Hardy and seve
ral policemen to the scene.
“What’s going on here?” one of the officers demanded.
The boys hauled the metal-clad man to his feet. “Meet Cartoll!” Joe declared.
Frank pulled the helmet from their captive’s head. “Clever way to avoid being captured. And he almost got away with it.”
Cartoll was furious. “You’ll regret having meddled in my affairs!” he shouted. “Too bad Starker didn’t succeed in squashing you like an ant in the Philadelphia museum.”
“That’s another charge against you,” Joe said. “Attempted murder.”
As the police marched the prisoner away, Mr. Hardy held up a box-shaped object. At one end was what appeared to be a photographic lens.
“What’s that?” Frank inquired.
“It’s the secret as to how the museum thieves avoided setting off the photoelectric alarm systems during some of their robberies,” his father replied. “Rawlin and his cohorts were carrying a supply of these when the police caught them.”
“How does the gadget work?” asked Joe.
“You know that the alarm system operates by aiming a beam of light at a photoelectric cell,” Mr. Hardy began. “The cell and light source are on opposite sides of the room. As long as the beam is not interrupted by someone walking through it, nothing happens. But if the beam is broken, off goes the alarm.”
Joe nodded. “I get it,” he said. “That box you’re holding is a device which produces a beam of light. If aimed at the photoelectric cell, it simply replaces the original light source across the room.”
“Exactly,” his father said. “Then the thieves were free to move around the area without setting off the alarm.”
“Simple,” Frank muttered. “But not all the museums had this type of system!”
“True, but one of the gang’s members was an expert in alarm technology. They tackled each one according to how it was set up.
“Once that problem was solved,” Mr. Hardy continued, “the rest was comparatively easy. Some of their hirelings got jobs at the museums they planned to rob. They punctured the gas masks, making sure the knockout fumes would be effective.”
“Like Starker, who worked as a gardener,” Joe interjected.
The Twisted Claw Page 11