THE SECRET WARNING

STRANGE events involve Frank and Joe Hardy in a mystery which shrouds an ancient treasureâ€”the golden head of the Pharaoh Rhamaton IV. First, a cryptic unsigned warning from Egypt; second, the ghost of a bloodthirsty pirate of the eighteenth century, who, according to legend, haunted nearby Whalebone Island years ago and recently has reappeared.

The owner of the million-dollar golden Pharaohâ€™s head claims it was aboard the freighter Katawa, which sank not far from Whalebone Island. But suspicious developments indicate that Mehmet Zufar may be trying to defraud the shipping lineâ€™s insurance company. Frank and Joe enthusiastically accept the challenge of their famous detective father to assist him in investigating the complex case for Transmarine Underwriters.

A puzzling clue leads the Hardys to Whalebone Island, where they almost lose their lives in a violent explosion. Someone desperately wants to get rid of them. But who? Is it the ghostly pirate?

Frank and Joeâ€™s perilous scuba-diving search in the ocean depths off the island yields electrifying discoveries that cap the climax of this exciting mystery.

A chill of fear struck the Hardys as they approached the
trapped diver

Copyright Â© 1994, 1966, 1938 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset
Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYSÂ® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 66-12695

eISBN : 978-1-101-07631-6

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

A Ghost Walks

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A LOUD ring of the doorbell startled the Hardy boys as they sat watching a TV mystery. Joe tuned down the volume. âWho could that be at this time of night?â the blond, seventeen-year-old youth wondered aloud.

âMaybe a client of Dadâs. It canât be Mom and Aunt Gertrudeâthey have a key.â Frank, dark-haired and a year older than his brother, got up and strode to the door.

A telegraph messenger was standing on the front porch. âCablegram for Fenton Hardy.â

Frank signed for the message and took it back to the living room. âFor Dad,â he reported. âComing from overseas, this may be urgent.â

âWeâd better open it,â Joe suggested.

Frank slit the yellow envelope and read the contents. âGood grief!â he exclaimed. â âBeware the Pharaohâs head. Doom to all who seek it!ââ

âThe Pharaohâs head? What does that mean?â

Frank shrugged. âSearch me.â

âWell, who sent it?â

âI donât know that, either,â Frank said, perplexed. âThereâs no name on the message, but it came from Cairo, Egypt.â

Joe took the cablegram, studied it intently, then hurried out to the hallway telephone and called the local telegraph office. When he hung up, he frowned in puzzlement.

Frank, coming into the hall, queried, âWhat did they say?â

âThe message was received just that wayâunsigned. Apparently thereâs no rule requiring a sender to include his name.â

âI think weâd better contact Dad right away,â Frank decided.

Fenton Hardy, formerly a detective in the New York City Police Department, had retired to the seaside town of Bayport and soon had become nationally known as a crack private investigator. His two sons, Frank and Joe, who had inherited their fatherâs sleuthing talents, often helped out on his cases.

The boys hurried upstairs to switch on the powerful short-wave radio in the detectiveâs study. Mr. Hardy always carried a compact transceiver in order to be able to communicate with his home in cases of emergency.

Frank beamed out the usual code call repeatedly. But the only response was a jumble of static.

âHe must be away from his hotel, or wherever heâs staying,â Joe said.

âCould be.â Frank glanced at the window as a flash of lightning brought an extra loud crackle from the speaker. âOr maybe weâre not getting through. That storm brewing out there may be interfering with our transmission.â

After a few more minutes, the boys gave up for the time being and went back downstairs. A loud clap of thunder sounded as they reached the living room.

âBoy, looks as if weâre in for a real cloudburst,â Frank remarked anxiously. âI sure hope Mom and Aunt Gertrude donât get caught in it.â

He was about to resume his seat in front of the television when he heard Joe gasp.

âThought I saw something at the window.â

Frank stared quizzically at his brother. âYou mean a personâor what?â

âI donât know,â Joe said. âIt was just a fleeting impression. May have been my imagination. Is the prowler alarm on?â

âNot yet. Mom said to leave it off till they got home.â Frank added with a grin, âYou know Aunt Gertrudeâsheâd really pin our ears back if the alarm system went off just as they were coming up to the house.â

Joe chuckled as he imagined his tall, peppery auntâs reaction to being caught in a blaze of floodlights, accompanied by a shattering alarm signal. âThink Iâll take a look outside, anyhow,â he told Frank. âIt wonât hurt to make sure.â

Joe was just starting into the hallway when the doorbell rang. âNow what?â he muttered as he switched on the porch light. He yanked open the front door. A man stood clutching a cane. He wore a felt hat and Navy officerâs raincoat.

âCaptain Early! Welcome aboard, sir!â

The manâs ruddy, weather-beaten face broke into a wide grin. âHowdy, Joe!â He saluted and gave the boyâs hand a brisk squeeze as he limped inside.

Hearing their voices, Frank hurried to greet the visitor. âDad will be sorry he missed you,â he said as they shook hands.

Captain Phil âPearlyâ Early was an old friend of the Hardys. Now retired, he lived alone in a house on the coast, north of Barmet Bay, and devoted his time to writing books on sea lore.

âI probably should have phoned,â the captain apologized, âbut I had to come to Bayport on an errand, anyhow, so I took a chance.â He doffed his hat and coat, revealing a crisp gray crew cut and a slight but wiry build.

As Joe took his things, there came the sudden sound of a drenching downpour. Rain pelted the roof and splattered against the windows.

âYou got here just in time,â Frank said.

Captain Early nodded and tapped his thigh. âHurricane weather. My game leg always tells me when weâre in for a blow.â His ruddy face turned serious. âBy the way, did you boys just have a visitor?â

Frank shook his head. âNo, sir. Why?â

âWhen my taxi drew up here, I saw a man standing just outside the hedge around your grounds. He darted off as the headlights beamed on him.â

Joe exchanged a quick, startled glance with his brother. âWhat did he look like?â

âRather odd,â said Captain Early. âI suppose thatâs really why I mentioned him. He had a black cloak or coat, a bushy red beard, andâwell, something strange about the eyes.â

The boys escorted their visitor into the living room. As Frank turned off the TV, Captain Early asked, âYou fellows home alone?â

âWe are just now,â Joe replied. âMom and Aunt Gertrude have gone to a concert.â Seeing the captainâs thoughtful frown, he added, âDid you want to see Dad, sir?â

âAs a matter of fact, I did. But I might as well put the case in your hands.â

Frank settled eagerly into a chair. âYou have a mystery you want investigated?â

The captain nodded as he filled his pipe. âDoesnât amount to much, probably, but all the same Iâd like to know whatâs behind it. Twice recently, my house has been broken into at night.â

âWas anything stolen?â Joe inquired.

âNo, because both times I woke up and scared the intruder off.â The first time, Captain Early related, his study had been ransacked. On the second occasion, the burglar had come into his bedroom.

âDid you see him well enough to give us a description?â put in Frank.

âNo, I hardly saw him at all. By the time I switched on the light, he was out the window and away over the back porch roof.â

âWhen did this happen?â Joe asked.

âThe first time was on Friday, and the second attempt was just last nightâSunday.â

Frank said, âAny idea what the thief was after?â

âNone at all. I never keep any large amount of money in the house.â Captain Early puffed on his pipe for a moment. âIncidentally, Iâve had a strange feeling of being followed several times latelyâincluding tonight on my way to Bayport. But that may be pure bosh.â

Again the boys exchanged glances. Captain Early, with his brilliant war record, was certainly not a man given to fearful flights of imagination.

âJumpinâ Jupiter, you really have given us a mystery to work on,â said Joe. âHave you told the police about the break-ins?â

âYes, but naturally there wasnât much they could do, except check for fingerprintsâand there werenât any.â

âLook,â Frank said. âWe were trying to contact Dad earlier on another matter. Suppose I try again.â

Leaving Joe to entertain their guest, Frank hurried to the short-wave set in their fatherâs study. This time, his code call brought an immediate response. Mr. Hardy, speaking from Philadelphia, explained that he and his operative, Sam Radley, had just returned to their hotel.

When Frank mentioned the mysterious cablegram, the sleuth reacted with keen interest. âThat message relates to the case weâre working on, son, and it could provide an important lead. Iâll fill you and Joe in on all the details as soon as I return.â

Next, Frank told about Captain Earlyâs visit.

âHmm. Certainly sounds as if something more is involved than an ordinary case of breaking and entering,â Mr. Hardy said. âBut thereâs not much I can do from here. You and Joe will have to handle it for the time being. Say, there is one thing you can do for me.â

âYes, Dad?â

âAsk Captain Early what he knows about the legend of Whalebone Island.â

Mystified, Frank signed off and returned to the living room. At the mention of Whalebone Island, Captain Earlyâs ruddy face paled.

âGreat Scott!â he exclaimed. âIt canât be!â

âWhatâs wrong, sir?â Frank asked.

The Navy man hesitated before replying. âWhalebone Island, as you probably know, lies off the coast, south of here. In colonial days it was the hideout of a ruthless pirate named Red Rogers. Of course youâve heard the term âJolly Rogerâ?â

Frank said, âThe skull and crossbones?â

âRight. And the same name was sometimes given to Red Rogers because of his bloodthirsty sense of humor.â

Captain Early went on slowly, âRed Rogers always wore a black cloak and had a bushy red beard and a scar which pulled down the corner of one eye.â

âWow!â Joe gasped. âJust like that fellow you saw outside tonight!â

Captain Early nodded. âExactly. After Rogers was killed in a sea fight, the island was pretty much avoided. In fact, it was said to be haunted.â

At that moment the captainâs story was interrupted by a flash of lightning, followed by a deafening clap of thunder which seemed to shake the whole house. A second later the darkness outside was lit up by a blinding flash of lightning.

âLook!â Joe yelled and pointed.

A red-bearded figure in a black cloak was peering through the window!

A ghostly figure was peering through the window!

CHAPTER II

Close Combat

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THE lightning flickered out, and the ghostly figure was gone almost instantly. Frank and Joe leaped to their feet and rushed to the front door, followed by Captain Early hobbling on his cane.

Ignoring the gusty torrents of rain, the boys dashed out into the stormy darkness and around the corner of the house. Not a soul was in sight. The Hardys separated to search the whole yard, but even when another jagged flash of lightning lit up the night with daylike brilliance they could see no sign of the figure which had appeared at the window.

âItâs hopeless!â Frank groaned. âLetâs get back inside before we drown!â

Drenched to the skin, the brothers changed into dry clothes before resuming their conversation with Captain Early.

âDid anyone live on Whalebone Island in those old days that you were telling us about?â Frank asked.

âNo, except for fishermen who camped there overnight or put up temporary huts from time to time. I suppose the stories of ghosts on the island may have arisen because members of Red Rogersâ crew were said to be returning there secretly.â

âMaybe to dig up buried treasure!â put in Joe.

âPossibly,â the Navy man agreed with a smile. âOr fugitives from the law may have hidden there occasionally. At any rate, the spooky legends of Jolly Roger and his cutthroats finally died out, and sometime in the eighteen-hundreds a lighthouse was erected on Whalebone Island. Then, in the closing days of World War II, a lighthouse keeper there named Tang went out of his mind.â

âHow come?â Frank asked.

Captain Early gave a shrug. âHe claimed the island was being haunted again by Red Rogersâ ghost. More likely, heâd just cracked up under the loneliness and isolation, I suppose. Anyhow, soon after that the lighthouse was closed down.â

âBecause of what happened to Tang?â Joe asked.

âNo, no. The equipment was outdated and a new light, much more powerful, had been built on Dory Point to serve that same general coastal area.â

âWhatâs on the island now?â Frank inquired.

âNothing. Itâs abandoned as far as I know.â

The brothers were greatly intrigued. Any hint of mystery attracted them, and many times had plunged them into exciting sleuthing adventures. One of their first had been locating The Tower Treasure. Recently, they had successfully uncovered the secret of A Figure in Hiding.

Captain Early tucked his pipe into his pocket. âWell, boys, itâs been a pleasant visit, but Iâd better be starting back. As a matter of fact, this is far later than I intended to linger in town.â

The navy officer explained that he had had motor trouble while driving to Bayport. âI had to call for a tow car from a garage. Thatâs why I arrived here by taxi. By the way, may I use your phone?â

âOf course. Help yourself,â Frank replied.

The captain checked with the garage and hung up, frowning. âDrat the luck, my car needs a new distributor, and they canât get one till morning.â

Frank and Joe immediately urged Captain Early to stay overnight. Grateful but embarrassed, he accepted. Frank showed the captain to the first-floor guest room and laid out pajamas and bathrobe, while Joe wrote a note to his mother and aunt telling them about the unexpected overnight guest. He stuck it on the hall mirror.

Then the boys went upstairs to bed, leaving only a hallway light burning for their mother and Aunt Gertrude. Soon the household was dark and silent, except for the steady patter of the rain.

Some time later Frank awoke with a start. From below came confused sounds, topped by a shrill angry voice and punctuated by the sudden clash of china being broken. The latter noise roused Joe.

âGood night!â he muttered. âWhatâs going on?â

âThatâs Aunt Gertrudeâs voice!â Frank exclaimed. âCome on! Weâd better get down there!â

The boys dashed downstairs, almost colliding with their slim, attractive mother, who was on her way up.

âWhatâs wrong, Mom?â Joe cried out.

âG-g-goodness, I hardly know!â Mrs. Hardy stammered. âSomebody peeked out of our guest room as we entered the house, and Aunt Gertrude went after him.â

Gulping with dismay, Frank and Joe ran to the scene of combat.

âTake that, you scoundrel!â they heard Aunt Gertrude shriek. âIâll teach you to break into houses.â

Frank groped for the wall switch and instantly the guest room was ablaze with light. Captain Early was backing toward a closet, striving to protect himself, while the boysâ tall, angular maiden aunt poked at him with her wet umbrella.

âAunt Gertrude! Please!â Frank exclaimed. âThis is Captain Earlyâour guest!â

âOh, my goodness, it is!â said Aunt Gertrude, adjusting her spectacles. âWhy on earth didnât you say so?â

âMadam, Iâve been trying to,â the captain replied, slipping into his bathrobe.

He explained that when he had heard footsteps in the hall, he thought it might have been the intruder they had seen at the window.

âSo I peered out the door,â he said, âandâwham!â Then, to the relief of the Hardys, Captain Early burst into hearty laughter. Even the women had to chuckle at his predicament, and when Joe mentioned the note on the mirror, Miss Hardy confessed she had not seen it.

When the hilarity quieted down, the captain had tea with his hosts before retiring again.

The next morning at breakfast time, the doorbell rang in loud, persistent spurts.

âIâll get it,â said Frank, rising from the table and hurrying to the front door.

The caller was a large, burly man with iron-gray hair. âWhereâs Fenton Hardy?â he demanded roughly.

âMy fatherâs not home,â said Frank. âMay Iââ

âGet out of my way!â The man shoved him aside and started into the house.

Frank reacted angrily. âWait a minute!â he said, grabbing the manâs arm. âJust who are you and what do you want?â

The manâs jaw jutted. âYouâll find outâand mighty soon!â

The two might have come to blows, if the sounds of their altercation had not reached the dining room. Joe came hurrying to see what was wrong, the captain limping after him.

At sight of the Navy man, the visitor stopped short. His threatening snarl changed to a sullen scowl. For a moment there was dead silence, then the stranger muttered to Frank:

âYou tell Fenton Hardy that if Gus Bock ever finds him, heâs in for trouble!â

Without another word, the visitor turned and stalked out the door.

CHAPTER III

Mystery Map

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BOTH the Hardys and Captain Early were too taken aback to speak for a moment.

âWhat the dickens was that all about?â Joe said finally.

âThis man wanted to see Dad about something and got sore when I said he wasnât home.â Frank turned to the captain. âThe sight of you seemed to quiet him, sir. Do you know him?â

Captain Early shook his head slowly. âNo. He did look a bit familiar, but I canât seem to place himâWait a minute.â

Suddenly the Navy man snapped his fingers. âGus Bock! Of course! He was a bosân third on the last destroyer I commanded. Always did have an ugly temper. Had him up before the mast many times. Believe I heard later he was court-martialed for threatening an officer.â

âAny idea what heâs doing now?â asked Joe.

âHmm. Well, I know he put in for frogman trainingâhe and another young chap who served under me on the Svenson. And much later I heard he was working as a commercial diverâbut that was several years ago.â

âWonder what he has against Dad,â Joe mused.

âNothing serious, I hope,â said Captain Early. âThat fellowâs a bad customer.â

âDad can take care of himself,â Frank said confidently. âLetâs go finish our breakfast. Sorry for the interruption, Captain.â

Their aunt peered at the boys inquisitively as they returned to the table. When neither spoke, she said, âSounded like some troublemaker. Who was he?â

Frank and Joe assumed blank, innocent expressions. Although their aunt would never admit it, she secretly followed the Hardysâ mystery cases with avid interest, and both boys could see that she was consumed with curiosity over the caller.

âJust someone to see Dad,â Frank said casually.

âI assumed that. I asked who he was.â

âHe said his name was Gus Bock.â

Miss Hardy fixed Frank with a gimlet stare, then turned to Joe. The boysâ eyes were twinkling. Captain Early ahem-ed awkwardly.

âOh, very well. The matterâs of no real concern to me.â Gertrude Hardy sniffed. âBut if anything serious happens as a result of that fellowâs call, donât come to me later for advice or sympathy!â

The boys choked with laughter, and Frank hastened to explain all to his offended aunt. When he had finished, she commented, âHumph! So Bock is a diver. That probably means your father is on the trail of some sunken treasure, and Bock is trying to scare him off. This modern underwater craze is entirely too dangerous, anyhow. If Fenton is wise, heâll have nothing to do with the case.â

With a slight smile, the boysâ mother gently changed the subject. After breakfast Joe suggested to his brother that they check outside for footprints of the person they had seen in front of the window the night before. As they expected, however, the few faint traces had been all but obliterated by the rain.

âTough luck,â Frank said. âWell, at least the stormâs over and the sunâs out. Hey, here comes the mail!â

The postman was just ambling up the walk with his leather pouch. He greeted the boys with a cheery hello and handed over a sheaf of letters. Joe thumbed through them.

âAnything for me?â Frank asked.

âNo. Just ads, mostly, and business stuff for Dad.â Suddenly Joe stopped to stare at one envelope. âSay, hereâs a queer oneâLeapinâ lizards! Look at the senderâs name on this, Frank!â

The older boy examined the envelope. It was addressed to Fenton Hardy in crudely printed, red-inked letters. Far more startling was the senderâs name and address in the upper left-hand corner:

R. ROGERS
WHALEBONE ISLAND

âGood night!â Frank gasped. âThe same name as the pirate Captain Early told us about!â

âWhose ghost we saw at the window!â Joe added. âAnd donât forget, Dad wanted to know about the legend of Whalebone Island. This may tie in with the case heâs working on!â

âItâs postmarked Seaview,â Frank noted. âThatâs the town on the mainland right across from the island. Come on, Joe. Letâs try to raise Dad on the radio!â

The two hurried to their fatherâs study. By luck, they were able to make short-wave contact almost at once. Fenton Hardy listened to their account of the previous nightâs events and exclaimed when he heard of the letter.

âGo ahead and open it, boys! This should be interesting!â

Joe slit the envelope and pulled out a rumpled, stained piece of paper. Both boys gasped when they saw what was on it.

âItâs a map of Whalebone Island, Dad!â Joe reported. âNo writing, except for the labelâand a red X mark at one spot!â

âAny indication of what the mark stands for?â

âNot a hint. But if you want a guess, how about pirate treasure?â

âTake it easy, Joe,â Frank said. âFor all we know, this map may be a fakeâor somebodyâs idea of a practical joke.â

âCould be,â Mr. Hardy agreed, âbut I think it should be investigatedâpromptly. Tell me, were you two planning to go back with Captain Early to check his house for clues?â

âYes, Dad,â Joe said. âHeâs downstairs telephoning the garage to see when his carâll be ready.â

âAll right, hereâs a suggestion. You fellows cruise along the coast in the Sleuth, and then proceed on to Whalebone Island. Iâll meet you there this evening.â

âSwell! Youâve got a date, Dad!â

After signing off, the boys hurried downstairs to inform their mother. Captain Early was just hanging up the telephone.

âThey have the distributor and the car will be ready in half an hour,â he said.

âThatâs great,â Frank remarked. âJoe and I will drive you to the garage and then take our motorboat to your place. Weâre going to meet Dad later on Whalebone Island.â

The boys hastily packed some supplies and camping gear in the trunk of their convertible, amid a stream of advice and dire warnings of pirate peril from Aunt Gertrude. A short time later they drove off with Captain Early to the repair garage on the outskirts of Bayport.

âAh, thereâs my car! Must be all set,â said the captain, pointing to a blue sedan parked on the adjoining cinder lot.

After dropping their guest, the boys drove to the Bayport harbor. They parked and locked the convertible. Then, shouldering their camping equipment, they headed for the boathouse where the Sleuth was berthed.

As they neared the waterfront, a sleek, bright red motorboat came put-putting up to the pier.

âHey, thatâs the Napoli!â Joe exclaimed. âHi, Chet! Hi, Tony!â

Dumping their gear on the boardwalk for the moment, the Hardys hurried out to greet their two friends. Tony Prito, at the wheel of his craft, was an agile, dark-haired youth. His passenger, stowing away some tackle, was Chet Morton, chubby-faced and solidly built.

âHow was the fishing?â Frank called.

Tony turned thumbs down. âTerrible!â

âWe didnât catch a thing,â Chet added, climbing out on the dock. âAnd I had my mouth all set for some nice broiled bass for lunch, too!â

âPretty sad, pal.â Joe grinned and patted the stout boyâs midriff. âBut think of the pounds youâve saved!â

Before Chet could protest, Joe said, âLook! How would you fellows like to come with us on a search for pirate treasure?â

Tony swung eagerly up onto the pier. âYou kidding?â

âSee for yourself,â said Joe, taking out the map.

Chet stared at it, round-eyed. âWhalebone Island! Is this really on the level?â

âThe map came through the mail,â Frank explained. âWe donât know anything about it, but we want to find out.â

Tony, whose father owned a construction business, hesitated, then shook his head. âIâd sure like to come, but my dad needs me to drive the truck.â

âWell, Iâm game,â said Chet. âLetâs hear the whole story.â

âWeâll tell you on the way,â Joe promised.

Chet sped home to the Morton farmhouse in his jalopy to get some items of clothing and supplies. By the time he returned, the Hardys had fueled the Sleuth and were ready to shove off.

âOkay, now fill me in,â Chet demanded as they cruised out across the calm, blue waters of Barmet Bay.

Frank scratched his head and shot a glance at Joe. âWhere should we begin?â

âLetâs start with us seeing the Jolly Rogersâ ghost last night,â Joe suggested mischievously. âYou see, Chet, he haunts Whalebone Island.â

âH-h-haunts?â Chet paled a bit and he looked from Frank to Joe, hoping for signs of a joke. âI knew there was some catch to this. But go on.â

As the story unfolded, Chet gulped and grew more nervous. His enthusiasm for the expedition seemed to be fading fast.

âOh boy, this is just great,â he complained. âNot only a ghost, but probably crooks too, if this is connected with some case your fatherâs working on! Why is it that every time I get mixed up with you Hardys, I run smack intoââ

At that moment a familiar voice crackled from the speaker of the Sleuthâs short-wave marine radio. âAunt Gertrude calling Frank and Joe! You must come home at once!â

CHAPTER IV

Danger Signal

FRANK seized the microphone. âSleuth to Elm Street! Whatâs wrong, Aunt Gertrude?â He added with a sudden pang of fear, âHas anything happened to Mother?â

âTo Laura? Certainly not!â Miss Hardy snapped. âYour motherâs right here in the house with me. In fact, she was the one who found it.â

âFound what?â

âCaptain Earlyâs cane.â

âCaptain Earlyâs cane?â Frank repeated, mystified. âBut he took his cane with him.â

âHe took a cane with him,â Miss Hardy corrected. âYour fatherâs walking stick, to be exactâthe one Fenton had to use last month when he sprained his ankle.â

âYou mean the captain got them switched somehow?â

âOf course. What else would I mean? Your father slept in that room when he couldnât get up and down stairsâdonât you remember? His stick was hanging on the back of a chair in there. Itâs that rough, knobbly brown wood, so I suppose it was easy for the captain to confuse it with his own carved cane.â

âEspecially with all the excitement in there last night,â Frank muttered, grinning.

âWhat was that?â

âEr, nothing, Aunty.â

Joe gave his brother an exasperated look. âNuts! Do we have to go back, Frank? Weâll lose at least an hour.â

Frank thought for a moment. âNo, I guess not.â He spoke into the microphone. âAunt Gertrude âthe switch in canes isnât important if the captain himself didnât notice any difference. We can take the cane to him some time later or even send it.â

âHumph. Well, suit yourself. At least Iâve informed you of his mistake.â

The Sleuth cruised on out of Barmet Bay into the sweeping rollers of the Atlantic, then turned northward along the coast. It was nearing one oâclock when the boys finally sighted Captain Earlyâs snug white villa perched on a bluff, amid a grove of gigantic, silvery-green poplar trees.

At the foot of the bluff was a wooden dock, to which the captainâs motor cruiser was moored. As the boys brought the Sleuth alongside and tied up, the captain emerged from the villa and waved excitedly.

The trio scrambled onto the dock and hurried up the flight of stone steps which led from the beach to the villa.

Captain Early greeted the boys hastily and acknowledged the introduction to Chet with a quick handshake.

âBy the way,â Frank added, âwe had a radio call from Aunt Gertrude saying you left your cane at our house and tookââ

âYes, yes, Iâve already discovered my mistake,â Captain Early cut in. âBut something more important has happened. Please come inside!â

The boys stepped into the comfortably furnished front room and saw at a glance the reason for their hostâs disturbance. Books had been yanked from shelves, drawers pulled out of an antique writing table, and a painting plucked down to expose a small wall safeâthe door of which hung open.

âWow!â Joe gasped.

âAs you see, the place was ransacked,â said Captain Early. âThe study and my bedroom upstairs seem to have gotten an extra-thorough going-over.â

He led the boys to the various other rooms to show them the havoc.

âHave you taken inventory yet to see whatâs missing?â Frank asked.

âJust a hasty one. But thatâs whatâs so strangeâapparently the burglar took nothing.â

âWhat do you keep in the house that is of value?â Joe put in.

The captain gave a perplexed shrug. âCanât think of anything, really, except the silverâand that wasnât touched. Of course there are notes and manuscripts of books that Iâm working on. But theyâd hardly be of value to anyone except me.â

Frank said, âWhat about the safe?â

âJust personal papers, diaries, documentsâsuch as my willâand two insurance policies. I had the combination jotted down in a notebook in my desk.â

Joe, who had brought along the Hardysâ detective kit, looked at his brother. âLetâs try for some prints.â

The two young sleuths dusted a number of spots in several rooms, but the only fresh prints were found to belong either to Captain Early or to Mrs. Calhoun, his part-time maid who came in on Tuesdays and Fridays.

âIâd say itâs pretty obvious that the intruder wore gloves,â Frank concluded.

âWell, thanks anyhow for your efforts,â said the captain. âAt least the fellow didnât leave me any poorer.â

âThis may be locking the barn after the horse is stolen, sir,â said Frank, âbut it might be a good idea to install a burglar alarm, or at least get a watchdogâjust in case the intruder comes again.â

âHmm. Good suggestion.â Captain Early nodded. âMeantime, how about some lunch?â

Chet brightened immediately. âSure thing, sir, if you insist!â

The boys enjoyed plump lamb chops served by Mrs. Calhoun, and listened with keen interest to the captainâs exciting sea yarns.

âBy the way,â said Captain Early as he sat back and filled his pipe, âa rather odd thing happened this morning.â

âAfter we left you?â

âYes. On the way home, my car ran out of gas.â

Chet paused in polishing off the last morsels of lemon meringue pie. âThatâs happened to my jalopy three times. I found out my gas gauge was stuck.â

âWell, thereâs nothing wrong with my gauge,â said the captain. âThe needle showed empty. But it happens that I filled up yesterday, so there should have been quite a bit of gasoline still left in the tank.â

âSure your tank wasnât leaking?â Joe inquired.

âPositive. I checked that later.â

The Hardys exchanged puzzled glances. Their father had taught them to disregard no possible clue, however slight, when working on a mystery.

âWhat happened, sir?â said Frank. âI mean after you ran out of gas.â

âOh, no trouble, luckily. I was picked up almost immediately by a motorist who gave me a lift to the next gas station. Then one of the station hands drove me back in a tow truck with a can of gas.â

Frankâs forehead creased thoughtfully. âIf the garage mechanic parked your car on the outside lot overnight, someone could have drained most of the gas.â

âWhy should anyone do that?â

âI donât know. But it might have been done to give someone a chance to get at your car after you stalled and left it parked along the highway.â

Joe objected. âThat doesnât add up. If someone was able to drain the tank during the night, he could have got at the car right then and there.â

âMaybe he did, but couldnât find what he was after,â Frank argued. âCaptain, when you went for gas, did you leave anything in the car that wasnât in it last night?â

Captain Early shook his head. âNo, nor can I think of anything valuable that Iâd be likely to leave in the car at any time.â

Another mysteryâand again the Hardy boys had to confess they were baffled. However, Frank and Joe promised to continue work on the case after they returned from Whalebone Island.

Captain Early stumped down the stone stairs to the dock with the three Bayporters and waved good-by as the Sleuth headed on up the coast.

It was late in the afternoon when they finally reached the town of Seaview. The boys put in to a commercial dock to replenish their fuel, then turned seaward toward Whalebone Island, which lay about twenty miles offshore.

Dusk settled over the ocean and a few stars came out.

Presently the vague mass of Whalebone Island loomed ahead through the darkness. The tower of its old stone lighthouse stood out against the velvety purple sky.

âWhere do we land?â Chet inquired.

âDad said thereâs a little natural cove or harbor around on the southern side,â Joe replied. âHeâs going to meet us there on the beach.â

Suddenly a red glow flashed from the lighthouse tower. It disappearedâto be followed by two shorter blinks, then others. The boys were startled.

âThatâs no ordinary light!â said Chet. âRed means danger!â

âItâs a code signal,â Frank murmured. He spelled out the letters of the message as they were flashed in Morse blinker:

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D-A-N G-E R! K-E-E-P A-W-A-Y H-A-R-D-Y-S!

GHAPTER V

The Golden Pharaoh

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AWESTRUCK by the weird red-light signals, the boys sat hunched in their seats as the Sleuth plowed onward through the darkness toward Whalebone Island. Joe was the first to break their stunned silence.

âI donât get it. Was that meant as a warning for us to stay away from the islandâor an order to someone to keep us away?â

âWhatâs the difference?â moaned Chet. âEither way, weâre asking for trouble if we go ahead and land at that spooky place!â

Joeâwho knew his friendâs sterling qualities could be depended upon in a tight spotâreached out and gave Chet a reassuring whack. âRelax, Strongheart!â Joe chuckled. âA spook wouldnât stand a chance against a beefy bruiser like you!â

âOh, no? Well, I still vote we head back to the mainland.â

âTake it easy,â Frank said soothingly. âRemember, Dad will be on the island to meet us.â

The Hardys knew, from the mystery map and their chart, that Whalebone Island was shaped like a crescent. It curved from southwest to northeast, with the outward bulge to the north. Frank steered for the southern horn of the crescent. As the splash of breakers told him they were nearing land, he cut the engine and allowed the Sleuth to drift the rest of the way to shore.

An eerie silence lay over the island. It was broken only by the faint sighing of the night breeze and the sounds of the surf. When they had reached the shallows, Joe kicked off his sneakers and climbed over the side to help beach the boat among some reeds.

When they were safely ashore, Chet said, âNow what?â

âWeâll cut across the tip of the island to the cove,â Frank said, âand meet Dad.â

The boys made their way over a ridge of dunes, topped by scrub. On the other side lay the inward curve of the crescent, indented by a sheltered cove near the center. A small blaze flickered on the beach.

âDadâs campfire!â Joe exclaimed.

The boys hurried along the shore, but as they came closer, they could see no one at the fire. Vaguely alarmed, they broke into a sprint, forgetting all caution.

Reaching the campfire, they saw that a stoutly built boat with an outboard motor had been drawn up on the sand. Near the fire lay a sleeping bag, supplies, cooking utensils, and a short-wave transceiver.

âThatâs Dadâs radio!â said Frank.

The boys stared about through the darkness. If Mr. Hardy was concealed among the scattered trees and brush, he gave no sign of his presence. Joe gave the Hardysâ special whistle, and repeated it several times, but there was no reply.

âHey! Mavbe he saw those signals and went to the lighthouse to investigate,â Joe said in a hushed voice.

âPerhaps he sent the signals himself to warn us away,â Chet conjectured.

âCould be,â said Frank. âWeâd better go there and take a look.â

The brothers had brought powerful flashlights, but used them as little as possible in making their way across the island. The terrain was humped with low hills, fringed with patches of stunted oak and pine. At the northern horn of the crescent, the land rose to a rocky eminence topped by the Whalebone Light.

Cautiously the trio approached the forbidding stone tower, trying to keep their feet from scrunching on the grit and gravel. Frank tried the door, then pushed it open. Something blocked it partwayâan obstruction that yielded slightly as he shoved harder.

Frank inserted his head and right shoulder into the opening and switched on his flashlight. âDad!â he cried out.

Joe squeezed in behind his brother, and Chet followed. The beam of Frankâs flashlight revealed the figure of Mr. Hardy sprawled on the concrete floor. A thin trickle of red from his scalp had clotted across the left temple.

âSomebody knocked him out!â Frank said worriedly.

The three squatted down anxiously and Frank checked his fatherâs pulse. It was beating strongly. Joe hurried outside, scrambled down to the waterâs edge, and returned a few moments later with his handkerchief soaked with cold brine. After the boys had applied it to their fatherâs forehead and chafed his wrists, Mr. Hardy began to revive.

âJoeâFrankâHi, Chet.â The detective gave them a rueful smile, then slowly raised himself to a sitting position.

âWhat happened, Dad?â asked Frank.

Mr. Hardy frowned and rubbed his hand over his eyes. âLet me seeâOh, yes, those red-light signals from the tower here.â

âWe saw âem too!â declared Chet.

âSomebody knocked out Dad!â Frank said worriedly

âSo did Iâfrom my campsite on the other side of the island,â Mr. Hardy went on slowly. âI came over to investigate, entered this doorway, andâwham!â

âHow do you feel now?â Joe inquired.

âNot too bad, except for this throbbing lump. Lucky for me I have a thick skull.â

The boys helped Fenton Hardy to his feet, then began a search of the tower. They checked every floor, up to the lantern room, but the assailant had vanished. Warily, the detective and the three youths tramped back across the island to his camp on the cove.

The fire had long since burned down to glowing embers. After it had been replenished with drift-wood and dry brush, Frank showed his father the cablegram from Egypt and the map which had been sent through the mail by âR. Rogers.â

âWhatâs this Pharaohâs head youâre supposed to beware of, Dad?â asked Joe.

âItâs a solid gold bust of the Egyptian Pharaoh, or Emperor, Rhamaton IVâvalued at one million dollars.â

Chet let out an awed whistle. âA million bucks! Wow! Where is this head, Mr. Hardy?â

âA good question, Chet,â the detective replied wryly. âIâd better start at the beginning. About two weeks ago, a freighter named the Katawa sank off the coast. Maybe you fellows recall hearing about it in the news. Several of the crew, including the purser, drowned.â

âIt was rammed in a fog by some cruise liner, wasnât it?â said Frank.

âThatâs rightâby the Carona. Well, the spot where the freighter went down is just a couple of miles north of Whalebone Island.â

Mr. Hardy explained that the Katawa had been carrying not only cargo, but also a dozen passengersâone of them a foreign art dealer named Zufar, who had boarded the ship at Beirut in the Middle East.

âZufar was bringing the golden Pharaohâs head with him,â the detective continued, âto sell to a customer in New York. And the head was allegedly in the shipâs strong room when the Katawa sank. Zufar has lodged a claim with Transmarine Underwriters, the lineâs insurance company, for a million dollars.â

âThe news stories on the sinking never mentioned the Pharaohâs head, did they?â Joe asked.

âNo. As a security precaution, Zufar had purposely avoided any publicity about the treasure, and since the sinking, the line has also tried to keep the matter out of the news for the same reason.â

âYou said the head was allegedly in the shipâs strong room,â said Frank. âIs there some doubt about it?â

âThatâs where the mystery comes in, and thatâs why Transmarine has engaged me to investigate the case,â Mr. Hardy replied. âTheyâve been tipped off that a gold head of Rhamaton IV is secretly being offered for sale.â

âWas the tip on the level?â Joe asked.

âSo far we donât know. Iâve been checking it out, but may not know the answer until divers get at the Katawaâs strong room. Meantime, the tip brings up a number of interesting possibilities.â

âRight,â Frank said. âThe head being offered for sale might be a fake. Either that, or the one that went down with the Katawa was a phony.â

Mr. Hardy smiled at the rapid-fire deductions, as Joe added, âMaybe the treasure already has been salvaged from the sunken hulk.â

Chet joined in. âHey! The head might not have been on the ship at all!â

âExactly,â said Mr. Hardy. âIt may have been filched from the Katawa back in Beirutâor even in Le Havre, France, where she stopped before the crossing to New York.â

Frank grinned and inquired, âHow come you were so interested in the legend of Whalebone Island, Dad?â

âBecause I have a feeling it may tie in with this case.â Fenton Hardy stirred up the fire, adding, âBefore we do any more talking, letâs have another look at that map.â

Joe handed him the paper.

âHmm. The X mark appears to lie between two hills directly back of this cove,â said the detective.

Frank bent close to peer at the map. âAnd these trees form a sort of arrowhead triangle pointing right at the spot.â

Mr. Hardy rubbed his jaw. âIâm wondering if we should investigate now or wait until morning. Iâd feel a lot better knowing who knocked me out âand just where heâs lurking.â

âIf you ask me, thatâs a good reason for checking out the X mark right now,â said Joe. âSuppose something valuable is stashed there, Dad. The person who conked you may be after itâand he might just snatch it during the night.â

âYou have a point there, son,â the detective conceded. âVery well. If youâre all willing, letâs go look.â

Dousing their campfire, the group headed inland. Beyond the screen of trees sheltering the cove, the ground rose slightly, then flattened again amid a tangle of brush that made their going difficult in the darkness.

Presently Frank halted and touched his fatherâs arm. âLook! Those must be the three trees, Dad!â

His beam, moving back and forth, showed three scrubby trees, positioned like the points of a triangle.

Mr. Hardy nodded. âNo doubt about it. Those humps on the skyline up ahead are two shallow hills.â

The four advanced cautiously past the trees. In a few moments they came to the brink of a steep ravine, cupped between the hills.

They began clambering down the slope into the gully. Joe shifted his flashlight to his left hand in order to seize hold of some underbrush and steady his descent. As the yellow beam veered toward the left bank of the ravine, he let out a sudden startled yell.

âLook! Thereâs somebody!â.

The others turned hastily, but the figure had darted out of sight.

âWhere did he go?â Mr. Hardy asked.

âAmong that shrubbery. I didnât get a good look, but heââ

Joeâs words were drowned out by a terrific blast! The left wall of the ravine exploded with a shattering force!

CHAPTER VI

A Madmanâs Scrawl

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THE blast knocked the sleuths flat against the bank of the ravine as fragments of rock and earth showered down upon them.

âAre you all right, boys?â gasped Fenton Hardy.

Three voices reassured him. Frank lay on his flashlight, and when he pulled it free, the beam still shone. Joeâs light had been buried somewhere in the debris.

âWhew!â Chet gulped as he struggled upright. âFeels like I just got creamed by a whole football line!â

âLetâs get out of here,â Mr. Hardy said.

Shaking the dust from their clothes, the four clambered back up to level ground. Frank turned and shone his beam down into the ravine, the bottom of which was heaped with rubble.

âThat fellow you saw, Joeâwhat did he look like?â

âI hardly had time to see his face at all,â Joe replied, âbut two things I did notice wereâa red beard and a black cloak!â

Chet groaned. âThe Jolly Roger ghost again!â

âI doubt if ghosts are capable of planting explosives,â Mr. Hardy said dryly. âIt was probably the same person who hit me.â

âThink we should try to hunt him down, Dad?â asked Frank, aiming his flashlight beam toward the brush-covered hillside left of the ravine.

âNo. We wouldnât stand a chance of finding him in this darkness. Worse yet, weâd make easy targets. Better switch your light off, son.â

âFor that matter, weâd be sitting ducks around a campfire,â Joe reasoned.

âTrue enoughâwhich is why weâre not going to risk it,â said Mr. Hardy. âOur safest bet is to hole up in the lighthouse until morning. After that, we can decide our next move.â

Under cover of the darkness, the group made their way slowly northeast toward the Whalebone Lighthouse, using the dim outline of the tower as a direction guide.

Not until they reached the lighthouse did Joe realize that one of their party was missing.

âHey! Whereâs Chet?â he exclaimed, wheeling about.

All three Hardys peered back anxiously the way they had come. The glow of the misty half-moon, low in the sky, revealed no sign of Chet.

They exchanged glances of dismay. Had somebody bushwhacked Chet?

âJoe and Iâll go back and find him,â Frank said.

âNot without me,â their father replied.

Stealthy as Indians the trio began to retrace their steps. Frank and Joe moved along cautiously at their fatherâs sideâsick with fear that at any moment they might discover their palâs motionless body.

They had just reached a dense thicket of shrubbery near the ravine when a crackling noise caused them to halt abruptly.

âHit the ground!â Mr. Hardy murmured. Silently the three sleuths flattened themselves in the brush.

The noise came closer and the form of a man materialized out of the gloom. Without hesitation, Joe hurled himself through the darkness. There was a grunt of impact, and as he butted against solid flesh, Joe felt a heavy stick swish past his ear and whack him hard on the shoulder. He went down in a tangle of arms and legs just as Frank snapped on a flashlight.

âHey, whatâs the big Idea! You guys trying to ambush me or something?â

âChet!â Frank gasped.

Grinning ruefully, Joe got up while Frank helped Chet to his feet. Mr. Hardy was already retrieving several cans, a squashed loaf of bread, and other supplies which lay scattered over the ground.

âWhere the dickens have you been, Chet?âas if we couldnât guess,â Frank said.

âAnd whatâs the idea of trying to brain me with that stick?â Joe added.

âYou think Iâd be dopey enough to let that red-whiskered nut jump me, without being set for him?â Chet retorted.

Mr. Hardy found it difficult to restrain a smile. âGood for you, Chetâbut you did have us pretty badly worried, disappearing like that without a word of explanation.â

Chet gulped. âI was afraid you wouldnât let me if I asked to go back for grub. Butâwell, gosh, how could we get through the whole night without something to eat? I havenât had a thing since lunch.â

Joe chuckled. âYou put away enough lamb chops at Captain Earlyâs to hold you for a week!â

âOh, yeah? I only had four of those little bitty things.â

âAll the same,â said Mr. Hardy, putting on a straight face, âit was a foolish risk going back to the campfire after what happened.â

âOh, I didnât go back there,â Chet explained. âI got this stuff off the Sleuth.â

âOkay, I guess we can all use some food,â Frank said. âNow letâs make tracks for the lighthouse.â

Although the Whalebone Light had been abandoned years before, the keeperâs living quarters still contained various furnishingsâa battered table and chairs, a cast-iron stove, and a glass-chimneyed kerosene lamp. The storeroom below contained two rusty lanterns and several tins of oil and kerosene, evidently left behind for the use of stranded fishermen.

With the tower door securely barred behind them, the group soon cooked a tasty supper and fell to with keen appetites. Afterward, they sat around the table talking.

âCan you tell us more, Dad, of why you were interested in the legend of Whalebone Island?â said Frank.

âA good detective,â Mr. Hardy replied, âshould always be concerned when something odd happens at or near the scene of a case heâs investigating.â

âYou mean, something strange went on here before tonight?â Joe asked.

âYes. Several days ago I saw an item in the newspaper about a fisherman whoâd reported being scared out of his wits by the ghost of Whalebone Island when he put in one evening.â

Frank said, âSo you suspected that something funny might be going on here.â

âExactly. It seemed far more likely that the so-called âghostâ might be someone who was using the circumstances of the legend as a cover-up for some secret activityâand also, of course, to scare people away from the island.â

âWhat kind of secret stuff?â Chet asked.

âSomebody might be using the island as a base for diving operations to the Katawa.â

âWhich would explain why the golden Pharaohâs head was secretly being offered for sale!â Joe declared.

âNot only that,â said Mr. Hardy. âThe Katawaâs hulk is vitally important for another reason. You see, thereâs a fortune in lawsuits at stake over the losses and injuries suffered in the collision, particularly claims being brought by relatives of those who lost their lives.â

âBut how does that make the sunken hulk so important?â Joe questioned.

âThe Katawaâs master claims his ship was stopped dead in the water after they picked up an approaching vessel on radar. If heâs right, Transmarine is free and clear of responsibility. But the captain of the Carona alleges that the Katawa was proceeding at full speed in spite of the fogâin which case Transmarine could be liable for several million dollars in damages, not even counting the loss of the gold Pharaohâs head.â

âAnd the answer lies aboard the sunken freighter?â put in Frank.

âRightâwith the engine-room telegraph and tachometer,â Mr. Hardy answered. âIf the telegraph shows âStopâ and the tachometer reads âZero,â the Katawa was not at fault. If they indicate full speed ahead, itâs a different storyâa difference worth several million dollars.â

Joe gave a low whistle. âSome difference!â

Suddenly Frank snapped his fingers. âThat mention of diving reminds me, Dadâin all the excitement about the pirate map, we clean forgot to tell you about the visitor you had this morning!â He quickly described Gus Bockâs appearance at the Hardy home and the threat which the diver had uttered before leaving.

Mr. Hardy took the news calmly. âI think I have the answer to that.â He explained that Transmarine Underwriters had asked him to run a security check on several competing diving companies before letting the contract to salvage the Katawa.

âGus Bock,â the sleuth went on, âis chief diver for an outfit called the Simon Salvage Company. They tried hard to get the contract, even put in a ridiculously low bid. But the company has a shady reputation. Theyâve been involved in outright fights and several other unsavory incidents on salvage jobs, so I advised against them.â

Instead, Mr. Hardy told the boys, he had recommended that the contract go to the Crux Diving Company. As a result, Gus Bock was no doubt out for revenge.

âHow about what happened tonight?â Chet said, looking around the table uneasily. âDo you think Bock or Simon Salvage was behind that explosion in the ravine?â

âItâs a cinch the map was just bait to lure us there,â Joe declared.

âI agree,â said Fenton Hardy. âThe real question is who sent itâand who has been posing as Red Rogersâ ghost.â

âWhatâs our next move, Dad?â Frank asked.

âCome daylight, weâll search the island for clues to the person who tried to kill us. After that, weâd all better return to the mainland. I have to get back to work with Sam Radley, tracing that tip on the Pharaohâs head.â

Next morning, while Chet Morton and Mr. Hardy were preparing breakfast, Frank and Joe started up the winding stairway of the tower to check the lamp room for possible traces of the person who had sent the red warning signals.

As they neared the top, Frank suddenly halted and pointed to the wall. âTake a look at that, Joe!â

A messageâfaded and almost illegibleâhad been scrawled in pencil on the whitewashed surface of the stone. It said:

Iâve seen Rogers again. No mistake this time. Heâs come back and heâs trying to drive me out of my mind. Heaven help me!

R. H. Tang 4/17/45

CHAPTER VII

The Midnight Wrecker

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âTANG!â Joe gasped. âThe lighthouse keeper who went out of his mind!â

âI wonder,â Frank said slowly, âif he was suffering from hallucinations.â

Joe stared at his brother. âAre you implying that Tang wasnât crazy?â

âSuppose we told a doctor weâd seen the Jolly Roger ghostâa red-bearded spook in a black cloak. And not just here on Whalebone Island, but even back in Bayport. Would he call us crazy?â

âThe explosion last night wasnât our imagination!â Joe said flatly.

âMaybe. But that wouldnât prove we had or hadnât seen a ghost.â

âStill,â Joe persisted, âTang must have been examined before he could be declared insane.â

âTrue, but the question is what really drove him out of his mind?â Frank argued. âSuppose you or I were cooped up in this tower alone for weeks and months, not another soul on the island âso far as we knew. Yet every time we went for a walk to stretch our legs, that spook kept popping out at usâespecially at night. Maybe even inside the lighthouse. Iâll bet weâd be flipping our wigs too before long!â

Joe frowned reflectively, then blurted out, âBut, good night, Frank! All that was years ago. The person Tang saw couldnât have been the same one we sawââ

As Joeâs voice trailed off, Frank gave a wry chuckle. âYou meanâor could it? Thatâs the same question Iâm asking myself.â

The lamp room had been empty ever since the Whalebone Light was taken out of service. The boys inspected it thoroughly, but found no clues to the signaler.

âHe must have used an ordinary bullâs-eye lantern. Letâs try the outside platform and see ifââ Joe broke off with a gasp. âHey, Frank!â

âWhatâs the matter?â

âLook thereâout to sea!â

Lying off the southern shore of the island was a small steamer. Larger than a tug, it was equipped with cargo booms.

The two boys dashed to the floor below and outside to the railed platform around the light tower.

âItâs not under way,â Joe observed. âWhat do you think itâs doing out there?â

âCould be a fishing vessel,â Frank said doubtfully, âbut it sure doesnât look like one. Letâs get Dad.â

On hearing the news, Mr. Hardy and Chet hurried topside. The detective broke out his powerful binoculars and focused on the mysterious vessel.

âItâs a salvage ship!â Mr. Hardy said tensely. âIt belongs to the Simon Salvage Company.â

âGus Bockâs outfit!â exclaimed Joe.

Mr. Hardy passed the binoculars to the boys. Each of the three in turn examined the vessel. The name at its stern read:

SIMON SALVOR
NEW YORK

On deck, a diver had apparently just suited up. Helpers were closing the glass ports of his helmet and checking the air hose and telephone cable. As Frank watched, the diver strode to the side of the ship and climbed down a ladder into the water.

âThat must be Bock himself,â Frank muttered. âBut whatâs he diving for there, Dad? You said the Katawa went down north of the island, didnât you?â

Mr. Hardy frowned. âThatâs right. And I canât figure Simon Salvage engaging in a diving operation just for the fun of it.â

âI wonder when the ship arrived,â Joe mused, âWe didnât see it last night.â

âMaybe it was on the other side of the island,â put in Chet. Suddenly a look of comprehension crossed his face. âOhâoh! You think maybe somebody off that ship was the dynamiter last night?â

âSure, and also the one who flashed those red signals,â Joe replied.

âItâs possible, all right,â Mr. Hardy agreed.

âDad, I have an idea!â Frank exclaimed.

âLetâs hear it, son.â

âWhen you go back to the mainland, why donât we three stay on the island? We can watch the Simon Salvor and maybe find out what itâs up toâand also keep a lookout for the âghostâ!â

Mr. Hardy looked troubled. He shook his head. âThat would be dangerous, Frank. Thereâs no telling what might happen with a possible killer at large.â

Frank and Joe pleaded earnestly. Mr. Hardy finally promised to wait until they searched the island before making a final decision.

After breakfast they scoured the Whalebone crescent from tip to tip, but the ghostly dynamiter had apparently slipped away during the night. The detective was now half inclined to let the boys stay.

When they approached the cove campsite at the end of their search, Fenton Hardy stopped short and blanched.

âMy campâs been ransacked!â

The four rushed forward. Scattered across the sand were the smashed fragments of what had been his transceiver.

âWhoââ Joe began, appalled. The sleeping bag was burned to a charred crisp. All food supplies were violently trampled.

The detectiveâs boat, too, seemed to be gone. But suddenly Frankâs sharp eyes spotted the craft.

âThere it is!â he said, pointing offshore.

The boat lay bottom-up in a few feet of water, a gaping hole in its hull!

Fenton Hardyâs jaw tightened grimly. âThat settles it,â he said. âYou boys are not staying on the island. Weâre going back in the Sleuth togetherâif our ghost hasnât wrecked that, too.â

Anxiously they trekked back to the southern tip of the island. All four heaved sighs of relief when they found the sleek motorboat still safely hidden among the reeds.

Before leaving, they cruised back to the cove to salvage the outboard motor from Mr. Hardyâs stove-in craft. Chet, using the binoculars, saw a man on the bridge of the Simon Salvor watching them intently through a telescope.

Later, as the Sleuth put-putted out of the cove, the Salvor moved away from shore. âNot taking any chances on us coming out to snoop,â Joe observed.

The Bayporters headed to the mainland at a fast clip.

Ashore, Mr. Hardy reported the loss of his rented craft to the boat livery and returned the water-logged outboard engine.

The owner took the news philosophically. âDonât matter too muchâshe was insured,â he said. âHave to hold your deposit, though, till I settle with the insurance company.â

The detective nodded, then asked, âBy the way, you wouldnât happen to know if any boat put in here during the nightâor maybe early this morning?â

âYou figure that mighta been the party who scuttled your boat?â The liveryman squinted shrewdly at Mr. Hardy. âSo happens I did hear oâ one cominâ back last night. Try Lawsonâs Livery down the wharf a waysâitâs the only other boat rental place in town.â

Mr. Hardy thanked him, then strode along the wharf with the three boys. At the other boat livery, the investigator repeated his question to the proprietor, Eli Lawson.

âSure, there was a boat come in,â Lawson said grumpily. âMustâve been sometime between midnight and four oâclock. It was a boat thatâd been stolen from me the night before.â

âStolen!â Mr. Hardy exclaimed.

Frank and Joe looked at each other excitedly. More than likely, the boat thief had been the island ghost!

âHow come youâre so interested?â Lawson asked the detective.

Mr. Hardy told briefly how his rented boat had been sabotaged on Whalebone Island, but said nothing about the rest of the nightâs events.

âSay! By any chance, is your name Fenton Hardy?â the proprietor inquired.

âThatâs right. Why?â

Lawson went into the boathouse and emerged a moment later holding a soiled envelope. âWhen I found the boat this morninâ, this was lyinâ on one oâ the seats.â

The envelope bore the name âFenton Hardyâ lettered in pencil. The detective opened it and took out the enclosed note. His face hardened as he read. Then he handed the message to the boys. It said:

Keep away from Whalebone Island. Next
time you wonât escape.

Instead of a signature there was the crude drawing of an Egyptian-looking head surmounted by a Pharaohâs headdress.

âThe Pharaohâs head!â Chet gulped.

Frank and Joe silenced him with warning looks, and Mr. Hardy thanked the liveryman. The four walked away under Lawsonâs inquisitive gaze.

âIs that what the golden head of Rhamaton looks like, Dad?â Frank inquired when they were out of earshot.

âYes, almost exactly. Iâve seen a photograph of it.â

The boys accompanied Mr. Hardy to the parking lot where he had left his car overnight. It was decided that Frank and Joe would return to Bayport with Chet and wait for the arrival of Sam Radley.

âIâll send Sam back from Philadelphia as soon as I can spare him,â the investigator promised. âThen he can go to Whalebone Island with you.â

âRight, Dad!â

Mr. Hardy climbed into his car and sped off in the direction of the turnpike. Frank, Joe, and Chet embarked in the Sleuth and were soon cruising down the coast toward Barmet Bay.

It was late in the day when the Hardy boys arrived home. Aunt Gertrudeâs face was anxious as she greeted them.

âWell! Thank goodness youâre home at last! Why didnât you answer my radio call last night?â

âSorry, Aunty,â Frank apologized. âWe were away from the Sleuth most of the time.â

âAnything wrong?â Joe asked.

âIndeed there was! Someone tried to break into the house!â

CHAPTER VIII

Egyptian Fake

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Art attempted break-in while they were gone! Startled, Frank and Joe wondered what the thief had been after.

âTell us about it, Aunt Gertrude!â Frank said.

âWell, to begin with, I was all alone in the houseââ

âAlone! What about Mother?â Joe broke in.

âShe was called away yesterday afternoon,â Miss Hardy explained, âto stay with a sick friend over in Bartonsville, Mrs. Filer. Gloria Filer, that isâLauraâs old schoolmate. Well, I was sound asleep and suddenly the burglar alarm went off full blast!â

The boysâ aunt shuddered at the recollection. âHeavens! It must have wakened the whole neighborhoodâthat shrill racket and all the floodlights blazing on!â

âDid you get a look at whoever touched it off?â Frank asked.

âNo, I rushed to stick my head out the window, but the rascal was nowhere in sight. Probably ran off the instant the lights went on.â

Miss Hardy eyed her nephews severely. âI tried at once to contact you two or Fenton on the radio, but got no answer.â

âWe were holed up in a lighthouse with a spook after us,â Joe explained.

âHumph.â His aunt gave him a suspicious glare through her spectacles. âBe that as it may, I was here aloneâhelpless. I might have been murdered in my sleep!â

The boys managed to mollify her by complimenting her on her courage and presence of mind.

âDid you call the police, Aunty?â Frank asked.

âNaturally. But they found no footprints, no clues of any kind.â

Suddenly she again looked annoyed. âWhich reminds me. The curator called from the new Howard Museum.â

âMr. Scath?â said Frank, immediately interested. âWhat did he want?â

âWouldnât tell me. Just asked to speak to Fenton or one of you.â Miss Hardy sniffed. âI suppose he thought not being in the detective business I wasnât bright enough to take a message.â

âI doubt that, Aunt Gertrude.â Grinning, Frank went to the phone and called the Howard Museum. In a few moments he reached Mr. Scath.

âGlad you called, Frank,â the curator said. âSomething rather odd has come up. Since your father serves as our security adviser, I thought Iâd better pass the word along.â

âWhatâs it about, sir?â

Mr. Scath explained that he had received a telephone call just before lunch. âThe man wouldnât give his name, but he warned me that someone might contact the museum soon and try to sell me a fake Egyptian art object.â

Frankâs eyebrows shot up. âDid he say who this phony was, or what the object would be?â

âNo hint at all. In fact, he hung up before I could ask any questions.â

âThanks for letting us know, Mr. Scath,â said Frank. âDadâs out of town right now, but that tip could be very important. If any such art faker does show up, Iâd appreciate it if youâd let us know right away.â

âIâll certainly do that.â

After completing the call, Frank told his brother the news.

âWow! A fake Egyptian art object!â Joe exclaimed. âIt could be an imitation of the Pharaohâs head Dadâs looking for.â

âJust what I was thinking,â Frank said.

The Hardy boys decided to sleep downstairs, in case the unknown prowler might make another attempt to break into the house. But the night passed without incident.

The next morning the two boys decided to go to the beach for a swim.

âLetâs stop off at Chetâs and see if he wants to come,â Joe suggested.

Under a blaze of dazzling sunshine they started off in their convertible. Presently they turned up a dirt lane that led to the Morton farmhouse, just outside of Bayport. Two girls were seated on the front porch.

Iola, Chetâs pixie-faced, dark-haired sister, was Joeâs favorite date. She hopped up from the porch swing to greet the visitors. âHi, you two ghost hunters!â

Her friend, Callie Shaw, a pretty brown-eyed blond girl, chimed in, âWhatâs the latest on the Whalebone spook?â

âLast we heard, he needed a shave,â said Frank, climbing out of the car and smiling at Callie, whom he liked very much.

âWhereâs Strongheart?â Joe asked.

At that moment Chet burst out through the screen door, munching on a large Danish pastry.

âSomebody call me? Oh, hi, fellows!â

âWhatâs thatâbreakfast or lunch?â Frank asked with a grin.

Iola laughed. âWith Chet, thereâs no hard and fast distinction.â

âAw, cut it out,â the chubby youth said good-naturedly. âIâm just finishing breakfast.â He added to the Hardys, âSlept late, thatâs all. Who wouldnât after that rugged expedition you guys roped me into!â

âOkay, youâre excused,â Frank said. âBut get your trunks. Weâre going to the beach.â

âYou girls like to come?â Joe asked casually.

âWeâd love to, but how can we?â said Callie. âWe have to put our hair up for the party.â

âWhat party?â Frank asked.

âWhat party! This afternoon, at Biff Hooperâs. Donât tell me you forgot!â

The Hardys exchanged blank looks, then recalled Biffâs word-of-mouth invitation during a sandlot baseball game last Monday afternoon.

The Hoopers were leaving Friday on a two-week vacation trip to California, so Biff had decided to have a going-away party on Thursday. The affair was to be an early barbecue supper, since he and his parents had to pack and prepare for a seven-oâclock take-off the next morning.

âI guess we did forget,â Joe admitted. âWeâve been sort of busy.â

âSure, sure, we know,â Iola said, dimpling. âIncidentally, Biff told us yesterday he has a surprise announcement to make at the party.â

âAnnouncement about what?â

Iola threw up her hands. âDonât ask us. It all sounded very mysterious. Maybe he was just trying to whet our curiosity.â

âJust as long as he doesnât whet Chetâs appetite,â Joe needled.

Everyone laughed and Chet went back into the house to get his swim trunks.

The Hardys could hear the sound of a telephone ringing. A few moments later, as they were chatting with the girls, Mrs. Morton put her head out the back door.

âFrank and Joeââ

âYes, Mrs. Morton?â

âYour aunt just phoned. She asked me to tell you that Mr. Scath from the museum called again âsome man is on his way to the house to see you.â

The boys jumped to their feet. âDid Aunt Gertrude say who he was?â Frank asked.

âNo, but I guess it must be urgent. She advised you both to come home at once.â

As they were thanking Chetâs mother for the information, Chet returned, holding a rolled towel under one arm. âWhatâs the matter?â he inquired plaintively. âIs the swim off?â

âMaybe not,â said Frank. âCome on back to the house with us. We can whip over to the beach as soon as Joe and I talk to this visitor, whoever he is.â

The three boys climbed into the convertible and sped back to the Hardy home at High and Elm streets, where they hurried into the kitchen.

âWhatâs up, Aunty?â Joe inquired. âDid Mr. Scath tell you whoâs coming to see usâor why?â

Miss Hardy looked up from the pie dough she was rolling and pursed her lips. âHe didnât, and Iâm sure I have no idea of the reason for his visit, since none of you has seen fit to take me into your confidence about this mystery.â

The boysâ grins faded as the front doorbell rang. Frank and Joe hurried to answer it.

The caller was a fat, balding, dark-complex-ioned man in a white silk suit. âIs this the Hardy residence?â he asked.

âYes. Please come in,â Frank said.

The man stepped inside and handed the boys an ornate visiting card, which read:

Mehmet Zufar
Dealer in Middle Eastern
Antiquities and Objets dâArt

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Cairo, Egypt

Frank and Joe glanced at the card, then looked at each other excitedly. Their visitor was the owner of the golden Pharaohâs head!

CHAPTER IX

The Shattered Cat

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âI SHOULD like to see Mr. Fenton Hardy, the detective,â said the stout visitor.

Joe found himself staring with fascination at the manâs tiny black mustache, which twirled upward at each end.

âOur fatherâs out of town just now, working on a case,â Frank explained. âIf youâll have a chair and tell us why you came, perhaps we can help.â

Mehmet Zufar glared irritably, but nonetheless seated himself in the living room. Plucking out a handkerchief, he dabbed the beads of perspiration from his large forehead.

âMy dear young man,â Zufar snapped, âFenton Hardy was recommended to me as the ablest private investigator in America. In fact, I was referred to him on a matter of the utmost importance by Mr. Scath, the museum curator. I did not come to deal with boys!â

Frank said evenly, âI just thought we might help.â

âIf youâll tell us what you want,â Joe put in, âweâll inform Dad as soon as we can get in touch with him.â

Zufar glared for a moment, then said abruptly, âMy card, please!â

The art dealer fished a gold pencil from an inside pocket and jotted something on the back of the card. âWhen Mr. Hardy is free,â he said, âplease have him contact me at this address in New York.â

With a final swipe of his handkerchief, Zufar clapped his straw hat back on his glistening dome and rose to depart.

âMay we call you a taxi?â Frank offered.

âNo, thank you. My car is outside.â The stout man stalked off without another word.

As the door closed behind him, Frank and Joe dashed to the front window for a better view. They saw Zufar climb into a black limousine. A hulking, granite-faced chauffeur slammed the car door, returned to the wheel, and drove off.

âWho was that sourpuss?â inquired Chet, coming up behind the Hardys.

âThe owner of the golden Pharaoh,â Joe replied. âIâd sure like to know what he was so worked up aboutâhe wouldnât tell us.â

âMaybe Mr. Scath can give us the lowdown.â Frank glanced at his watch. âCome on! We can stop off at the museum on our way to the beach!â

Ten minutes later the Hardysâ convertible turned into the curving driveway of the Howard Museum, which stood well back from the street among landscaped grounds. The three boys hurried up the broad marble steps of the ivy-clad building and went straight to the curatorâs office.

Mr. Scath, a slender man with wispy strands of hair and rimless pince-nez, rose to greet his visitors as they entered.

âCome in, boys, and sit down. I take it youâve just talked to Mr. Zufar.â

âThatâs right, sir,â said Frank. âBut he insisted on seeing Dad and wouldnât tell us what he wanted. We hoped you might fill us in.â

âHmm, yes. Well, he came here this morning and introduced himself as an art dealer specializing in Middle Eastern antiquities. Then he tried to interest me in a blue faience Egyptian cat, dating back to the Twentieth Dynasty.â

âFaience?â Joe repeated. âWhatâs that?â

âEarthenware, coated with an opaque glaze.â

Frank then asked the curator, âDid you tell Mr. Zufar about the warning you receivedâthat someone would try to sell you an Egyptian fake?â

âIndeed, I did. I told him so bluntly.â Mr. Scath gave a shrug of distaste. âThe result was quite upsetting.â

âWhat happened?â Frank asked.

âZufar became very emotional. He said that some enemyâhe didnât know whoâwas trying to ruin his reputation.â

âMeaning,â Joe guessed, âthe anonymous tip you received?â

âYes. And he said someone had evidently spread a similar rumor about a much more valuable object which he had hoped to bring to this country.â

Frank bent forward eagerly. âDid he mention what the object was?â

âNot then,â Mr. Scath replied, âBut he did laterâa solid gold head of the Pharaoh Rhamaton IV, valued at one million dollars.â

Chetâs eyes bulged.

The curator went on, âHowever, as I say, that came later. At the moment he was too worked up trying to convince me of his spotless reputation.â Mr. Scath sighed. âAnyway, Zufar gave me various personal references to call and urged me to inspect the faience cat as carefully as I pleased.â

âWhat did you do?â Joe asked.

Mr. Scath looked uncomfortable. âI didnât quite know what to do. Finally I called two of the references he gave meâanother museum and a private collector. They both assured me that their dealings with Zufar had been entirely satisfactory. They both felt he was too keen to be taken in by a fake and wouldnât risk trying to palm one off.â

âHow about the cat?â said Frank. âDid you test it in any way?â

âNo. It seemed authentic. Zufar offered to let me keep it for a detailed examination, but I told him we had no funds available for such a purchase at this time.â

The curator paused to polish his glasses. âThen came a dreadful piece of bad luck. Zufar went to put the cat back in the carrying caseâbut, in his disturbed state, he let it slip from his fingers.â

âDid the cat break?â Chet blurted out.

âShattered to bits.â Mr. Scath shook his head unhappily. âWhat followed was even worse. Zufar himself went all to pieces.â

The curator related that Zufar had then begun pouring out his troubles. He told of the golden Pharaohâs head which had been lost when the Katawa sank, and said he had heard that the shipping lineâs insurance company thought he was trying to defraud them, because of some false rumor about a duplicate head.

âDid he strike you as putting on an act?â Frank asked.

âI donât believe so. He said heâs had nothing but bad luck ever since the gold treasure first came into his possession. Then he asked me to recommend a good detective agency to run down the scoundrel who was defaming him. Naturally,â Mr. Scath ended, âI suggested your father.â

âZufar still seemed pretty tense when he came to our place,â Joe mused. âHow much is the Egyptian cat worth, Mr. Scath?â

âHard to say. But at least five hundred dollars.â

âWow!â Chet broke in. âThatâs a high price for butterfingers.â

âIncidentally,â Mr. Scath went on, âZufarâs tale of bad luck may well be true if you accept superstition.â

Frank said, âHow so?â

âWhen the tomb of Rhamaton IV was opened, a curse was supposed to fall on those who had violated the royal crypt,â Mr. Scath explained, âand the curse actually seemed to be fulfilled. The newspapers made much of it at the time.â

âWhat happened?â Joe asked.

âSoon after the discovery, the leader of the excavating party died of a heart attack. And several others in the party became ill or suffered accidents.â

Chet shifted uneasily.

âThe Rhamaton head eventually came into the possession of a wealthy Lebanese businessman in Beirut,â Mr. Scath went on. âHe was later ruined financially. Then when Zufar bought the head and was bringing it to this country, the ship sank.â

Frank said dryly, âSeems to bear out the curse all right, except I donât believe in ancient curses.â

âWell, Iâm not so sure I donât,â Chet said.

After thanking the curator, the boys left the museum and drove to the beach. An hour of swimming and sunbathing, topped off by a lunch of hamburgers, soon put even Chet in a more cheerful mood.

At four-thirty that afternoon the Hardys picked up Iola, Chet, and Callie for Biffâs barbecue.

The Hoopersâ wide yard, which sloped down to a pleasant, woodsy creek, was already noisy with the gay chatter of boys and girls when the Hardysâ group arrived.

Eager shouts greeted them. Chet was promptly given a chefâs hat and apron.

âThis is my style!â he said laughingly, and soon was busy stoking the portable grill.

Biff, a tall, blond, and rangy youth, ambled among his guests, handing out soft drinks. Then he cupped his big hands and bellowed for attention.

âNow hear this, you guys and gals!â

Suddenly :Biffâs jovial expression turned to one of dismay. Startled gasps and squeals came from the other guests.

âJoe, look out!â warned Tony Prito.

Before Joe could react, something struck him hard in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground!

CHAPTER X

A Four-legged Menace

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âHEY! What gives?â Joe spluttered. He tried to get up, but felt paws trampling his back.

As he turned his head, a large wet tongue licked him across the face. His assailant was an ungainly Great Dane!

âDown, Tivoli! Here, boy!â Biff shouted as he ran to his guestâs assistance. Everyone else was roaring with laughter.

Joe finally struggled to his feet. âFor Peteâs sake,â he gasped, wiping his face, âwhereâd that monster come from?â

âHeâs no monsterâheâs my big surprise,â said Biff, hanging on to the huge dog with both hands. âIâll have you know this magnificent creature comes from championâOof!â

Biff broke off with a grunt as the Dane pulled free from his grip and went bounding off among the young people. âHey, come here! I said, come, Tivoli!â

The dog paid no attention. He pranced happily about the lawn, barging into several teen-agers and spilling their soda pop. Biff pursued his pet, but the Great Dane eluded him as nimbly as a swivel-hipped quarterback.

âWatch it, Chet!â Tony Prito shouted. âHeâs going for the hot dogs!â

The party was in an uproar. Phil Cohen, at Biffâs frantic request, ran into the house and got a chain-link training collar.

With Frank helping, Biff finally put the collar around Tivoliâs neckâbut not before the dog had gulped five frankfurters and a package of hamburger meat.

âDonât you ever feed the poor thing?â Tony joked.

âFeed him?â Biff said indignantly. âListen, heâs had three big meals today already!â Then he added hastily, âTivoliâs not really such a terribly big eaterââ

A chorus of disbelieving laughs greeted his words.

âHeâs not!â Biff insisted. âItâs just that he got half-starved when he was being shipped here, so now heâs making up for lost time.â

Iola giggled. âAnd how! Iâll bet even Chet has a canaryâs appetite by comparison!â

âYou still havenât told us how you got him, Biff,â said Jim Foy, a Chinese youth.

âI won him in a mail-order contest.â Biff explained that he had submitted the winning slogan for a new cereal and had received Tivoli as first prize.

âHow old is the mutt?â asked Jerry Gilroy.

âMutt my eye!â Biff retorted. âThis dog comes from purebred stock. His father and mother were both international championsâand Tivoli will be, too, someday. Heâs just nine months old.â

âNine months?â Chet echoed. âGood night, heâs as big as a colt already! How big will he be when heâs full grown?â

âBig enough to make the best watchdog in Bayport,â Biff said proudly. He cleared his throat. âAhem! It just happens that Tivoliâerâarrived at a bad time, with us going on vacation. So as I was about to announce, one of you lucky people can have the privilege of keeping this future champ while Iâm gone.â

Another chorus of laughter arose.

âDid you say lucky?â teased Callie.

âDoes the offer include a cage?â Phil added.

â âFraid youâre wasting your time, Biff old pal,â added another boy. âYouâll have to board him at a kennelâif you can find one big enough.â

Summoning up a hearty pitchmanâs smile, Biff went on, âListen, gang. Think what an impression Tivoli will make when you take him out on a leash.â

Tony chuckled. âHeâll make an impression all right. Everybodyâll run for cover.â

âYouâll have to admit heâd make a great guard dog,â Biff persevered.

Frank turned to Joe and remarked thoughtfully, âYou know, heâs right. Iâve been worried about us leaving Aunt Gertrude alone when we go back to Whalebone Islandâin case that prowler shows up again. Tivoli might be just the answer!â

Joe nodded. âYou have a point there.â

âOkay, Biff,â Frank said in a louder voice. âYouâve got yourself a deal.â

âYou mean youâll take him?â

âFor two weeks.â

Biff gave a whoop of joy and the other teen-agers began crowding around the Hardys to offer joking words of warning and advice.

When the party broke up at seven-thirty, Frank and Joe drove Tivoli home in their convertible with the top up and the windows raised.

âWeâd better go in first and break the news gently,â Frank said as they parked in the driveway.

Joe chuckled. âWe may need Tivoli to protect us.â

As the boys went in the front door, Aunt Gertrude came into the hallway. âDo either of you know if your father was expecting some sort of shipment?â she asked.

âA shipment?â Joe said blankly. âOf what?â

âThatâs just what Iâm trying to find out. A crate came for him while you were gone. I didnât know what else to do with it so I had the truck driver and his helper carry it down to the basement.â

âItâs news to us, Aunty,â said Frank. âLetâs take a look.â

Miss Hardy led the way down the cellar stairs. She pointed to a large wooden crate standing against the wall. It was about four feet high. Stenciled on one side was the name FENTON HARDY and the address of the Hardy home.

âWhat about the receipt?â Joe suggested. âWouldnât that tell us the contents?â

âOh dear! I forgot to ask for the carbon copy when I signed it,â said Miss Hardy. âBut, anyway, the handwriting on the receipt was illegible.â

âDidnât the driver even know where the box came from?â Frank asked.

âHe said heâd picked it up at some New York warehouse. That was all he could tell me.â

Frank eyed the mysterious crate. âMaybe we should call Dad.â

âOh, I didnât neglect that,â said Miss Hardy. âI tried to contact Fenton over the radio but he didnât answer.â

âNo wonderâhis radio got smashed on Whalebone Island,â Joe explained. âBut we can probably call him at his hotel.â

As Joe picked up the basement extension telephone, his aunt said, âWill you also tell him a man phoned about five oâclock? He didnât leave any name.â

Joe placed the call to Philadelphia, but hung up with a shake of his head a few minutes later. âNo luck. Dad and Sam Radley are both out of their rooms. I left a message for them to call back.â

The Hardy boys looked at each other and took deep breaths.

Trying to sound casual, Frank said, âErâweâve brought a visitor, Aunt Gertrude.â

âA visitor?â

âUhâyes. Heâs coming to stay for a couple of weeks. Weâre sure youâre going to like him.â

Detecting something odd in Frankâs tone, Miss Hardy swept her nephews with a suspicious glance. âWell, speak up. Who is he and where is he?â

âHeâs out in the car,â Joe said. âAunty, heâs a Great Dane.â

âA Great Dane?â Miss Hardy echoed unbelievingly. âYou mean one of thoseâthose huge dogs?â

Frank tried to be reassuring. âActually, heâs not full grown. Only nine months old.â

Gertrude Hardy launched into a vigorous tirade against the problem of tending large, untrained animals. Frank finally managed to explain why they had brought Tivoli, stressing that he would serve as a watchdog while he and Joe were away.

âAnd just where do you expect me to keep the creature?â Miss Hardy demanded. âCertainly not in the house.â

âOh, donât worry about that, Aunty,â Joe said, chuckling. âTivoli can stay out in the yard or down in the cellar.â

âWell, heâd better earn his board and keep,â Aunt Gertrude commented tartly.

With that, she marched upstairs to the kitchen. Joe glanced at his brother and rolled his eyes expressively.

âWell, letâs bring in our visitor,â Frank said, grinning.

When the boys returned to the car, they found Tivoli comfortably lolling on the back seat, fast asleep. Joe jerked the ring on the end of his training collar. âCome on, boy. Weâre going to introduce you to Aunt Gertrude.â

Tivoli preferred not to be disturbed. Only the combined physical persuasion of Joe and Frank succeeded in dislodging him, and even then he proved skittish. Moments later, as they were hauling him in the door, the boys heard a shriek from their aunt.

âWhatâs wrong?â Frank called out. Tivoli now lunged for the kitchen, tugging the boys behind him.

âThat prowlerâheâs back again!â Miss Hardyâs eyes widened in fright at the sight of the Great Dane, but she went on, âI heard a noise out back and saw a man dask across the yard!â

âItâs your big chance, Tivolil Go get him!â Joe commanded.

The two boys and the dog dashed out the back door. But the prowler had vanished in the gathering dusk. Now Tivoli strained toward the house and the boys were forced to follow.

âMaybe the fellow dropped something or left a clue, and Tivoliâs spotted it by scent!â Joe said hopefully.

The real reason soon became evident as the Great Dane headed for the kitchen. Once inside, he strode toward the refrigerator and began sniffing at the door.

Aunt Gertrude gave the boys a withering glance. âA fine watchdog heâll make!â Resolutely she advanced on Tivoli. âOutside this instant!â

The dog regarded her with its pale-yellow eyes. He made no move to obey, but a faint rumble sounded in his throat. Miss Hardy stood her ground. âFrank and Joe,â she said, âtake this creature out of the housel Immediately!â

Her nephews complied, and coaxed Tivoli into the back yard once more.

Joe laughed. âHeâs as iron-willed as Aunt Gertrude.â

Aunt Gertrudeâs eyes widened in fright at sight of the
Great Dane

âTime will tell,â Frank said philosophically. He got a length of chain from the garage and secured one end to Tivoliâs collar and the other to a tree.

Back in the kitchen, the boys had just fixed a snack for themselves and Aunt Gertrude when a mournful howl assailed their ears. They looked at each other, then glanced at Miss Hardy. Her face spoke volumes but she said nothing.

Tivoli continued to bay at the rising moon. Aunt Gertrude winced. The baying persisted without letup. After several minutes she pursed her lips and got up from the table.

âVery well. Youâd better bring that so-called watchdog inside before the neighbors complain. But put him in the cellar, mind you!â

Frank and Joe did so. As they came back upstairs, Aunt Gertrude gave an indignant sniff. âNow perhaps weâll be able to get some rest. I, for one, am retiring.â

She swept out of the room.

The boys finished eating, then tried several times to reach their father. No luck. They were just about to go upstairs when Tivoli came trotting into the hallway!

Joe burst out laughing. âHe must be able to turn the doorknob with his jaws!â

âOh, no, you donât!â Frank said hastily. He caught Tivoli just in time to deter the huge dog from settling himself comfortably on a newly upholstered sofa in the living room.

âYou know, Iâm beginning to think Aunt Gertrade is right about this pooch! He may be more hindrance than help.â

âLetâs give him a chance.â Joe grinned. âItâs only his first day here.â

Frank took the Great Dane back to the cellar.

Yawning, the boys switched off the lights, turned on the burglar alarm, and went to their room.

Some time later came the sound of paws padding up the staircase. Joe raised his head from the pillow incredulously. âGood grief! Tivoli again!â

Apparently sniffing out his two protectors, the dog stalked into the boysâ room. He leaped onto Joeâs bed with a single bound and draped himself across the middle.

Joe groaned. âOh great! Well, I guess you might as well stay here so we can get some sleep. But at least give me a little room, you big lummox.â

Frank shook with stifled laughter.

It was past midnight when the boys were suddenly awakened by the loud barking noise of Tivoli from downstairs. They heard the dog snarl âthen the sounds of a violent struggle.

âCome on!â Frank exclaimed, jumping out of bed. âLetâs find out whatâs going on!â

CHAPTER XI

A Clever Dodge

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THE boys sped downstairs in their pajamas to investigate the commotion. As Frank switched on the light, Joe let out a gasp. âLook! Tivoli!â

The Great Dane lay sprawled across the threshold of the guest room! The brothers ran to the dog.

Frank and Joe experienced pangs of fear upon seeing that Tivoli was motionless. But closer examination showed the Dane was breathing. Then Joeâs eyes fell on Captain Earlyâs carved cane lying on the floor nearby. âSomeone beaned him with that stick!â

âAnd got away!â Frank said, pointing to the open window of the guest room. Both boys dashed toward it and Frank thrust out his head.

The stillness was unbroken except for the thrum of crickets. There was no sign of the intruder.

As the boys turned back to the unconscious dog, Aunt Gertrude arrived on the scene, wearing a bathrobe and hair net. âMercy! What on earth has happened?â

Frank said, âSomeone broke in. Tivoli went for him, but got conked.â

Miss Hardy drew in her breath sharply. âThe nasty brute!â

âTivoli?â

âNo, the dreadful person who struck him!â

âPoor old fellow!â Joe squatted down beside the Great Dane. âWonder what you do for an unconscious dog. Give him smelling salts?â

âDonât be ridiculous,â Aunt Gertrude said tartly. âIâll attend to this brave creature.â

Joe rose to his feet and exchanged amused glances with his brother. Aunt Gertrudeâs change of attitude toward Tivoli was a pleasant surprise.

âWhat Iâd like to know,â Frank said thoughtfully, âis how the prowler got inside without touching off the burglar alarm.â

âItâs still on!â Joe reported, after glancing at the wall switch in the hallway. âThat must mean the alarm system is dead!â

The boys rushed to the cellar to inspect the master control panel. When Frank opened the switch box, the answer was immediately evident. A wire had been disconnected!

âWho did that?â Joe exclaimed.

âIt sure didnât come loose by itself.â Frank frowned. âRemember that fellow Aunt Gertrude saw running across the back yard? He may have been coming from the cellar, after having yanked this wire loose so heâd have a clear field tonight.â

âHmm. Could be, if one of the cellar windows isnât fastened.â

The boys examined each of the four windows. The catch on one in the rear was unhooked!

âThis is the way somebody got out,â Frank said. âBut how did he get in? I checked all these windows when you were telephoning Philadelphiaâand they were locked.â

Joe looked baffled and leaned against the crate. âMaybe he just oozed through the walls.â

Frank had to admit he couldnât figure out an answer, but added, âThere is a way, and weâre going to find out.â

The young sleuths went back upstairs. In the kitchen they halted in astonishment. Tivoli was devouring a pan of stew. Aunt Gertrude occasionally would bathe the bruise on his head with a damp cloth. The dog stopped eating long enough to give the boys a brief look of content.

âPoor thing,â Aunt Gertrude murmured. âSuch a stouthearted protector deserves a good meal.â

Tivoli happily continued gulping the stew.

As the boys went back to the guest room to search for clues, Joe said with a chuckle, âBoy, what a change! Aunt Gertrude canât do enough for him.â

Frank smiled. âI guess sheâs convinced his heartâs in the right place.â

Neither the room nor the carved cane yielded any fingerprints, nor had the intruder left any trace of his identity. Presently the boys and Aunt Gertrude returned to their rooms. Frank and Joe noticed with amusement that their aunt had said nothing further about putting the Great Dane back in the cellar.

Early the next morning while Miss Hardy was preparing breakfast the telephone rang. Fenton Hardy was calling from Philadelphia. âSam and I didnât get back to the hotel until one this morning,â he explained, âso I decided to wait till later to phone you fellows back. Whatâs up?â

Joe hastily reported the midnight break-in and the delivery, earlier, of the mysterious crate.

Mr. Hardy was perplexed. âIâve no idea whatâs in it,â he said. âYou and Frank had better open it right away. Then call me back.â

Eagerly the boys went down to the basement, where they got a claw hammer and pry bar to rip open the crate. To their amazement, one side of the box suddenly dropped like a trap door! Empty!

The Hardys stared at each other, speechless; then at the crate. âAre you thinking what I am?â Joe asked.

âThere must have been a man hiding in here!â Frank exclaimed, indicating the hinged side of the crate, which had an inner hook. âAfter he got out, he wedged the side in place.â

âThen he was all set to rob the house!â

âSure,â agreed Frank. âBut when he heard you telling Aunt Gertrude the dog could stay down here, he decided to scram before Tivoli could detect him. So he ducked out the cellar window.â

âYouâre right!â Joe said, snapping his fingers. âBut first he disconnected the burglar alarm so he could get back in later.â

With a puzzled look, Joe added, âThis crate gag seems like an awfully elaborate dodge for a house-breaker.â

âIt was an ingenious way to sneak past our alarm system,â Frank pointed out. âHe learned about that when he tried to break in while we were away on Whalebone Island.â

Frank promptly telephoned his father to report the boysâ discovery.

âYouâre sure nothing was taken last night?â Mr. Hardy asked.

âNot as far as we could find out, Dad,â Frank replied. âI think Tivoli jumped the fellow too fast. Then he heard us coming and had to scram.â

âHmm. So weâre still in the dark about what he was after.â

The detective was keenly interested when Frank went on to describe Mehmet Zufarâs visit. âIâd certainly like to know more about this alleged defamation of character he complains of,â Mr. Hardy mused. âIt might open up some new angles on the Pharaohâs head mystery.â

âThen why not take the case for Zufar?â Frank proposed. âHeâs eager to engage a top-flight detective.â

âThat wouldnât be ethical, son. I could hardly go to work for Zufar when heâs already under suspicion in the matter Iâm investigating for Transmarine Underwriters. From what you say, he evidently doesnât know about my assignment.â

Joe, who was listening with one ear close to the phone, broke in. âBut, Dad, why should there be any conflict? If Zufar is on the level, he wants the Pharaohâs head mystery cleared up as much as you do.â

Mr. Hardy was silent for a moment. Then he said, âTell you what. Suppose you fellows go to New York and talk to Zufar again. Tell him Iâm not at liberty to take his case just now, but Iâll try to help as soon as possible if heâll give you fellows all the facts.â

âSwell idea!â Frank agreed. âMaybe we can pick up some good leads!â

âIncidentally,â Mr. Hardy added, âI think Sam should be free this afternoon. Heâll fly to Bayport and the three of you can go to Whalebone Island as we planned.â

âGreat!â

Both Frank and Joe were eager for the trip to New York. After a hasty breakfast they drove to the railroad station and caught an early train. By ten minutes after eleven they were stepping out of a taxi at Zufarâs address in Lower Manhattan.

The address proved to be a grimy loft building. On the card Zufar had given them he had also written the name âFritz Bogdan, Curio Dealer.â The same name was lettered on the windows of a ground-floor shop.

Frank and Joe entered the shop and found themselves in a long, dimly lighted room filled with Oriental carpets, statuary, paintings, and curios.

A tall, hawk-faced man with iron-gray hair eyed them curiously.

âMay I help you?â

âAre you Mr. Bogdan?â Frank asked. When the man nodded, he went on, âWeâre looking for Mr. Mehmet Zufar.â

âOh, yes. Iâm his American agent. He occupies office space here on his visits to this country.â

Bogdan led the boys past a huge green Buddha figure to an inner corridor and pointed to an office doorway bearing Zufarâs name. Frank thanked Bogdan and rapped on the door.

âCome in!â

Zufar looked up startled from his desk as the Hardys entered. He listened with obvious impatience as Frank repeated what Mr. Hardy had said. Then he pounded a fist on the desk.

âNow listen! Something has come up that changes everything. Your father must help me!â

CHAPTER XII

Key 273

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THE mustached art dealerâs reaction took the Hardys by surprise.

âDo you have some kind of clue?â Frank asked.

Zufarâs eyes narrowed. âA good deduction.â His fingers nervously plucked an envelope from his desk. âThis letter came in the morning mail,â he said, handing it over. âSee for yourself.â

Frank took the envelope, which bore a typewritten address and was postmarked New York, N. Y. Inside was a note and a small key stamped with the number 273.

The note, which also was typed, read:

We have the gold head of Rhamaton IV.
We will sell it back to you for $100,000.
Be ready with your answer. SHOW THIS
NOTE TO NO ONE IF YOU VALUE
YOUR LIFE!

The Hardys exchanged baffled glances.

âIf the gang who sent this have the Pharaohâs head, Mr. Zufar,â said Joe, âwhy should they offer to sell it back to you?â

The dealer mopped his brow with a lavender silk handkerchief. âWho knows? Maybe the thieves have been unable to find a private buyer willing to pay such a price for a stolen art object. Do not forgetâthe deal would entail great risk on both sides, and the buyer would never be able to display his acquisition.â

âMaybe,â Frank suggested, âthe thieves think youâre aiming to collect from the insurance company, then sell the head secretly for much more than a hundred thousand.â

Zufar shot him a sharp glance. âIt is possible,â he admitted grudgingly.

âDo you think itâs likely that the persons who sent the note really have the authentic head?â Joe inquired.

The dealer threw up his hands in despair. âAlas, I fear so. The head may have been salvaged from the Katawaâs strong room, or stolen or switched by some trickery before the ship left port.â

âWould there have been time for anyone to do either?â Frank asked.

âOf course. I purposely arranged to have the head brought aboard several hours before any passengers embarked, in order not to attract attention. That was in Beirut. Again there was a chance for trickery when we stopped at Le Havre. If the purser was dishonestâwho knows?â

Zufar shrugged unhappily. The purser, he added, had been lost in the sinking.

Frank replaced the note in its envelope, then said, âPersonally, I think you should take this note to the police, Mr. Zufar.â

The art dealerâs eyes bulged fearfully. âYou think I am a fool?â he said shrilly. âIf I did, my life would be in danger!â

âBut youâve showed the note to us,â Frank pointed out.

âThat is different. Your father is not the police. If theseâthese thieves contact me, I can say simply that I have hired him to act as my go-between.â

Dabbing his face with the handkerchief, Zufar went on, âFurthermore, once this became an official matter for the police, the news might leak out. I cannot afford to endanger my reputation any further!â

The telephone on Zufarâs desk rang. âExcuse me.â

He scooped it up. âHello? ... Yes, this is Mehmet Zufar speaking.â

Suddenly the dealerâs face grew pale. He beckoned frantically to the Hardys and held the telephone away from his ear so they could listen in.

âYou heard me! Speak up!â a harsh voice was saying on the other end of the line. âI asked if youâre ready to make a deal.â

Zufar looked pleadingly at the boys.

Frank and Joe hesitated. Then, with a glance of mutual understanding, reached a quick decision. Frank nodded emphatically.

Zufar gave a sigh of relief. âVery well,â he said into the receiver. âWhat do you wish me to do?â

âListen carefully. Have the money ready in small bills. Take that key to the Philadelphia Airport. Use it to open a public-storage locker there and stand by.â

There was a sudden click as the caller hung up. Zufar, too, put down the phone and turned his eyes to the Hardys. âYou keep the note and the key, and you will inform your father immediately?â

âWeâll get in touch with him,â Frank promised, pocketing the envelope. âGood-by.â

Frank and Joe left the office. In the corridor they almost bumped into Fritz Bogdan. The proprietor gave them a thin smile and walked on quickly down the hall to a rear storage room.

As the boys went through the display area, their gaze swept over the exotic assortment of merchandise. A tigerskin rug hung on one wall between dusty carpets and tapestries. Near the green Buddha, the painted face of an Egyptian mummy case stared back at them sightlessly. Both boys felt there was something sinister about the dingy place.

An employee was moving a large, murky-col ored landscape painting in a gold frame. The Hardys recognized him as Zufarâs granite-faced chauffeur.

When they reached the street, Joe muttered, âDo you suppose that fellow Bogdan was eavesdropping?â

âDonât know. I was wondering the same thing,â Frank replied. âYou know, I have a feeling Iâve seen him somewhere before.â

âMe too. I thought his face seemed sort of familiar.â

Neither of the Hardys could explain the impression.

âWell,â Frank said, âweâd better get in touch with Dad and then get a bite to eat. I could sure use a couple of hamburgers.â

Sighting a drugstore on the next corner, the boys went inside where Frank phoned their father. Mr. Hardy readily approved of his sonsâ action.

âDonât worry, you and Joe used good judgment,â he said. âThe Philadelphia Airport angle strikes me as a good omen, too.â

âHow so, Dad?â

âThere are only a few private collectors in the eastern United States who might be avid enough and rich enough to buy something like the gold Pharaohâs head, even if it was stolen,â the detective explained. âThe two most likely purchasers live within fifty miles of Philadelphia. Thatâs why Sam and I have been concentrating on this area.â

âSure hope this lead pays off,â Frank said. âWhatâs our next move, Dad?â

Fenton Hardy instructed the boys to take the letter with the key to La Guardia Airport and leave it with a friend who worked for one of the airlines. Sam Radley, he went on, would fly there, pick up the envelope, and bring it back to Philadelphia.

Frank asked, âDoes that mean Sam wonât be coming to Bayport this afternoon?â

âI may need his help on this new development with Zufar,â Mr. Hardy said. âAnyhow, Iâve made a slight change of plans for you fellows.â Excited, Frank signaled Joe close to the receiver.

âThe Crux Diving Companyâs salvage ship is leaving New York today to begin operations on the Katawa. Captain Rankin has agreed to take you and Joe along and drop you on Whalebone Island.â

The vessel would be close at hand in case of emergency, the detective added. They could pursue the Jolly Rogerâs mystery and keep in touch with the salvage operations.

âThatâs great, Dad!â said Frank. âBut wouldnât it be better if we had the Sleuth along with its radio?â

After a hasty discussion, they decided that Joe would board the Crux ship alone. Frank would return to Bayport, get Chet and the Sleuth, and then proceed to Whalebone Island.

After a quick lunch at a coffee shop, the Hardys split up. Frank headed for La Guardia Airport, while Joe went straight to the pier where the Crux ship, Petrel, lay berthed.

The dock was bustling with activity as supplies were loaded aboard. Joe hurried toward the gangplank to announce himself to the deck officer.

A heavy oil drum, slung from a cargo hook, was just being hoisted from the pier. Joe passed underneath as the boom swung inward toward the shipâs hold.

âHey! Watch it!â

Joe whirled at the sudden cry of alarm. In that instant the oil drum plunged straight toward his head!

CHAPTER XIII

A Lost Anchor

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As JOE whirled around, somebody rammed him hard. He reeled backward under the impact, and together with his tackler sprawled on the dock as the oil drum crashed inches from them.

âSufferinâ snakes!â Stunned, Joe sat up limply. His thumping pulse almost blurred out the ensuing shouts and confusion.

The man who had rescued himâa husky, middle-aged six-footer in dungareesâcalled over reassuringly, âTake it easy, lad. No harm done.â He got up nimbly and helped Joe to his feet.

âThanks. . . thanks a lot,â Joe gasped. âYou saved my life.â

The manâs freckled face broke into a grin. âMaybe you saved mine. I was rushing across the dock and had to slow down when you got in my way. If you hadnât, Iâd have been right under that drum myself!â

Meantime, stevedores had captured the dented rolling drum and were wrestling it back into position while a crewman examined the hoisting sling.

The captain shouted wrathfully from the ship, âHowâd it happen, bosân?â

âChine hook seems to have fractured, sir! Never seen one give like that before!â Red-faced, the bosân aimed a torrent of salty comments at the loading crew for not having spotted the cracked hook when they rigged the sling.

âYou there, young fellow!â the captain called down to Joe. âYou one of Fenton Hardyâs boys, by any chance?â

âYes, sir! Iâm Joe Hardyâmy brother wonât be making the trip.â Accompanied by his rescuer, Joe mounted the gangplank and shook hands with the tall, lean officer.

âWelcome aboard! Iâm Captain Rankin. Sorry about the accident.â

âGuess I shouldâve kept a sharper eye out.â

âCargo handling can be as dangerous as salvage work sometimes,â the skipper acknowledged. âThis bucko who saved you, by the way, is our master diver, Roland Perry. Heâs used to danger. Thatâs how his hair got so thin.â

Perry chuckled and touched the sun-bleached reddish fuzz on his freckled pate. âDonât believe him, Joe. Itâs the chow they serve and the hard time he gives us salvage boys that made my hair fall out.â

Joe laughed, and soon he and Perry were engaged in friendly conversation. The diver had first learned his trade at the Navyâs Deep-Sea Diving School in Washington, D. C.

Late that afternoon, the ship, secured for sea after loading, churned away from its pier. Captain Rankin allowed Joe to come up on the bridge and watch as they sailed out through the busy waters of the Port of New York.

The next day Perry gave Joe a guided tour of the Petrel. The steel salvage vessel, he explained, was of a type specially designed by the Navy for offshore salvage work and carried equipment for handling any imaginable marine emergency.

Its electronic gear included radio, radar, loran, radiotelephone, fathometer, and radio direction finder. On its main deck was a salvage workshop with a forge, welding machine, lathe, pipe-threading machine, and various other equipment. In the engine room was a complete machine shop.

âOur towing engine has a forty-thousand-pound-line pull capacityâwe can make lifts over the bow sheaves up to a hundred and fifty tons,â Perry went on proudly. âWe can pump more than a million gallons of water an hourâfurnish electric power to a disabled vesselâand there are two miles of steel cable in our wire stowage room.â

âWow! Some setup!â said Joe, much impressed.

The diver chuckled. âWeâre really a floating construction warehouse. We carry everything from nuts and bolts to a concrete mixerânot to mention timbers for making patches to seal off holes in shipsâ hulls.â

Joe was fascinated when Perry showed him the diving locker, forward on the main deck. It held several sets of diving suits, scuba gear, submarine telephone equipment, underwater burning torches, and a full stock of spare parts.

âDoes Captain Rankin boss the diving operations?â Joe asked.

âNo. When we reach the salvage scene, Matt Shane, our salvage master, takes over. Under him is a salvage foreman, myself, my tender, a pump engineer, a carpenter, and nine wreckersâthe specialized salvage workers, that is.â

It was nightfall when the Petrel reached curving Whalebone Island and dropped anchor in the cove. Another shipâwhich Joe recognized immediately as the Simon Salvorâwas lying to the southward. But the Salvor was now in a different position from where it had been when the Hardys first visited the island.

âWhat do you suppose theyâre doing?â Joe asked, scanning the Salvor through field glasses.

âGood question, son.â Matt Shane, the grizzled salvage master, chewed thoughtfully on his pipe. âThereâs no wreck in that area, or weâd know about it. Salvage men keep pretty close tabs on such matters.â

Roland Perry growled, âSomething phony about them being here, if you ask me. Could be they came to throw a monkey wrench into our operations. I wouldnât put anything past Bock!â

âTake it easy, Rollie,â said Shane.

Joe was startled by the mention of the Simon Salvage Company diver. âDo you know Gus Bock, Rollie?â he asked.

âDo I know him?â Perry snorted. âWe were shipmates once on a tin can, the Svenson. Later on, we went through Navy diving school together. When we finally got out of service, we worked for the same salvage outfit. I actually thought we were buddiesâtill the time I caught him trying to split my air hose!â

The incident had occurred when both men were on the bottom, searching for a sealed cashbox aboard a sunken hulk.

âYou couldâve been mistaken, Rollie,â Shane cautioned. âJust because he had his knife in his handââ

âI tell you I saw him going for my air line! Heâs a slimy shark, that Bock!â

Joe put in, âIf you were on the Svenson with him, you must have served under Captain Phil Early.â

The diver nodded. âFor a while, right at the end of the war. The skipper was transferred to another command a few months after I joined the ship. Good old Pearly Early!â

âHowâd he get that nickname?â Joe asked with a grin. âFrom his first initial and last name?â

âThat was part of it.â Perry chuckled. âEver been in Greece?â

âNo. Why?â

âOver there, youâll see Greek men fussing with what they call âworry beads.â They carry these beads and finger them all the time. Captain Early did the same thingâonly he used pearls.â

âReal ones?â Joe asked in surprise.

âSure, he collected them. Had some beauties heâd picked up in the South Pacific. In fact, when he was transferred, the crew gave him a caneââ

âA cane?â Joe cut in. âHow come?â

âTo carry the pearls in. The handle unscrewed, you see, and there was a hollow space inside. It was specially made, and handsomely carved by our old quartermaster.â

Joeâs brain was in a whirl, thinking of the burglary attempts.

âWhatâs the matter, lad?â Matt Shane asked, noticing his odd reaction.

âFunny coincidence. Captain Earlyâs a family friend of ours, and Iâve seen that cane. In fact, he left it at our house.â

Since there was no sign of a campfire on the island or any light in the Whalebone tower, it was apparent Frank and Chet had not yet arrived, so Joe did not ask to be put ashore.

At daybreak the next morning, when he awoke in his bunk, Joe heard the muted throb of the shipâs engines and sounds of frenzied activity on deck. He hurried topside to see what was going on.

In the water nearby was one of the shipâs life-boats. While two seamen rowed it slowly, Roland Perry peered over the gunwale into a glass-bottomed box, which enabled him to see the shallow ocean floor.

âWhatâs Rollie doing?â Joe asked Shane.

âLooking for our bower anchor. We lost it during the night.â

âGood grief!â Joe exclaimed. âHowâd that happen?â

Shane grinned wryly. âThatâs what the old man would like to know.â

Joe could see Captain Rankin standing on the wing of the bridge, tight-jawed with fury over the mishap.

After a while Perry located the anchor. Donning scuba gear, he went down to reconnect the anchor to its chain. By the time the job was completed, almost half the morning had been spent.

âSomeone took apart the detachable link on the swivel shot of the chain!â Rollie explained to Joe after returning topside.

âBut who?â

âWho do you think?â the diver retorted with an angry scowl seaward at the Simon Salvor. âIt could only have been done by a frogman. Captain Rankin has already been on the radio to the Salvor, but all he got was a horselaugh.â

Joe mulled over the mystery. Were Gus Bock and his mates responsible for the loss of the anchor âor had someone else been the saboteur and swum out from the island under cover of darkness? If the latter was the case, Joe reflected, Red Rogersâ âghostâ might have returned to Whalebone!

Much as he would have liked to watch the search for the Katawa get under way, Joe asked to be put ashore. He waved good-by from the cove as the Petrel sailed out around the island toward the scene of the sinking. Then he began to scout cautiously for possible traces of another occupant on Whalebone.

Shortly before noon Joe heard the put-put of a motorboat engine. He dashed to the cove in time to see Frank and Chet just beaching the Sleuth.

âHi, you guys!â Joe shouted to them.

âHi, Joe!â

âWhat cooks, Robinson Crusoe?â Chet asked.

âNot lunch, if thatâs what you were hoping,â Joe replied with a grin. âHow come it took you so long to get here?â

Frank explained that Chet had been unable to leave until late Saturday afternoon. âI figured we could stop off overnight at Captain Earlyâs, but he wasnât home so we had to sleep on the beach.â

âDid you bring the captainâs cane?â Joe asked, his voice suddenly tense.

âSure, I wanted to give it back to him, butâsay, whatâs so special about that cane?â

As Frank and Chet stared in surprise, Joe told what he had learned about the captainâs collection of pearls and the hollow receptacle in the cane. âThatâs what the burglar must have been after all the time!â

Frank hastily fished the cane out of the Sleuth. Sure enough, a metal ring showed where the cane came apart in two pieces!

Joe and Chet watched eagerly as he unscrewed the handle, then peered into the hollow.

âWellâ?â

Frank turned the cane barrel upside down and shook it. âEmpty. The pearls are gone!â

CHAPTER XIV

A Cave Clue

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A DISMAYED silence followed Frankâs discovery that the captainâs cane was empty.

Then Chet spoke up. âAre you sure the pearls were in there?â

âAll I know,â Joe said, âis what Roland Perry told meâthat the captain collected pearls and his crew had that cane specially made for him to keep them in. Besides, donât you remember last Tuesday after his house was broken into, he said there was nothing in it of value except the silver?â

âIf youâre right,â Frank said thoughtfully, âwhoever broke into our place Thursday night must have had time to remove the pearls before Tivoli attacked him!â

âSure,â Joe reasoned, âand that would explain the mystery of what our intruder was after.â

Gloomily Frank screwed the cane together again. âWell, thereâs nothing we can do about it now. Weâll just have to tell Captain Early as soon as we get in touch with him.â

Frank put the cane back in the boat and began unloading sleeping bags, supplies, and scuba gear. âFirst of all, letâs lug this stuff over to the lighthouse. We can use that as our base.â

âFine,â Joe agreed. âAnd weâd better hide the Sleuth again, tooâjust in case.â

The boys could not carry the entire load in a single trip, so after leaving Chet at the tower to prepare lunch, the Hardys returned to the cove for the remainder of their gear. Then the three ate with hearty appetites all the frankfurters and beans which Chet dished out, sizzling, on tin plates.

Afterward, Frank proposed another systematic search of the island. âIf that fake ghost stayed here,â he pointed out, âwe ought to be able to find some evidence.â

âGood idea,â Joe said.

Starting out from the headland, the boys began slowly working their way around the shore of the entire crescent-shaped island.

They found no trace of other boat landings, so they started combing the inland areas.

âHey! Fresh water!â Joe announced as they came to a tiny spring trickling out of a hillside. Hot and perspiring from the trek, he cupped his hands and bent down to scoop up a drink.

Chet couldnât resist some fun. âHow about a good face-wash, too?â Gleefully he gave Joe a prod with the toe of his sneaker.

With a cry of surprise, Joe tried to catch his balance. No luck. He lurched forward, lost his footing, and plunged headfirst out of sight into a mass of brush on the other side of the spring.

âHey! Whereâd he go?â Chet exclaimed. He and Frank ran to the spot where Joe had vanished. Up popped a blond head through the thick vegetation.

âLook here!â Joe shouted, beckoning excitedly. âI landed in a cave. Come on. Letâs look this over.â

All three crowded into the well-concealed cavern mouth and Frank took out a flashlight. Its beam revealed a cavity about twenty feet in length.

âOhâoh!â Joe gasped. âSomeone has been here, all right!â He pointed to the charred remnants of a cooking fire. Nearby was a scatter of small bird bones and rusty food cans.

âBoy, this place gives me the willies!â Chet muttered.

As Frank played his light upward from the floor, the boys saw a series of whitish marks on the wall of the caveâevidently scratched there with a piece of limestone.

âTally marks!â said Frank. The scratches were in groups of six, each group crossed with a seventh line. âWhoever stayed here must have kept count of the days and weeks that way.â

âWow!â Chet said. âHe must have lived here quite a while!â

Frank nodded. âYes, but from the looks of things, it must have been a long time ago, so he couldnât have been the âghostâ who tried to blow us up.â

âYouâre right,â Joe said. âStill, this might explain the spook that drove the lighthouse keeper Tang out of his mind.â

âCould be,â Frank agreed. âMaybe some fugitive from the law hid out here.â

âOr some hermit,â Joe added, âwho only wanted to get away from it all.â

Chet shuddered. âImagine being alone at night in that lighthouse with some creep prowling around.â

âYou think about it,â Joe quipped. âItâll give you food for thought when we turn in tonight, in place of your usual bedtime snack.â

âCut it out,â Frank advised, grinning, âor all three of us may start seeing things.â

By the time the adventurers pushed their way back through the entrance of the gloomy hideout, it was late in the afternoon, and gathering clouds in the southwest hid the sun. The boys marked the location of the cave with a stake, which Chet drove into the sand. Then they decided to cruise out to the Petrel before supper to check on the progress of the salvage operations.

Hauling the Sleuth out of its hiding place, they launched it into the surf and Frank started the motor. The sleek craft put-putted out of the cove, then around the island and northward to the ship.

âThat skyâs getting darker,â Joe commented.

âWindâs whipping up, too,â said Frank. âWeâd better not stay out too long. We might have a rough time getting back.â

Soon the Petrel came sharply into view and the companions saw that a boom for a diving stage had been rigged out. Frank brought their motorboat alongside and Joe made fast a line.

âAhoy there! Coming aboard!â Chet called up. When a head popped over the side, they climbed a series of steel rungs onto the deck.

Captain Rankin greeted them cordially and shook hands with Frank and Chet as Joe made the introductions.

âHave you located the Katawa yet, sir?â Joe asked.

âNot yet. Rollieâs down on the bottom right now. Follow me.â

He led the boys around to the portside where the diving crew was standing by, under the command of Matt Shane. Here the young sleuths met Perryâs tender, a husky Negro named Sid Carter, who was manning the undersea telephone. The return phone lead was plugged into a loudspeaker.

Carter smiled at the boys and jabbed a finger toward the bottom. âRollieâs been down long enough to have found Davy Jones himself.â

âItâs slow going,â Matt commented, his eyes glued to the bubbles erupting on the sloping green waves.

Suddenly Perryâs voice came through: âThink I see her! ... Waitâyes! Itâs the Katawa, all right!â

âNice going!â said Joe.

Matt hastily donned a headset. âHow is she positioned, Rollie?â

There was a momentâs hesitation. âWay over on her portsideâalmost bottom up. Looks like quite a mess. The Carona really sliced her!â

Silence again as the diver made his way closer to the wreck. Suddenly there was a startled exclamation, and Perryâs voice crackled over the speaker:

âMatt! Someone got here before us.â

âWhat do you mean?â

âThereâs a hole cut in her side!â

CHAPTER XV

Trouble Ashore

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So the Katawa had been raided by an unauthorized diver! Frankâs and Joeâs eyes widened. Did this explain how the golden Pharaohâs head had come into the possession of the thieves who sent the ransom note to Zufar?

âWhere was the hole cut, Rollie?â the salvage master called down.

âCanât see too clearly, Matt, till I get closerâbut it looks from here like the engine room.â

The Hardys and Chet clung tightly to the rail as a gust of wind swept the ship. The sea was getting rougher by the moment. They saw the radioman emerge from his shack and hurry across the deck to speak to Captain Rankin. The captain listened and glanced at the threatening sky, then came over and spoke to Matt Shane.

âThat hurricaneâs veering our way, Matt. Weâll just get the fringes, I think, but it may be pretty hard to hold our station. Can you secure from diving for now?â

âSure, Capân. Weâve found the wreckâthatâs the main thing. Rollie can start fresh in the morning and get the lay oâ things inside.â

Orders were called down for the diver to come aboard the stage, or platform. After the Petrel dropped a marker buoy, the slow process of raising Perry to the surface began.

Being experienced scuba divers, the Hardys knew that this was done gradually to prevent a diver from suffering an attack of the bends, caused by nitrogen bubbles forming in the blood when a diver is decompressed too quickly.

By the time Perry stepped aboard from the diving stage, the sky was almost as dark as night and the ship rolled and pitched violently.

The Sleuth, meanwhile, had been hoisted aboard. At Captain Rankinâs invitation, the boys had decided to return to the island on the salvage ship.

Perry sat on the diverâs stool while his tender unsuited him. Joe introduced Frank and Chet to Perry as soon as his helmet was removed.

âFrom the looks of this weather, I should have stayed at the bottom,â Perry remarked.

Bucking heavy seas, the Petrel plowed back to Whalebone Island. Soon after it had dropped anchor in the cove, the Simon Salvor also put in for shelter. Gale-force winds were now bending the trees on shore, and within minutes solid sheets of rain came lashing down on the two ships.

Frank and Joe enjoyed a hearty dinner in the crewâs mess. But, for once, Chet seemed to lack appetite. He said nothing, but his pals guessed the heaving motions of the ship were responsible.

âSay, I wonder if Captain Early might be home by now,â Joe mused.

âMaybe,â Frank said. âWhy?â

âWe might be able to contact him by ship-to-shore telephone. Iâd like to find out for sure about those pearls.â

âSo would Iâif we can get along the deck without being blown overboard.â

âWindâs died down quite a bit,â Sid Carter spoke up. âGo aheadâyou can make it to the radio shack without any trouble.â

Chet, welcoming the chance for fresh air, accompanied the Hardys as they scooted forward, hugging the deckhousing for shelter. The rain, too, had abated, and the boys reached the radio compartment without much difficulty.

The radioman, Harry Egner, readily agreed to put through their call. In a few moments Captain Early was on the line.

Frank related their theory that the pearls might have been the object of the burglary attempts and told how they had found the cane to be empty.

âDonât worry. I havenât carried any pearls in the cane since I retired from the Service,â Captain Early replied. âYou fellows deserve credit for a smart guess, though.â

The captain explained that the pearls which he had collected had been made into a necklace for his late wife, and now were owned by one of her relatives.

Frank, somewhat letdown, observed, âEven so, the burglar must have thought the cane still held a fortune in pearls, just as we did.â

âHmm. I suppose thatâs possible,â Captain Early agreed, âif heâd heard about me from some acquaintance in the Navy.â

âOne thing has us stymied,â Frank went on. âHow did he know the cane was still at our house? If he trailed you there Monday night and saw you leave the next day, I should think he wouldâve been fooled by seeing you carry Dadâs walking stick.â

âHold on! Maybe he was!â Captain Early said excitedly. âYou remember my telling you about that motorist who picked me up?â

âYes.â

âThe fellow seemed interested in my caneâeven asked to take a look at it after I got into his car. It was then I first noticed Iâd taken the wrong one, and I mentioned the mix-up.â

âWow! That could mean he drained the gas tank Monday night!â Frank exclaimed. âHe may have counted on picking you up when you ran out of gas, swiping your cane, and pushing you out of the car!â

Joe, who was listening in on the conversation, broke in, âSo he knew where to look for the caneâat our house.â

âWell, boys, your theory seems to explain all the angles of the case,â Captain Early said. âAt any rate, the burglar hasnât come back. And I hope he doesnât.â

Frank ended the call after getting a description of the motorist and his car.

The rain ceased and the skies began to clear soon after the boys emerged from the radio shack. Roland Perry met them out on deck.

âLooks as though weâre in luck,â he remarked. âCaptain says the hurricaneâs moving out to sea again.â

âHmm! That air sure smells good,â said Chet, who was rapidly regaining his usual healthy appetite. âThink Iâll go see if the cook has any leftovers.â

âWatch it. He may put you to work washing dishes,â Joe joked.

âWho cares? Itâll be worth it!â Chet said breezily, and trotted off toward the galley.

Stars were now twinkling brightly and the cove lay silvered with moonlight. Voices carried across the water from the Salvor anchored nearby.

Perry eyed the other boat suspiciously. âIâd sure give a lot to know what those bilge rats are after.â

The Hardys, recalling Bockâs threat to their father, expressed the same interest. Frank then told the diver about the cave on the island. âIt looks as if somebody lived in it.â

âAnd it may be the answer to a ghost mystery,â Joe stated. âYou want to have a look at it?â

Perry, intrigued, quickly agreed to accompany the Hardys ashore. The Sleuth was lowered over the side and a few spurts of her motor brought them quickly to the beach.

When they reached the cave, Frank led the way inside. He shone his flashlight beam over the campsite traces on the floor, then upward to the tally marks scratched on the wall.

âPoor guy. Must have had a pretty rugged diet,â said Perry, toeing the scattered bird bones. âIâd say he was probably a shipwrecked sailor or a stranded fisherman.â

âIn that case, why live in a cave when thereâs a perfectly good lighthouse handy?â Joe countered.

âHmm, you have a point there.â The diver rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. âWhatâs this ghost mystery you mentioned?â

âA lighthouse keeper here years ago claimed he sawââ Suddenly Joe broke off and pointed to the mouth of the cave.

A glow of light was visible outside!

Perry strode through the cave entrance, Joe and Frank pressing close behind. A dazzling glare struck their eyes. The boys countered with their own flashlights, revealing two figures in the darkness. One was a lanky, baldheaded man with tufted, sandy eyebrows.

The other was Gus Bock!

âWell, well! I mightâve known,â Perry said coldly. âSneaky as everâeh, Bock?â

The burly diverâs face took on an ugly scowl. He shot a glance at Frank and Joe and grunted. The boys saw his hamlike fists clenched.

âStow it, Perry!â

âMaybe youâd like to tell us what youâre doing here,â Perry retorted. âBesides eavesdropping, that is.â

Bock advanced, his jaw jutting furiously. âMaybe youâd like a mouthful of knuckles!â

âNein, Bock! Lass das!â With a guttural growl, the baldheaded man tried to hold back his companion. âWe do not want trouble!â

âHeâs asking for it!â Bock shook off the manâs restraining hand.

âLooks as if we donât have to ask,â Perry said evenly. âSomeone slipped our anchor for us last night.â

Bock let out a hoot of raucous laughter, but it broke off abruptly, as Perry added, âAt least thatâs a change from cutting air hoses.â

With a snarl, Bock hurled a punch at his former shipmate. Perry ducked fast enough so the blow only grazed his jaw. Then his own fist smashed out at Bock and the burly diver went sprawling on the ground.

Bockâs face was contorted with rage as he picked himself up. âOkay, Perry! This time you really get the works!â

âHold it!â

Everyone turned at the barked-out order. Captain Rankin had materialized out of the darkness, accompanied by his brawny bosân.

âThatâll be enough!â Rankinâs tone of command had the desired effect. Bock froze sullenly. âOn your way, you two.â

âWeâll goâfor now,â Bock snarled. âBut I ainât finished with you, Perry.â He glared at Frank and Joe. âAnd you better watch it, too.â

He turned and slunk off with his companion.

Perry watched until they were out of earshot, then said to Captain Rankin, âWhatâs the idea, skipper? You on shore patrol?â

âYou might call it that, Rollie. I saw Bock and his friend go ashore after you three did and figured there might be trouble. Seems I was right.â

Perry retorted dryly, âBock and I are in for a showdown sooner or later.â

Frank told the men of the hostile diverâs visit to their home. Rankin looked concerned and suggested, âMaybe you boys had better bunk on board tonightâjust to be on the safe side.â

The Hardys accepted, eager to learn what Perry would find on his next descent to the Katawa.

The next morning they tried to persuade the diver and Matt Shane to let them accompany Perry down and help search the hulk.

Shane shook his head. âNot a chance, lads. The engine roomâs one of the most dangerous places for a diver to go on a wreck. Itâs a regular tangle of pipes and machinery, and the spilled oil makes it twice as hazardous.â

âAt least let us watch,â Frank pleaded. âWeâve had plenty of experience scuba diving, and weâll promise not to go aboard.â

Shane and Perry finally gave consent. The Hardys made a quick trip ashore with Chet to retrieve their scuba gear from the lighthouse. Then, in the Sleuth, they sped out to the marker buoy, where the salvage ship had already taken up its position.

Chet stood by, fascinated, while Frank and Joe donned rubber suits, flippers, masks, and breathing apparatus. Roland Perry was already encased in his diving dress on the stool, a red wool cap on his head.

âYouâre going in through the engine room?â Joe asked.

âIâll have to. The top hamperâs all smashed and half buried in silt, the way sheâs lying. Remember now, you fellows take care.â

âAye, aye, sir.â Frank grinned and saluted.

Perryâs helmet was screwed on, the glass faceplate attached, and the air supply checked. Then he clumped onto the diving stage in his lead-weighted boots and was lowered into the water.

Meanwhile, Frank and Joe had pulled down their masks, inserted their mouthpieces, and tested their regulators. Both leaped over the side.

The Hardys cleaved their way steeply downward into the cold depths, trying to keep Perry in sight. The water darkened to a murky gray-green as they descended. At last the shattered hulk of the Katawa came in sight.

Both boys felt a chill of awe at their first view of the dead ship. Already coated with barnacles and scum, it lay upended on the ocean floor, stacks and superstructure rammed deeply into the mud. The high bow of the Carona had knifed clean through into the Katawaâs bridge and deckhousing, and the resultant wreckage had evidently crumpled further under the weight of the foundered vessel.

âNo wonder Rollie has to go in through that hole in her side!â Joe thought.

The diver waved to them as he stepped off the platform, then plodded slowly toward the hulk, trailing his air hose and lifeline. The Hardys saw him close his outlet valve slightly to make his suit more buoyant so as to float himself upward toward the gaping hole. A startled school of fish came darting out as Perry made his way cautiously inside.

Frank and Joe swam closer. Dark swirls of oil were rising from the engine room, churned up by Perryâs movements, and they could see little except the glow of his portable undersea lamp.

Meanwhile, the boys were flutter-kicking their way around the ship, peering at it from all sides. Somewhere in the sunken freighter was the strong roomâdid it still contain the gold Pharaohâs head?

The Hardysâ air supply was getting low when Perry finally emerged. He made a thumbs-up gesture to return topside. Pausing at intervals to decompress, they made the ascent.

As soon as Frank and Joe were hauled aboard, they could see from the excited faces of the diving crew that Perry had telephoned important news from the wreck. The young sleuths waited impatiently until his helmet was removed.

âWhatâs the dope, Rollie?â Joe asked eagerly.

âWhoever cut that hole in the Katawa stole her engine-room telegraph and tachometerâthe only evidence that can prove whoâs responsible for the collision!â

CHAPTER XVI

Double Disappearance

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âTHE telegraph and tachometerâgone!â

Joe gave a startled whistle and glanced at Frank. The discovery of the missing instruments below boded ill for Transmarine Underwriters and could result in heavy claims!

Chet had already heard the diverâs telephoned report from the bottom. âSay!â the stout lad spoke up. âIsnât there another telegraph and tachometer on the bridge?â

âSure,â said Perry, âbut they wouldnât amount to much now, except scrap metalâeven if I could pry them out. The bridge is nothing but a mass of junk, and the whole shipâs perched right on top of it.â

âHow about the strong room?â Frank asked.

âThatâs probably pretty badly smashed, too,â the diver said. âI couldnât get to it from the engine roomâat least not yet. A lot of debris will have to be cleared away first.â

The Hardy boys went below to change out of their scuba dress.

âWhat do you suppose Rollie will find when he gets to the strong room?â Joe mused aloud. âThink the gold Pharaohâs head is still there?â

âI donât know. Looks as if weâll have to wait a while to find out. The question is, Why were those indicators stolen?â

Joe shot his brother a surprised look. âThatâs obvious, isnât it? Whoever took them was trying to cover up responsibility for the collision.â

âMaybe. It could also be a red herringâto cover up the theft of the head! Remember, the thief knew that hole in the Katawaâs side was bound to be seen by any salvage diver later on.â

âYes!â Joe said excitedly. âThen, if nothing was touched in the engine room, that would practically prove the thief had gone down for the head. Which, in turn, might touch off a big search by the police!â

âRight. So he may have figured that by misleading the insurance company, heâd have more time to dispose of the head safely.â

âBut all this is assuming the thief could get to the strong room,â Joe pointed out.

âRollie said the way to it is blocked.â

âFrom the engine room itâs blocked,â Frank corrected. âMaybe thereâs some other way to get at the room.â

When the Hardys returned topside, they learned that Shane, Perry, and Captain Rankin were holding a meeting in the captainâs cabin to map salvage plans. The three Bayporters were invited to attend.

Around the oval wooden table, Frank told his theory that the instrument thiefâs real objective might have been the Pharaohâs head.

âIs there any other way he could have reached the strong room?â the young sleuth asked.

Roland Perry hesitated. âHe might have worked his way in through a deck hatch or companionwayâIâ d have to check. But offhand I doubt if that would have been any easier.â

âBesides, lad,â Captain Rankin put in, âwould he have bothered to cut the hole in her side? The hole is the only tip-off that a thief was down there at all.â

âThatâs true,â Frank conceded.

âThere could still be a reason,â said Joe. âMaybe he figured the hole would throw us off the track for a whileâat least long enough for him to sell the head.â

Shane remarked wryly, âIâd say weâre up against a pretty shrewd operator.â

âRollie,â said Frank, âis there any chance the thief could have gotten the headâand then himself blocked access to the strong room?â

The three salvage men were startled by this idea.

âBy George, I guess thatâs possible,â Perry admitted. âWith a small explosive blast, he might have shifted the debris inside the ship quite a bit. Itâd be hard to tell now.â

The Hardys and Chet exchanged quick glances. They had already found outâalmost at the cost of their livesâthat someone on Whalebone Island knew how to handle explosives!

âWell,â Frank said, âto sum up, it looks as if there are four possible answers to the question of who cut that hole in the Katawa.â

âLetâs hear âem,â said Matt Shane.

âOne: the thief may have been someone hired by the owners of the Carona, to help them duck responsibility for the collision. Two: he may have been a free-lance diver after the headâor maybe just after brass scrap. Three: he may have been hired by Mehmet Zufar, the owner of the head, to help him gyp the insurance company.â

âYou donât have to name the fourth,â Perry broke in. âThat I can already guess.â

Joe nodded. âYou mean Gus Bock?â

âI do. Bockâs been my candidate for the thief ever since I first saw that hole.â

âI realize Simon Salvage is not famous for square dealing,â Captain Rankin said, frowning. âBut do you believe even theyâd risk such a maneuver?â

âSure,â Perry reasoned. âWhat else can they be doing around Whalebone Island? We know they wouldnât pass up any chance of big loot.â

Before the discussion could continue, there was a knock on the door of the captainâs cabin.

âCome in!â Rankin barked.

A deckhand stepped inside. âSparks says thereâs a radiotelephone call from shore for the Hardy boys, Capân.â

Frank and Joe excused themselves and hurried to the radio shack, Chet puffing along eagerly behind them. The call was from Sam Radley in Philadelphia.

âWhatâs up, Sam?â Frank asked his fatherâs operative.

âA couple of news items I thought Iâd pass on to you fellows. For one thing, your dad has found out, through Interpol, who sent that warning cablegram from Egypt.â

Frankâs eyes lighted with interest. âWho?â

âThe Egyptian police traced it to a Dutch goldsmith named Van Hoek who was living in Cairo.â

âWas living?â

âThatâs right. He seems to have disappeared.â

Frank glanced at Joe and Chet, who were listening in. Chet gulped.

âA goldsmith!â Joe exclaimed. âSounds as if there mightâve been some funny business with the Pharaohâs head. Van Hoek may have made a duplicate!â

âAnd he may also be another victim of the Pharaohâs curse,â Chet croaked gloomily.

âWhatâs the rest of your news, Sam?â Frank asked, turning back to the telephone.

The detective hesitated before replying. âThe truth is, your dadâs missing, too. At least I havenât heard from him for over twenty-four hours.â

âWhat! Havenât you any idea where he went?â

âNone,â Radley admitted worriedly, âexcept that he was following up on that lead from Zufar. Look, Iâd rather not talk too much over the phone. Do you think you boys could break off what youâre doing and fly here to Philadelphia?â

Alarmed for their fatherâs safety, the Hardys readily agreed. Radley promised to arrange a special charter flight with the Ace Air Service, which would be standing by as soon as the youths could get back to Bayport.

Chet was sympathetic and immediately offered whatever assistance he could give his pals.

Frank gave him a grateful slap on the back. âThanks, Chet. Youâve been a swell sport to help us this far. You deserve a break. Weâll drop you off in Bayport, but stand by.â

âYou bet.â

After a hasty farewell to their friends on the Petrel, the boys embarked in the Sleuth.

It was evening when they finally reached home. Here Frank and Joe ate a quick supper with Aunt Gertrude. Not wanting to worry her, they made no mention of Fenton Hardvâs disappearance, saving only that they were needed urgently in Philadelphia to help on his current case.

âAny word from Mother?â Joe asked.

âHer friend is better, but Laura plans to stay on in Bartonsville a few days,â Miss Hardy replied. âDonât eat so fast, boys! Youâre as bad as Tivoli.â

Frank grinned. âHowâs Tivoliâs appetite these days?â

âHumph! He does eat rather a lot, but heâs proving to be a very well-behaved dog. Iâm seeing to that!â Aunt Gertrude added with pride.

The two boys sped to the airport in their convertible and were soon taking off into the dusk aboard the charter plane.

Sam Radley met them at the Philadelphia air terminal, but waited until the Hardys were settled in a hotel room before telling them the whole story

âWhen your dad and I opened that airport locker,â he began, âwe found a walkie-talkie inside.â

âA walkie-talkie!â Frank exclaimed.

âYesâwith a note saying to keep listening in. But it wasnât till Saturday that anything came through.â

âWhat did you hear?â Joe asked.

âNot much the first time. The voice that spoke sounded pretty suspiciousâwanted to know why Zufar himself didnât answer. Your dad said he was acting as Zufarâs agent or go-between for the pickup of the head.â

âThen what?â Frank inquired.

âHe was told to stand by for instructionsâwhile the gang did some snooping around, I suppose, to make sure there was no trap.â

âThen,â Sam went on, âearly yesterday morning another message came. Fenton was told this time to grab a taxi immediately, have the driver go down Market Street, and then turn north onto Johnson Avenue. The voice said he would receive further instructions en route.â

The sandy-haired, muscular detective rose from his chair and paced anxiously about the room.

âI tried to follow him in another cab, but lost him in traffic. I havenât heard a word from him since.â

Frank said, âHave you told the police?â

Radley nodded. âYes, your father kept them informed all along, but there was no time to rig a trap. A police operator was tuned in on the same frequency, but he heard nothing.â

âSome of the gang probably got close behind Dadâs cab and broadcast at very low power, so the transmission wouldnât carry far,â Joe declared.

Both boys felt sick with worry, but knew there was little they could do except await developments. Frank told Radley about Captain Earlyâs cane and passed on the description of the âhelpfulâ motorist and his car. Radley promised to have this circulated by the police.

âBetter get some rest, fellows. We may need all our energy tomorrow,â the operative advised after they had listened to the eleven-oâ clock news report on TV.

Radley left to return to his own room. Frank and Joe undressed and went to bed. Exhausted by their strenuous day, they fell asleep quickly.

Joe awoke suddenly some time later. Was the floor creakingâor had he only imagined it? He raised his head from the pillow and peered around.

A shadowy figure was darting toward the window!

CHAPTER XVII

Secret of the Mummy Case

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JOE was out of bed in a flash. He sprang clear across his brotherâs bed and leaped at the intruder in a flying tackle.

With a snarl, the man kicked backward. His heel connected full force with Joeâs jaw and the boy crashed to the floor in a daze.

By this time Frank had awakened. He jumped out of bed just as the man was disappearing through the window. Frank ran over and stuck out his head. âStop! Thief!â he yelled at the top of his lungs. The intruder was already darting down the fire escape into the pitch-dark alleyway below.

Frank raged in frustration. He had started to put on his bathrobe, in order to give chase. But he checked himself, not daring to leave Joe alone.

Dashing to the room telephone, he signaled the operator. âA man just broke into Room 3211 He got away down the rear fire escape and went through the alley!â

Hurrying to his brotherâs assistance, Frank was relieved to find Joe groggily raising himself from the floor.

âWhoa! Easy, boy! Better stay put for a bit,â Frank advised. He switched on the light, got Joe a glass of water, then helped him onto a bed.

âFeel okay?â

âGuess so. Slightly foggy, thatâs all.â Joe waggled his jaw. âI guess itâs not broken.â

His eyes widened and he sat up again as Frank reached for a sheet of white paper propped on a table. âOur visitor left a message,â said Frank.

âWhatâs it say?â

Frank read aloud: ââLeave town at once or thereâll be trouble!â â

âMore on the other side, isnât there?â Joe said.

When Frank turned the sheet over, his jaw tightened. Without a word, he handed the paper to Joe. The remainder of the message was:

AND DROP THE PHARAOHâS HEAD CASE IF YOU HOPE TO SEE YOUR FATHER AGAINâALIVE!

âIf only I couldâve nailed that creep!â Joe complained bitterly.

âDid you get a look at him?â

âNo, it all happened too fast.â Joe scowled. âButâthere was something familiar about him, at that. Just his general shape, or the way he moved, Iâm not sure what.â

Frank went down the hall to rouse Sam Radley, whose room was several doors away. On the way back, they encountered the house detective.

âA couple of scout cars are cruising around, looking for likely suspects,â the hotel security man reported. âCan you give us any description to go on?â

âNot a very good one, unfortunately,â Frank said. âThe man was tall and had on a dark suit, thatâs about all. He was pretty much in shadow going down the fire escape.â

The house detective took down a complete account of the incident from both boys and offered the services of a doctor for Joe, who vigorously declined. âIâm fine, now.â

Radley, meanwhile, had been prowling about the room, looking for clues. A moment after the hotel detective had left, Radley bent down and plucked something from behind the wastebasket near the window.

âDid either of you throw this away?â

The Hardys shook their heads. âWhat is it?â Frank asked.

âA notice of an art auction sale,â Radley replied, holding out a small brochure, âfrom the Holt-Hornblow Galleries in New York.â

âAn art auction sale!â Joe exclaimed, looking at his brother excitedly. âThe fellow must have dropped it going out the window.â

âThat would figure, all right,â Frank said. âIf the men who kidnapped Dad really have the gold Pharaohâs head, they may be in the art business!â

They found no marks or jottings on the brochure which might provide a further clue.

âYou know something?â Frank said suddenly. âThereâs an angle to this business weâve been overlooking all along.â

âWhatâs that?â asked Radley.

âThe gang behind all this must have had some real inside knowledge if they salvaged the head from the Katawaâs strong room. Remember, no story about the head being aboard was ever published in the newspapers.â

Radley nodded. âTrue.â

âOne of the Katawaâs crew may have let the secret slip out,â Frank went on. âThen word was passed along, either to a museum, or an art dealer âmaybe someone who knows Zufar.â

Joe suddenly leaped up off the bed as if he had been stung. âSufferinâ snakes!â he blurted. âBogdan! Fritz Bogdan!â

âWhat?â Frank exclaimed.

âI mean, he was the man I sawâthe guy who broke in tonight!â

Radley and Frank stared at Joe.

âHow can you be sure,â Radley asked, âif you didnât see his face?â

âIâm not sure,â Joe admitted, âbut at least Iâm positive thatâs why the figure looked familiar. Tall, slightly stooped, right shoulder higher than the otherâjust like Bogdan!â

Frank was impressed by his brotherâs theory. âThat definitely adds up,â he said. âBogdan could have learned from Zufar about the head going down on the Katawaâmaybe heard about it the same day that it happened. So he decided to steal a march on the insurance company and hire somebody to grab it before they could send down a diver of their own.â

âAnd remember, we suspected Bogdan was eavesdropping on us at Zufarâs office,â Joe said.

Sam Radley paced back and forth worriedly. âBoys, if youâre right, weâd better move fast,â he decided. âWe might be able to nail Bogdan on his way back to New York from here.â

âWhatâs your plan, Sam?â Frank asked.

âWeâll have police cover the airports, and the train and bus stations,â the operative replied. âMeantime, weâll fly back to New York in our charter plane. If heâs driving, weâll still get to New York before him.â

The Ace Air Service pilot had planned to stay overnight at a motel near the Philadelphia airport. Sam telephoned him and arranged to have the plane readied for take-off immediately.

In less than an hour Radley and the boys were bound for La Guardia Airport.

As soon as they landed, they checked telephone directories to find Bogdanâs home address, but could find no listing.

âWait a second,â Frank said. âMaybe Zufar can tell us.â

He plucked out the art dealerâs calling card. Zufar had jotted two telephone numbers on the back, along with the address of Bogdanâs curio shop. One was the shopâs number. The other proved to be that of Zufarâs hotel.

A few moments after Frank had dialed it, Zufarâs voice came hoarsely over the line, sounding as if he had just been awakened. âYes? Who is calling?â

Frank explained the situation hastily. Zufar seemed to be flustered and incredulous at the idea that Bogdan might be involved in the Pharaohâs head plot. But he gave Frank the curio-shop proprietorâs unlisted home number and address, which he said was an apartment not far from the shop.

âLetâs try Bogdan by phone first,â Joe suggested.

Frank called the number but got no response. Nor was there any answer from the shop number. The three sleuths hailed a taxi and sped into Manhattan.

Bogdanâs apartment was on the first floor of an old converted brownstone. Its windows were dark, and the doorbell could be heard ringing hollowly inside.

âMaybe he hasnât come back from Philadelphia yet,â Frank conjectured.

âWeâd better keep a stakeout,â said Radley. It was decided that he would remain on watch outside the brownstone while the Hardys covered the curio shop.

The boys taxied to the address and settled down to wait in an all-night drugstore across the street, which commanded a clear view of the shop entrance. The early morning passed slowly with no sign of Bogdan.

By ten oâclock neither the proprietor nor any of his employees had appeared to open the shop.

Finally Sam Radley arrived on the scene. Frank and Joe hurried across the street to meet him. The operative reported that he had called the Holt-Hornblow Galleries and confirmed the fact that a notice of the art auction sale had been sent to Fritz Bogdan. âI think weâd better call the police,â Radley told the boys.

âHold it!â Joe said. âHereâs Zufar!â

The art dealer was just stepping out of a taxi. He looked upset at sight of the trio and twiddled his mustache nervously as they apprised him of the situation.

âDo you have a key to the shop?â Radley asked. When Zufar nodded, he went on, âThen suppose we go inside and search the premises.â

âB-b-but we have no right to do that!â the dealer spluttered. âI merely occupy office space here as a favor from Bogdan.â

âLook,â Frank said angrily, âour dad was kidnapped carrying out a dangerous assignment for you. Your friend Bogdan may be behind the whole thingâincluding the theft of your golden Pharaohâs head.â

Joe broke in. âWeâll call the police and get a warrant.â

Zufar fished out a silk handkerchief and daubed his perspiring face. âNo, noâplease! Let us do as you wish.â He unlocked the front door of the shop and they went inside.

Radley made a hasty survey of the premisesâshowroom, offices, and storage space at the rearâto make sure that no one was about.

âWhat do you expect to find?â Zufar asked.

âEvidence,â said Radley. âIf Bogdan did mastermind this plot, the Pharaohâs head may be hidden here somewhere!â

The three sleuths began a thorough search. Would they find solid evidence linking Bogdan to the plotâand would it lead them to their missing father?

The boys and Sam probed into closets, crates, desks, rolled-up rugsâall in vain. Their hopes began to dwindle.

In the dusty showroom Frank paused and stared around despairingly. Once again, the faded, upright Egyptian mummy case caught his eye. On a sudden hunch, he strode toward it.

âJoe! Sam!â

His cry brought the others rushing over. Frank pointed to several tiny borings in the case. âThese look like air holes!â

Together, the three pried at the mummy case, until Joe found a catch. When Frank and Sam wrenched off the lid, the trio gasped.

Wedged inside, with eyes closed, was the bound and gagged form of Fenton Hardy!

CHAPTER XVIII

Danger Below

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THE boys were shocked at the sight of their father in the mummy case.

âDad!â Joe cried in great alarm.

Frank felt Mr. Hardyâs wrist and found a weak pulse. Carefully they eased the unconscious detective from the case.

âThereâs a sofa in Bogdanâs office,â said Sam. âLetâs carry him in there.â

They had taken only a few steps when Joeâs eyes suddenly bulged. âThat green Buddha!â he exclaimed.

âWhatâs the matter?â Frank asked.

âWait till we attend to Dad and Iâll show you!â

The three laid Fenton Hardy on the sofa in Bogdanâs office. Mehmet Zufar, visibly shaken, watched as Radley loosened the investigatorâs collar, then checked his respiration.

âIâd say heâs been drugged,â Sam declared. âWeâd better get him to a hospital!â

While the operative telephoned for an ambulance and notified the police, Joe led Frank back to the Buddha figure.

âTake a look at that. Does anything about it strike you as odd?â

The large figure was coated with the pale-green patina of weathered bronze. It was seated in the âlotusâ position, legs crossed, hands cupped in the lap.

Frank studied the Buddha intently for a moment. âHmm. The head doesnât seem to match somehowâitâs canted slightly to the left.â

âExactly. As if it was made separately from the body and then fitted on.â

Frankâs face suddenly lit up. âJumpinâ Jupiter! You thinkâ?â

âI think this Buddha needs his skull X-rayed, thatâs what!â

As Joe seized the statueâs head with both hands, Zufar came rushing up to the boys.

âYa khabar!â he gasped. âWhat are you doing? You may damage theââ

âRelax, Mr. Zufar. If this is one-piece bronze, I canât damage it. If notââ As he spoke, Joe applied a slight twisting pressure to the statueâs head.

Suddenly the neck seemed to move inside its tight-fitting necklace. An instant later the whole head came off in Joeâs hands!

âYou were right!â Frank shouted.

The lower portion of the neck, which had fitted inside the necklace, showed none of the greenish bronze patina of the rest of the figure. Instead, it appeared to be hard-baked clay!

Frank lifted the head. âWow! Heavy as lead!â he exclaimed. âThe weight alone proves it was never part of the original hollow bronze casting.â He turned it upside down to examine the base of the neck.

âLooks like solid clay,â said Joe.

âItâs clay, all right,â Frank agreed. âThe surface has been bronzed over and doctored with paint to give it the same weathered look as the body. But whether the clayâs solid or not is another question.â

âLetâs find out!â Joe urged.

He lugged the head back to the storage room, followed by Frank and Zufar. Here Joe laid the head on a worktable, then picked up a hammer and chisel, evidently used for prying open crates.

âWh-wh-what are you going to do?â Zufar stuttered, wringing his hands anxiously.

âSee if this Buddha has a split personality.â Joe poised the chisel on the head and gave it a sharp rap with the hammer. The face cracked and the clay fell away. They saw a yellow gleam of metal.

âThe golden Pharaoh!â the boys cried out.

Zufar stared in stunned silence as the boys extricated the head from its broken clay shell. Frank and Joe were awed by the sheer beauty of the centuries-old statuette.

A tiny vulture and cobra protruded side by side from the Pharaohâs headdress. A long, slender goatee hung from the chin of the masklike golden face.

âGreat Scott! Whatâs going on!â

All three turned as Radley strode, wide-eyed, into the room. He told the boys that an ambulance was on the way, then they quickly related what had happened.

âThe Pharaohâs head!â Sam exclaimed in astonishment. He turned to Zufar and asked, âIs it authentic?â

The perspiring art dealer lifted the object in trembling hands and examined it carefully.

âI should say it is unquestionably the same head that I was bringing to Americaâor, if not, the cleverest imitation I have ever seen. Of course, only a detailed examination by an expert Egyptologistââ

âEven that wouldnât prove it was the same one that went down on the Katawa, would it?â Joe broke in. âWhat if Rhamaton IV had two of these heads madeâis that possible?â

Zufar shrugged. âWho can say?â Mopping his brow, the dealer added, âAnything is possible if my trusted friend and associate, Bogdan, could be party to such a villainous plot!â

The piercing wail of a siren came from the street outside. In a moment two ambulance attendants strode in, carrying a stretcher. Soon afterward, the police arrived.

âThe golden Pharaoh!â the Hardys cried out

Frank and Joe insisted on accompanying their father to the hospital. Radley elected to stay behind to acquaint the police with the situation.

âAfter we turn the Pharaohâs head over to the proper authorities, Iâll meet you at the hospital,â the operative promised.

It was past one oâclock in the afternoon and the Hardys had just finished eating a long-delayed breakfast in the hospital coffee shop when Radley finally rejoined them.

âHowâs your dad?â was his first question.

âOkay,â Frank replied, âalthough heâs still unconscious. The doctor says he was definitely drugged and he may not come out from the effects for hours.â

Radley breathed a deep sigh of relief. The golden Pharaohâs head, he told the boys, had been entrusted to the Egyptology Department of the Metropolitan Museum for expert examination.

âWhew! This mystery is a real cliff-hanger!â Joe remarked. âI can hardly wait to find out what Perry will discover aboard the Katawa, too!â

The boys were torn between wanting to stay near their father and to keep an eye on the salvage operations as Mr. Hardy had wished.

Finally Radley convinced the two young sleuths to return to Whalebone Island.

âThereâs not much you fellows can do here except wait,â he said. âSo donât worry. Iâll stick around till your dad revives.â

Frank and Joe taxied to La Guardia where Samâs pilot was standing by. Soon they were winging their way to Bayport. Back home, Joe phoned Chet to bring him up to date and make plans for the island trip. Frank, meanwhile, told Aunt Gertrude of the recent events, then the brothers tumbled into bed.

The alarm clock awakened them at three oâclock the next morning. The boys showered, dressed, and hurried down to the kitchen to find a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs awaiting them.

âYouâre a swell sport to get up just on our account, Aunt Gertrude,â Frank said. âWe sure appreciate it.â

âHumph! Somebody has to see that you two get the proper nourishment,â Miss Hardy said tartly, yet with a pleased look in her eyes.

The boys sped off in their convertible to the boathouse, where Chet soon joined them.

âI m-must be out of my mind to c-crawl out of the sack at this time of night!â he complained, shivering in the brisk, cool breeze of the bay.

âYou wouldnât want to miss out on all the excitement, would you?â Joe said with a chuckle. âThis may be the day we ferret out the final answer to the whole mysteryâincluding the riddle of the Jolly Rogerâs ghost!â

Chet groaned loudly. âNow I know I should have stayed in bed!â

The Sleuth streaked out across Barmet Bay through the pre-dawn darkness. Late in the morning, they reached the Petrel, lying at the scene of the sinking, just north of Whalebone Island.

Roland Perry was resting on deck before going down for his second dive of the day.

âWhatâs the picture, Rollie?â Joe asked.

âBetter than we had any right to hope, fellows! I discovered the cargo had shifted enough so that I was able to cut a way through from the forward hold. Barring trouble, I should be able to get into the strong room itself on my next trip down!â

The Hardys and Chet were elated at the news.

âThatâll be terrific!â Frank said enviously. âI wish we could be down there watching. Say, Rollie, did you do any salvage work for the Navy after the war?â

The diver nodded. âAll along the coast here. A lot of ships are still resting on the bottom out in those waters. In fact, I remember seeing one enemy raider that your friend Captain Early accounted for.â

âHe must have been quite a skipper,â Joe said admiringly.

âA real tiger, from the stories Iâve heard about him,â Perry agreed. âHad four enemy ships to his creditâin the Atlantic. On that cane we gave him when he left the Svenson, the quartermaster carved the latitudes and longitudes of all four sinkings.â

The Hardys stared at the diver.

âLatitudes and longitudes?â Frank echoed.

âSure. You knowâsame as a fighter pilot painting his kills on the plane. We figured old Pearly Early had as much to boast about as any sky jockey.â

The diver broke off as his tender and Matt Shane approached. âLooks as though itâs time for my next dunk, fellows,â Rollie said. âStick around. I may have good news before the dayâs over.â

The Bayporters walked off toward the rail while Sid Carter fitted the diving helmet over Perryâs head.

Chet shot a quizzical glance at the Hardys. âWhatâs up? I saw the way you both looked just now when Rollie mentioned the cane.â

âDonât you get it?â said Joe.

âNo,â replied Chet. âLet me in on the secret.â

âIf Joeâs thinking the same thing I am,â said Frank, âthe burglar who did those break-ins may have been after that information carved on the captainâs caneânot his pearls at all.â

âThe location of those sinkings!â

âRight!â Joe turned to his brother. âYou brought the cane along, didnât you, Frank?â

âYes, itâs in our boat. Weâll take a look pronto!â

The three boys hurried across the deck and climbed down into the Sleuth, which was moored alongside. Moments later, they were exclaiming in surprise as they studied the markings on the cane.

Joe reached into a locker and pulled out a map which he unfolded.

âNow weâre getting somewhere,â Frank remarked as he held the cane close and studied the latitude and longitude of Captain Earlyâs first sinking. He read the numbers off carefully and Joeâs finger swept across the map.

âHere it is! Off Newfoundland.â

Frank read the next set of markings and Joe translated the position into a spot off North Carolina.

The next prey to the firepower of Captain Earlyâs destroyer had been sunk ten miles off the New Jersey coast.

âWow!â said Chet. âMy history book says that was called the graveyard of the Atlantic!â

Frank had a little difficulty making out the latitude and longitude numbers representing the fourth sinking. Inscribed near the handle of the cane, they were dim from wear. Frank relayed the position, and as Joe pinpointed the location, he suddenly exclaimed, âGood night! Thatâs right where we are!â

âThose lines nearly dissect Whalebone Island!â Chet said excitedly.

âI wonder what kind of craft the captain sent to Davy Jonesâs locker here,â Joe remarked.

âLetâs get hold of him on the radiotelephone,â said Frank. âHe can give us the answer.â

At first there was no response. After several tries, however, Frank finally reached the officer.

âCaptain Early!â he said excitedly. âThat last bag made by your destroyerâwas it off Whalebone Island?â

The boy heard the captain chuckle. âYes, I guess it was. Our radar picked up that U-boat in the dead of night.â

âA submarine?â Frank asked.

âRight! We dodged her torpedoes and sank her with ashcansâdepth charges, that is. The enemy left an oil slick bigger than a circus tent. We found debris the next morning. A certain kill.â

âThanks a lot,â said Frank. âThatâs great news, Captain. Weâll tell you all about it later and return your cane, too.â

Frank signed off and dashed out of the radio shack.

âYou look as if youâre about to jump out of your skin,â said Joe.

âBoy, I am!â Frank exclaimed, and told about the German sub.

âThen you meanâ?â Joeâs question was broken off by the high-pitched voices of excited crewmen running toward them.

âWhatâs wrong, Sid?â Joe asked Perryâs tender.

âAn explosion down below!â

âGood night! Was Rollie hurt?â

âDoesnât seem to be from what he said on the phone,â Carter replied. âWeâre not sure just what happened. Heâs on his way up now.â

Tension ran high on the Petrel as the crew waited out Perryâs gradual ascent. Finally he was hauled out of the water.

âSure youâre okay, Rollie?â Matt asked as the diverâs helmet was removed.

Perryâs face was flushed with rage. âNot a scratchâbut it was sheer luck!â The diver related that as he was about to enter the Katawaâs hold, he had sighted a huge squid which had apparently come prowling into the hulk. Perry had backed off to give it a wide berth. As he waited outside the sunken freighter for the squid to swim away, a sudden small explosion blew the creature to fragments!

Perry went on, tight-lipped, âMust have been a booby trap planted near the edge of the hold âgelignite, probablyâand the squid brushed against it. Couldâve been meâwhich was probably the idea of whoever set the trap. Or, if I hadnât touched it off myself, my air line would have, while I was moving around inside. You know what that would have done!â

The boys grimaced. With a sudden loss of compression from a ruptured air hose, the diver would have been crushed to a jelly inside his helmet by the ocean pressure!

âGet this suit off me fast, Sid!â Perry directed, grim-faced.

Matt Shane looked apprehensive. âWhat are you going to do, Rollie?â

âIâve got a score to settle with someone, Matt, and I aim to do it right now!â

âHold on!â Captain Rankin stepped forward and gripped the diverâs shoulder. âIf youâre implying Gus Bockâs responsible for the explosive, you have no proof!â

âI donât need proof!â Perry growled. âYou heard him threaten me the other night. Who else couldâve set that booby trapâthe squid?â

Both Shane and Rankin pleaded in protest, but Perry refused outright to continue diving until he had dealt with Bock.

Finally the two older men agreed to accompany him to the Simon Salvor for a showdown. The Hardys volunteered to take them to the other salvage ship in the Sleuth. Chet, too, went along.

Moments later, they drew up alongside the Salvor. There was no attempt to block the party from the Petrel as they climbed aboard.

But the boys noticed a strange air of tension and anxiety among the Salvor crewmen who faced them.

âWe werenât expecting visitors, Mr. Rankin,â said the Salvorâs skipper coldly. âWhatâs on your mind?â

âAn explosive was planted on the Katawa by someone who wanted to kill our master diver,â Rankin replied. âPerry here thinks Gus Bock had something to do with it.â

âWhere is he?â Perry spoke up harshly. âIâll tell him what Iâve come to sayâface to face!â

âNot on this deck you wonât,â the skipper said. âGus is not here.â

âThen where is he?â

The eyes of the Salvor captain focused on the water. âTrapped on the bottom. Heâll be lucky to see daylight again!â

CHAPTER XIX

Strong-Room Surprise

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GUS BOCK trapped! The Hardys and Chet were startled. Roland Perry stared in disbelief.

âDonât give us that,â the diver snarled. âBock may be on the bottom, but heâll come up again. Weâll wait till he does.â

âYouâll have a long wait, then,â the Salvorâs captain retorted.

âWeâll wait,â Perry maintained.

âAnyhow, youâre barking up the wrong tree. The only way one of our hands could have gotten to the Katawa is with scuba gear. And neither Bock nor anyone else has been off this ship except in a hardhat at the end of an air hoseânot since the night he went ashore on Whalebone with Kraus.â

As he spoke, the captain jerked his thumb toward the baldheaded man with sandy eyebrows whom the Hardys had seen outside the cave with Bock. âGo ahead and talk to Gus on the phone if you donât believe me.â

âMight as well, Rollie,â Frank advised.

Perry scowled uncertainly for a moment; then, accompanied by the others, strode around the afterdeck to the opposite side of the ship where the diving crew was stationed.

He took a headset from one of the tenders and spoke into the microphone.

âThis is Perry, Bock. You in trouble down there?â

Bockâs voice came back weakly over the speaker, âWhat do you care?â

âAnswer me!â

âAll right, Iâm pinned, if you want to know. Come on down and help me feed the fishes.â

âIâll be down, donât worryâjust so I can settle a score with you, once we get topside again!â

Perry turned to the Simon companyâs salvage master. âWhat happened?â

âLike Gus told youâheâs pinned. Our apprentice diver Ryan is trying to help him, but it looks hopeless.â

âGot another diving suit aboard?â Perry asked.

The Salvorâs captain said brusquely, âForget it, Perry. Youâre not going down there.â

âThere is nothing you can do,â Kraus added in his guttural accent.

Frank sensed another reason for the menâs strange attitude. âIf you aim to keep us from finding out what youâve been working on,â he spoke up, âyouâre out of luck. Weâve already learned thereâs a German sub down there.â

Frankâs words seemed to fall like a bombshell. Kraus and the Salvorâs skipper gaped at him in dismay.

âNow how in thunder do you figure that, son?â asked Matt Shane.

âFrom the American captain who sank her,â Frank said. âI guess you never knew it happened so close to Whalebone, Rollie,â he added. âThat was before you joined the Svenson.â

Perry turned to the Simon salvage master, Fosburg. âOkay, you heard him. Whatâs the picture?â

Fosburg explained that the shattered U-boat had been lying on its side. Its stern was sunk deep in the muck and its bow was tilted upward, resting on the ledge of an undersea reef. But an explosive charge which Bock had set off inside the sub earlier that morning had partially dislodged it.

On his next dive, the wreck had suddenly slipped off the ledge completely. Bock had been pinned under a flap of hull metal.

âItâs gradually squashing him downward as the ship settles into the silt,â Fosburg ended grimly. âRyan says itâs only a question of time till heâs crushed or his suit punctures.â

âCanât you take a purchase on the bow and hoist it enough to free him?â Perry asked.

The salvage master shook his head. âBockâs lying under the after edge of the flap. Raising the bow would just push him down worse. The only way would be to parbuckle the whole U-boat soâs to raise the keelâbut thereâs not a chance of getting wires under her. Not in time, anyhow.â

âThen what about cutting away the flap with a torch?â

âToo dangerous. Bock was carrying another charge of explosive and dropped it when the hulk fell on him. Dynamite and primacord, all set to blow if the flame comes anywhere near it!â

âThen whatâre you going to doâlet him die?â Perry flared angrily.

The salvage master shrugged. âRyanâs afraid to risk it. Personally, I donât blame him.â

âThen break out a cutting torch and another diving rigâIâll do it myself!â Perry snapped.

Fosburg called down to Bock to ask if he would agree.

âYou kidding?â the trapped diver called back. âWhat have I got to lose!â

Perry dropped the phone and instantly suited up.

The Hardys and Chet waited, tense and silent, as Perry made his descent. For a time there was no word from him after he reached the bottom.

Then his voice came over the deck speaker!

âThere may be another way to do this, Fosburg. Ask Frank and Joe Hardy if theyâre willing to come down with face masks and air lines.â

Both boys quickly volunteered to do so, and were informed the air lines also contained a phone connection.

Perry went on, âHave each of them bring down an iron needle with a hoisting wire attached to it.â

Removing their clothes, Frank and Joe donned skin-diving suits from the Sleuth and special face masks from the Salvorâs diving locker. Meanwhile, the needles had been laid out on deckâeach a huge iron rod with a wire rope shackled to an eye at one end. The rods were lowered over the side, with Frank and Joe clinging to them. Then the wires were payed out slowly.

The green ocean water grew darker and dimmer as they descended. At last, like a still, ghostly monster, the long, slim hulk of the dead U-boat could be made out on the bottom.

Perry and Ryanâthe Salvorâs apprentice diver âstood waiting for them.

The Hardys felt an ominous chill of fear as they saw Bockâs helmet and shoulders extending out from under the jagged flap of metal below the keel.

Fosburg transmitted Perryâs orders over the boysâ phone lines. âHe wants those needles jammed way under the flap. Frank, you help Ryan with one rodâand, Joe, help Perry.â

With grunting effort, the four divers at last got the needles wedged into position. Then Perryâs voice reached the crew on deck:

âOkay, put a strain on those wires!â

As winches heaved the wires taut, the rods slowly came upright, levering the metal flap upward. In moments the rescuers had pulled Bock free!

Then came the long, slow ascent back to the Simon Salvor. Safe on deck with his helmet off, Bock gasped out his thanks.

âStill want to break my neck, Rollie?â

Perry, somber-faced, shook his head. âNot yet, anyhow. Too much trouble saving it. Just tell me one thingâdid you have anything to do with a gelignite booby trap on the Katawa?

The rescued diver swore fervently that he knew nothing about it. âHavenât been near her. Iâll admit I was the frogman who slipped the Petrelâs anchorâbut thatâs all. And listen, Perry. About that old score youâve been wanting to settleâbeâlieve me, I didnât try to cut your air line.â

âOkay, Gus. Iâll take your word.â

Bock stuck out his huge paw. âIâm willing to call it quits.â

âGuess I go along with that,â said Perry, shaking hands.

âNow,â Frank said to Bock, âhow about telling us what you fellows are after aboard the U-boat?â

The diver opened his mouth to reply, but Kraus cut him off sharply. âTell them nothing, Bockl Nothingâdo you hear?â

âShut up, Kraus!â Bock retorted. âThese guys saved my life. Iâm not only gonna tell âemâweâre gonna cut âem in, see?â

Ignoring Krausâs protests, he turned back to the boys and Perry. âYou know whatâs down in that sub? Five hundred grand in American currencyâthatâs whatâa cool half million!â

Chetâs eyes grew big as saucers, and the Hardys were just as startled as their chum.

âA half millionâhow do you know?â Perry asked Bock.

âKraus here was a torpedoman on it!â

Bock went on to explain that in the closing months of World War II a group of top Nazis had fled Germany aboard the U-511 with a fortune in American currency.

âHeading whereâto South America?â Frank broke in.

âRightâuntil steering trouble and dogged pursuit by Allied sub-killers took them far off course.â

The U-boat had then hove to off Whalebone Island for repairs one night and sent a reconnaissance party ashore.

âKraus got separated from the party and was stranded when his mates were suddenly called back to the ship.â

âBecause of the Svenson!â Chet spoke up.

Bock nodded. âThe Germans sighted Captain Earlyâs destroyer. Then the Svenson engaged the U-511 and sank her, but Kraus thought it got away.â

âSo Kraus was the red-bearded apparition who scared the wits out of Tang, the lighthouse keeper!â put in Joe.

Bock chuckled. âYou guessed it, kid. He hid in a cave and finally got to the mainland in a boat swiped from a fisherman.â

Kraus, the boys learned, had met Bock by chance years later. An exchange of information between the two had led to the present salvage effort.

âI remembered the sinking,â Bock went on, âand knew that Captain Earlyâs cane gave the exact location.â

In response to further questioning by the Hardys, Bock admitted his group was responsible for the various break-ins and the highway incident involving Captain Earlyâs car. But their search for the sunken submarine had been fruitless until their prowler came upon Earlyâs carved cane at the Hardy house.

âThatâs the guy right over there,â Bock said, pointing to a muscular member of the salvage crew. âYou wonât hold it against him, will you?â

Frank and Joe shook their heads. âNo hard feelings as long as youâre giving us the whole story,â said Frank. âBut Kraus will have to square himself with immigration authorities.â

Bock, however, denied any knowledge of the âghostâ at the Hardysâ house or the island explosion trap.

âThen why did you threaten Dad?â Joe asked.

âI was plenty sore that he kept us from getting the salvage contract for the Katawa,â Bock admitted. âIt wouldâve given us swell cover for this job and kept you guys out of our hair. Right now, Iâm sure glad you were around!â

The Petrel party, eager to resume their own diving operation, soon headed back in the Sleuth to their ship.

It was nightfall when Perry telephoned electrifying news from the bottom: He had succeeded in forcing an entry to the Katawaâs strong room!

âWhat about the head?â Frank called down tensely.

âItâs here, all right. At least thereâs a case that looks like the one the insurance company describedâand thereâs something heavy inside!â

Some time later, a breathless group gathered in Captain Rankinâs cabin. On the desk lay a metal carrying case. Frank, acting for his father as the representative of Transmarine, was allowed to open it. Inside was an object wrapped in green velvet cloth.

âJ-j-jeepers! Unwrap it quick!â Chet urged.

Frank stripped away the velvet cloth, revealing a gleaming gold head.

âIs it the real McCoy?â Perry asked.

âSure looks like it,â Frank murmured. He hesitated, then took out his jackknife and made a tiny scratch in the base of the statuette.

Grayish metal could be seen beneath the gold!

âItâs gilded lead!â Joe cried out. âA fake!â He stopped short as sudden confused noises and shouts were heard on deck.

âWhatâs going on out there?â Captain Rankin exclaimed. He and the others sped from the cabin. As they reached the deck, the five shielded their eyes and staggered. Dense clouds of fuming vapor were billowing over the deck!

âTear gas!â Frank gasped. âLookâthose men!â

Near the glowing deckhouse, ghostly figures with gas masks could be seen darting about, swinging clubs and blackjacks! Petrel crewmen rushing topside were promptly clubbed as they came on deck.

âWeâveâgotâto stop them!â Joe yelled, his eyes stinging with pain. He groped forward past a fallen sailor, then felt himself roughly thrown to the deck.

Frank and Chet battled valiantly. But an instant later they were seized from behind in a grip of iron. Half-blinded and choking, the boys were helpless!

Soon the entire Petrel crew was subdued. Many, including Roland Perry, were unconscious. Frank, Joe, Chet, Captain Rankin, and one other man stood on deck with their hands tied.

âBut whoâ?â Frank murmured to himself.

Dazed, the captive group squinted through the darkness as two of the mystery raiders approached them.

When they removed their masks, the Hardys gasped.

âMehmet Zufar!â Joe cried out. âAnd Fritz Bogdan!â

The fat, mustached art dealer rubbed his hands and sneered triumphantly. Then he commanded, âCaptain, you will now hand over the head which your diver brought up from the sunken Katawa beforeââ

âBefore what?â Captain Rankin snapped back.

Zufar chuckled and glanced over the rail at the dark water.

âBefore,â he whispered, âweâas you sayâscuttle this ship and send you all to the bottom!â

CHAPTER XX

Rhamatonâs Curse

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âTHIS is piracy!â Captain Rankin exploded. âPiracy and murder! Youâll all pay for it with your lives!â

Zufar twirled his mustache smugly. âAh, but no, my dear captainânot with all the evidence lying on the bottom of the ocean. Your ship will disappear without a trace.â

âDonât count on that!â Rankin stormed. âChances are my radioman got off a call for help before you thugs took over.â

âI hate to disillusion you.â Zufar smiled. âBut your radioman has been in my pay all along. He has been most useful to us.â

âHarry Egner? I donât believe it!â

âIt is true, nevertheless. He, of course, will die with you, now that his usefulness is at an end.â

The Hardys clenched their fists, forgetting fear in their anger at being trapped. Chet Morton threw them a despairing glance.

Frankâs jaw tightened. He thought, âWeâll have to play for time.â In a loud voice he asked Zufar, âHow did you and your gang get here?â

âFrom a coastal hideout,â Zufar replied with a gloating smirk. âAs soon as Egner radioed us that the Rhamaton head was on the way up from the Katawa, we lost no time.â

Bogdan put in boastfully, âThanks to my idea of using tear gas, our task was made easier.â

Frank ignored the curio dealer and kept his eyes fixed on Zufar. âYou had to keep the fake head from coming into the hands of the insurance company, is that it?â

âExactly. Even though you and your brother detected the authentic head in New York, I still look forward to collecting one million dollars insurance from Transmarine Underwriters, you see.â

âBut why were you shipping the fake in the first place?â Chet asked. âYou couldnât have known beforehand the Katawa would sink in a collision.â

âTo palm it off on somebody!â Joe put in.

âQuite so. I intended to sell theâerâreproduction to a wealthy South American collectorâwhose agent had examined the original in Beirut.â Zufar laughed. âClever? At any rate, I felt the chance of doubling my profits was worth the risk.â

Meanwhile, Zufar explained, the real head had been sent on to Bogdan to sell secretly elsewhere.

âThen came the sinking.â The art dealer shook his head sadly. âBut it enabled me, of course, to claim a million dollars in insuranceâif the fake head were never salvaged.â

âSo you sent down your own diver?â Frank interjected.

âExactly. But unfortunately our man was unable to get through to the strong room before the Petrel arrived.â

Captain Rankin, who had been standing grim-faced, now broke out in an angry voice, âThen Frank and Joe were right! You took out the telegraph and tachometer insteadâas a cover-up for the hole in the Katawa hull!â

At this, Bogdan stuck his face close to the Hardys. âSmart kids! Weâll see how smart you are when we sink you forty fathoms under!â

Chills crawled up the boysâ spines, but Frank, undaunted, pressed further. âWho was your diver?â

Zufar pointed to a swarthy, thickset man. One of Bogdanâs employees! He chuckled. âAnd also the âghostâ who gave you such a hard time on Whalebone Island.â

Joe glared at the diver. âSo you blinked the signals, conked our Dad, and set off the explosion.â

It was further learned that he also had stolen Lawsonâs rental boat, left the warning note, ransacked Mr. Hardyâs camp, and stove the hole in his boat.

Zufar went on, âOur diverâs âghostâ camouflage was quite useful, since he had to stay on the island while working on the Katawa. He returned, you see, after you left the island the first time.â

âWhat about the ghost we saw at home?â Joe put in.

âThat was me,â Bogdan spoke up.

âSo there were two of you playing the ghost game,â said Frank.

âYes,â Bogdan replied. âIt was another of my brilliant ideas. I had heard the legend of Whalebone Island, and thus thought of reviving Red Rogersâ spirit.â

âNo wonder you looked familiar the first time we saw you at your shop!â Frank muttered.

Joe glared at the grinning art dealer and his cohorts. âYouâre a slick actor, Zufar! I suppose the broken-cat business with Mr. Scath was just an act to set the stage for my fatherâs kidnapping.â

âMostly thatâbut also, partly, to make myself appear innocent of any hint of fraud.â

Frank spoke up, âThat gelignite booby trap on the Katawa this morningâdid your man plant it?â

Zufar nodded. âThanks to Egnerâs timely warning by radio that your diver was close to the strong room. A pity it failed.â

âHow about the warning cablegram from Cairo?â Joe said. âWas Van Hoek in your pay too?â

âNot only thatâhe made our counterfeit Pharaohâs head. We hoped the cablegram might serve as a false lead, perhaps even frighten your father off the case.â Zufar sneered. âUnfortunately, Van Hoek himself is a superstitious fool! The thought of the Pharaohâs curse began to prey on his mind and he finally fled from Cairo. We have lost track of him.â

âWeâre wasting time, gabbing with these brats, Zufar!â Bogdan snarled. âLetâs open the seacocks and sink this tub!â

âQuite right, quite right, my friend. But first we must have these five drag their shipmates below. It will be much better, I think, if no bodies float to the surface.â

âOh yeah?â a harsh voice broke in. âMaybe thatâs what you bilge rats will be doinâ when we get through with you!â

Men were suddenly swarming over the rail!

Joe let out a yelp of joy. âItâs Gus Bock and his buddies!â

The burly diver leaped aboard, with fists swinging. Kraus, Fosburg, Ryan, and the Salvorâs captain joined the fray. Bock paused long enough to free the Hardys and the others.

Zufarâs henchmen, stunned by the swift turn of events, fought back, wildly brandishing their weapons.

âStop them! Stop them!â the fat ringleader shrilled, his voice rising hysterically. The next instant Bock seized him and drew back a mighty fist. Zufar begged for mercy. âD-donât hit met I give up.â

Frank spotted Bogdan about to swing himself over the rail. The young sleuth leaped toward him and pinioned the curio dealerâs arms. Kraus, nearby, sent a rocketing uppercut to the jaw of the âghostâ diver, who crumpled to the deck.

Joe and Chet had succeeded in disarming and capturing two more of the enemy.

Finally Zufarâs gang were completely subdued. By this time most of the Petrelâs unconscious crewmen had revived. Roland Perry also had come to.

With Zufar, Bogdan, and the other prisoners tied and locked in a cabin, warm handshakes were exchanged between the Petrelâs men and their rescuers.

âLooks as though weâre all square nowâeh, Gus?â Perry said with a grin.

âWho says, bubblehead?â Bock retorted. âI told you we were gonna cut you guys in on the U-boat dough and we are! In fact, we were just bringinâ it over to you when we got wind of what was goinâ on aboard.â

He emptied a canvas bag onto the captainâs desk. The Hardys and Chet gasped as bundles of water-soaked green currency came tumbling out!

âThere you are, pals! Your shareâa hundred grand. Divvy it up any way you like. The stuff got a bit water-logged in the chest, but you can still spend it.â

Perry and his mates stared in astonishment, unable to find words. Then Frank peeled off a soggy bill and held it up.

âCareful,â Bock advised. âThat doughâs been down in Davy Jonesâs locker so long it almost comes apart in your fingers.â

Frank nodded, kneading the fibers of the bill. âI knowâthatâs what I want it to do. Gus, unless Iâm off-base, this moneyâs counterfeit, probably manufactured by the Nazis themselves.â

âWhat!â Bock seemed on the verge of apoplexy.

Joe inspected the bill. âI think Frankâs right,â he said. âWe once helped our dad in a case involving counterfeit money and learned a few pointers about detecting phony currency. One way is from the paper itself. Iâll bet anything this isnât the same composition as paper used for American money.â

Bock stared glassy-eyed at his companions. At first the Hardys thought he might put his fist through the bulkhead in sheer rage. But suddenly the big diver tossed his head back and burst into bellows of laughter.

âWhat a bunch of saps we are! All that trouble we went to, and the dough turns out to be fake!â

Kraus could only shake his head and mutter, âAch du lieber Himmel!â

âWe could be wrong,â Frank said.

âSomehow I got a feeling you ainât.â Bock slapped him on the back. âBut never mind, weâll all hang onto this funny money till we find out for sure.â

A little later the Hardys contacted Sam Radley. They were overjoyed to learn their father had fully recuperated and would be out of the hospital the next day. Sam assured the boys he would give Mr. Hardy full details of their sleuthing success.

âSplendid work, fellows,â the operative added.

Two days later Fenton Hardy confirmed his sonsâ verdict about the money when he and Sam Radley boarded the Petrel at its pier in New York.

âBock and Kraus arenât the only ones who were misled,â Mr. Hardy added. âThat goldsmith Van Hoek is now under arrest.â

âNo kidding!â Joe exclaimed. âWhereâd they nail him, Dad?â

âIn Amsterdam, on several counts of art forg. ery. He stepped off the plane from Cairo and walked straight into the arms of the Dutch police.â

Chet flashed a wise look at his two chums. âWhen you received the secret warning I had a hunch the Pharaohâs curse was no laughing matter. It sure caught up with Zufar and his gang.â He hooked his thumbs into his belt. âNow that this case is closed,â he said with an air of satisfaction, âwe can relax a little. Hey! How about going to Captain Earlyâs place andââ

âEating more juicy lamb chops, I suppose,â Joe put in with a quick smile.

âAw! Quit reading my mind!â

âWait! I Chet has a point,â Frank concluded. âI think Captain Early should get a firsthand report of the final salvo.â

âAnd Iâll present the cane,â Chet said.

With a victory whoop, the boys set off, unaware at the moment that The Twisted Claw, their next mystery, soon would plunge them into another harrowing adventure.