MYSTERY OF THE WHALE TATTOO

ONE exciting event follows another when Frank and Joe Hardy are hired to apprehend the pickpockets who have been plaguing Soloâs Super Carnival. When their friends Tony Prito and Biff Hooper exhibit a stuffed whale dug up at a construction project, they all but put the carnival out of business.

Other unforeseen problems ensue when the teen-age sleuths become involved in their fatherâs latest case. Fenton Hardy is tracking down a priceless ivory idol stolen from a Hong Kong art collector. A postcard clue found at the carnival leads Frank and Joe and their buddy Chet Morton to the historic seaport town of Mystic in Connecticut, to a seamanâs home in New York City, to a stunning discovery in Los Angeles.

In this thrilling mystery the young detectives pit their wits against a gang of thieves whose bizarre identification, a three-part whale tattoo, proves to be a nearly insolvable riddle.

âFrank!â Joe gasped. âWeâll never make it
with the statue!â

Copyright1996, 1968 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: 68-12750

eISBN : 978-1-101-07660-6

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

Hey Rube!

JOE Hardy studied the photograph in his hand and frowned, then burst out laughing.

âWhat a weirdo!â exclaimed the blond seventeen-year-old boy. âTake a look at him, Frank!â

He gave the snapshot to his dark-haired brother, who was eighteen. Both boys, sons of Fenton Hardy, the famous private detective, had hurried into the living room at the call of their Aunt Gertrude. She had just opened an envelope which contained the snapshot and a letter.

Frank gazed at the man in the picture. His head was topped with a shock of light-colored hair, and his cheeks and chin were hidden beneath a full, flowing beard.

âSure is a freak,â Frank commented.

âThatâs not the way to talk about a relative, especially when heâs coming to visit,â Aunt Gertrude said sternly, trying to hide a smile.

She was a tall, sharp-featured woman who wore metal-rimmed spectacles. Her prim visage was deceptive, though, for beneath her forbidding appearance she was really one of the kindest persons one could ever hope to meet.

âA relative?â Joe burst out. âYouâre kidding!â

âI am not! Thatâs Elmer Hardy, a second cousin to your father and me,â their aunt corrected. âToo bad Fentonâs not at home,â she added.

Mr. Hardy was on a tricky undercover assignment in New York City, where as a young man he had achieved an enviable record on the police force. That was before he had come to Bayport to start his own detective agency. Now Frank and Joe were following in their fatherâs footsteps as astute young sleuths.

The news about Elmer Hardyâs proposed visit stirred their curiosity.

âHow come weâve never heard of him?â Joe asked.

âWell, you see nobody in the family has set eyes on him for thirty years,â Aunt Gertrude explained, âever since the day he ran away to sea. Elmer always was a bit of a wild one.â

Frank shook his head. âThirty years is a long time to go without hearing from someone.â

âA relative?â Joe burst out. âYouâre kidding!â

âOh, weâve exchanged a few letters over the years. Right from the start heâs had a standing invitation to come and visit us, and thatâs just what heâs going to do.â

âGreat!â Joe said. âIâll bet he can tell some terrific sea tales.â

Aunt Gertrude consulted Elmer Hardyâs letter. âHeâll be arriving in about two weeks, perhaps sooner if he can manage it.â

âMay I keep the picture a while, so I can show it to Chet?â Joe asked.

âYes,â Aunt Gertrude said. âBut mind now, you boys get all that laughing out of your system before Elmer arrives.â She waggled a finger at them to emphasize her point.

âYes, maâam!â Frank and Joe grinned.

The telephone rang. Frank picked it up. âHello?â His eyes widened. âJust a second, Dad.â He put his hand over the mouthpiece. âJoe, Dadâs run into some problems. Get on the extension in his study.â

Frank waited while his brother raced up the stairs to the second floor. It was highly unusual for Mr. Hardy to contact his family while working undercover and both boys were on the alert.

Joe picked up the extension. âOkay, Dad, go ahead.â

âIâll try to make this brief,â Mr. Hardy told his sons. âI want you to find someone for me, if itâs at all possible. Iâll give you the background so listen carefully.â

âAll right. Shoot!â Joe said.

Fenton Hardy explained that his quest was for a life-sized statue known as the âIvory Idol,â carved in the shape of a six-armed deity during the Ming dynasty. Ten years ago a gang of merchant sailors had stolen the Ivory Idol from the internationally famous Dudley-Harris collection in Hong Kong.

âThere were reliable reports,â Mr. Hardy said, âthat the statue arrived in the United States a few months after its theft, but the police failed to turn up the slightest trace of it.â

Frank and Joe jotted down the pertinent bits of information in pocket-sized notebooks, as their father went on, âOne month ago R. R. Dunn, the famous New York art collector, received a note saying he could purchase the Ivory Idol for his private collection.â

âWow! So it turned up!â Joe exclaimed.

âNot quite yet. The price is fifty thousand dollars, and the thieves are asking a ten-thousand-dollar advance to cover their âexpenses.â â

âWho sent the note?â Frank asked.

âItâs signed Blackright, nothing more,â Mr. Hardy answered.

The detective went on to say that R. R. Dunn, as an honest collector, had notified Mr. Dudley-Harris immediately. The latter called the police and also engaged the services of Mr. Hardy.

âAny clues so far?â Joe inquired impatiently.

âYes. An informer contacted the police last night and said that he knew something about Blackright. But the price he asked for his information was too high. Furthermore, he wanted a huge reward if Blackright was apprehended.â

âQuite a wheeler-dealer!â said Frank.

There was a slight pause, then Mr. Hardy continued earnestly. âNow hereâs the crux of the matter. That phone call was traced to Bayport.â

âWhat?â Joe exclaimed.

âYes. To be precise, from a phone booth in the north quadrant of the fairgrounds. I want you boys to stake out the place.â

âThatâs going to be a little rough,â Frank said. âSoloâs Super Carnival came to town yesterday and set up at the fairgrounds. Theyâre opening tonight. No telling how many people have used that particular phone.â

âOh? I see,â Mr. Hardy said. âPerhaps the man we want is connected with the carnival.â

Frank and Joe tingled with excitement. They had often helped their father on important cases and had gained some renown with their clever solutions.

The Tower Treasure was their first successful case, and not long ago they had solved the mystery of The Secret Agent on Flight 101.

âDad, weâll go to the fairgrounds right away,â Joe said.

âBut wait. I have a word of advice,â Mr. Hardy said seriously. âThis may be a dangerous gang with a lot at stake. Take no unnecessary chances.â

âWeâll watch ourselves,â Frank assured his father and they hung up.

Joe came downstairs to join his brother in studying their notes. They were still discussing the mystery half an hour later, when the doorbell rang. Frank rose, but Mrs. Hardy passed the living-room entrance on the way to the front door and motioned for him to sit down.

The boys heard the voice of a man and the name Solo and were out of their chairs in an instant and on the way into the foyer. Solo was a tall man with ruddy cheeks and good-humored eyes.

After Mrs. Hardy introduced her sons, Sid Solo said, âI sure am sorry Mr. Hardyâs out of town. Weâve been plagued with pickpockets in the last six towns weâve played. Bad for business, keeps the customers away. I thought if I hired Mr. Hardyâwell, what with his reputation and allâthose pickpockets would skedaddle pretty quick.â

Frank winked at Joe, then said, âMr. Solo, perhaps my brother and I can help you.â

The carnival man beamed. âWhy, Iâd consider that a personal favor. Iâve heard of some of your exploits and Iâll lay two-to-one odds that those cheap crooks wonât be any happier with Fenton Hardyâs sons on the job than they would be with your dad.â

Solo hired the boys on the spot, told them he opened daily at three in the afternoon, and then left.

As soon as they had finished supper, Frank and Joe hurried out to their convertible and were on their way to Soloâs Super Carnival. Frank was at the wheel.

âItâs perfect,â he said as they sped down the highway. âWe can kill two birds with one stoneâget rid of Mr. Soloâs pickpockets and search for our mystery informer at the same time.â

At the fairgrounds they parked in one of the spacious lots, with scores of other cars. As they walked toward the carnival, the voices of pitch-men could be heard shouting above the noise of a merry-go-round calliope. Delighted shrieks from riders on the roller coaster added to the buoyant feeling of the carnival. Frank and Joe strode briskly to one of the side gates, where there were not many patrons.

The ticket taker was a large, burly youth only a few years older than the Hardys.

Frank smiled. âWeâre the Hardys. Mr. Solo is expecting us.â

Joe took a step toward the entrance, but the sullen-faced attendant blocked the way. âYouâre the Hardys! So what? You gotta buy a ticket!â

Frank explained their mission as sleuths, but the fellow kept shaking his head. âGet lost!â

Frank grew impatient. âIâll leave my brother here,â he said. âBut Iâm going to find Mr. Solo, bring him back, and get things straightened out.â He started past the booth.

The big ticket taker grabbed Frank roughly around the neck and threw him to the ground. Then he poised for a kick.

âWatch it, Frank!â Joe yelled and tackled the bully, bringing him to the ground with a thud.

With a curse, the ticket taker lunged to his feet and rained hammerlike blows upon Joe. At the same time, he threw back his head and bellowed, âHey Rube!â

The traditional carnival trouble call sounded over the fairgrounds.

âHey Rube!â he shouted again.

CHAPTER II

Whale of a Discovery

JOEâs assailant paused only a split second, but it was time enough for the Hardy boy to land a roundhouse blow to the solar plexus of his opponent. The burly youth dropped face first, just at the moment when angry shouts filled the air. Joe glanced around to see a group of tough-looking roustabouts bearing down on them.

âOh, oh, Frank. Here comes trouble.â

âWeâll try to talk our way out,â his brother replied.

âThere they are!â cried the leader of the carnival laborers. âThey kayoed Knocker Felsen. Letâs getâem, boys!â

Frank and Joe stood shoulder to shoulder, braced to meet the charge. âWait a minute!â Frank yelled.

âTheyâre not going to listen,â Joe said. âWeâre in for it now.â

The carnival men had almost reached the boys, fists poised and eyes flashing, when an authoritative voice shouted, âHold it! Iâm Police Chief Collig, and Iâll arrest the first one who throws a punch!â

The carnies hesitated and looked at one another uncertainly. Then, realizing that the chiefâs threat was not an idle one, they unclenched their fists and began to mill about. The men muttered angrily among themselves and cast sour glances at Frank and Joe.

âWow!â said Joe when the police chief appeared at their side. âAre we glad to see you!â

âI can understand that,â Chief Collig said. âItâs a rough bunch. Iâd like to know whatâs going on here.â

Frank and Joe told him. By the time they finished their story, Knocker Felsen had regained his feet. Chief Collig vouched for the Hardys, but the carny leader was hard to convince. He looked dubiously at Frank and Joe.

âWell, if Mr. Solo hired them,â he said finally, âand if you say they really are detectives, then I guess itâs all right.â He looked embarrassed. âSorry about the trouble, fellows.â

Frank and Joe accepted his apology. Knocker Felsen, however, with one hand pressed to the pit of his stomach, sulked away a few steps, grumbling.

âLetâs shake and forget it,â Frank said, but Knocker refused the offer and marched back to his ticket booth.

âHeâs a real sorehead,â Joe observed.

Chief Collig nodded. âIâd be a little careful of him.â

The Hardys thanked the officer and wandered into the already crowded avenues of the carnival to begin their double duties. Near the merry-go-round Joe spotted a familiar figure.

âHey, Chet!â he called.

Their best friend swiveled his ample frame around and trotted over to their side. His round, freckled face was attentive as Frank and Joe told him about the call from their father and about Sid Solo.

âHow would you like to give us a hand, Chet?â Frank asked.

Chet Morton considered the offer silently. The husky boy was fond of fun and strongly opposed to hard work. He had no great taste for danger and usually backed away from it. But when Frank and Joe were in a tight spot, Chet always pitched in to help.

Finally he replied with a big smile, âSure. This is the kind of detective work I likeâobservation and investigation. Everything from a distance.â

The three laughed and sauntered down the carnivalâs midway, their eyes searching for suspicious characters. As they walked, Chet told them of his latest hobbyâscrimshaw. He was constantly discovering new hobbies and sports, plunging enthusiastically into each one. But after a few weeks, his interest would wane.

Now it was scrimshawâthe art of polishing whale teeth and walrus tusks, then carving a picture or a design into the ivory. Frank and Joe were somewhat familiar with this art. They owned a walrus-tusk cribbage board, decorated by an Alaskan Eskimo.

âScrimshaw really is the greatest,â Chet bubbled. âWhy, did you know that old-time sailors would spend as long as six months carving one single sperm whale tooth? And itâs no wonder! Those fellows spent an average of three years on each whaling trip.â

Chet explained how the ivory was softened by a soaking in brine, how its roughness was removed with a rasp, and later how it was polished with pumice and finally rubbed to a gloss with the palm of the hand.

âBut, Chet,â said Frank, âare you sure you have the patience?â

His friend was not listening. âThe carving itself,â he went on, âwas done with sail needles or jackknives. Once the design had been etched on, they used India ink to stain the lines. Of course today some people use power tools, but thatâs not for me. No sir! Iâll do it by hand.â

âWeâve got a new hobby, too,â Joe said. âCollecting lost relatives.â

âWhat do you mean?â Chet asked, stopping beneath the platform on which Boko the Clown was doing a unicycle routine.

âLook at this!â Joe showed him the picture of Elmer Hardy and told of the impending visit. Chet chuckled over Elmerâs picture and expressed the hope that the old seaman could teach him a few more things about scrimshaw.

Suddenly a hoarse cough sounded above the boysâ heads. They looked up to Boko peering down at the photograph of Elmer Hardy.

âExcuse me, fellows,â Boko said. âI just finished my act and Iâm on my way off the platform.â

The boys stepped aside. Boko leaped to the ground and disappeared around the comer of the canvas facade.

âI think,â Frank said, âthat this would be as good a time as any to start asking some questions.â

Joe and Chet agreed, and Frank led the way around the corner in the direction Boko had taken. They found the clown drinking coffee in a small private resting place for the performers. He had taken off his dunce cap, but was still wearing his baggy polka-dot suit, his floppy shoes, and his red-and-white grease paint.

With him was Rembrandt the Tattooed Man. Rembrandt, wearing only bathing trunks, was covered from head to foot with multicolored tattoos of every imaginable kind. Included was a scene depicting whalers closing in on a huge sperm whale whose giant, blunt head rose far above the waves. This artistic gem covered Rembrandtâs entire chest.

The boys introduced themselves. Rembrandt and Boko were friendly enough until Frank deftly turned the conversation to a criminal named Blackright and an unknown man who wanted to sell information about Blackright. Then Boko and Rembrandt grew distant. Their answers became curt.

Finally Boko said, âLook, you guys. We never heard of nobody named Blackright. We donât know nothinâ about it. Now, why donât you leave us alone so we can take it easy a while? We got to go back on stage in a few minutes.â

On the midway again, Joe shook his head. âItâs possible,â he said, âthat theyâre telling the truth.â

Frank looked dubious. âCarnival performers work hard and they need their coffee breaks,â he said. âBut their change of attitude was a bit too sudden for my taste.â

Chet agreed with Frank, and the boys decided that Boko and Rembrandt definitely warranted further attention. Earlier, Chet had promised to meet his sister Iola and her friend Callie at the Venus Rocket Express. That was fine with the Hardys. Joe regarded vivacious, dark-haired Iola Morton as his regular date. Slender, blond, lithe-some Callie Shaw was Frankâs favorite partner.

âHi, Joe!â Iola cried gaily when the boys reached the roller coaster. âAre you and Frank going to take us up?â She cast a sidelong glance at her brother. âChet wasnât at all happy with the idea.â

âAw, lay off!â Chet replied. âYou know what that does to my stomach.â

It was agreed that Frank and Joe would take the girls on the ride and that Chet would maintain the lookout for pickpockets while they were gone. The two couples hurried to the ticket booth, climbed into a red-and-green car, and started up a long incline. There was a breathless momentâs hesitation at the peak; then a dizzying plunge down the steep drop that made the girls scream as the wind whipped their hair about. Iola and Callie clutched Frank and Joe for protection and hung on tightly until the coaster came to a stop.

The four young people emerged with bright eyes and happy expressions.

âOh, oh,â Frank said. âLook over by the shooting gallery, just behind Chet.â

Their buddy was shadowing a seedy-looking man, watching his every move. Behind the stout sleuth was a clean-cut fellow in slacks and a sports jacket, whose appearance would have aroused no oneâs suspicion. As they watched, however, this manâs hand removed a wallet from the back pocket of a short, balding onlooker beside him. The victim felt the touch and whirled around. Panicky, the thief slipped the stolen wallet into Chetâs pocket!

âLetâs go!â Frank said. He and Joe rushed to the scene. The irate patron had seized the pickpocket, who in turn had denied his guilt and accused Chet. Poor Chet was bewildered and confused, especially when a quick search revealed the missing wallet in his possession.

âBut listen,â he said, befuddled, âIâIââ A crowd formed and the pickpocket tried to slip away. Frank and Joe grabbed him.

âAll right, folks,â Frank said. âPlease go about your business. Weâre security detectives for Mr. Solo.â

The pickpocket protested his innocence and said that âthe fat kidâ had stolen the wallet.

âFor your information,â Frank told him, ânot only is Chet Morton a good friend of ours, but heâs our assistant!â

Frank and Joe each took one of the pickpocketâs arms and they escorted him with firmness to Sid Soloâs private office. The victim came along to make the identification. Police Chief Collig was called, and after he had heard the story, one of his patrolmen ran the pickpocket out of town with a warning that if he showed up again he would be put behind bars.

Solo walked Frank and Joe back to the spot where they had left Chet with Callie and Iola. The carnival man was in high spirits and heaped praise and congratulations upon the Hardys.

âI knew Iâd get results with you two on the job,â he said, clapping them on the shoulders.

Knocker Felsen was standing nearby. Upon hearing the praise he sneered, turned his back, and walked away to show his contempt.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. When the crowds thinned out and the carnival began to shut down, the Hardys said good night to Chet.

âSo long, fellows,â he replied. âIâm going to stash away a couple of pizzas Mr. Solo promised me.â

Frank and Joe drove Callie and Iola home, then returned to their own house. Their mother was waiting for them with a twinkle in her eyes and a clipping from the evening newspaper in her hand.

âWhat have you got there, Mom?â Joe asked the slender, pretty woman.

âI think you might call it a whale of a story,â Mrs. Hardy replied brightly. âLook!â

Her sons studied the clipping together. It read:

Earth-moving machines working at the site of the new Bayport shopping center this morning dug up a stuffed Blue Whale. The Blue Whale, largest of all sea-dwelling mammals, grows to nearly one hundred feet long. The Bayport whale is not that big, however. It had evidently been buried a long time.

âIâm all for digging up buried treasure,â Joe said. âMatter of fact, we have several times. But old whales, no sir!â

âHow do you suppose a whale ever got to Bayport?â Mrs. Hardy asked.

âMaybe during the ice age,â replied Frank.

âBut it was stuffed,â his mother said.

âFrom overeating,â Joe jested. Suddenly he exclaimed, âHey! Mr. Prito has the contract for the shopping-center project, doesnât he?â

âHe sure does,â Frank said with a yawn. âLetâs give Tony a call in the morning and ask him how it feels to be captain of the good whaling ship Bulldozer.â

The next day after breakfast Frank was dialing Tonyâs number when the doorbell rang. Joe hastened through the living room to answer it.

âFrank,â he called from the hall, âhang up. Tony and Biff are here.â

The Hardysâ school friends walked in, grinning. Tony Prito, a good-looking youth with black wavy hair and olive skin, was followed by Biff Hooper. Biff was tall, broad-shouldered, and the most rugged lineman on the Bayport High football team, of which Frank and Joe were star performers.

Tony raised his hands, signifying silence, before either Joe or Frank could get a word out. He took the pose of an orator.

âMy friends,â he said somberly, âyou are looking at two very high-class entrepreneurs.â He pointed to Biff, then to himself. âWe have just purchased one legitimate whaleâfor a very fair sum, I might addâand we are going to show it to the good citizens of Bayport for fifty cents a look.â

Tony jumped into the air and clicked his heels. âYahoo! Weâre in business!â he exulted.

CHAPTER III

A Staunch Refusal

TONY stopped cavorting and talked seriously. âWe bought the whale from the man who owns the property. He said there was nothing in the world he could do with a whale, and so he gave us a good price.â

Biff chimed in, âThe old blimpâs in swell condition. It was protected with oilskins. We put in a good dayâs work scrubbing it down. Looks as good as new now.â

âMy fatherâs letting us use that vacant lot he owns with a work shack on it,â Tony said. âWe spent all last evening putting up a big tarpaulin around our pet. Built a ticket booth, too.â

He looked ruefully at the blisters on his hand. âWe thought you Hardys might give us a hand and that all four of us could go into this thing togetherâbe partners and share the profits.â

âWeâd like to, Tony,â Frank said with a tinge of regret. âIt sounds like a lot of fun. But we have a couple of jobs to do. Weâre trying to find someone whoâs connected with a case Dadâs working on, and at the same time weâve been hired by Sid Solo to spot pickpockets at the carnival.â

Tony was disappointed. âWell, maybe later. Weâd sure like to have you with us.â

Biff glanced at his watch. âCome on, Tony. We have a long day ahead of us.â

As they moved toward the door, Aunt Gertrude entered the room. âWouldnât you know it?â she said. âEvery time I take a tray of fresh-baked cookies from the oven, our boysâ friends show up!â

Biff grinned. âI see your aunt was up before breakfast.â He turned to Tony. âOn second thought, partner, itâs not that late.â

The boys followed Aunt Gertrude into the kitchen. âWhereâs Chet Morton?â she inquired. âHe usually leads the charge when thereâs something edible around.â

âThe last time we saw him,â Joe said, âhe was polishing off pizzas at the carnival.â

Aunt Gertrude stood proudly by while the boys finished their snack. Then Biff and Tony left, amid best wishes from their pals.

That afternoon Frank and Joe arrived at the carnival to find Sid Solo pacing around, very much upset. âJust look around you,â he said with a wave of his hand.

The Hardys had been walking through the grounds of Soloâs Super Carnival for nearly an hour, and were well aware of the problem. The midways had been overflowing with patrons the night before. Wave after wave of them had surged from tent to tentâfrom side show to side show. But today there was only a trickle of customers. The few who had come were wandering aimlessly about, looking bored and spending little money.

âI donât understand it,â Frank said. âLast night youâd have had a hard time keeping âem away with artillery.â

âItâs those two fellowsâTony Prito and Biff Hooper!â Solo fumed.

âWhat have they to do with it?â Joe asked.

âItâs that stupid whale of theirs. People figure they can always see a carnival, but a whaleâs a once in a lifetime thing. Prito and Hooper are stealing all my customers!â

Solo smacked a fist into his hand. âWell, Iâm not going to sit around and watch my show go bankrupt. Come on! Weâre going to pay a call on those guys. Iâll buy their silly whale, and thatâll be the end of that!â

As they walked to Soloâs station wagon, Frank and Joe explained that Biff and Tony were their friends, and really had not intended to take any business away from the carnival.

Grim-faced, Solo did not reply. He beckoned to Knocker Felsen, who was lounging in the shade of a tent, chewing on a long stalk of grass.

âCome along, Knocker!â Solo ordered. Felsen, looking pleased at the prospect of trouble, jumped into the front seat with Solo. The ride was short, and when they approached the lot on which the whale was located, a long queue was waiting to buy tickets.

Biff and Tony were in the shack which they were using as an office. They stepped out to greet the Hardys and the carnival duo.

Solo made his offer. Biff and Tony talked quietly for a moment, then Tony said:

âIâm sorry, Mr. Solo, but we can make more money by showing the whale ourselves.â

âYouâre ruining me!â Solo cried.

âMr. Solo,â Biff said, âin a day or two, most of the people in Bayport will have seen our whale and theyâll go swarming right back to your show.â

âMaybe,â the carnival owner replied. âBut I canât afford three days like this.â

Frank took Joe off to the side and whispered, âWeâre in a bad position. If we side with Mr. Solo, Biff and Tony will be angry. If we side against the carnival, then Mr. Solo will blow up. I have a plan that might make everybody happy. Back me up, okay?â

Joe nodded.

âExcuse me,â Frank said. The argument between Solo, Biff, and Tony quieted. âMr. Solo, why donât you pay Biff and Tony half of your original offer, take the whale and show it in your carnival, but pay a percentage to Biff and Tony on each ticket sold? That way people will come to the carnival, but the boys will still be making money.â

âThat sounds great,â Joe said.

Solo scratched his head. âI donât know...â

âDonât do it, boss,â Felsen urged. âDonât let these jerks hold you up.â

Biffâs temper flared. âNuts to you. Weâll keep the whale!â

Felsen bunched his big knuckles and lumbered forward. âYou punk!â He flailed at Biff, landing a couple of clumsy but hard-hitting punches.

Biff quickly dropped into a boxerâs defense position. Spotting an opening, he shot out his right fist. It hit Felsen squarely on the jaw. Glassy-eyed, he stumbled back and fell to the ground. Frank and Joe pinned him down before he could rise and attack again.

âKnocker!â Solo roared. âHow many times have I told you not to go off half-cocked like that? Youâve ruined any chance we had of making a deal.â He reached down, grabbed the big youth by the arm, and yanked him to his feet.

The telephone rang in the shack. Tony answered it while Biff kept a wary eye on Felsen. âFrank, Joe,â Tony said. âItâs for either one of you.â

Joe took the call and spoke low, so as not to be overheard. Outside, Frank tried to smooth things over. Tony went so far as to tell Solo that he and Biff would think about his offer and that maybe they could discuss it again in a couple of days.

Solo and Felsen left, Knocker glowering over his shoulder at the boys. Solo said he would wait in the station wagon until Frank and Joe were ready to return to the carnival.

Joe finished his conversation and hung up. âIt was Dad,â he told Frank. Their father had first phoned home. Mrs. Hardy had directed him to call the carnival, where an aide to Solo had told him where his boss and the Hardys had gone.

âThe informer called again last night,â Joe went on, âand from the same booth! The police still wonât pay the price heâs asking for the information, but Mr. Dudley-Harris will, through Dad. We have to find out who made those calls, and soon!â

The young sleuths told Biff and Tony they were sorry for the trouble that had erupted. Their friends agreed it certainly was not the Hardysâ fault. Sid Solo drove back to the carnival in silence, with Knocker Felsen brooding in the front seat and gingerly massaging his bruised jaw.

Back at the fairgrounds, there was not much for the Hardys to do, since pickpockets work only in crowds. The informer had never called during the day, and Frank decided that there was no reason for him to change his pattern. They worked out a plan whereby, as soon as darkness fell, one of them would maintain a vigil over the phone booth from a position of concealment within a carnival truck parked nearby.

They spelled each other, Frank taking a one-hour shift while Joe wandered through the carnival, and then reversing their roles for the next hour. It was nearly closing time and they had spotted nothing.

Frank was dejected. Maybe the informer had been frightened away! His spirits brightened considerably, however, when Joe came rushing up.

His brother had two facts to report. First, a slightly built youth with sandy hair had lurked in the shadows for more than half an hour near the telephone booth. He finally left. Five minutes later Boko the Clown appeared, entered the booth, and made a call. Joe had not been able to hear much of the conversation, but he did know that Boko had been arguing with someone about money!

âLetâs go,â Frank said. âItâs time to ask Boko a few pointed questions.â

They found the clown in his dressing room, still wearing his costume and makeup. At first he was angry and told the boys it was none of their business. But when Frank sternly reminded him of the seriousness of the case and of the severe punishment that would be meted out to the guilty parties, Boko changed his attitude.

âLook, fellows,â he said plaintively. âI donât know anything about any ivory statue or some joker named Blackright. I got angry, âcauseâwell, itâs a personal matter. I was arguinâ with my wife about some bills.â The clown looked down at his feet. âThatâs not the kind of thing you like to tell other people.â

Frank and Joe told Boko they were sorry to have bothered him, and left. No further leads developed the remainder of the night. When the carnival closed, the Hardys went to Sid Soloâs office. The owner was gloomily going over the figures of the dayâs gate receipts. Frank and Joe sat in chairs, relaxing.

âI was so sure he was our man,â Joe said unhappily.

âMr. Solo,â said Frank, âdoes Boko argue with his wife about money very often?â

Without looking up, Solo said, âBoko? Ha, how could he? Heâs never been married.â

âWhat!â the boys exclaimed in unison. They sprang to their feet and were out of the door in an instant, leaving Solo looking perplexed.

âSomething fishy going on here,â Frank stated, pausing to look around.

âIâll say!â Joe agreed. âThis could be a big break in the case, Frank.â

The Hardys separated, deciding they would have a better chance of finding Boko that way, and agreed to meet back at Soloâs office in half an hour.

Frank questioned several carnival employees, but with no success. When the half hour was up he returned to Soloâs office, hoping that Joe had had better luck.

Joe was not there. Fifteen minutes passed, then another fifteen. Frank grew nervous.

An hour after the appointed time Frank was forced to admit a disturbing factâJoe had disappeared!

CHAPTER IV

Wheel of Danger

FRANK searched through the carnival frantically, his emotions in turmoil. If anything had happened to Joe ... He set his jaw grimly and went on.

Sid Solo had enlisted half a dozen of his men to help Frank. They spread out through all parts of the darkened carnival, calling Joeâs name, probing into pitch-dark tents and under trucks and wagons with flashlights.

None of the people Frank questioned had seen Joe. Nor, for that matter, had anyone seen Boko the Clown.

Frank stopped to catch his breath and leaned against the side of a booth. His anger and frustration had knotted the muscles in his shoulders. He forced himself to relax, knowing that a man who loses control of his emotions weakens his own cause.

There was a long, low-pitched creaking sound above him. Frank looked up and saw that the carnivalâs giant Ferris wheel was movingâever so slightly. Then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open with shock.

In the pale light of the full moon he could see a figure standing high above the ground in the uppermost car. It was Joe! He was blindfolded and his hands were tied behind his back. He was trying to feel his way out of the car.

âJoe! Sit down!â Frank screamed. âYouâre on top of the Ferris wheel. Donât try to get out or youâll be killed!â

Joe heeded his brotherâs warning and Frank sighed with relief.

âFrank!â Solo called from the distance. âIs that you? Have you found Joe?â

âWeâre at the Ferris wheel, Mr. Solo,â Frank answered. âCome quick! We need you.â

A few moments later Sid Solo burst upon the scene. âWhatâs wrong, Frank?â he queried anxiously.

âUp there. Somebody bound and blindfolded Joe and put him on the wheel.â

âOh, no!â Solo said, horrified. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called up to Joe. âSit tight, son. Iâll have you down safely in just a minute.â

He opened the plate covering the engine controls at the base of the Ferris wheel and fired the gas engine. Then he grasped the upright stick that dictated the motion of the wheel and gently eased it forward. Moments later Joeâs car reached the ground. Frank pulled the blindfold from his brotherâs eyes and cut the bonds on his wrists with a penknife.

âThanks,â Joe said gratefully. âThat was a close one.â

âWhat happened?â Frank asked. âHow did you get up there?â

Joe touched the back of his head and winced as his fingers made contact with the large bump. âI donât know. I was looking for Boko. I passed by the Ferris wheel, called his name, then someone clobbered me. When I came to, I stood up and thatâs when I heard your shout.â

âSomeoneâs going to pay for this,â Frank vowed through clenched teeth.

âI hate to think that it was one of my people,â Solo said, âbut I did see someone slinking away as I came running.â

âWho?â Frank demanded.

âIâm not sure. It was too dark for a positive identification, but it might have been Rembrandt.â

âIâd like to talk to him,â Frank said. âAlong with Boko and Knocker Felsen.â

âThat goes double for me,â Joe added.

A short time later the trio confronted Rembrandt, Felsen, and Boko in Soloâs office. All the suspects firmly denied guilt.

âLetâs get this straight,â Frank said. âBoko, you say that you were out taking a walk alone. Is that right?â

âYeah.â

âWell, if it was just a harmless walk,â Frank continued, âthen why did it come right on the heels of the lie you told us about your âwifeâ?â

âThatâs my business,â the clown snarled. âMoney matters are personal. I donât have to tell anybody about them.â

âWhat about you, Felsen?â Joe asked.

âI ainât gonna account to no punks for my actions,â the big carny said.

âYouâd better!â Solo snapped.

Felsen looked from his employer to the Hardys, then shrugged. âI was checkinâ the animalsâall alone.â

âThat leaves you, Rembrandt,â Frank said.

âI was sound asleep in my wagon.â

Frank pointed out that there was not a single witness who could back up any of their stories. He added that it looked very odd, but he admitted that since he and Joe had no proof, they had no choice but to drop the matter, at least for the present.

After a good nightâs sleep Joe was in fine shape. The lump on his head had gone down and his headache disappeared. The boys reported to the carnival in the afternoon and found about as much happiness as a ball team on the short end of a 50-0 score.

âWeâve had less than a hundred and fifty customers in the last day and a half,â Solo told them. âIâm unable to meet my pay roll in full.â Solo had arranged to close the carnival for an hour. He had called a meeting of all his employees, and invited Frank and Joe to attend.

The carnival people gathered under the roof of the largest tent on the lot. Some of them sprawled on the floor, others took up casual positions in the seats normally used by patrons. Everyone was glum. Solo mounted a platform and outlined the situation to them. When he explained that he could not pay full salaries that week, a loud grumbling broke out.

âPlease,â he said, âbear with me. Weâve been through hard times together before. Weâve survived, and weâll survive this time, too. As soon as business improves, Iâll not only make up the back pay I owe, but give a bonus to every person here.â

This promise seemed to help, but it was obvious that the carnival people were still not happy about the situation. Rembrandt rose to his feet. His face was hard.

âBoss, we got one big problemâthe whale, right?â

Solo nodded.

âWell, I know a way to fix that,â Rembrandt said. âAnd I sure ainât gonna waste no time doinâ it.â

âWait a minute,â Solo said. âItâs true that the sooner we can do something about the whale, the faster weâll climb out of the hole. But I want to make two things clear. One, there is to be no rough stuff, and two, I donât want anything dishonest done.â

Rembrandt said nothing, just smiled.

After attending to a few more details, Solo ended the meeting.

âSome of these people are in pretty ugly moods,â Frank said. âI think weâd better give Biff and Tony a call and tell them to keep a weather eye peeled for signs of trouble.â

Before the young detectives had a chance to get to a phone, Boko the Clown came up behind them and placed a nervous hand on Joeâs shoulder. Even the grease paint could not conceal the lines of tension around his mouth.

âCan I talk to you guys?â he asked, and glanced around furtively. âSome place where nobody can hear us.â

âSure,â Frank said. The three of them went to a spot near the water-boat ride. âWhat is it?â Frank asked.

Bokoâs eyes flitted about. He said nothing until he was sure he could not be overheard. Then, in a frightened voice, he whispered, âTheyâre out to get me. And if they do, Iâm a dead man!â

Frank and Joe exchanged significant glances. âWhoâs out to get you?â Joe asked quickly.

âI canât tell you!â Boko said, trembling.

In his fear, the clown made a tight fist of his right hand. Frankâs sharp eyes spotted a very curious tattoo. There were three blue marks on Bokoâs hand, one at the base of the thumb, one at the tip of the index finger, and the third at the base of the index finger. When Boko clenched his fist, these three portions joined to make a complete tattoo of a small whale. Frank made a mental note of this oddity.

The Hardys tried hard to persuade Boko to tell them more, but he refused. To their surprise, he took a thin, silver chain from around his neck and handed it to Frank. A small key was attached to the chain.

âIf anything happens to me,â Boko said, âI want you to go to my bunk wagon. Turn up the mattress and youâll find a loose board. Thereâs a strongbox under the board. Open it up, and youâll know what to do.â

A small group of concessionaires walked toward the trio. Boko saw them coming and he scampered away.

âWeâre on to something all right,â Frank said. âLetâs give Boko the night to calm down, then maybe heâll answer some questions for us tomorrow.â

As the Hardys drove home, lightning pierced the night sky. They were scarcely in their bedroom when a fierce thunderstorm drenched the Bayport area.

Next morning they were eating Aunt Gertrudeâs hearty breakfast of eggs, sausages, wheat-cakes and blueberry muffins and watching the early-morning newscast on television when the announcer said:

âBayport police have a king-sized mystery to contend with this morning. Sometime during the night the Blue Whale belonging to Tony Prito and Biff Hooper was stolen. Tony Prito, who was standing guard, is missing and...â

Frank and Joe did not wait to hear any more. They delayed only long enough to tell their mother and Aunt Gertrude what had happened, then dashed out to their car. Moments later they were speeding to Tonyâs house. When the Hardys reached there, Police Chief Colligâs car was just pulling up to the curb. Tony was in Colligâs car, his clothes dirty and torn, his expression glazed.

Mr. Prito, a sturdy-looking man, dashed down the front steps and ran to his son. When Tony was settled comfortably in a chair in the living room, he told his story. Someone had slashed the tarpaulin with a knife and tried to get at the whale. Tony drove him off, but did not get much of a look at the intruder. Taking no chances, Tony decided to stand guard all night. The last thing he remembered was smelling something strange. Then he fell into unconsciousness.

âGas!â Joe said.

Police Chief Collig nodded agreement. Tony had awakened less than an hour before, near the entrance to the carnival.

âThose people are responsible!â Mr. Prito stormed. âThey should be prosecuted!â

Chief Collig pointed out that no matter what they suspected, they had no proof. Tonyâs father reluctantly had to admit this was true. Mrs. Prito, still shaken by the night-long vigil waiting news of Tony, fussed like a mother hen over her son.

âIâm okay,â Tony insisted. âForget about me. Thereâs only one thing I want.â He turned to Chief Collig and the Hardys. âFind that whale!â

CHAPTER V

How Was It Done?

WHEN the Pritosâ family doctor assured them that Tony would be all right after a dayâs rest, Frank and Joe drove to the site of the whale heist. But after a careful search, they had turned up no clues to the thieves.

âWe canât even locate any truck tracks,â Joe said ruefully. âThe rain washed out everything.â

âMaybe it wasnât carried off by a truck,â Frank said thoughtfully.

âHow else, then?â Joe retorted impatiently. âThey sure didnât carry it off on their shoulders.â

âI donât know, Joe. It just doesnât make any sense to me. Weâll have to dope this out later.â

Deciding that a further examination of the site would be fruitless, the Hardys returned to Tonyâs house. Now that Tony was over the initial shock of his experience he might be able to tell them something he hadnât remembered before.

âIâm sorry, fellows,â Tony said apologetically, âbut everythingâs a blank from the moment I got a whiff of that gas until the moment I woke up.â

Biff Hooper, who had rushed to the Prito house as soon as he had learned the news, was stalking up and down the living room.

âBoy!â he said angrily. âWould I like to get my hands on Knocker Felsen. Iâll bet anything heâs the one who did this. I shouldnât have let him off so easy the first time!â

âHold it,â Frank said. âWe canât leap to conclusions, Biff.â

âWait a sec!â Joe cried suddenly. âI know how they could have stolen the whale. A helicopter! A big cargo helicopter, powerful enough to hoist the whale up on cables and fly away with it!â

âHey! That just might be it!â Frank agreed excitedly. âLetâs phone Jack Wayne and see what he can tell us about helicopters in the area.â

Jack was Fenton Hardyâs personal pilot and a close friend of many yearsâ standing. He told Frank and Joe he would get a rundown on all helicopters, including those for hire, within a fifty-mile radius of Bayport and call back. It did not take him long to gather the information.

âFrank, I hate to disappoint you,â Jack reported, âbut the storm last night was pretty widespread and there wasnât a single helicopter flying.â

âI guess we can knock out that possibility,â Frank said. âI still think Joeâs idea is a good one, though. Somehow, Iâm sure it was done by air. After all, even if you could find a truck big enough, you couldnât just drive through the middle of town with a whale!â

âNot without being noticed by an awful lot of people,â Jack agreed.

âI think it would be worth our while to do some scouting by air. Would you get our plane ready right away, Jack?â

âSure thing.â

Forty-five minutes later the Hardys were at Bayport Airport. Both boys were licensed pilots. Frank slid behind the control wheel, obtained clearance from the tower, then taxied the single-engine, blue-and-white plane to the active runway and took off.

Frank flew around Bayport in ever-widening circles, drifting farther and farther from the city, while Joe scanned the ground through high-power binoculars. Four hours of searching were in vain.

âWeâre below the halfway mark,â Frank said, indicating the gas gauge. âI think we should go down and refuel.â

âRight,â his brother answered. âHarrington Field is ten miles to the east. Thatâs where they have the Strato Balloon Club. So keep an eye peeled.â

Harrington Airport had a single paved runway pretty much off the mainstream of air traffic. It had only a rickety office building and one gas pit. Frank guided the plane down to a gentle landing, then taxied to the pit. Grizzled old Mr. Harrington came out to meet them.

âHi, Frank. Hi, Joe. Top her off?â

âOkay,â said Frank. While the man pumped gas into the plane, he added, âWhatâs new, Mr. Harrington?â

âOnly thing new around here,â the man replied with a snort, âis that someone stole a couple of balloons belonging to the club. What do you think of that?â

âPretty mean,â Joe said. âWeâll keep a lookout for the balloons.â

The boys paid him for the gas and took off. Half an hour later Joe pointed to a stand of oak trees and cried, âLook there!â

Frank took the plane as low as he safely could and Joe got an excellent look through the binoculars. He relayed what he saw to Frank. âThose are the balloons all right. Theyâre torn apart-all deflated. And, Frank, there are ropes attached to them, ropes with frayed ends!â

Satisfied, they headed back to Bayport. The method of the theft was now clear to them. The whale had been lifted silently and efficiently from its resting place by the balloons. The thieves evidently had depended upon air currents to carry it to whatever site they had selected. But the storm had wrecked their plans and the balloons as well. Somewhere along the line the whale had been torn loose and lost.

As soon as they landed at Bayport Airport, Frank reported their find to Harrington. Then he called Jack Wayne and asked him to check on the wind velocity and direction over Bayport the previous night.

âGive us all the meteorological info you can get your hands on,â Frank urged.

The boys had something to eat and then drove out to the carnival.

Now that the carnival had no competition, business was booming. Sid Solo was happy about this, but he was wringing his hands over a new problem.

âBokoâs act is due to start in ten minutes,â he said. âBut heâs disappeared. What am I going to do? The tent is packed and the customers are going to raise a big ruckus if I canât give them a clown.â

âBokoâs gone?â Frank exclaimed with alarm.

âYes. He hasnât been seen since late last night.â

Frank said to Joe, âI think weâd better call Chief Collig and tell him to be on the lookout. Bokoâs either in danger, as he told us last night, or else heâs tied in with the stolen whale.â

As Joe went to call Chief Collig, Solo moaned. âThereâs no way out of this one. Those people are going to want their money back, and I donât blame them.â

âCheer up, Mr. Solo,â Frank said. âI think we can find a clown for you.â

Soloâs head snapped up. âWho? Where?â

âChetâs been on pickpocket duty until we got here, right?â

Solo nodded.

âWell, weâre back,â Frank said.

Afraid of being disappointed, Solo was almost unwilling to let himself hope. âDo you think Chet will ... ?â

âWe wonât know until we ask him.â

They found Chet and put the question to him. The chubby boy grinned and said, âWell, sounds like fun. Sure, Iâd be happy to.â

Solo pumped his hand. âThank you. Thank you. If you pull this one off, you have my permission to eat free at every food concession in the carnival.â

âLetâs go!â Chet said eagerly.

The trio rushed to the costume and makeup trailer, hastily fitted Chet out in a clown suit, and daubed his face with grease paint. Solo grabbed a handful of props and stuffed them into Chetâs pockets.

âItâs time,â Solo cried. He took Chetâs hand and pulled the tubby youth toward the big tent. âWait here until I call you.â

A bareback riding troupe had just completed its act and the ringmaster was standing in the center of the arena looking unsure of himself. Apparently he did not know what announcement to make since the next slot was Bokoâs. Solo rushed forward, waved to the crowd, then took the microphone from the ringmaster.

âLadies and gentlemen and children of all ages,â he announced. âDue to circumstances beyond our control, Boko will not appear.â The audience made loud sounds of disappointment. âBut,â Solo hurried on, âwe have been very fortunate in securing for you the services of-of Chesterton the Great!â He turned away from the microphone and whispered to the bandleader, âGive âem Number Three.â

The band struck up a very serious and pompous march.

âOh, oh,â Chet said nervously. âThatâs for me.â

âGood luck,â Frank said.

Chet moved into the arena. He walked with great and exaggerated dignity, then suddenly he tripped and fell, shot quickly to his feet, and whirled around as if to see who had tripped him. The crowd roared at Chetâs antics.

Chet shook his fist at them and stalked over to the nearest seats in mock anger. He selected a man and pointed a plastic flower at him, then showed the rest of the audience a squeeze bulb that would send water squirting into the manâs face. He pressed the bulbâand the water squirted out the back of the flower into Chetâs face! Chet feigned surprise and the audience howled with delight.

Next, the newly born clown drew a long chalk line on the floor. He opened a tiny umbrella, then stepped gingerly onto the chalk line, as if it were a wire stretched high above the ground, and began a balancing routine. The audience was laughing heartily by the time Solo rejoined Frank, who was howling in glee. Solo chuckled.

âItâs really great!â

âIâd love to stay and watch,â Frank said. âBut I think thereâs something we should do.â He told the carnival owner of Bokoâs instructions concerning the strongbox.

âWell,â said Solo, âI think the situation justifies your opening it.â

They left the Big Tent, found Joe, and went to Bokoâs wagon. As they drew near it, a figure burst from inside and dashed away.

âAfter him!â Joe shouted.

Frank threw all his strength into the chase, moved ahead of Joe and Solo, and gained on the fugitive. The man rounded a corner, Frank close behind. Then suddenly a low-strung tent rope caught Frank by the ankle and sent him pitching headlong to the ground. Joe and Mr. Solo came pounding up as Frank was pushing himself to his feet.

âWhat happened?â Joe asked.

âI tripped,â Frank said disgustedly. âWeâll never find him in the crowd now.â

The crowd roared at Chetâs antics

âAre you all right?â Joe asked.

âFine. Letâs get back to Bokoâs wagon and see what that guy was up to.â

They walked back, mounted the wagonâs steps, and pushed through the half-open door. âI smell smoke,â Joe said.

Frank sniffed the air. âYouâre right.â

The young detectives went directly to Bokoâs bunk, pulled up the mattress, and after a momentâs search located the loose board. Frank raised it and stared into the empty hole. âThe box is gone!â

A quick check of the wagon turned up the missing container under a pile of rags in a corner.

âI found it!â Joe exclaimed. Mournfully he added, âWeâre too late!â

He held the strongbox up for Frank and Solo to see. The lock had been broken open. The box was empty!

CHAPTER VI

A Well-Salted Guest

âWE missed it by minutes,â Joe said. He set the strongbox down and shook his head. âAnother blind alley.â

âLetâs search the wagon,â Frank suggested. âThe intruder might have left something behind that could prove valuable to us.â

Frank, Joe, and Solo began a methodical investigation, opening storage lockers, tilting back the few pieces of furniture, running their fingers along cracks and crevices.

âHereâs something!â Frank exclaimed suddenly. Solo and Joe gathered around him. On the floor near the entrance, mashed by a heel, was a small mound of dark, flaky ashes. âThis accounts for the smoke you smelled, Joe. Whoever was in here must have burned the contents of the strongbox.â

Frank sifted the ashes and snatched out a fragment of yellow paper that had not been consumed. âWeâre in luck!â

He held the brown-edged piece of paper up to the light. A few words were still legible: Whitey Meldrum knows a ...

âDid you ever hear of a Whitey Meldrum?â Frank asked Solo.

âNo. The name doesnât mean a thing to me.â

Frank put the scrap of paper into his wallet. Further search revealed nothing. They left the wagon. As they were descending the three steps to the ground, Joe said, âLook!â He bent and retrieved a torn photograph. Its edge was charred and there was a smear of chewing gum on it.

âThis must have been in the strongbox,â Joe surmised. âThe fire didnât get it and it probably stuck to the thiefâs foot when he ran out.â

The picture was of a wiry man, hawk-faced, and dressed in circus tights. Solo identified him as an aerial artist named Kane who had been killed some years ago in a fall from a high wire.

âWell,â Frank said, âweâre on to something, but Iâm not sure what. I think our next move should be to get in touch with Dad.â

Joe agreed. They thanked Solo for his help, left the carnival, and drove home. There they related the dayâs events to their mother and aunt.

Mrs. Hardy said, âYour father would want to be brought up to date.â

âHe certainly would,â Aunt Gertrude sputtered. âYou should turn it all over to him. You boys have gone every bit as far as you should, maybe even farther. Youâre out of your depth, and itâs too dangerous.â

âDonât worry, Aunty,â Joe said. âWeâre being careful.â

The boys attempted to call their father at the New York hotel in which he was staying. The desk clerk told them Mr. Hardy was out; in fact, he had not been seen for the last forty-eight hours.

âThatâs odd,â Frank said.

âHeâs probably tracking down a lead,â Joe commented.

Frank suggested they try a radio message and the boys went up to their âhamâ short-wave shack in the attic.

Their radio equipment was separate from that in their fatherâs study. It included a receiver, a transceiver with VOX hookup, a signal generator, and a phone patch. Colorful QSL cards studded the wall over their gear, attesting to contacts with hams all over the world.

Time and again the boys called for their father to come in. No luck. Finally Frank clicked off the radio with a sigh and stood up.

âDad must really have gone underground if heâs not answering our radio call,â Joe said as they trotted down the attic stairs.

âHe probably has a hot lead,â Frank said, âand doesnât want to risk breaking his cover.â

When they reached the first floor they found Aunt Gertrude all atwitter. âElmer Hardy called,â she told them. âHeâs arriving at eight oâclock tomorrow morning!â

âThatâs great!â Joe said with a wide grin.

âBut we didnât expect him that soon, and weâll have to prepare the guest room and .. : â

âDonât worry, Aunty. Youâll have plenty of time in the morning. Weâll pick him up and meanwhile you can straighten up the house.â

The next morning the boys drove to the bus terminal, parked the car, then scanned the crowded waiting room. Elmer Hardy, looking like some romantic figure straight out of the Great Age of Exploration, was not difficult to spot. His sun-bronzed skin, great mane of hair, thick beard, and rough seamanâs garb set him miles apart from the rest of the travelers.

âCousin Elmer!â Frank called out. âOh, Cousin Elmer!â

The man swiveled his head and his face lit up with pleasure. âYou must be Frank and Joe,â he said, hastening through the crowd toward them. His right arm was in a sling, so he used his left hand to shake hands. Then the visitor stood back and looked the youths over from head to foot.

âWell, knock me down with a belayinâ pin! I can hardly believe that you are Fentonâs sons. Why, youâre practically full-growed!â

âWeâre really happy to meet you, Cousin Elmer. From what Aunt Gertrude tells us, youâre practically a family legend.â

âOh, pshaw! Just call me Elmer. Nothinâ legendary about me. Iâm an old sea dog, thatâs all.â

âDid you break your arm?â Frank said solicitously.

âNope. Just a strain. Got it heftinâ my duffel bag the wrong way. Speakinâ of that, hate to bother you, but could you boys give me a hand?â

âGlad to,â Joe said.

Elmer walked to the baggage claim area and pointed out a huge canvas sea bag with his name stencilled upon it. âThere she be.â

âWow!â Joe said. âIâll bet that took up half the bus.â

Elmer laughed. âOnly a quarter of it, boys, only a quarter.â

Frank and Joe lugged Elmerâs bag to the car, placed it in the rear seat, then drove their cousin home. Elmer greeted Laura Hardy and Aunt Gertrude with warmth, and as he kissed each of them fondly on the cheek, tears glistened in his eyes.

Aunt Gertrude had prepared a hearty breakfast and Elmer pitched into the food with great gusto. He was reluctant to talk about his past except in general terms.

âOh, there were good times and bad times, just like in anybodyâs life, I guess.â He sighed. âIâm well into middle age now and these last few years I really been hankerinâ to see my relatives. Just thinkâme being cousin to the famous Fenton Hardy. Iâm awfully sorry heâs not here. But enough about me. Fill me in on what all of you have been doinâ over the years.â

Later Joe and Frank asked to be excused, since they wanted to see Tony.

They found he had made a fine recovery, and that the doctor had said it would be all right for him to get out of bed. Frank and Joe went down to the spacious recreation room, where Tony was pacing up and down.

âI donât care if Mr. Solo did call me and offered to help in any way he could,â he fumed. âI say those carnival people did it!â

Biff Hooper, lounging on a couch, supported Tony. âIâm with you!â

âEven if it was someone from the carnival,â Frank said, âI just donât think Mr. Solo was in on it. Sure, heâs an excitable guy, and your whale exhibit was taking business away from the carnival but I feel heâs okay.â

âThat may be,â Biff said. âBut Iâm not so sure about that goon Felsen. And for that matter, Boko and Rembrandt donât seem to be Cub Scout leaders, either.â

âSpeculationâs an integral part of detective work,â Frank said. âBut what we need now are facts. Facts!â

âWhoâs fat?â said a voice from the stairs. Then Chet clomped down into the recreation room.

âFellows,â Joe said with a sweep of his hand, âI give you Chesterton the Great!â

Biff and Tony applauded with the Hardys. Chet made a comic bow, then crossed the room and slumped wearily into an easy chair. âOof! I just had a dozen pancakes for breakfast!â He patted his middle section and rolled his eyes.

Just then Mrs. Prito came down to the recreation room bearing two steaming hot mushroom and sausage pizzas. She smiled. âI thought I might interest someone in a snack,â she said. âAny takers?â

âYou bet!â said Biff. Tony opened some bottles of soda while Biff helped Mrs. Prito cut the pizza.

âChet? How about you?â Mrs. Prito asked.

âOh, I couldnât,â he groaned. Then, a brief moment later, he said, âWell, just a little to keep up my strength.â He helped himself to a large wedge.

The boys ate silently. Midway through a hot triangle of pizza, Frank looked up suddenly.

âI just remembered something about Boko,â he said, and told the others about the clownâs strange whale tattoo. âThink there might be any connection between that and the missing whale?â

Biff shrugged. âItâs probably just coincidence.â

âYou know,â said Joe, âRembrandt has a whale tattooed on his chest. That makes three whales.â

Tony looked doubtful. âStill coincidence. Tattooed men have all kinds of designs and pictures on their bodies. Thereâs no reason why a whaling scene shouldnât be one of them.â

âStill,â Joe said, âthree whales...â

âFour whales!â Chet cried, springing to his feet.

The others stared at him.

âFrank,â Chet said, âdidnât you tell me that the name on the note sent to R. R. Dunn offering the Ivory Idol for sale was Blackright?â

âYes,â Frank answered. âWhat of it?â

âWell, Blackright is a whale, too!â

CHAPTER VII

Night Attack

âHow do you know?â Frank asked in surprise.

âScrimshawâs the answer to that,â Chet replied proudly. âIâve learned a lot in my hobby. Itâs pretty hard to study the art of carving whale ivory without picking up some information on whales themselves.â

âThatâs obvious,â Joe said. âCome on, Chet. Get to the point.â

As the only person in the room who knew the answer to the riddle, Chet was enjoying his position and consequently in no hurry.

âLook,â he said. âFirst, there are two general classes of whales: toothed whales, like the Sperm Whale and the Killer Whale and the Bottlenose and so on. And what they call baleen whales. None of the whales in this last groupâthe group, incidentally, that Tony and Biffâs Blue Whale belonged toâhave any teeth. They all have a series of âplatesâ in their mouths that act like giant sieves. They swim around with their mouths open, take in a couple of tons of water that has food in it like shrimps and tiny fish, then close their mouths and expel the water through the plates, or as theyâre properly knownâthrough the baleen.â

âListen, Chet,â Frank put in quickly, âget us off the hook! Tell us about Blackright.â

âThatâs what Iâm doing,â Chet protested.

âIn the most roundabout way Iâve ever seen,â Tony said with a long sigh.

âAh,â Chet went on, âto think of the tragedies that befall people such as I, who try to bring enlightenment to the world.â

âCome on,â Biff growled. âI canât take any more of this.â

âOkay, okay,â Chet resumed quickly. He explained that when men first started pursuing whales they called the most-sought-after variety Right Whales. One in this category was black, hence the name Blackright.

Chet wore a smug expression and folded his arms.

âIs that all?â Tony asked.

âAll!â Chet said. âI think itâs quite a bit!â

âItâs an intriguing bit of deduction, Chet,â Frank said. âWeâll keep it in mind.â

âSounds pretty far-fetched to me,â Tony remarked.

âI think the chain of whales is a good theory,â Joe said, âbut for the moment letâs concentrate on what we know to be true.â

Chet whacked his forehead with his palm.

âAiieee! The trials and tribulations we geniuses go through.â

âFellows,â Frank said, âduty calls. Letâs drive to the carnival. Later, when the crowds are gone we could go to the spot where Tony regained consciousness and see if we can turn anything up.â

All agreed. They left Tonyâs house, piled into the Hardysâ convertible, and drove to the fairgrounds. After the carnival had shut down for the night, the four boys spread out so as to cover more ground, each probing with a flashlight beam as he searched for possible clues. Their efforts took them farther and farther away from each other, and so, thinking he was alone, Frank was startled when a hand dropped on his shoulder. He whirled around, ready to meet an attack.

âFrank, itâs me!â came Joeâs urgent whisper.

Frank relaxed. âYou took me by surprise. What happened to your flashlight?â

âI doused it on purpose. I was scouting near the gate and caught sight of someone moving from shadow to shadow toward one of the carnival wagonsâKnocker Felsenâs, to be exact.â

âWe might lose him if we stop to get any of the other guys,â Frank decided. âBetter handle this one alone.â

âThatâs why I came for you. Letâs hurry.â

Frank extinguished his own flashlight and the two made their way stealthily toward Knocker Felsenâs wagon.

âThere,â Joe whispered. âSee him?â

Frank squinted against the blackness and made out the dim silhouette of a crouched figure moving toward the wagon. âLetâs not jump the gun. Weâll wait until itâs absolutely certain heâs going to break into Felsenâs quarters,â Frank advised.

âRight.â

They watched the figure advance a few more steps, pause, move forward and pause again.

âHeâs reached the steps,â Joe said tensely. The intruder dashed up the steps and reached for the door. âLetâs take him!â Frank yelled.

As the boys rushed forward, the figure poised before Felsenâs door and spun to meet them. Frank was the first to get to the wagon and his speed earned him a punch in the jaw that sent him sprawling.

Joe came running and was hit like a tackling dummy. Crash! Both he and the stranger hit the ground. Frank shook his head to clear the cobwebs, sprinted to the struggling pair, and leaped into the fray. âWow!â he thought. âThis is one tough cookie!â

Their adversary fought with skill and power; only Frankâs agility and quick reflexes saved him from being kayoed.

But suddenly he spotted an opening, seized his opponent by the wrist, spun on his heel and threw him over his shoulder. The intruder hit the ground with a thud and Frank pinned him.

Voices sounded in the distance as Joe thumbed his flashlight to life. The Hardys gasped as the beam revealed the face of Biff Hooper!

At the same time, sleepy-eyed Knocker Felsen poked his head from the wagon with a blank look.

Biff groaned. He saw Frank and Joe, shook his head, and said, âBoy, you guys play awfully rough!â

âUs!â Frank fingered a bruise. âWhat about you?â In a lower voice he added, âWhat were you doing, sneaking up on Felsen like that?â

Frank had relaxed his grip and Biff got to his feet. âWe all know he did it. I was going to force a confession out of him.â

âBiff,â Joe said, âthatâs no way to do detective work!â

âI guess so,â Biff said dejectedly. âHow come you jumped me?â

âWe didnât know it was you,â Frank answered âHow come you lit into us like that?â

Biff grinned. âSame reason you came after meâI didnât know who you were.â

Flashlights bobbed toward the trio and a moment later Chet and Tony arrived. Close on their heels came Sid Solo.

âWhatâs going on here?â he demanded.

âYeah, whatâs up?â chimed in Knocker.

âJust a bit of a mix-up,â Joe explained. âWe came back in the hope of finding new clues and we-ah-stumbled over each other in the dark.â

Felsen yawned, squinted against the bright lights, and lumbered back to bed.

Solo was sympathetic and again expressed regret over the theft of the whale.

âWe just canât give up,â Frank said. âMr. Solo, would it be all right if we had another look around Bokoâs wagon?â

Solo consented. He went with them to the clownâs quarters and opened the padlocked door with a key from his chain. Solo and the five youths gave the wagon a fine-toothed combing, but at the end of an hour they had found nothing of any value.

âItâs hopeless,â Joe said. âI think weâd better call it a night.â

Biff finished thumbing through a file of magazines and tossed them on Bokoâs bunk. One slipped to the floor, and the corner of a postcard protruded from the pages. Frankâs alert eyes caught sight of it.

âHey, Biff, did you see that?â he exclaimed, pulling the card out.

âNo. Must have missed it.â

The others looked around him while he examined the card. It bore the postmark âMystic, Conn.â and the message âGetting hot. Beluga.â

âBeluga!â Chet cried out. âI told you! Now will you believe me?â

âWhat do you mean?â Tony asked.

âBelugaâs another name for the White Whale. Just try and tell me itâs another coincidence!â

The boys now had to agree with Chet. This could no longer be chalked up to chance. Perhaps the whale names were the key to a code, Frank suggested.

During the ride back to Tonyâs house, they discussed the various developments in the mystery.

Frank and Joe dropped Biff off on the way, then left Tony at his home and said good night to Chet.

Their husky pal, beaming with success, got into his jalopy. Before he started the motor, Joe cautioned, âFor Peteâs sake, easy on the backfire, Chet. Everybodyâs asleep around here.â

âSure,â came the answer, then blam! The chassis jiggled as the engine started, and Chet sheepishly headed for the farm where he lived, on the outskirts of Bayport.

Back at the Hardy house, Joe said, âBeluga, Blackright, Rembrandtâs tattoo, Bokoâs tattoo and the missing whale! I just canât fit the pieces together.â

âI canât either,â Frank said. âBut I think it might be worth while to make a trip to Mystic andââ

Frank was interrupted by a short ring of the telephone. Aunt Gertrude called from the kitchen, âBoys, is Chet here?â

âNo,â replied Joe.

âWell, pick up the phone. Iola Mortonâs on.â

Joe grabbed the extension phone in their fatherâs study. âHello, Iola. Isnât it rather late for a growing girl to be up?â

But his banter was short-lived. He sensed immediately that something was wrong.

âJoe,â Iola said in a quavering voice, âI just talked to Tony. Iâm worried. Chet should have been home long ago. We havenât seen or heard from him at all!â

CHAPTER VIII

A Fishy Cargo

âIâM sure Chetâs all right, Iola,â said Joe, trying to soothe the worried girl. âHe probably had a flat tire, or just stopped for a late snack. Tell you what. Frank and I will go look for him, and as soon as we find him, weâll give you a call. Okay?â

âThank you, Joe. I knew I could depend on you.â

When Joe hung up and told Frank, the older boy looked concerned. âI donât like the sound of this. Chet could change a flat in ten minutes and be on his way again.â

âI know,â Joe said. âBut there wasnât any sense in worrying Iola any further.â

âRight.â Frank reached in his pocket for his car keys. âWeâd better get started.â

Joe was just opening the front door when two muffled explosions split the still night air.

âSpeak of the devil!â Frank exclaimed with obvious relief.

Chetâs battered old jalopy pulled up to the curb. The car backfired a third time before sputtering into silence on the quiet street. Chet jumped out and ran up to Frank and Joe.

âHave I got something to tell you!â he blurted. âA fantastic piece of luck!â

âAll right,â Joe said, âbut first youâd better call your sister. Sheâs worried about you.â

âOh.â An expression of regret crossed Chetâs face. âI know I should have phoned, but I had to get here as fast as I could.â

âCome on in,â Frank said. âCall Iola and let her know where you are, then tell us about it.â

Chet quickly telephoned his sister, then announced to the boys, âIâve found another whale!â

âWhere?â Joe asked. âWhat kind?â

âCalifornia Gray. When I left you guys I headed straight out of town on the parkway. You know Martyâs Giant Burgers place?â

âSure,â Frank answered.

âWell, I was feeling a little hungry so I stopped in for a quick bite. There was a fellow sitting at the counter next to meâa big man, rough-looking, strong. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and when he raised his coffee cup, I saw the tattoo. It was a small one on his right biceps. As good a picture of a California Gray as Iâve ever seen.â

Chet said that when the man had noticed him staring at the tattoo, he had gulped down the remainder of his coffee, paid his bill quickly, and hastened out of the diner.

âI followed him,â Chet said. âHe got into the cab of a large tractor truckâa very large truck!â

âLarge enough to hide a Blue Whale in?â Frank asked.

âIâm not sure,â Chet said. âBut I do know that it was one of the biggest trucks Iâve ever seen. And to top it off, it was a Connecticut license plate. I remembered the postcard clue, and here I am!â

âWhat are we waiting for?â Joe asked.

âNot a thing,â Frank said, heading for the Hardysâ car. âDid you get the license number, Chet?â

âYou bet I did.â Chet produced a scrap of paper on which he had written the plate number.

The boys sped down the highway, overtaking several trucks, but not the one they wanted. Joe had done some quick computations and reckoned they should close the remaining gap within the next half hour.

âThere it is!â Chet cried finally.

The truck was a huge tractor-trailer combination with twin diesel exhaust stacks that belched thick, acrid columns of smoke into the air. Frank moved the car into a position that was a short, but safe distance behind the roaring behemoth.

âWhat do we do now?â Joe asked.

âIâll wait for an open stretch of road,â Frank said. âThen Iâll move into the next lane and pull abreast of the cab. When the driver can see you, motion for him to swing onto the shoulder and stop.â

âWhat if he doesnât?â Joe queried.

âWeâll assume heâs got something to hide, and weâll find the nearest phone, call the State Police and have him stopped.â

âThatâs a fine plan if it works,â Chet said fearfully. âBut what if he waits until weâre alongside, then decides to run us off the road?â

âItâs a risk weâll have to take,â Frank answered coolly. âIâll be on my guard. Everyone set?â

The car swung into the passing lane and zipped forward.

âA little bit more, just a bit more,â Joe said tensely. The two vehicles were almost nose and nose. Joe began waving for the truck driver to pull over. Nothing happened.

âHe either doesnât understand, or heâs just not going to stop,â the boy shouted above the roar of the truckâs motor.

âLooks as if we have our answer!â Frank bellowed. âI think itâs time to call the police.â

âWait a minute!â Joe yelled. The truckâs directional signal blinked like a big red eye as the thundering wheels eased onto the shoulder of the highway.

Frank pulled in behind on the gravel strip and stopped. The three boys leaped out and ran forward to where the truck had hissed to a halt. The driver climbed down from his cab to meet them. To the Hardysâ surprise, he wore a friendly smile.

âWhatâs the trouble, guys?â he asked. âMotor problems or something?â

The boys were taken aback by the truckerâs unexpected good humor. Frank suddenly realized they might have made a mistake. âOne question,â he said. âWhatâs the tattoo on your right arm?â

The boys were poised, ready to spring into action at the first sign of a hostile move.

The driver touched his arm. âYou mean Hilda?â he asked, bewildered.

âHilda?â Frank repeated with equal confusion.

âSure.â The truck driver exposed his arm and offered his tattoo for the youthsâ inspection. He even jiggled his biceps. âSheâs just something I had put on while I was in the U.S. Navy.â

The boys gaped. The tattoo was a girl in a bikini reclining on one elbow.

âYou and your California Gray Whale!â Joe exploded at Chet.

The stout boy stared at his feet with embarrassment. âWell, if you look at it from an angle, it does look like a Gray Whale. And besides, you Hardys are always drumming into my head that no possible clue can be overlooked.â

âYou do have a point there,â Frank admitted.

âHey, guys!â the trucker said. âSince you pulled me off the road, would you mind letting me in on the story?â

The boys apologized, then told the driver who they were and what they were doing. The man, who gave his name as Adam Snow, burst out laughing. âSo you thought I might have a whale in here, eh?â He led them to the back of the truck and opened the massive doors. Instantly a pungent, fishy odor assailed the young sleuthsâ nostrils.

âEight tons of salted fish,â Snow said, pointing to the stacked barrels. âBut itâs all mackerel and herring, not whale!â

The boys chatted with Snow a while longer. Learning he had been raised in Mystic, they asked him if he could recommend a place to stay.

âThatâs easy,â Snow told them. âBest place in town belongs to Mrs. Elmira Snow, my mother! She rents rooms, sets the finest table you can find, and her place is within walking distance of the Marine Historical Museum.â

The boys thanked Snow and the four of them parted with a hearty round of handshakes. On the ride back home, Joe teased Chet again about his California Gray Whale.

âLook at it this way,â the chubby boy said. âWithout me, weâd never have found such a good spot to stay in Mystic.â

âWe?â said Frank. âSince when have you been eager to go on a trip that might prove dangerous?â

âOh,â Chet answered, âI think we can be cautious enough to avoid danger, but the big thing is that one of the best scrimshaw collections in the United States is located at the museum in Mystic. And Iâm not going to miss that, let me tell you.â

âTo say nothing of Mrs. Snowâs kitchen abilities,â Joe added.

âThat is an extra incentive,â Chet admitted.

Before he drove off in his jalopy, the boys decided to depart for Mystic the day after next.

âIâll be ready!â Chet promised. Frank and Joe stood grinning a moment as the jalopy backfired its way down the street and disappeared, then they went inside.

Joe raided the refrigerator and the boys had a short snack before they went to bed.

Early the following morning they began making preparations for the trip. First they called Biff and Tony and asked them to fill in as carnival sleuths until they returned.

Biff and Tony promised they would and said they would begin their duties as soon as the carnival opened for the day. Then Joe called Solo, who agreed to the change and wished the Hardys luck in their hunt for the mysterious person known as Beluga.

âMr. Solo said the arrangement would be fine,â Joe told his brother.

âGood,â Frank said with an air of abstraction. He was staring out the window and his brow was wrinkled. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. âWow!â he said. âWhat an idea I just got to smoke out our enemies!â

CHAPTER IX

A Decoy Report

JOE responded to Frankâs plan with enthusiasm and the boys hastened to Chief Collig to secure his cooperation. After they had exchanged greetings and were seated across the desk from Collig, Frank said, âChief, Joe and I have a favor to ask of you.â

Collig folded his hands. âIâm always willing to listen.â

âWeâd like to have you arrange for a phony news item to appear in the evening papers.â

Collig raised his eyebrows. âA phony item?â

âYes,â Frank said. âA story reporting that Joe and I found the stolen balloons and have figured out how the theft was managed.â

âNothing untrue in that,â Collig stated.

âBut thatâs only the first part of the story,â Frank went on. âIn the second part, we want it stated that weâve discovered the precise location of the whale, and that as soon as weâve recovered it, weâre going to set up another colossal whale show.â

Collig thought for a moment, then asked, âWhat do you think a story like this will accomplish?â

âIâm convinced,â Frank answered, âthat some of the carnival people are in this, but I suspect quite strongly that theyâre not the only ones. I feel thereâs a good chance this ruse might smoke them out into the open.â

âItâs possible,â Collig agreed. âBut youâre aware, arenât you, that youâll be setting yourselves up as targets? If youâre right in thinking the whaleâs been lost, those crooks might well come after you.â

âWe realize that,â Joe said. âWeâll be on guard.â

Chief Collig doodled on a scratch pad while he reflected. After a minuteâs silence he said, âWell, it does look like our best course of action. If you boys promise to stay alert, Iâll arrange to have the story put into the paper.â

âThanks, Chief,â Frank said and stood up. âI have a hunch weâre going to get some results.â

The boys left the police station and drove out to the carnival. Biff and Tony were on the job. Since everything was running smoothly, the Hardys stayed only for a few minutes of social conversation and then returned home. They started to pack, and when that was finished, they studied road maps to select the best route from Bayport to Mystic.

Their mother and Aunt Gertrude had taken Cousin Elmer out to see the sights of Bayport, and the afternoon crept by at a turtleâs pace. Finally at five oâclock they sauntered down to a stationery store a few blocks from their home.

Gus, the balding proprietor, waved to them when they entered. âHi, Frank. Hi, Joe. See you got your names in the papers.â

âOh?â Joe feigned surprise.

âYeah. Right there on page one. Ainât you seen it yet?â

âNo,â Frank said. âWhere?â

Gus scooped up the top paper from a stack of fresh deliveries and spread it open on the counter. He jabbed a story with his finger. âSee? Right there. âBayport Sleuths Solve Riddle of Missing Whale,â it says. Boy, that was pretty fast work. You guys are sure good.â

âOh, no!â Frank groaned as he scanned the item.

âWhatâs the matter?â Joe asked.

âTheyâve printed the whole story,â Frank replied.

âWhatâs wrong?â Gus inquired. âYou guys act like something terribleâs happened.â

âI donât know how this paper got hold of the story,â Frank said. âBut by running it, theyâve tipped our hand.â

âWhat do you mean?â

âWe didnât want anyone to know weâd located the whale until we were ready to make our move,â Joe said. âThe time isnât right yet. We still have a few things to do.â

Gus scratched his head. âSorry they jumped the gun, but you guys cracked this case in fine time. You got every reason to be proud.â

âThanks, Gus,â Frank said.

The Hardys paid for the paper and left the store. Walking home, Frank said, âI really hated to fool Gus like that, but if anyone does some checking, our story will hold up.â

Joe nodded. âWe can set things right with Gus later. Heâll understand.â

The boys reached home to find that the others had returned. Cousin Elmer, who claimed that his sea legs were not up to so much walking, had gone to his room for a nap. Frank and Joe showed the news item to their mother and Aunt Gertrude and explained their plan.

Aunt Gertrudeâs hand flew to her throat. âOh, landâs sake! What have you boys done!â

âItâs all right, Aunty,â Frank said. âJoe and Iâll be ready for anything.â

âBut those are dangerous criminals,â Miss Hardy wailed.

Joe patted her hand. âAunty,â he said soothingly, âyouâve never known us to be reckless, right? Well, we donât intend to change now. Dadâs working on a tight schedule and every moment counts.â

Mrs. Hardy, too, was worried about the boys, but she had confidence in their resources and abilities. âThey will do all right, Gertrude,â she said.

The phone rang. It was the Bayport branch office of a national television network. The TV news interviewer asked Frank to comment on the story and to give him additional information if possible.

âWell,â said Frank, âwe didnât want the news to break this early, but as long as it has, thereâs nothing we can do about it. Yes, itâs true. All I can tell you is that weâll pick up the whale when the time is rightâwhich shouldnât be long.â

A second call, this one from a local radio station, followed on the heels of the first. And so it went for the rest of the evening. Joe and Frank took turns answering the inquiries, and by the time they were ready for bed, they had spoken to representatives of more than half of the major radio and television networks and all of the local stations.

Chet arrived early the next morning. In addition to his plaid zippered suitcase he carried a small black leather case.

âHey, doc,â Joe said jokingly, âgot all your instruments?â

âWhyâd you bring that?â added Frank. âFor house calls?â

âYouâre both pretty nosy,â Chet said mysteriously. âIâll tell you whatâs in this later.â

The Hardys said their good-bys and were on the road shortly before nine oâclock. They listened to a newscast on the car radio and were pleased to hear the details of the story they had planted.

âIf this doesnât bring our enemies out,â Frank said, âthen nothing will.â

It was a fine, bright day. The highway was relatively free of traffic and the travelers made good time. They had been driving for two hours when they heard the wail of a police siren approaching them from behind.

At the wheel, Frank spotted the State Police car in the rear-view mirror. âBoy, heâs moving fast. Must be awfully anxious to catch the car heâs after.â

âIt isnât us,â Joe remarked. âWeâre within the speed limit.â

Frank edged to the right to allow the police car plenty of room to pass. To his surprise, the trooper motioned for him to pull off the road and stop. Frank complied.

âWeâre in for it now,â Chet fretted. âTheyâre going to arrest you guys for planting a phony news story. And theyâre going to charge me with being an accomplice!â

âDonât be a worrywart, Chet,â Joe said. âWe had Chief Colligâs permission. It must be something else.â

The trooper got out and walked to Frankâs open window, the leather of his holster and his highly polished boots gleaming in the sunlight.

âWeâre in trouble!â Chet lamented. âLook at his face. He means business!â

The trooper consulted his note pad, then asked âAre you Frank and Joe Hardy and Chet Morton?â

âYes, sir,â Frank replied. âWhatâs wrong, Officer?â

âI received radio instructions through Chief Colligâs office in Bayport to relay a message to you. Your mother received a call a short while ago in reference to the case youâre working on. The man didnât identify himself and his message was short: âLady, tell your brats that theyâll lay off if they know whatâs good for âem!â â

âMan!â Frank said. âWe got through to them. Theyâre really worried now!â He thanked the officer for having delivered the message. The policeman said he was glad to be of help. He cautioned the boys to be on the alert, then he returned to his car and drove off.

The young sleuths maintained maximum vigilance during the remainder of the drive to Mystic. Chet was the only one who noticed anything out of the ordinary. He pointed out a blonde in a red coupÃ© who seemed to have been following them for half an hour. Frank and Joe laughed.

âSheâs probably going to Mystic, too,â Joe said. âI donât think we have much to fear from a pretty girl. To tell the truth, Chet, I think youâre just looking for an excuse to flirt.â

Chet blushed, mumbled, and looked straight ahead for the next five miles.

By the time they arrived in Mystic, it was midafternoon. Joe took a map of the town from the glove compartment and directed Frank toward Mrs. Snowâs house.

Suddenly there was the roar of an accelerating engine behind them. The same red coupÃ© went shooting past, cut sharply in front of them, and forced Frank off the street and over the curb.

The windshield was filled with the sight of a huge elm tree. They were heading straight for it!

CHAPTER X

Tim Varney

âHANG on!â Frank shouted.

He slammed the brake pedal down and wrenched the wheel violently to the side. The car went into a skid, tipped precariously up on two wheels, then was brought to a bone-jarring halt when the right fender buckled against the tree.

âAnybody hurt?â Frank gasped.

âIâm okay,â Joe said.

âMe too,â Chet answered shakily.

âLucky we had our seat belts fastened,â Frank said.

âThere is no doubt that our enemies are here,â Joe muttered. âThat blonde certainly was no lady.â

âShe may come back to find out what happened to us,â Frank remarked. âMrs. Snowâs house should be right down at the end of this block. Letâs get there fast, conceal the car, and keep a lookout.â

âGood thinking,â Joe said.

âIâm all for concealment at this stage of the game,â Chet added.

After a quick check, which revealed that the only damage was the crumpled fender, Frank drove to Mrs. Snowâs house and parked in her driveway. The boys hurried up the front steps and rang the bell.

Mrs. Snow, a small, white-haired woman, opened the door. The boys introduced themselves hurriedly and told of what had just happened.

âWhy, the nerve of those scoundrels!â Mrs. Snow replied. âJoe and Chet, come right inside. Frank, you can take your car around back and park it in the garage.â

Frank drove into the rickety clapboard garage behind the house and closed the door. When he turned to go back into the house, he saw the tail end of a red car whizzing by.

âWow!â he said softly to himself. âShe certainly came back in a hurry!â

He raced in to join the others. âDid you seeâ?â he started, but Joe interrupted him.

âNegative. It was not the same car. Weâll have to wait, Iâm afraid.â

The trio and Mrs. Snow stood alongside the front windows, keeping vigil at the edges of the drawn curtains.

âAha!â Joe said ten minutes later. âHere comes the coupÃ©.â

âAre you sure itâs the right car?â Chet asked.

âIâm not likely to forget that one for a long time.â

The red automobile was moving slowly down the street. As it passed in front of Mrs. Snowâs house, the sleuths noticed that there were now three people in it.

âShe must have picked up some confederates,â Joe said.

âDo you recognize any of them?â Frank asked Mrs. Snow, who stood at his elbow.

âI never saw the girl,â she replied. âBut Iâve seen the big man, the one in the blue work shirt. Iâm not sure, but I think heâs a retired seaman.â

Unfortunately the boys could not get a really clear look. To do so, they would have had to open the curtains and possibly give away their position. The car passed by the house twice again in the next fifteen minutes, then vanished.

âI think our trip is really going to pay off,â Frank announced. He asked Mrs. Snow if he might use her telephone to make a long-distance collect call. She led him to the phone table in the hall.

Frank had the operator ring his home in Bayport. Elmer Hardy answered, accepted the charge, and told Frank that his mother and aunt were out. Frank asked him to report that he had received Mrs. Hardyâs message and everything was all right.

Elmer said there had been no word from Mr. Hardy yet and that none of Chief Colligâs men had been able to uncover any news about Boko. Frank thanked Elmer and hung up.

The boys decided to remain at Mrs. Snowâs, since there seemed to be little they could accomplish the rest of the day. Mrs. Snow showed them to their rooms, and while they unpacked, she went downstairs and had supper waiting by the time they reappeared.

The boys slept well that night in spacious, comfortable beds. They got an early start in the morning and arrived at the museum just as it was opening.

âWeâll case the area first,â Frank said, and warned Chet to act casual. âAnd if you see the blonde,â he added, âfor Peteâs sake, donât sing out!â

They bided their time, strolling through the streets and visiting the period buildings. The Hardys took particular delight in the dark and triangular Shipsmith Shop and the relaxing, convivial atmosphere of the Spouter Tavern. Chetâs chief interest lay in the many beautiful pieces contained in the separate collections of scrimshaw in the museum.

Around eleven oâclock they strolled toward the wharf at which the old whaling ship Charles W. Morgan was moored. A group of leathery-skinned men in seamenâs garb was congregated on a nearby bench.

âThat fellow in the blue shirt,â Frank whispered to Joe and Chet. âIsnât he one of the guys who was in the red car?â

Chet and Joe admitted there was a strong resemblance, but could not be sure.

Frank decided to strike up a conversation with the man while the other two went aboard the whaler. He sauntered to the bench and sat down.

âWhat a beautiful ship,â he said. âIâll bet she has quite a history.â

âAye. She does,â replied the man in the blue shirt.

âIâd sure like to go through her with someone who could tell me her background,â Frank went on.

âIâll take youâfor a dollar!â

âItâs a deal.â Frank took a bill from his wallet and handed it to the grizzled man.

âThanks. Timâs the name.â

Frankâs heart quickened as he saw a whale tattoo, similar to Bokoâs on his guideâs blue-veined hand.

The two quickly boarded the Charles W. Morgan, and walked past Joe and Chet, who were chatting with a man in a captainâs uniform. Tim took Frank on a quick tour of the deck. He knew his subject well, pointing out the davits from which the longboats were lowered to pursue whales, the brick hearths over which the oil was boiled from the blubber, and explained the function of the huge pieces of block and tackle.

As the old fellow expounded, Frank noticed that Chet and Joe were now following him at a discreet distance.

Tim took Frank below deck, where the enormous backbone of a Bowhead Whale was propped against the ribs of the ship. The two moved in its direction, while Tim explained how the shipâs frame and planking had been built of live oak. He pointed out the broad-bladed harpoons used for the original strike against a whale and the thinner, long-shanked iron lances employed in the final killing thrust to the heart.

An old anchor chain lay in a great coil near the tall, gleaming white backbone. Frank bent down to examine the chainâs massive links.

âDo you mean,â he said, âthat they really cranked something this heavy up byâ?â

His question was cut short by a grating sound. He jerked his eyes up and saw the backbone falling on him. Instantly he hurled himself backward, hit the deck, and rolled away. The heavy whale-bone crashed over the coiled chain!

Joe and Chet came pounding to his side as he regained his feet. âFrank! Frank! Are you all right?â his brother asked.

âYes. It missed. Quick, where did Tim go?â

Instantly Frank hurled himself backward

âHe ran up that gangway,â Chet cried. âRight after he shoved the backbone at you.â

âAfter him!â Frank commanded.

The boys dashed up the steps to the upper deck. The area was jammed with tourists and also the wharf below.

âToo late,â Joe said angrily. âWeâd never find him in this crowd.â

The boys leaned against a rail. âWe know his full name at least,â Joe said.

Frank looked surprised. âHow so?â

âFrom Captain Flint,â Joe explained. âItâs Tim Varney.â

Frank nodded approvingly. âNice work, Joe.â He told them about Varneyâs whale tattoo, and suggested they talk to Captain Flint again.

Flint was outraged that such a thing had happened on his ship, and apologized to Frank. âI wish I could tell you more about Varney,â he said, âbut I canât. Nobody around here knows anything about him, except that heâs a drifter.â

âCaptain,â Joe asked, âare you familiar with stuffed whales?â

The captain pursed his lips. âWell, thereâs only one that Iâve ever heard of. Itâs in a museum of natural history. Wait a minute. Thereâs somebody who knows more about this than I do.â

He walked to the prow of the ship and hailed an old man seated on one of the benches, sunning himself.

âOh, Murphy!â Captain Flint called out. âWill you come over here, please.â

The man, gray and toothless, waved in reply and walked up to the whaler. âYou want something, Captain?â

Flint cupped his hands and asked the question about stuffed whales.

âSure, I know another one,â Murphy replied. âIt was washed ashore on Montauk in the 1920âs. Some carnival guy stuffed it.â

âYou know his name or where I can find him?â Frank asked. But the old man shook his head, and shuffled back to his bench.

âThatâs a great help, Captain,â Frank said. âAnother question. Have you ever heard of a man named Whitey Meldrum?â

âWhitey Meldrum? Sure. Heâs an old merchant marine seaman. I donât know the specifics, but he was mixed up in a couple of shady deals several years back.â

âYou have any idea where he is now?â

Captain Flint removed his hat and scratched his head. âIâm not sure, but I seem to remember someone mentioning that he was living in New York. That was about two months ago.â

âCaptain,â Frank said, âyouâve been a tremendous help to us and I want to thank you very much.â

âNot at all. My pleasure. Oh, thereâs one more thing.â

âYes?â

âI just recalled. Strange thing, you looking for Meldrum. There was another fellow up here just a couple of days ago. He was looking for old Meldrum, too.â

âWho was he?â Joe asked.

âMarlin. Called himself Spike Marlin.â

CHAPTER XI

The Eavesdroppers

âARE you joking?â Joe asked. âSpike Marlin. Turn it around and you get marlinespike, the tool used in rope splicing.â

âIt struck me the same way,â Captain Flint replied. âBut thatâs what he said his name was.â

âFine alias for a guy with a sense of humor,â Frank said, and asked the captain where Marlin was from or where he was going. Flint did not know. âWas there anything unusual about him, anything that might help us to identify him?â Frank asked.

âNot much. His clothes were worn, but pretty nondescript. I did notice an anchor tattoo on the back of his left hand. He might have been a seaman, but I wouldnât swear to it.â

âThose are pretty good clues,â Joe said. âThanks a lot.â

The boys left to scan the area, trying to pick up Tim Varneyâs trail. They had no luck, so they returned to Mrs. Snowâs in the late afternoon. After supper they headed back to the seaport.

They searched in seamenâs meeting houses and in cheap restaurants, and questioned proprietors of stores and clerks at hotel desks. But their efforts were fruitless. Several persons readily admitted to knowing Varney, but no one had seen him for the last few days or knew where he might be found.

Finally the trio stopped at a drugstore and ordered sodas.

âBoy, these are really good!â Joe said after the first cooling gulp.

âGood! My friend, theyâre superb!â Chet responded. He finished his soda before the Hardys were halfway done and ordered another. After the gurgling sound of the straw reaching bottom, Chet gave the Hardys a plaintive look. âFellows,â he said, âitâs not that Iâm trying to get out of work or anything, but these sodas are the best Iâve ever tasted.â

âWhat are you trying to say, Chet?â Joe asked.

The chubby boy wore a sheepish expression. âWell, if you guys think you might be able to do without me for a while, Iâd sure like to stick around and do some real justice to that artist who makes these ice-cream dreams.â

âLook, Chet,â Joe said. âWe were planning on having you lead us in a couple of double-time laps around the block.â

Chet raised his hands in mock horror, and Frank added, âOkay. If we run into any trouble, weâll come back and get you. Otherwise plan on meeting us here in an hour.â

Frank and Joe left the drugstore and continued their search. Darkness was falling and the moon was visible only as a dim, thin crescent above a layer of black wind-driven clouds.

âDo you think Tim Varney has gone into hiding?â Joe asked.

âItâs a possibility. IâWait a minute! Over there by the grocery store, Joe!â

Joe squinted against the blackness, focusing his eyes on the figure that was moving furtively along the other side of the street. âThatâs our man, all right.â

âInto this doorway, quick,â Frank said. âGive him a chance to get a bit of a lead, then weâll follow him.â

Varney glanced nervously around, as if to make sure that he was not being followed. After a moment he shrugged and hurried on. When he was half a block away, Frank and Joe stepped out of the doorway. They tailed the man through a labyrinth of twisting streets until he arrived at a clapboard shack close to the waterfront. Varney paused, looked around him, then pulled open the door and went inside.

Frank and Joe pressed against the side of a warehouse, watching. âWhat do you think we should do now?â Joe asked.

âWell,â Frank said, âthere was no light when he entered, and he still hasnât turned one on. Itâs my guess that heâs waiting for somebody. I think we should stick tight and see what happens.â

âOkay.â

After fifteen minutes Joe grew restless and began to fidget, when Frank suddenly whispered, âSomethingâs moving off to the side of the shack.â

Joe looked. Two dark formsâone of them much larger than the otherâwere approaching the ramshackle structure. They made their way to the door, then rapped on it with four sharp knocks. The door opened and they stepped inside. Moments later a weak light appeared behind the covered windows.

The boys crouched low and covered the distance between the shack and the warehouse at a half-run. A thin wedge of light knifed through a crack on the side of the door. The Hardys each pressed an eye to the opening.

Inside, three men were pacing about. One of them strode close to the door. Instantly Frank and Joe recognized him as the hulking man who had been in the red coupÃ© with Varney and the blonde.

âHey, Mug!â came Varneyâs voice.

The big man turned. âWhat?â

The boys could not make out Varneyâs next sentence. A higher voice said, âWish we could get this job finished.â Frank and Joe strained for a look at the speaker. Moments later they succeeded, when a youth about their own age, slightly built and with sandy hair, stomped angrily past the door, snarling the name âHardy.â

âThereâs nothinâ you can do, Baby Face!â

âWell, I donât like sittinâ around, Mug,â replied the blond youth hotly. âThereâs no sense talkinâ any more. Letâs get out of this hole.â

He strode toward the door, barely giving Frank and Joe time to scoot around the corner of the shack. The light went out, the door slammed shut, and the three vanished into the darkness.

Frank peered around the corner in time to see two headlights wink on, a motor start, and a car pull away.

âNuts, we canât follow them,â he muttered.

Joe grabbed his arm. âRemember that night I saw someone lurking near the phone booth at the carnival?â

âYes.â

âWell, that fellow Baby Face is the one I saw hanging around there.â

Frank raised his eyebrows. âThis gets more interestingâand complicatedâevery moment.â

âThereâs no doubt that Varney was trying to split your skull on the whaler,â Joe said. âBut just what do you think is this job theyâre talking about?â

âI donât know. It could be connected with the stolen whale, or it might have something to do with Dadâs case.â

âOr both cases, for that matter,â Joe added.

âRight, but remember we still donât have one shred of positive proof. Originally we thought the whale had been stolen by someone from the carnival. Now suddenly we find this fair-haired guy was at the carnival, which, while not ruling out the carnival people, seems to imply a bigger gang. Also thereâs that postcard signed Beluga that was mailed from here.â

âAnd once we got to Mystic,â Joe said, âwe started running into seamen who are involvedâTim Varney and Whitey Meldrum. The gang Dad is after is made up of seamen. Wow! What a mess! Frank, I think we should get the police to arrest these guys right now.â

âNo good, Joe. Thereâs nothing they can be charged withâat the moment.â

âVarney tried to smash you with that whale-bone!â

âHe could claim it was an accident, and we couldnât prove otherwise.â

âWell, I still think we should get them while we have the chance,â Joe said.

âTheyâd only be set free ten minutes after the police brought them in,â Frank countered, âand besides, theyâre not sure how much we know about them. Weâd be tipping our hand. Come on. Letâs investigate this shack!â

They walked in. Joe struck a match and lit the wick of the old-fashioned lamp.

Two things instantly captured their attentionâa womanâs blond wig and a souvenir cane from Soloâs Super Carnival!

CHAPTER XII

An Odd Messenger

JOE picked up the wig and turned it over in his hands. âYou know, when Chet said âThat was no ladyâ he didnât know just how right he was!â

âBaby Face in disguise,â Frank muttered. âHe and I are going to have a few things to settle when we finally come face to face.â

Joe set down the wig on the cane, which he twirled a moment like a baton. âThis proves that at least one of them if not all three were at the carnival.â

They went through the rest of the shack, but discovered no additional clues.

âWe still donât know Belugaâs real name,â Frank said tersely.

âOr what his game is,â Joe added.

Frankâs brow wrinkled as he repeated the message Beluga had sent to Boko. ââGetting hot. Getting hot.â It could mean a couple of things. For instance, âWeâre almost to our goal.â Or, âThe police are close on our trail.â â

The boys pondered the possibilities. Finally Joe said, âI think weâve done about as much as we can do here. What do you say we go back for Chet?â

Frank glanced at his watch. âOkay. The hourâs just about up to meet Chet.â They hastened off. Reaching the drugstore, the Hardys saw nearly a dozen youths clustered around the soda counter, talking excitedly.

âCâmon, boy. You can do it!â

âJust take it slow and easy.â

âNo problem, fellow. Still plenty of room left.â

âGo for broke, champ!â

The Hardys made their way forward and discovered the object of everyoneâs attentionâChet Morton! He grinned weakly when he saw his pals. âHi, Frank. Hi, Joe.â

âWhat are you doing, Chet?â Frank asked.

âCompeting in a marathon.â Chet made a sweeping gesture with his hand, taking in a row of empty soda glasses.

Joe counted. âFive! You put down five sodas?â

âYou bet he did,â said a girl at Joeâs elbow. âAnd heâs far from finished!â

âThatâs right,â agreed a boy. âThe big oneâs still ahead of him.â

âYou see,â Chet said, âIâve never encountered such scrumptious sodas in my life, and before I knew itâwell, I knocked off five of them. And now, Charlie ... Oh, excuse me. Frank and Joe, Iâd like you to meet Charlie, a soda-making genius!â

The man behind the counter smiled. âYour friend here is a marvel. Iâve never seen anybody putâem away like him.â

âThatâs the problem,â Chet explained. âCharlie was so impressed that he offered me a King-Size Wonderâthatâs his specialtyâon the house. Iâm not sure I can handle it, but I just canât bring myself to turn it down!â

As the crowd chattered encouragingly, Frank and Joe shook their heads in amazement. âHow do you do it, Chet?â Frank asked. âHow in the world do you do it?â

âI have a natural talent,â Chet replied modestly.

âWell, whatâs it going to be?â Charlie asked cheerfully. âA King-Size Wonder or defeat?â

Chet gnawed on his lower lip. A freckled red-head clapped him on the back. âHey, buddy, I got an idea. Why donât you take a couple of spins around the block. Thatâll work off some of the sodas youâve already had, and give you the room you need to take on the big baby.â

Chet contemplated this a moment, then smiled and stood up. âOrdinarily,â he said, âI shun physical exercise. But this is a worthy cause and I feel that a sacrifice is in order.â

âThatâs the spirit,â Charlie said.

Chet walked out of the drugstore. He stood on the sidewalk, hitched up his pants, and rubbed his hands together. A determined look settled over his face, then he jogged down the block. The freckle-faced boy and another fan went with him.

Ten minutes and two laps later, Chet returned to his stool in front of the counter. Charlie had the King-Size Wonder waiting. It was a huge soda, made with four flavors of ice cream and enhanced with a great variety of nuts and fruits. A large mound of whipped cream topped it and a bright-red cherry sat at the peak of the whipped cream. The audience murmured appreciatively.

Chet picked up his spoon, looked around like a matador, then tackled the soda. His fans cheered as he ate with a slow, steady rhythm. When he reached the halfway mark, the spectators began to applaud. The sound of their clapping hands grew progressively louder as the tubby boy neared the end, then broke into a wild crescendo when Chet scooped out the last bit of ice cream.

âI wouldnât have believed it if I hadnât seen it,â Frank said.

Chetâs admirers followed the boys out of the store, congratulating him heartily. A block and a half later the last of the fans fell away. Chet sighed and patted his stomach. âA truly inspiring experience,â he said.

Frank and Joe could do nothing but express their awe. Then the subject turned to what had happened at the shack. âSo that cute blonde of yours,â Frank finished, âwas none other than Baby Face!â

âOh, no!â Chet exclaimed. Then he said quickly, âI almost forgot. I have some news for you, too.â

âWhat?â Frank asked.

âKnocker Felsenâs in Mystic. Heâs looking for you.â

âYouâre kidding!â Joe exploded.

âNo Iâm not.â

âWhatâs he want?â Frank asked.

âI donât know. He wouldnât say. But I told him he could find us at Mrs. Snowâs house.â

âOh, thatâs great!â Joe said. âDidnât you stop to think that Felsen may be a member of the gang weâre after?â

Chet looked embarrassed. Apparently this possibility had not occurred to him. âIâm sorry, fellows. Since he came looking for you right out in the open...â He held his hands up helplessly.

âWhatâs done is done,â Frank remarked. âI think we should play it cool and approach Mrs. Snowâs place indirectly, in case Felsen is up to something sneaky.â

Three blocks from Mrs. Snowâs house the boys took to back yards and advanced stealthily. Reaching Mrs. Snowâs property, they split up to reconnoiter, agreeing to meet again behind a large clump of lilac bushes.

Joe was the first to spot Felsen. He was hiding behind a tree close to Mrs. Snowâs back porch. The three boys knelt at the base of the lilac bushes. âHereâs what weâll do,â Frank whispered. âJoe and I will circle around and come at him from both sides. Chet, you stay out of the action. If Joe and I run into more than we can handle, you pitch in.â

The boys moved out and began creeping toward their positions. When they were set, Frank whistled shrilly and rushed forward. He and Joe reached Felsen at the same moment and the three went down with a thud.

Felsen recovered from the surprise attack quickly and jammed an elbow into Frankâs stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He threw Joe off and made a rush toward a neighborâs yard. Joe was after him in a flash, bringing the burly carny to earth with a flying tackle. Frank scrambled to his hands and knees, rested a moment until he got his breath back, then rushed into the fray just as Felsen was struggling to his feet. Pow! A right to the chin flattened the big youth.

âOkay, tough guy,â Frank said, pulling the groggy Felsen to his feet. âLetâs have some explanations.â

Felsen pressed a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. âLook, you guys, Iâm not your enemy, Whyâd you jump me like that?â

âWhy were you skulking behind that tree?â Chet asked, stepping forward.

âMr. Solo sent me to give you a message. He told me you were on a tricky case and that I was supposed to be careful.â

âOkay,â Joe said. âWhatâs the message?â

âThe carnivalâs closing in Bayport. We made as much as we can there and weâre moving on to Newton.â

Newton was a small town thirty-five miles from Bayport. Neither Frank, Joe, nor Chet could understand why Solo would send Felsen all the way to Mystic just to inform them of the move.

âWas there anything else?â Joe asked.

âYeah. A note.â Felsen went through his pockets. A worried expression came over his face. âI must have lost it!â he exclaimed.

The boys searched the ground, but found nothing. Then Knocker explained that he had planned to return to Bayport earlier that evening. âI canât go now,â he said dejectedly. âItâs too late.â

âWhere will you sleep?â Chet asked him.

âDonât know. Could I stay with you guys?â

Frank was suspicious and far from pleased at the prospect. Joe felt the same way. Chet, however, felt that Knocker was okay.

âAll right, you can stay with us,â Frank said finally. âBut no funny business!â

Felsen was given a cot and fell asleep quickly, and the Hardys and Chet followed suit shortly.

At daybreak Frank suddenly snapped awake and glanced about. Felsenâs cot was empty! He leaped up and roused Chet and Joe. Neither of them had heard Felsen leave.

Frank sat down on the cot. âI knew this would happen. Hey, whatâs this?â He reached down and drew an object from within a fold in the covers. âFelsenâs wallet!â

The three of them examined the wallet carefully and Frank located a cleverly concealed secret compartment. From it he drew out a folded piece of paper which he opened.

It was a pencil drawing of a manâs fist. At the base of the thumb, and on the tip and the base of the index finger were three sections of a tattoo, which, when joined, formed a whale!

CHAPTER XIII

A Great Surprise

âWHAT do you think of Knocker Felsen now, Chet?â Frank asked.

âCanât win âem all,â Chet said apologetically.

There was a knock on the door. âCome in,â Joe called out.

The door opened and there, out of breath, stood Knocker Felsen. The three boys regarded him in stunned silence.

âMan,â said Felsen, âI was just getting on my bus when I discovered Iâd lost my wallet. Did you see it laying around anywhere?â

âYes,â Frank answered. âAnd we also found this!â He confronted Felsen with the whale tattoo.

âWhatâs that?â Felsen asked.

âYou tell us,â Frank replied. âWe found it in your wallet. And say, whyâd you sneak off like that?â

âDidnât want to disturb you,â Felsen said. He eyed the note. âHey, thatâs what Mr. Solo gave me to deliver to you. He found it near Rembrandtâs bunk and he thinks it might be a clue. Am I glad it wasnât lost after all.â

Frank eyed Felsen with distrust. âWell, thanks anyway. And say thanks to Mr. Solo, too.â

Felsen took his wallet and left, grumbling all the way out. The boys waited until his voice faded before they spoke.

âWhat do you think?â Joe asked.

Frank sighed. âI donât really know. He might be telling the truth and he might not. Too many unknowns to start drawing conclusions.â

âI wonder if we might get anywhere trying to trace the Long Island whale that Murphy told us about,â Joe said.

âI was thinking along that same line,â Frank remarked. âI suggest we look through the old newspaper files in the New York Public Library.â

Both Hardys looked to Chet for confirmation. He shrugged his big shoulders. âItâs okay with me. Iâm just the Indian. You guys are the chiefs.â

They packed their bags and went downstairs. Mrs. Snow served them breakfast in the dining room. The boys ate, thanked her for her help and hospitality, settled their account and left.

The drive to New York City was long and une ventful, and the boys took turns at the wheel. The arrived in the midafternoon, parked near Times Square, and walked the few blocks to the mair branch of the library. It was a huge, imposing building. The long flight of stairs that rose to its main entrance was guarded by two stone lions.

The boys went directly to the section in which the microfilm copies of old newspapers were kept. They checked out the indexes of the various New York papers for the years 1919 through 1929. Frank, Joe, and Chet each took a third of the material to be perused, sat down, and began poring through the thick volumes.

Other patrons of the library came and went, as the large clock on the wall silently marked the passage of time.

Joe marked his place, looked up, and stretched. Suddenly he went rigid. Across the room and seated at a table pretending he was reading a newspaper was Baby Face! Without taking his eyes from the youth, Joe reached over and tapped his brotherâs arm.

At that moment Baby Face looked up. Joe noticed two things in the split second that followed. First, the manâs shocked look of panic at having been recognizedâand second, a black circular mole just above the bridge of his nose and directly between his eyes.

Baby Face was the first to move. He leaped from his chair and bolted out of the room. Frank and Joe were after him in a flash. They hesitated when they reached the hall. Including the up and the down stairwells, there were five possible directions in which Baby Face could have gone.

A guard came up to them. âHere, here! You canât run through the library making a racket like this!â

âWeâre chasing a criminal,â Joe explained. âA young man, short and slightly built, with sandy hair. Did you see him?â

âNo. I just came out of the manuscript room.â

Frankâs shoulders slumped. âIâm afraid weâre out of luck, Joe. There are too many directions he could have taken. Weâd never find him.â

Frank and Joe apologized for the disturbance and returned to the newspaper section. Chet looked up when they approached. âWhere did you guys go? You took off like rockets before I even knew what was happening.â

The Hardys told him about Baby Face spying on them and of how they were unable to catch him.

âWell, itâs not a total loss,â Chet said. âWhile you were gone I found this.â He turned the index in his hands around so that they could read it and pointed to a specific entry:

WHALE. Discovered off Montauk Point.

May 14,1924. Section III, p. 15, col. A

âGood work, Chet,â Frank said. âNow weâre getting somewhere.â

They requested the appropriate roll of microfilm and put it into the viewing machine. Frank worked the crank handle until he located the page they wanted. Chet and Joe pressed in on either side of him. It was not a very long story, but it did confirm that the stranded giant was indeed a Blue Whale and that it had been sold to Ralph Zelemeyerâowner of Zelemeyerâs Circusâwho intended to have it stuffed and to use it as a side-show attraction.

The boys returned the microfilm to the librarian. They decided to sit in the park behind the library a while, have an ice-cream bar, and discuss what they had learned. New York Cityâs businesses were closing and the park was crowded. The boys strolled through it, seeking an unoccupied bench.

âI donât think thereâs any doubt that the Montauk whale is the same one Biff and Tony discovered,â Frank said. âThe next step is to locate Zelemeyerâs Circus.â

âAs long as weâre in New York,â Joe suggested, âwhy donât we skip the circus a while and try to run down Whitey Meldrum?â

âThat sounds reasonable,â Frank agreed.

âHey, fellows,â Chet said, âI hate to spoil a good ice-cream bar, but there are some not-too-friendly friends of ours over there.â

Frank and Joe looked in the direction Chet indicated. Near a water fountain they saw Baby Face talking to Tim Varney.

Frank flung his ice cream into a trash basket and sprinted forward. âLetâs go!â

Chet and Joe were right behind him. Their dash was like running an army obstacle course. They had to thread their way through knots of people and careen around others. Baby Face and Tim Varney spotted them coming.

âItâs the brats!â Varney yelled. âWe gotta scram!â

The criminals ran out of the park and plunged into a subway entrance. Frank, Joe, and Chet followed them, but three minutes of search in the jammed labyrinth were futile. They emerged disappointed.

âLetâs hope we have better luck with Meldrum,â Joe said.

After Frank had consulted his notebook for the addresses of three homes for old seamen that Captain Flint had given them, the boys were lucky enough to find a taxi in the rush-hour traffic.

Frank gave the driver the first address. Half an hour later they pulled up in front of a three-story brick building with white shutters and wrought-iron grillwork.

A plaque set into the cornerstone identified it as Seamenâs Haven.

The boys entered the building and went to the clerkâs desk. âExcuse me,â said Frank. âWeâre looking for an old merchant sailor by the name of Whitey Meldrum. Does he live here by any chance?â

âHe used to,â the clerk replied. âTook off âbout a week ago. Donât know when heâs cominâ backâif ever!â

âBoy, what a sense of timing we have,â Joe said. âSay, would you have a guest here by the name of Spike Marlin?â

âMatter of fact, we do. Checked in a couple of days after Meldrum left. Friend of Meldrumâs. What do you want with him?â

âWeâerâhave some mutual acquaintances. We promised them weâd look old Spike up.â

The clerk shrugged. âHeâs in room 2-D. Up the stairs and to your left. Second floor.â

âThanks,â Frank said.

Grinning with excited anticipation, the three ascended the stairs, walked softly down the hall, and stopped in front of 2-D.

Frank put an ear to the door and listened for a while. Someone was moving quietly about. Since there was no conversation, Frank assumed the person inside was alone. He stepped back and beckoned to the others.

âWe donât know what to expect,â Frank whispered, âso letâs be ready for anything. Joe, you and Chet each get on one side of the door. Iâll knock. Ready?â

Frank whispered, âLetâs be ready for anything!â

Chet and Joe took up their positions and nodded. Frank tensed his muscles and prepared himself for instant action. He clenched his hand into a fist and rapped loudly upon the door.

Silence. Frank knocked again, this time even louder.

âJust a minute,â came the muffled reply.

Footsteps approached, then the door was flung open. A well-built man stood before them.

Frankâs eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. âDad!â he gasped.

CHAPTER XIV

An Airport Snatch

âFRANK!â exclaimed Mr. Hardy in astonishment. âWhat in the world are you doing here?â

The detective was even more amazed when Chet and Joe stepped into view. He glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one had witnessed the meeting, then beckoned the boys inside.

Mr. Hardy was dressed in old work clothes. His hair was dyed gray and his face made up to look old. Though the masquerade was effective, Frank and Joe would have recognized their fatherâs tall figure and handsome countenance anywhere.

âDonât tell us you got tattooed just to make your disguise authentic!â Frank said, looking at the blue anchor on the back of Fenton Hardyâs left hand.

The sleuth laughed. âNo, itâs only a semipermanent ink. Itâll wash out with a few good scrubbings.â

âSpike Marlin, what a name!â Joe grinned. âTakes real talent to make that up!â

âDonât you know youâre looking at a genius?â his father quipped.

When the boys made themselves comfortable, Frank asked what connection Whitey Meldrum had with the Ivory Idol.

His father explained, âThe back of the envelope in which the letter to R. R. Dunn was sent was sealed with cellophane tape. I managed to take a good thumbprint from the tape. It proved to be Meldrumâs. Now, may I ask what interest you boys have in our elusive Mr. Meldrum?â

Joe told about the scrap of paper bearing Meldrumâs name which had been found in Bokoâs wagon.

âThat links Meldrum pretty well with Boko,â Mr. Hardy said. âAnd probably a man named Tim Varney, too.â

âTim Varney!â Frank exclaimed. âHow does he fit into your case?â

âIâm not sure yet. All I know for certain is that Meldrum left here in a hurry after an argument with Tim Varney.â

Excitedly the brothers filled their father in on all they knew about Tim Varney and his confederates.

âItâs beginning to look more and more as if thereâs only one case, and not two, as we thought at first,â Frank noted.

âThatâs a very strong possibility,â Fenton Hardy agreed.

âWell, what do we do next?â Joe asked.

Mr. Hardy smiled. âI think the most pressing matter at hand is to get some supper.â

âHear! Hear!â Chet said. The Hardys laughed and the quartet walked down the stairs.

âYour friends found you okayâhuh, Spike?â the clerk commented.

âYeah,â Mr. Hardy replied in a gruff voice. âThanks for sendinâ âem up.â

âSure thing.â

A sallow-faced man appeared behind the clerk, a dirty duffel bag in his hands. âHey,â he said, âwhat am I supposed to do with these old shirts of Meldrumâs?â

âI donât know,â the clerk answered. âMaybe we should dump âem. We ainât runninâ a storehouse.â

âDid you say that duffel belongs to Whitey?â Mr. Hardy asked.

âYeah. Itâs full of dirty shirts.â

âLook,â said the detective. âNo sense in dumpinâ âem. Iâll keep âem until olâ Whitey comes back.â

The clerk took the duffel and plopped it on the counter. âHelp yourself.â

Mr. Hardy picked up the bag and casually went back up the stairs. The boys followed. Once back inside 2-D, they locked the door and took the durfel over to the bed.

âCross your fingers, boys,â Mr. Hardy said. âIf weâre lucky, we might pick up a clue or two.â He spilled the shirts onto the spread. There were a dozen of them, several stained and torn. Mr. Hardy and the boys began going through the pockets.

âHereâs something!â Chet said. He handed an old faded piece of paper to Mr. Hardy.

The detective studied it and read aloud: â âItâs getting worse every day. Donât know what will happen to Jonah. The Hong Kong job turned out to be a real flop. Iâll let you know what happens. J. Kane.â â

âWow!â said Joe. âWe know now that Kane was one of the thieves who stole the Ivory Idol. But we canât get anything from him. Heâs dead.â

Mr. Hardy was surprised to hear this and continued to search through the rest of the shirts, with negative results. Then, leaving no stone unturned, Frank pulled the duffel bag inside out and examined it. Close to the bottom seam he spotted a line of words in small letters, printed with India ink. âListen to this!â he said. ââSociety of the Whale Tattoo: Blackright, Beluga, Blue, Bottlenose, and Pygmy.ââ

âThatâs great, Frank,â Mr. Hardy said. âFrom the thumbprint we know that Meldrum is Blackright, but who are the others? Tim Varney? Maybe Boko?â

âAnd is this really a society?â Joe asked. âOr an old gang?â

Mr. Hardy became silent. After thinking for a while, he said, âFrank and Joe, how would you like to take a fast trip to Los Angeles?â

âSure,â Joe said. âWhat for?â

âTo nail down this Society of the Whale Tattoo. The Los Angeles Police Department has the most extensive file on tattoos in the world of criminology. They arrest more than two hundred thousand persons each year, and every tattoo they find is recorded. Their file has been indispensable in breaking several difficult cases.â

âOkay,â Frank said. âWe can catch a plane tonight and grab some sleep during the flight.â

âWhat about me?â Chet asked.

âIf you donât mind,â Mr. Hardy said, âIâd like you to stay here and lend me a hand.â

âAll right,â Chet said. âBut as long as we have the details settled, what about that food we were going out for?â

They went to a small Italian restaurant, and after dinner walked back to the Seamenâs Haven.

While Frank and Joe looked for a taxi, Mr. Hardy conferred briefly with Chet. The chubby boy accompanied the brothers to the parking lot where they had left their car. Next, Frank and Joe dropped Chet and his suitcase off at Seamenâs Haven, then headed for Kennedy Airport.

They parked and took their luggage from the trunk of the car. âI sure hope we can find some answers,â Joe said as they walked to the terminal.

âSo do I,â Frank answered. âBlackright wonât be wasting much more time on R. R. Dunn. There are a great many wealthy art collectors in this country, and unfortunately, not all of them are as scrupulous as Mr. Dunn. If Blackright contacts one of them, the Ivory Idol may disappear forever!â

They checked in at the ticket counter and were told that the next flight to Los Angeles did not leave for another hour and a half. Frank bought tickets, had their luggage tagged and put on the conveyor belt, then walked with Joe into the main lobby, where they bought two magazines at a newsstand. They found an isolated grouping of chairs and sat down to read.

Soon they were engrossed in their magazines. There was a rustle in the chair next to Frank but the boy did not look up. He was turning a page when a gruff voice said:

âHello, brats!â

Startled, Frank discovered Mug sitting beside him! A quick glance revealed that Joe was flanked by Baby Face. Joe started to move, but Frank waved him back, realizing that if Mug and Baby Face were confronting them in the open, the two thugs must have a pretty good trick up their sleeves.

âThatâs good thinkinâ,â Mug said. âYou guys donât want to make a scene here.â

âYeah,â Baby Face gloated. âGet up nice and quiet and take a little walk to our car.â

âWhy?â Frankâs voice was cool.

âOne, so your old man with his dopey dyed hair and his fake tattoo wonât get hurtâand two, so your fat buddy stays just as healthy as when you dropped him off at Seamenâs Haven.â

âYou see,â Mug said with a sardonic smile, âour men are holding both of them. If anything happens to us, or if we donât come back with you two, then nobodyâll see Daddy and Fatso again!â

CHAPTER XV

Tattling Tattoos

âNow, I want you to walk real slow and calm between me and Baby Face. Remember, any funny business and youâll be responsible for what happens.â Mug stood up. âCome on.â

Frank and Joe left their chairs and began walking with Mug and Baby Face toward the exit.

âYouâre going to pay for this,â Joe said through clenched teeth.

âWrong!â Mug answered. âWeâre going to get paid for this.â

âThatâs for certain,â Frank said. âBut not the way you expect.â

âShut up!â Mug growled. âYou guys have been a pain in the neck long enough and I donât want to hear no more out of you.â

The two thugs directed the boys through the parking lot to a large green sedan. Baby Face opened the door in the rear and told Frank to get in. Baby Face followed the dark-haired youth, then ordered Joe to enter.

Mug went around the other side of the car and slid in behind the wheel. The big man lit a cigarette and stared idly out the window, smoking, as Baby Face quickly bound Frankâs and Joeâs wrists and ankles with stout rope.

âOn the floor!â he said when he had finished. âQuick, move!â He pushed the boys down and threw a blanket over them. âOkay, Mug. Letâs go!â

The car started off with Frank and Joe cramped, hot, and uncomfortable. âWe really botched this one,â Joe whispered. âWe should have slugged it out with them right in the terminal.â

âYou know we couldnât, Joe.â

âI guess youâre right. But what if it was just a ruse? What if Dad and Chet are really all right?â

A shoe slammed down on Frankâs back. âShut up, you punks!â Baby Face grumbled.

âAw, let âem talk,â Mug said. âIt ainât gonna hurt nothinâ. Besides, they wonât be talkinâ much longer!â

Baby Face seemed to find this statement hilarious. His laughter sounded like a high-pitched whinny.

âFrank,â Joe said desperately, âif we donât think of something quick, weâre going to end up on the bottom of a river!â

From the sounds of traffic, Frank guessed they were on an expressway. Mug drove at a steady speed for some ten minutes.

âThereâs the turnoff on the right,â Baby Face said.

The car veered and a few moments later the sound of heavy traffic had been left behind. âThat country roadâs only two miles from here, Mug,â Baby Face directed. âWatch for an old scarred oak tree.â

Frank and Joe had scraped their wrists raw trying to loosen their bonds, but to no avail.

âHere we are,â Mug announced. âIâll go right past that deserted farmhouse, and if thereâs no one else on the road, Iâll turn around, come back, and park.â

âGood.â Baby Face prodded Frank and Joe with his foot. âSay your prayers, punks, youâve come to the end of the line!â

The boys were sweating. âJoe,â Frank whispered, âweâve got to hit them like wild demons when they drag us out of the car. Tied or untied. Itâs our last chance!â

âRight. We have nothing to lose.â

Mug shouted suddenly, âHey! Whatâs that crazy cab doin â?â

âLook out!â Baby Face yelled. âHeâs gonna run you off the road!â

There was the tearing sound of wrenching metal, and the car came to an abrupt halt. Frank and Joe heard car doors opening. Noises of a scuffle followed swiftly and Baby Face was dragged cursing from the rear seat.

âFrank! Joe!â called a familiar voice.

âChet!â Frank yelled.

The blanket was stripped away, and Chet Mortonâs anxious face peered down at them. âBoy, what would you do without me to get you out of scrapes?â he said, pulling his pals from the sedan.

Frank saw Baby Face shaking his head and trying to rise from the ground. Mug was wrestling with the driver of the taxi.

âGet us untied, quick!â Frank said.

Baby Face regained his feet and stood looking around groggily. Mug picked up a rock and hit the taxi driver on the head, stunning him. âLetâs get out of here!â he shouted.

Baby Face needed no further urging. The two leaped into the car, and before Chet could untie the Hardys, it roared off.

âMan!â said the taxi driver, rubbing his head. âYou told me itâd be rough, but I didnât think you meant getting clobbered!â He slowly scrambled to his feet.

In the taxi on the way back to the airport, Chet explained that the first job Mr. Hardy had given him was to shadow Frank and Joe to make sure they got off all right. Chet had seen Mug and Baby Face take his buddies to the car and tie them.

Afraid the criminals would be gone by the time he could get to a phone, Chet had jumped into a taxi and followed the sedan. He and the driver hoped to find a police car, but when they did not, Chet decided he had to go into action. He promised the driver that Mr. Hardy would pay him a reward for rescuing Frank and Joe.

âGreat going!â Frank praised.

âThen Mug and Baby Face really were bluffing about holding you and Dad prisoners!â Joe said. âWere we ever fooled!â

Having only ten minutes to catch their plane, the Hardys thanked their pal and the taxi driver as he drove into the airport. They raced to the departure gate and made it with seconds to spare. After the plane was airborne, both boys fell into a deep sleep, awakening when the captain announced that they were landing at Los Angeles.

The Hardys spent the rest of the night at an airport motel, then went directly to the central offices of the Los Angeles Police Department, where they explained their mission to Sergeant Bill Thompson.

âCome with me,â the officer said. âIâll take you to the files.â

On the way through the corridors, the sergeant told them that most tattooing was a form of exhibitionism. Originally, tattooing had been done for purposes of adornment and beauty. It was an ancient craftâpracticed by the Egyptians nearly three and a half thousand years ago.

Some people, like the Burmese and Maoris, had brought tattooing to the status of a very refined art. Tattoos, said the sergeant, could not be removed without leaving telltale scars and thus they were a good means by which to identify suspects.

The sergeant muttered to himself as he went through the card file. âWhale ... whale ... whale ... Hundreds of âem here.â Then his eyes lit up. âWow! Are you in luck!â He handed Frank a card marked:

Â 

WHALE, SOCIETY OF

Â 

Only a glance was needed to tell the Hardys this was what they were looking for. The society had been founded by a high-wire artist known as J. Kane. He was only five-feet-three and weighed a hundred and five pounds.

The names on the list found in the pocket of Meldrumâs shirt, Frank recalled, were Pygmy, Blackright, Beluga, Blue, and Bottlenose.

âI think we can assume that Kane was Pygmy,â Frank said. âLook here. The other known members of the society are listed as Tim Varney and Whitey Meldrum.â

âMeldrum is Blackright,â Joe remarked.

âRight. And Tim Varney, because of the postcard from Mystic signed Beluga, is our best candidate for Beluga.â

âThat leaves us Blue and Bottlenose,â Joe went on. âBoko could be one or the other.â

Thompson said he would have a photostatic copy made and took the boys to the police laboratory. Joe stopped short as they rounded a corner. He pointed to a Wanted poster on a bulletin board and exclaimed, âBaby Face!â

Quickly they told Sergeant Thompson of their encounters with Baby Face. He took down the poster and let the Hardys examine it. Baby Faceâs real name was Vinny Merks. His features were deceptive, for in reality he was in his late twenties.

Merks, who had served time in a Federal penitentiary, often posed as a juvenile. He was wanted in California on a variety of charges, and at last report was suspected of working with a former cellmate named Mug Stine.

The Hardys were exuberant over their discovery. When the copy of the file card was ready, they thanked the sergeant and left the police station. Since their return flight was not scheduled until the afternoon, Frank and Joe decided to go sight-seeing.

âWhere shall we start?â Joe asked, hailing a taxi outside police headquarters.

âWhere the action is,â Frank replied with a grin. âIn Hollywood, of course. Maybe we can see some famous movie stars, too.â

They asked to be let off at Hollywood and Vine. The world-famous intersection lived up to everything the boys had ever read about it, including two large groups of youths who took up positions on opposite sides of the street and began hurling insults at each other.

âAt the rate theyâre going,â Frank noted, âtheyâll be using fists before very long.â

Joe was about to answer when he was seized from behind and dragged to a spot masked from public view by a truck that was backed up to a loading platform. As Frank spun to help Joe, a burly forearm choked off his windpipe.

Their captors were Baby Face and Mug Stine! Baby Face flashed a long, wicked knife. âTell us where the Ivory Idol is!â he demanded. âOr else!â

CHAPTER XVI

A Phony Exposed

THE milling youths now provided an excellent screen for Mug and Baby Face, who kept their knives poised against the backs of the Hardy boys.

âWe donât know anything about the Ivory Idol,â Frank said calmly.

âQuit kiddinâ. We read the papers, too.â

âListen, Merks,â Joe exploded. âYouâll never get away with this! That tattoo between your eyes is like a signal light and you know it!â

Baby Face was taken aback. âWhereâd you learn my name?â he asked âAnd howâd you know thatâs a tattoo?â

âWe know about you,â Frank replied.

âAnd the Ivory Idol,â Baby Face hissed. âIâll give you three more seconds to start talkinâââ

âDump!â Joe cried out. Frank instantly recognized the signal for an old trick. Both boys bent quickly at the waist, grabbed the ankles of their captors, and pulled hard. Mug and Baby Face lost their holds and dropped to the pavement.

âInto the street!â Frank shouted. They dashed forward the same moment the two gangs of young hoodlums charged at each other. The Hardys were caught in the middle!

They dodged, feinted, and ducked to get clear of the scene. Baby Face and Mug were not far behind, battling to get at them.

Suddenly sirens wailed and police cars and paddy wagons screeched into the area. Several of the youths bolted. A few got away, but most were caught within the police cordon.

Frank and Joe grinned as they waited their turn to enter the paddy wagon. âJust like in the movies,â Joe said. âThe cavalry arrives in the nick of time.â

Frank craned his neck and looked around for Baby Face and Mug. âIf weâre lucky,â he said, âthe police will have picked up our playmates.â

âAll right!â said a big patrolman. âInto the wagon. Hurry it up!â The ride to the station house was short. The gang members were herded together in a large room to be booked. Frank and Joe, who looked out of place among them, identified themselves to the officer in charge and requested that he call Sergeant Bill Thompson at headquarters to verify their story.

Thompson came to the boysâ aid immediately. Hearing what had happened, he checked the list of prisoners. âGood news, boys,â he reported. âMerks was picked up. Unfortunately Stine got away.â

âToo bad,â Joe said.

âWell, your job may be a bit easier now that Merks is out of the running,â Thompson said. âCome on. Iâll drive you to the airport.â

He stayed with the Hardys until they boarded their flight. Soon after they were airborne, Frank pulled the copy of the information card on the Society of the Whale Tattoo from his pocket. He and Joe studied it carefully.

Mug and Baby Face, the boys concluded, were not in the society. Neither of them had the proper whale tattoo. Apparently they were independents hired by the society.

âOur first real response,â Joe said, âcame when we planted the story about knowing where the missing whale was. From that time on, weâve been shadowed pretty closely.â

âRight. But what about those thugs insisting that we know the location of the Ivory Idol?â

âFrank, Iâve got it!â Joe slammed his fist on the armrest. âRemember Merksâ remark âWe read the papers, tooâ!â

âThe Ivory Idol is in the whale!â Frank interrupted excitedly. âI shouldâve guessed it before now. Kane must have hidden it there before he was killed.â

âIt makes sense! Weâve got to find the whaleâand fast!â

It was late in the evening when the Hardys finally reached their home. Their mother and Aunt Gertrude welcomed them warmly and prepared hot chocolate and a tasty snack. As they relaxed, Frank and Joe related their adventures, including their search for Zelemeyerâs Circus. But they toned down the more dangerous parts.

âWell, thatâs not quite the same version Chet told us,â Mrs. Hardy said with a twinkle in her eyes. âBut I suppose itâs close enough.â

âChetâs back in Bayport?â Frank asked.

âYes. Your father felt he could form a new cover much better without Chet. But heâs still working on your case, asking everybody about Zelemeyerâs Circus.â

âThatâs a good thought,â Frank nodded. âMaybe Zelemeyerâs did play in Bayport.â

âGracious,â Aunt Gertrude said, âI meant to tell Chet about Mrs. Hendricks. She went to every one of them before her arthritis got so bad.â

âWent to every what?â Joe asked.

âCircus, of course,â his aunt replied.

âSort of a circus nut, youâd call her, I guess,â Mrs. Hardy said, and the boys looked in surprise at their mother.

âWellââMrs. Hardy looked embarrassedââyou canât live around two teen-agers without picking up some of their language.â

Her sons laughed, and Frank said, âHow do we contact Mrs. Hendricks?â

Miss Hardy went to the telephone, dialed a number, and handed the receiver to Frank.

âOh, hello,â Frank said to the pleasant though somewhat quavering voice of the woman who answered. âIâm Frank Hardy.... Sheâs fine.... My mother, too.... No, nothingâs wrong. I wonder if you remember a certain circus in town.â

Frank explained, and as he listened to Mrs. Hendricksâs reply, his eyebrows lifted. âYes, go on, please.... And you remember a whale? Now, Mrs. Hendricks, please tell me all you can recall.â

After listening a few minutes longer, Frank thanked the woman and hung up. Then he grabbed Aunt Gertrude and danced her around the room.

âMy goodness, Frank! Are you mad?â she protested. âCareful of my spectacles!â

âFor Peteâs sake, spill it!â Joe cried.

âOkay. Listen carefully,â Frank said as Aunt Gertrude flopped down in an easy chair.

The Zelemeyer Circus had played in Bayport many years before, at the old fairgrounds adjacent to the very spot where the new supermarket was going up. The circus went broke and disbanded. The stuffed whale they were exhibiting was buried on the spot because nobody wanted it.

âWow!â Joe exclaimed. âWhat news! Cousin Elmer should hear this. Hey! Cousin Elmer!â

âSave your breath, Joe,â Aunt Gertrude said. âCousin Elmer is no longer with us.â

The boys looked startled. âYou mean he died?â Frank gasped.

âOf course not. He left. Flew the coop.â

âThatâs right,â Mrs. Hardy confirmed. âElmer just upped and vanished two days ago without a word to anybody. We found a note on his dresser saying he was sorry he couldnât stay and meet Fenton.â Their mother got the note and the boys read it.

âThat wasnât very polite of him,â Frank said.

Aunt Gertrude agreed emphatically. âIndeed not. And the way he ate my apple pie, you would have thought heâd say good-by in person. Not a true Hardy, thatâs all!â

âHe might be the black sheep,â Joe said, trying to make light of it, but the boys were instantly suspicious of the man who had accepted their hospitality.

âAnything missing around the house?â Frank asked guardedly.

Mrs. Hardy assured them that nothing had been stolen, and none of Fenton Hardyâs records and files had been disturbed.

Frank was still not convinced. âThereâs something fishy about the whole dealâthe way he came early, the way he wouldnât give any details about his past, and now his sudden disappearance.â

âBut the motiveâs missing,â Joe said. âIf he was an impostor, heâd have to have a reason.â

âIâm sure he did. Itâs just that we canât seeâWait a minute!â He looked again at the note Elmer had left, then said, âJoe, do we still have that scrap we saved from the burning of Bokoâs strongbox papers?â

âSure.â

Joe went to their room to get it and Frank compared the two. âOh, no! Our guest was none other than Boko the Clown! That sprained arm in the sling was a dodge to hide his whale tattoo!â

CHAPTER XVII

Rembrandtâs Confession

No doubt about it. The writing on the two pieces of paper was identical.

âOh! Thatâthat terrible man!â Aunt Gertrude wailed. âTo think we were living under the same roof with a criminal!â

âWell, heâs gone now,â Mrs. Hardy said. âHe probably was scared that Cousin Elmer would arrive.â

âWeâve got to find him,â Frank declared. âHe may well have the key to our mystery.â

The next morning, after doing some chores around the house, the boys started to Soloâs Super Carnival in Newton. If the heat was off, Boko might have gone to his old haunts. If they were lucky, the young detectives might actually nab him, or at least learn something about his whereabouts.

The miles whizzed away beneath the purring wheels and the fresh morning air filled Frank and Joe with a sense of well-being. But when they rounded a bend in the road, a garish billboard broke the spell. It read:

NEW, SPECTACULAR WHALE SIDE SHOW!

At Soloâs Super Carnival
See with your own eyes
The worldâs greatest
rarity

The lettering was in an inverted pyramid and painted at each side was a colorful whale spouting a great white plume of water.

âSo it was Solo himself who got the whale!â Joe said indignantly.

âI canât believe it,â Frank said. âNo one but an absolute moron would steal practically the only stuffed whale in the world and then put it on display just a few miles from the scene of the crime.â

As Frank guided the car skillfully over the rolling countryside, Joe wondered aloud whether Bokoâs action had anything to do with their buddiesâ whale.

âWeâll know soon,â Frank said. âThereâs Newton up ahead.â

The tents and fluttering pennants came into sight, close to the edge of town. Cars were already trickling into the dusty parking lot. The Hardys found a place close to the entrance and locked their convertible.

A familiar figure greeted them at the ticket booth. âHi, Frank. Hi, Joe,â said Knocker Felsen. âHowâre you doinâ?â

âPretty well,â Frank answered. âAnd you?â

âNot bad. Listen, you guys, why donât you go right on in? Free, I mean, to make up for what happened the first time. I guess I was just plain jealous and I wasnât thinkinâ straight.â

âThanks, Knocker.â There was a thin trace of sarcasm in Joeâs voice. âYour change of heart have anything to do with the whale?â

Knocker looked blank as Frank went on, âAnd how about Boko. When did he come back?â

âBoko? What do you mean? I ainât seen him in a long time. He ainât been around here, if thatâs what you mean.â Knocker studied the serious expressions on the Hardysâ faces and a smile came to his lips. âOh, the whale? Is that whatâs eatinâ you?â He broke into a laugh. âYou havenât seen our new side show yet. Go ahead. First midway to your left.â

âWhat did you make of Knocker?â Joe asked as they headed toward the whale side show.

âIf heâs hiding something heâs sure putting on a great act,â Frank replied.

The Hardys paid their money and entered the huge tent. âHey, whatâs this?â Joe asked with surprise.

A variety of mounted fish were positioned along the Wallsâsailfish, tuna, groupers, a few sharks, and several other multicolored specimens. On a long board in the center of the tent was a stuffed dolphin, much the worse for wear. And over the dolphin was a hastily lettered, single word: Whale.

âWhat a con job that is!â Joe groaned.

âYouâre right,â Frank said. âBut no one can accuse the carnival of fraud because from a technical scientific point of view the dolphin actually is a toothed whale.â

âBoy, thatâs stretching a point mighty thin!â Joe declared as they left the tent.

âTo say the least, but that still leaves us minus one Blue Whale and one Ivory Idol.â

The boys went to talk to Sid Solo. He was happy to see them again, but had heard nothing further about Boko. Still under the impressionâas was most everyone elseâthat the Hardys knew where the missing whale was, Solo congratulated them on their sleuthing abilities. He readily granted permission to talk to his employees about Boko.

Frank and Joe questioned the carnival people for nearly three hours, speaking a few minutes with them between acts and during coffee breaks. No one told them anything they had not heard before. One of the last they queried was Rembrandt the Tattooed Man. When Frank asked him if there was anything he wanted to add to his earlier statements, Rembrandt stared silently at his feet. He would not raise his eyes to meet Frankâs.

âRembrandt,â Frank pressed, âthere is something more, isnât there?â

Rembrandt bobbed his head. âI ... I . . . donât know how to say it. I ...â

Frank laid a comforting hand on the tattooed shoulder. âItâs all right,â he said. Take your time and tell us in your own words.â

Rembrandt shook his head. âI was frightened, thatâs why I didnât speak up before. Itâs not easy for a man to admit heâs a coward.â

âFrightened of what?â Joe asked.

âItâs a gang, I think.â

âWhy would they want to hurt you?â Frank pressed on.

Rembrandt swallowed deeply, then said, âBoko was one of them. I overheard a telephone call he made. There was something valuable hidden in that whale your friends found. So far as I could tell, Bokoâs gang had stolen whatever it was a long time ago and was now trying to sell it.â

âBut then why did Boko disappear?â Frank asked.

âHe was going to double-cross his gang. Some private detective was going to pay him for information. Well, the gang found out and came looking for Boko. He took off. Me, I was too scared to let on that I knew anything at all. Iâm sorry, fellows.â

âItâs all right,â Frank said. âWe understand.â

âI know I should have spoken up earlier, but I hope you can still do something with the information.â

âWe can,â Joe said. âYour information helps us to fit some of the scattered pieces of this puzzle into place. It explains why Boko was arguing over the phone about money.â

The Hardys tried to cheer the tattooed man, but when they left, Rembrandt was still glum. The boys went to a phone and called the Bayport Airport and asked that the Hardy plane be made ready for flight. Then they called Chet and told him they were going to have another crack at finding the missing whale. They asked him to stop by their house, pick up their binoculars, and meet them at the airport.

They were only five miles out of Newton when the music program they were listening to was interrupted by an announcer.

âNews bulletin,â the crisp voice of the news-caster said. âLearning that Frank and Joe Hardy returned to Bayport late yesterday, a reporter from this station went to their home to obtain a follow-up statement concerning Biff Hooper and Tony Pritoâs stolen whale. At the Hardy home our man spoke to Chet Morton, close friend of the young sleuths. Contradicting earlier reports, Morton said that the brothers had not yet located the whale. In fact, they were going to make another search by air this very afternoon. Neither Frank nor Joe Hardy was available for comment. We now return you to our regular program.â

âOh, thatâs just great!â Joe fumed. âNow they know weâve been bluffing all along. That little announcement might just have blown the case!â

Frank pressed down on the accelerator and stepped up their speed to the legal maximum. âWeâre not through yet. Those crooks are going to redouble their efforts to find the whale, but as of now theyâre no closer than we are. Weâve got to beat them to the punch.â

They arrived at the airport, parked the car, and found Chet waiting for them next to the blue-and-white, single-engine plane. He still carried his little black case, and looked terribly embarrassed.

âIâm sorry, fellows,â he murmured.

âYe cats, Chet!â Joe said. âWhatever made you spill the beans like that?â

âI didnâtâI mean not actually. It was that tricky reporter. He started firing questions at me like a machine gun. I got confused, started to hem and haw, and zingo! He put two and two together and went dashing away. I couldnât stop him.â

âWell,â Frank said, âno use crying about it. Letâs get into the air and start working!â

The boys climbed into the Hardysâ plane, fastened their seat belts, and warmed up the engine. Obtaining clearance from the tower, Frank taxied down the runway. The light plane gained speed and was almost at the point where Frank would pull back on the wheel and ease the craft up. But suddenly the plane slewed violently to the left and ground-looped.

CHAPTER XVIII

Bird Dogs

FRANK cut the engine instantly and the planeâs wild gyrations came to halt a few moments later.

âJoe, Chet! You all right?â Frank yelled.

âIâm okay,â Joe answered. âWhat happened?â

âDonât know.â

Hearing a groan behind them, Frank and Joe turned to see Chet, his eyes glazed, his forehead marked with a red splotch from a bang against the cabin wall. The Hardys quickly unfastened their seat belts and loosened Chetâs.

âDonât move,â Frank cautioned. âWeâll get help.â

The chubby boyâs eyes were clearing. âNo, no,â he mumbled. âIâm okay. Just a king-sized headache.â He probed his injured head. A lump was appearing rapidly. âUgh! Lucky Iâm thick-skulled. Whatâd they doâdrop the roof on me?â

Sirens wailed. Two crash trucks sped across the field to the stricken plane, their red lights flashing. They squealed to a stop and men jumped from the vehicles with fire extinguishers.

âMy brother and I werenât hurt,â Frank told them, âbut Chet has a nasty bump on his head.â

Chet insisted he was all right, but one of the men advised that he see the airport doctor. They helped him from the plane and into one of the crash trucks which then sped off.

First making sure there was no danger of fire, Frank and Joe examined the plane. Two mechanics arrived in a jeep to probe for the cause of the trouble.

âShe just whipped off to one side and began ground-looping,â Frank explained. âFelt as if Iâd lost a wheel.â

Joe bent down and inspected the left wheel. âIn a way you did lose one,â he announced. âThis wheel is locked solid.â

Frank examined it, too. Joe was right. With the help of the mechanics, the boys tried to push the plane ahead. Its left wheel would not turn.

âThatâs impossible,â one of the mechanics named Hank said. âWe checked the wheel bearings just yesterday. There was enough grease on them to keep it turning for a year.â

Frank leaned closer and sniffed. âJoe, can you identify that odor?â

Joe shook his head.

âWe havenât any proof yet,â Frank said, âbut Iâll give odds that this is sabotage. There are half a dozen acids which lay dormant until activated by heat.â Frank reasoned that such an acid could have eaten into the bearings, causing them to freeze.

âWeâll check it out for you,â Hank said.

The mechanics lifted the left landing gear and wheel onto a dolly. Then they climbed into the jeep with the boys and towed the plane back to the hangar area.

While Frank and Joe waited for Chet to return from the doctorâs office, they checked to see if they could rent a plane for the afternoon. They were disappointed that nothing was available except a helicopterâand neither of them was qualified to fly such a craft.

âThatâs just great,â Joe said. âWhile weâre stranded, those crooks will find the whale and then the Ivory Idol will be gone for good.â

âWait a minute,â Frank said. âJack Wayne has his helicopter rating!â

âYouâre right. Letâs phone him.â

Jack informed the Hardys he would be at the airport within an hour. Heartened by this, the boys returned to the doctorâs office. They found Chet smiling.

âNothing broken,â he said. âBut Iâm supposed to take it easy for the next few days.â

Chet was told of the proposed helicopter trip. He volunteered to stay at the airport and keep an eye on the Hardysâ plane. âIâll keep a lookout for any suspicious characters,â he added.

âWeâd appreciate it,â Frank said. âBut are you sure youâre up to it?â

Chet nodded. âYou could do me one favor, though.â

âWhatâs that?â Joe asked.

âBring me that black case I had with me in the plane.â

âSure. But whatâs in it? Youâve been lugging that thing around with you ever since this investigation began.â

âIn it, my good man,â Chet said, âare the tools of an artist. All my scrimshaw equipment. You donât think Iâd let little things like a stolen whale and an ivory statue interfere with my hobby, do you?â

They brought Chet his case and got him positioned just outside the hangar in which their damaged plane was being examined.

Jack Wayne had arrived and checked out the helicopter. When Frank and Joe were securely strapped into their seats, Jack started the engine, let it idle a while, then engaged the rotors.

The copter lifted slowly from the ground, skimmed a few feet down the runway, then shot straight up into the air. They were on their way. Jack freed one hand and passed an air chart to Frank and Joe.

âThat line in black grease pencil,â he shouted over the roar of the engine, ârepresents a direct route from where the whale was stolen to the point at which you found the balloons.â

âThatâs one of the problems,â Frank answered. âJoe and I flew over every inch of that route and we didnât find a trace of the whale.â

âWhat are the red elliptical lines youâve drawn in, Jack?â Joe asked.

âNow thereâs where we might have some luck,â the pilot answered. âTaking into consideration the meteorological data about the storm on the night of the theft, those red lines indicate ways in which the weather balloons carrying the whale might have drifted off course.â

âI see,â Joe said. âSo if we search along these routes we might find the spot where the whale tore loose.â

âThatâs the idea.â

The first two areas they covered turned up nothing and consumed valuable time. Joe was discouraged. âCheer up,â Jack told him, âwe still have two more to go.â

âWhat happens if we draw blanks there too?â Joe asked.

âWeâll just have to think of something else,â Frank said.

Fifteen minutes later Jack pointed down to a field bordered by a small stand of trees, beyond which lay a sparkling lake. âSomebody else seems to have lost something, too,â he said.

Three men were covering the ground bird-dog fashion. âLetâs go down and take a look,â Frank said. He pressed the binoculars to his eyes.

Jack brought the helicopter lower. As it neared the ground, the three men looked up, pointed, then ran for the woods. âItâs Tim Varney and Mug Stine!â Frank exclaimed. âAnd Rembrandt is with them!â

âRembrandt!â said Joe. âWell, Iâll be a cross-eyed monkey. He certainly had us fooled.â

The three men disappeared into the woods. Moments later, several white puffs of smoke appeared from the shadows of the forest. Bullets pierced the helicopterâs Plexiglas canopy near Frankâs head. Jack Wayne sent the aircraft leaping skyward.

âThat was a close one.â Frank took a deep breath.

âWeâre out of range now,â Jack said. He radioed the airport, giving their position and reporting the fact they had just been fired upon. Wayne gave the criminalâs names to the tower operator and requested that Police Chief Collig of Bayport be notified immediately.

Bullets pierced the helicopterâs canopy

âMan, would I like to get my hands on Rembrandt!â Joe said as the helicopter hovered. âIâll bet if we examined his right fist weâd find a three-part whale tattoo. Who would have thought of looking for a thing like that on a man whose entire body is covered with tattoos?â

âI guess we all goofed,â Frank said, and added, âSuppose we keep an eye on those birds until the police get here.â

Wayne circled over the woodland, but there was no sign of the trio. Finally the Hardys decided it was futile to keep up the surveillance. Also, seeking out the lost whale was more important.

Frank turned to the pilot. âJack, thereâs nothing we can accomplish here. The police will have to find those men by themselves. Letâs continue on the search route.â

âOkay by me,â Wayne replied.

He manipulated the controls and the helicopter moved forward. Past the trees, they flew over a cabin at the side of the lake. A speedboat was moored at the cabinâs pier. Wayne came down for a closer look. The place appeared to be deserted.

âI think we can skirt around the lake,â Joe said. âThe whale wouldnâtâHey! Wait a minute!â

The thought that stopped Joe occurred to Frank at the same time. âDo you think it might have fallen into the water?â

âWhy not?â Joe said with excitement. âIf the whale went down in the lake, that would certainly account for the fact that no one has spotted it.â

âJack,â Frank said, âtake her up and move directly across the lake.â

The pilot complied. From their vantage point, they could see far down into the clear water. The bottom was covered partly by weeds, partly by sand and jagged rocks.

Near the opposite end of the lake, Joe shot out his arm and shouted, âLook!â

Below them on the bottom of the lake they spied the dark silhouette of the whale!

CHAPTER XIX

A Bitter Loss

âWEâVE found it!â Frank shouted. The boys pounded each other on the back and shook hands with Jack Wayne.

The pilot grinned. âOkay, super-sleuths, youâve located the whale. But what do we do with it now?â

Frank scratched his head. âThis chopperâs not powerful enough to carry the whale back to Bayport, is it, Jack?â

âNot by a long shot.â

âWe canât take a chance on leaving the whale here, though,â Joe said.

âI know what,â Frank said. âThereâs a coil of strong rope behind Joeâs seat. If we could rig it to the whale, we might have enough power to raise the thing to the surface and tow it to the shore.â

Jack thought for a moment. âYes, I think we can do it,â he said finally. âBut how do we get the rope on the whale?â

Frank began unbuttoning his shirt. âIâll attach it. The whale canât be much more than ten or twelve feet down. Thatâs not too bad a dive, eh?â

âI donât know, Frank,â Joe said doubtfully. âThat waterâs pretty clear. The whale might be deeper than it looks.â

Frank stripped off his shirt and T-shirt, then removed his shoes and socks. âWell, if itâs too deep, then itâs too deep and weâll have to think of something else. But the Ivory Idol is almost within our hands and I donât want to take any chancesânot with those crooks in the woods. Take her down, Jack.â

The pilot eased the helicopter to an altitude of no more than a dozen feet above the water. The down blast of its whirling rotors chopped up the surface.

Frank shucked his pants as Joe unlimbered the coil of hemp and secured one end to the framework of the helicopter seat.

Then he poised himself in the doorway, the free end of the rope in one hand, his pocketknife in the other. Jack brought the helicopter another six feet nearer the water.

âWish me luck!â Frank called.

âGo get âim!â Joe cried.

Frank dived cleanly into the water. The surface turbulence created by the rotor breeze prevented Jack and Joe from seeing more than a blurred light-colored patch as Frank swam down to the whale. Joe leaned forward tensely.

Frank forced his way down with powerful scissor kicks and sweeping strokes of his arms. The whaleâs back seemed elusive, remaining just beyond his reach. The water was deeper than he had guessed, but he did not turn back.

At last Frank touched the rough skin of the whale. He probed quickly and felt one of the hooplike metal strips that supported the creatureâs basic form. Frank plunged his knife through the skin first on one side of the hoop, then on the other.

By now his chest felt as if it were on fire. His body was screaming for air. But he inserted the rope into the first gash and pulled it out through the second. Then he let go of the rope and swam furiously upward.

Frankâs head and shoulders crashed through the surface like the prow of a submarine, and he sucked in a huge mouthful of air. Water, chopped up by the helicopter, splashed hard against his face and into his mouth. He motioned for Jack to draw the helicopter off a distance.

Refreshed, Frank bent sharply at the waist and dived down again. This time he located the rope, tied two hitches in it, and surfaced.

He signaled Jack to raise the whale. The helicopter ascended carefully, moved directly above the whale, then went up again. Frank let the taut rope slide through his hands. He could feel displaced water rolling against his feet as the whale rose.

Slowly the leviathan broke the surface with a great whooshing sound, water rolling from its sides. Frank rode high on its back.

The youth sleuth whooped with joy. He looked up to see Joe leaning out the copter door and gesturing shoreward. The craft moved forward, its rotors protesting mightily as the whale was towed sluggishly toward land.

The great behemoth created a large wake. Frank waved one arm around his head like a broncobuster in a rodeo and kicked the whale with his heels.

After the whale was beached, Jack set the copter down nearby. The trio congratulated one another exuberantly. Frank dried himself and slipped back into his clothes.

âWhere do we start?â Joe asked.

âYour guess is as good as mine,â Frank said. âThe statue will probably be toward the center. Letâs make a slit down the length, from the head to the tail.â

It took the Hardys and Jack a while to cut through the tough hide. Then they rolled it up a few feet, giving themselves easy access to the sodden mass of straw and excelsior inside. Digging it out was no easy task.

âItâs a pretty big whale,â Joe said, panting. âBut if I hadnât seen it, I never would have believed how much stuffing it could hold.â

âI know what you mean,â Jack said, stretching to loosen his tired muscles.

âWeâre looking for an ivory needle in a haystack,â Frank observed.

âA six-foot needle!â His brother shook his head. âAnd we still canât find it.â

As they worked, the distant put-put of an outboard motor came to them from across the lake. They looked up and saw the fishing boat that had been moored at the other end of the lake.

âOh, oh! That just might be our three friends,â Joe said. He sprinted to the helicopter and returned with the binoculars, which he pressed to his eyes.

âWhatâs it look like?â Frank asked.

âThereâs only one man in the boat, sitting in the stern by the motor. I canât make out his face, but heâs wearing an old fishing hat and jacket.â

âCanât blame him for being curious,â Jack said. âIâll bet itâs not very often that he sees a helicopter hang over the lake, then dredge up a whale and tow it to shore!â

The boys laughed. âWell, back to work,â Joe said.

The three thrust their arms deep into the stuffing and threw great bunches of the wadding onto an ever-growing pile. They had cleaned out nearly a fourth of the whaleâs stuffing before they had any luck.

Rummaging with a stick, Joe struck something hard. âHey!â he called. âOver here. I might have hit pay dirt!â

Frank and Jack rushed to his side. The three of them tore away stuffing in large handfuls. Suddenly they exposed something about the size of a manâonly thinnerâwrapped tightly in old canvas that was secured with rope. They removed the item gingerly from the whale and set it upright upon the ground.

âEasy does it!â Frank cautioned. Their faces were tight with expectancy as he cut the ropes and pulled away the canvas.

Jack shook his head in disbelief. The Ivory Idol, glossed with a slight patina of age and carved with a delicacy that could only have been born of genius, stood before them.

âItâs beautiful!â Joe said with awe.

Frank whistled. âNo wonder everyone wants it.â

Their mood was broken by the sound of the motorboat. It was drawing near the shore very quickly.

Frank looked up and said, âIâll bet the fisherman has never seen anything like this before.â

The trio took a few steps forward to greet the visitor. Ten feet from land the fisherman pulled his throttle wide open and the boat rushed onto the sand with a grating sound.

The next moment two figures leaped up from the bottom of the boat. Rembrandt and Mug Stine!

The man at the motor threw off his hat, revealing himself as Tim Varney.

âTo the copterâhurry!â Frank yelled.

Frank and Joe picked up the heavy statue and moved toward the helicopter as quickly as they could. Jack Wayne dashed ahead of them and tried to start the motor. The blades spun weakly a few times, but the engine coughed and would not catch.

âFrank!â Joe gasped. âWeâll never make it with the statue. Theyâre gaining on us!â

âSet it down!â Frank yelled. âWeâll have to fight âem!â

The boys laid the statue on the beach and braced for the attack. A moment later Joe went down beneath Rembrandt and Varney. Frank dodged Mug Stine and rushed to his brotherâs aid. The dark-haired boy tripped over a root and fell, landing on his back. The last thing he saw was Mug Stine swinging a hamlike fist down at him.

Mug joined Rembrandt and Varney. Outnumbered, Joe struggled fiercely, but it was a losing battle. In the background he heard Jack Wayneâs frantic radio message to the police. The pilot signed off, leaped out of the helicopter, and ran to Joeâs aid. By the time he flung himself onto the criminals, Joe, too, had been kayoed. Jack, fighting bravely but alone, was no match for the attackers.

The victors were grimly silent as they tied the Hardys and the pilot back to back. Jack grimaced with pain as Tim Varney savagely tightened the bonds.

âThat ought to hold you,â Varney snarled.

The assailants picked up the Ivory Idol and carried it to their boat. Then they shoved off, started the motor, and headed across the lake.

CHAPTER XX

Settling a Score

FRANK regained consciousness a little after his brother did. âYou all right?â Joe asked.

âYes. But my head feels like a balloon.â

âI know what you mean.â

Jack filled them in on what had happened after they had been knocked out. âSo,â he said ruefully, âIâm afraid all our efforts were in vain.â

âWe were so close,â Frank said angrily. âSo close! I just canât believe it.â

âWell,â Jack said, âwe did manage to get off two radio messages to the police. Maybe theyâll intercept these rats and recover the statue.â

Joeâs voice was morose. âMaybe, but itâs only a slim chance.â

Frank snapped himself out of his depression. âThereâs no sense in sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves. Letâs go to work and see what we can do about getting loose.â

âThatâs going to be tougher than it sounds,â Jack said. âIâve been trying and Iâll say one thing for that guy Varney, he sure knows how to tie knots!â

Jack and the Hardys bent all their energies to freeing themselves. They drew in great lungfuls of air and flexed their muscles, then exhaled and relaxed, trying to work some slack into the rope. They pulled and pushed against one another, but could not loosen the bonds.

The afternoon lengthened into dusk, and soon their only light was provided by the half moon that shone above them. Swarms of mosquitoes added to their misery.

âOuch!â Joe exclaimed. âIâm being sucked dry by these miniature vampires. Whatâs keeping the police? Do you think they might not be able to find us?â

âNow thereâs a cheery thought,â Frank said. âNo, theyâll find us, but weâll just have to sweat it out until they come.â

Exhausted by their efforts to escape, the three huddled as close together as possible in an effort to offer only minimal exposure to the insatiable mosquitoes. Some time later Joe saw flashlights stabbing through the darkness.

âLook!â he cried. Then voices called their namesâsearching, anxious voices.

âHere! Weâre over here!â Frank yelled, and they all joined in excited shouting.

The bobbing flashlights swung in the direction of the captives, then advanced on the double. In moments Jack and the Hardys were surrounded by six state troopers, two of whom immediately set to work cutting the ropes.

âAre we glad to see you!â Frank said. âDid you pick up those thieves in a dragnet? Is the Ivory Idol safe?â

âIâm afraid the answer to both questions is negative,â said the officer in charge. âWe did the best we could, but on such short notice were spread too thin. They slipped through us.â

Frank, Joe, and Jack were helped to their feet, stiff and aching from their ordeal. Never had the boys been more crestfallen.

Jack Wayne went to tinker with the helicopter and managed to get the motor going. Then he and the Hardys thanked the police, climbed into the copter, and headed for Bayport. On the way, Jack radioed a message to Chief Collig requesting him to inform Mrs. Hardy of their safety.

Everyone was glum on the flight home. Each was thinking about the lost statue. They found Chet still faithfully waiting at the airport.

âI heard about it,â he said sadly as he packed his scrimshaw in the carrying case. âRotten luck all the way around. If I hadnât banged my head, maybe I could have gone along and helped.â

âDonât blame yourself,â Frank said. âBy the way, any snoopers around our plane?â

âNo,â Chet replied ruefully. âThey were all after you, I guess.â

The Hardys said good-by to Jack, then climbed into their car with Chet. After dropping him off at the Morton farm, the boys made straight for home.

The usually ebullient Joe slumped in the seat beside his brother, chin in hand. He was quiet as the car skimmed over the highway. Finally he said, âFrank, we ruined our record today. This will be our first unsolved case.â

âDonât agree,â Frank replied. âWe solved it all right, just didnât win it.â

âLike in the carnival, huh? Rang the bell but didnât get the prize.â

âRighto. But try to cheer up. Your chinâs dragging on the ground. Donât let Aunt Gertrude read us, or weâre in for a lecture.â

âDonât worry. Weâre in for one, anyhow. Look at these rope burns. Sheâll be sure to spot them.â

As Frank pulled into the driveway, Joe spied a familiar figure through the living-room window.

âGreat spoutinâ whales!â he shouted, nearly leaping from his seat. âItâs Dad!â

Frank braked the car with a jerk and the Hardys hastened into the house. Greetings were warm and enthusiastic. To their relief, Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were out. Fenton Hardy was in fine fettle. He had captured Whitey Meldrum in New York and turned him over to the police, then returned home.

âAnd now,â he said, âmy boys are back again.â He clapped both of them on the shoulders.

âBut we didnât do such a hot job, Dad,â Joe confessed glumly. He and Frank gave a detailed report of their exploits.

Mr. Hardyâs face grew grave. âFrank and Joe, Iâm as disappointed as both of you that we didnât recover the Ivory Idol. No one likes to fail. But you did have it in your grasp! It was only circumstance that snatched it away from you. When all is said, Iâm as proud as a peacock about the way you handled yourselves and the work you did on this case.â

The boys appreciated their fatherâs efforts to try to cheer them up, but the taste of defeat cast a pall over them. Joe asked whether the gang might fly the statue out of the country.

âThatâs very likely,â Mr. Hardy said. âAnd after that, itâs highly improbable it will ever be recovered. I know itâsââ

âHoly mackerel!â Frank slammed a fist into his palm, then struck himself on the forehead. âIâm an idiot. Why didnât I think of it before?â

âThink of what?â Mr. Hardy asked.

Frank told him about the shack on the waterfront where Tim Varney, Mug Stine, and Baby Face had met.

âRemember, Joe? There were some extra articles of clothing, some bedding and cans of food.â

âRight,â said Joe. âYou think they might use it as a hideout until the heat is off?â

âItâs possible. After all, they donât think anyone knows about the shack. Whatâs your opinion, Dad?â

Mr. Hardy thought it was definitely worth a try. Speed was of the essence, so they ruled out driving to Mystic. At this hour there were nearly no requests for rented planes and they secured one easily.

âLetâs give Jack a call,â Frank suggested âIâm sure heâd like to come, and besides, we might need some reinforcement.â

Joe hurried to the phone. Jack Wayne, who had just reached his home, was eager to join them and said he would meet them at the airport.

After leaving a note for Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude, father and sons hurried off. Jack Wayne was waiting at the plane when they reached the airport.

Up they flew into the night sky, and after a smooth flight touched down at a small private field five miles from Mystic.

Locating a taxi in the middle of the night took half an hour, but they finally found one and instructed the driver to stop three blocks from the shack near the Mystic waterfront. Mr. Hardy paid the fare, then they moved in on the shack by foot, advancing cautiously and keeping to the shadows.

âLook!â Frank said. âThereâs a light seeping around the edges of the windows. Someoneâs inside.â

âYour hunch just might have paid off,â Fenton Hardy agreed. âEasy now. We donât want to give ourselves away. Is there another entrance besides the one in the front?â

âNo,â Frank replied.

They crept to the shack and peeped through the crack in the door. Frank spied a long object on the floor, wrapped in a white tarpaulin. His whole frame tingled. The Ivory Idol!

âListen,â said Mug Stineâs voice. âIf we dump this baggage in the sea, no one will be the wiser.â

âItâs okay by me,â Rembrandt agreed. âHow about you, Tim?â

Varney nodded.

The Hardys and Jack Wayne pulled back a few feet. âWe hit the jackpot all right,â Joe said. âBut I donât understand why theyâd want to discard the statue. It doesnât make sense.â

âThereâs only one way to find out,â Frank whispered. âListen, Dad. Weâve got a score to settle with those goons in there. If itâs all right with you, weâd like to do it right now.â

âRoger,â Jack hissed.

âGo to it,â Fenton Hardy said. âClean âem up!â

Frank and Joe charged the door and it flung open with a shattering bang. Mug, Varney, and Rembrandt were stunned into immobility as the Hardys and Jack set upon them.

Frankâs one-two punch toppled Rembrandt; Joeâs flying tackle flattened Varney, and Mug failed to duck a haymaker delivered by Jack.

With a smile of satisfaction Fenton Hardy looked at the three men sprawled on the floor, rubbing their bruised jaws and glaring up at their captors. Joe dusted his jacket and said, âGuess you guys arenât so tough when the odds are even!â

The answer was a groanâbut not from Varney, Rembrandt, or Mug. It came from the wrapped figure on the floor!

âWh-whatâs that?â Joe blurted out.

âMe! Get me out!â came a muffled reply.

Fearing some kind of trick, Fenton Hardy handcuffed the criminals together, then bent down to unwrap the prone figure, which had started to wriggle. He split the tarpaulin with a knife and rolled the prisoner out.

Boko the Clown!

âGood night!â Frank exclaimed. âThey were going to dump him into the sea!â

âWe should have!â Varney grumbled.

âQuiet!â Fenton Hardy ordered. âNow tell us your story, Boko!â

Shaking with fright, Boko showered the Hardys with gratitude before revealing his bizarre tale.

He was Bottlenose in the Society of the Whale Tattoo, and Rembrandt was Blue. Kane, who was Pygmy, had hidden the Ivory Idol in the whale owned by Zelemeyerâs Circus, where he worked, because it was too hot to sell. When Zelemeyer had gone bankrupt, the whale was buried and Kane died before he could divulge its location to the society.

âWhen your friends dug up the whale,â Boko explained, âsomething had to be done.â

It was Rembrandt, however, not Boko, who was the informer. He believed the statue was still too hot to sell, so he decided to turn stool pigeon and make some money for himself.

The tattooed man glowered. He was the one who had entered Bokoâs bunk wagon and burned the contents of the strongbox.

âI knew he was after me and I had to get out,â Boko continued. âI remembered the picture you boys had of Elmer Hardy, so I decided to move into your house as him.â

âBut why did you take off so suddenly?â Frank inquired.

âWell, the real Elmer Hardy was due soon,â Boko said, âand besides, since the carnival had moved, I felt safer.â

The clown was kidnapped, however, soon after he left the Hardy home. Rembrandt convinced Mug and Varney that Boko was the informer and they decided to silence him once and for all.

âThey almost got away with it,â Boko concluded.

Mug Stine and Tim Varney were just as surprised as the Hardys and started yelling at Rembrandt.

Joe interrupted them. âNever mind that now. Weâre not finished yet.â Turning to the tattooed man, he said, âYou were the one who put me on the Ferris wheel, werenât you?â

âWhat else was I supposed to do with a nosy brat?â Rembrandt retorted.

âWhat about the whale? You couldnât have carried that off by yourself with those weather balloons,â Frank questioned.

âWhitey and Tim lent me a hand, and Baby Face...â His voice trailed off.

âAnd of course you had to knock Tony out to get to the whale,â Joe figured.

Rembrandt shrugged.

Mr. Hardy turned to Mug Stine. âHow did you happen to be at Kennedy Airport when Frank and Joe were waiting for their plane?â

Mug sneered, âWeâve been watching âem ever since they left Mystic and went to New York.â

Joe grew impatient. âWhereâs the Ivory Idol?â he demanded.

âLashed beneath their rowboat,â Boko revealed. âItâs moored outside.â

âShow us the place,â commanded Mr. Hardy, and asked Jack Wayne to stay with the prisoners, who again started arguing among themselves.

Using their flashlights, the Hardys and Boko reached the harbor side, where small waves leaped against a dory tied to a wooden dock. Stout ropes fastened to the oarlocks disappeared beneath the boat. Frank and Joe pulled off their shoes and trousers and jumped into the water, which was only chest high.

âI feel it!â Joe cried triumphantly.

âMe too,â Frank said on the other side of the boat.

Inside the dory, Mr. Hardy and Boko quickly untied the knots.

âOkay, Frank. Got her?â

âRight!â

The boys eased the treasure to the dock where their father and Boko lent a hand to pull the magnificent ivory figure up to safety.

Joe grinned. âI guess we didnât lose our case after all, eh, Frank?â he said.

With the criminals and the Ivory Idol safely in the hands of the Mystic police, the Hardys and Jack returned to Bayport. Shortly after daybreak, Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were awakened by lively banter as Mr. Hardy and the boys entered the house.

After a hearty breakfast the three detectives turned in and slept soundly until past noontime.

Chet, meantime, arrived at the Hardy home and was delighted to hear that a big victory party had been planned for that evening. It would include Biff, Tony, Callie, Iola, and other friends of the Hardys.

Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude scurried about all afternoon preparing for the feast. When the guests were all gathered in the living room, they insisted that Frank and Joe relate the events of the past twenty-four hours.

In the middle of the party, Chet Morton stood up and asked for silence so that he could make an announcement. He said he had just put the finishing touch on a piece of scrimshaw which he now presented to Aunt Gertrude. It was an ivory instrument of delicate, symmetrical design. One end had three long tines and the other had a revolving wheel with a toothed rim.

âOh, itâs lovely, Chet! Thank you so much,â Miss Hardy said. âBut what is it?â

âItâs called a jagging wheel and you use it for ruffling and marking the edges of pies.â

âAre you trying to tell me something, young man?â

âOnly that I hope you use it very often!â

At Chetâs remark Frank and Joe burst into laughter, totally unaware that at that moment a sinister plot was brewing for them in The Arctic Patrol Mystery.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mrs. Hardy went to answer it. She returned with a man whose skin was weather-tanned, whose head was topped with a shock of sandy hair, and whose cheeks were covered with a full, flowing beard.

âI ... Iâd like to introduce Elmer Hardy to you,â she said in a faltering voice.

Frank and Joe looked blank for a moment, then Frank grinned. âI canât believe it. Our real cousin!â

Elmer Hardy stared at them in bewilderment. âI beg your pardon?â

Frank chuckled, strode forward, and shook the manâs hand. âIâm delighted to meet you, Cousin Elmer. Come sit down and Iâll explain everything to you. Itâs a whale of a story!â