The Apeman's Secret (10 page)

“Just don't eat yourself to sleep,” Joe warned.

Driving back to the wooded lane, Frank and Chet dropped off the younger Hardy boy near the stakeout tree, then returned to their motel, where Chet settled down for an early nap. At nine he relieved Joe, who had nothing to report.

Sometime later, Frank was roused by the buzzing of the walkie-talkie. He groped for the set sleepily and pressed the switch to communicate. “H-1 here.”

“I just saw something spooky!” Chet's voice crackled over the speaker.

“Like what?”

“A
ghost
—that's what!”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, honest! There's a white figure moving around through the trees. I've caught sight of it twice!”

“Did you try to trail it or find out who it was?”

“N-Not yet.” A faint gulp came over the walkie-talkie. Chet's voice quavered a bit, but he went on bravely, “If the figure shows up again, I'll try and grab it. But how about some backup?”

“We'll be right with you,” Frank promised.

Joe was already awake. Frank relayed the news as they flung on their clothes. Then the Hardys hurried out to their car and sped toward the scene of action. Rather than risk any attention by driving past at such a late hour, they parked and skirted the mansion on foot.

But the lookout tree was empty!

Frank gave a soft owl-hoot signal. No one responded. A slightly louder hoot still drew no response. Worried, the Hardys searched about cautiously but could find no trace of their roly-poly chum.
Chet had disappeared!

Joe was inclined to plunge on boldly and search the grounds of Noah Norvel's mansion. But his brother stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Take it easy,” Frank advised. “We could be walking right into a trap!”

“We've got to find Chet, haven't we?” Joe retorted.

“Sure, but he may already have been lured into a trap. It won't help him much if we fall for the same trick.”

“How do you mean?”

Frank pointed to two nearby white boundary stones. “Those boulders mark the edge of Noah's estate. I've got a hunch that white spook was just bait to draw Chet over the line.”

Joe frowned uneasily. “You mean one of the guards may have spotted Chet in the tree?”

“Right. So he passes the word, and another one puts on a white robe and starts flitting around among the trees, just enough to catch Chet's eye. Then when Chet tries to follow the ghost, they wait till he steps over the line and nab him. He's now trespassing on Noah's property, so that gives them the right to arrest him.”

“Wow! You could be right, Frank. That would sure explain where Chet disappeared to. But what are we going to do about it?”

Frank puckered his forehead thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I'm in favor of a direct approach, Joe. Let's go right up to the front door and find out what's what.”

“Well, if you say so, I'll go along! What've we got to lose?”

The two boys hurried back to their car, which was parked on the shoulder among some trees, and drove out onto the road again. As they turned up the driveway of Noah's estate, a guard suddenly stepped out into view from among the shrubbery and held up his hand to signal them to stop.

As Frank braked to a halt, the guard challenged them roughly. “What do you guys want here? Don't you know Mr. Norvel doesn't receive visitors this late at night?”

Frank acted on a sudden hunch. Instead of replying, he pulled out the amulet that the taxi driver had given him and showed it to the guard.

The sight of the metal token bearing the dove and olive-branch symbol seemed to take the guard by surprise. He stared at it for a moment with a puzzled scowl, then at the two boys. Finally he muttered, “Okay,” and waved them on.

“Smart move, Frank!” Joe chuckled as their car continued up the driveway. “Looks like those amulets must be used as identification by the cultists, eh?”

“Right, at least by the ones who have direct contact with Noah. It also means there must have been a Child of Noah at the Alfresco Disco the other night, when the fake Apeman raided the costume party.” Frank broke off as he glanced in the rearview mirrow. “Uh, oh!”

“What's the matter?” his brother asked.

“The guard's calling someone on his walkie-talkie. Something tells me we're about to be met by a welcoming committee!”

As their car drew up at the top of the drive and the Hardys got out, Joe suddenly gasped. Frank saw that he was staring at one of the upper-story windows of the mansion.

“See something?” the elder Hardy boy asked.

“Some
one
!” Joe corrected. “See that window-with the fringe of light? A girl up there was closing the Venetian blind just now, but I got a quick look at her face. I think she was Sue Linwood!”

“Could you swear to that, if we have to call the police about Chet?”

Joe hesitated unhappily. “No, I'm not absolutely certain,” he admitted. “But she sure looked like the girl in the picture Mr. Linwood gave us, and
he
thinks she joined Noah's cult. I'd say that adds up to pretty fair circumstantial evidence, or at least grounds for suspicion.”

“So would I,” Frank agreed. “Let's see how far it'll get us.”

The Hardys walked boldly up to the entrance of the mansion. But before they could ring the bell, the front door suddenly opened. A youthful, shaven-headed cult member in a white robe stared out at them suspiciously.

“Peace be with you, brothers,” he mumbled in a voice that was noticeably lacking in brotherly warmth.

Frank introduced himself and Joe, adding, “We'd like to see Mr. Noah Norvel.”

Instead of answering, the white-robed cultie stepped aside, and a tall, heavyset man appeared in the doorway. His skin was deeply tanned to a walnut brown, and his long blond hair and bushy beard were sun-bleached almost white. He was clad in a gold satin jumpsuit.

“You are seeing Noah now,” the man announced with a mocking smile. “I've been expecting you Hardys. Come in!”

He moved backward and waved them inside with a gesture that also seemed somehow mocking.

As the Hardys entered, they saw the reason for his sarcastic amusement. Their pal, Chet Morton, was lying face down on the floor with his wrists handcuffed behind his back! The fat boy's face was flushed with embarrassment and the discomfort caused by his awkward position.

“What's the big idea?” Joe blurted indignantly at the cult leader. “He's a friend of ours!”

“Indeed?” Noah responded with a malicious twinkle. “Then perhaps you can explain what he was doing spying on my house and trespassing on my property?”

Frank spoke up quickly, “Did you ask him?”

“Of course! And the only answer he could give me was some cock-and-bull story about chasing a ghost. Can you imagine?”

“Sure, I can imagine. Your followers wear white robes, don't they? Maybe Chet saw one of them in the darkness and thought it was a ghost. Whatever he saw, or thought he saw, that doesn't give you any right to handcuff him and treat him like a criminal!”

Noah's voice and expression hardened. “On the contrary! I could call the police and file an official complaint against him! But I won‘t—providing you Hardys promise not to subject me to any more harassment.”

“Nobody's harassing you,” Frank said coldly. “Chet may have blundered onto your property by mistake. If so, I'm sure he'll be glad to apologize. But you'd better not go making any charges you can't prove.”

The bearded cult leader's lips twisted in another unpleasant smile. “I've no intention of wasting my breath arguing with you two impudent young snoops. I'll simply warn you once and only once against intruding in my affairs.”

“Good!” Joe retorted. “Then maybe now you'll take the time to hear why we came.”

Noah folded his arms and looked down his nose at the Hardy boys. “I'm listening.”

Frank said, “Mr. Paul Linwood has asked us to help find his daughter Sue. On his behalf, we demand a chance to speak to her.”

Frank was hoping to goad the cult leader into admitting that Sue Linwood was staying at his mansion, along with whatever young culties he kept at his beck and call.

Instead, Noah snorted scornfully. “
You
demand? What makes you think that your wishes are of any importance under my roof? As an act of kindness I'll let your friend go, but I want all three of you out of this house immediately. Do you understand? And from now on, keep off my property or I'll have you all arrested!”

As he spoke, Noah gestured with a snap of his fingers, and the white-robed cultie who was standing by proceeded to remove the handcuffs from Chet's wrists. The plump youth got up sheepishly and left the mansion with the Hardys.

“That big phony!” Joe fumed as they climbed into the sleek yellow car.

“Guess I really messed things up,” Chet confessed glumly. “I was trying to catch up with that ghost, and the first thing I knew, two guards jumped out from behind the trees and grabbed me!”

“Never mind, it wasn't your fault, Chet,” said Frank. “You were deliberately set up, which means they must have spotted you up in the tree. Or maybe they spotted all of us earlier on.”

Back at their motel, the three Bayporters were about to turn in for the night when the telephone rang. Chet answered, then held out the phone to Joe, who was nearer to him. “For you Hardys. It's your Aunt Gertrude.”

Surprised and a bit alarmed, Joe took the handset and said, “Hi, Aunty! Everything okay at home?”

“Yes, indeed, your mother and I have everything under control! But have you heard the latest news bulletin?”

“No. What's up?”

“That scoundrel who's impersonating the Apeman has gone on another rampage!” Miss Hardy informed her nephew.

Joe gasped. “Whereabouts, Aunty?”

“At a place called the Comic Art Museum!”

Joe was more startled than ever to hear that the museum which the Hardy boys had just heard about for the first time that afternoon should be the scene of the weird vandal's latest raid.

After asking a few more questions, he said, “Thanks for the tip, Aunt Gertrude. This may be important!”

“Indeed it is!” Miss Hardy snapped. “If I hadn't thought so, I wouldn't have called at this late hour. Mark my words, there were probably drawings of the Apeman at the museum, and the culprit went there to destroy them as part of a revenge plot against the Apeman and everything connected with him. My theory is the culprit's gone loony, maybe from reading too many comic books!”

“You could be right at that, Aunty,” Joe said, smothering a chuckle. Hanging up, he relayed the news to his two companions.

Frank was keenly interested and wide awake on hearing of this development. “I sure wish we could get a look at the scene of the break-in,” he fretted. “We might turn up a really important clue!”

“We can stop off at the place tomorrow,” Chet said sleepily. He had just finished peeling off his jeans and was settling himself comfortably in bed.

“By that time they may have the damage all tidied up,” said Frank, “and the clues will be gone.” He glanced at his watch, then added, “It's not much after ten-thirty. I wonder if the police would still be at the museum? There wouldn't be much traffic on the road at this time of night. I bet we could drive there in half an hour!”

“We could try calling the museum and see if anyone answers,” Joe suggested.

“Good idea!” Frank strode to the phone and got an outside line, then dialed information and asked for the number of the Comic Art Museum.

“Do you want the regular number or the after-hours number?” the operator inquired.

“The after-hours number, if there's one listed.”

“Yes, there is.” She read it out.

Frank tried the number and circled a thumb and forefinger at Joe when his ringing got a prompt response. The answering voice turned out to be that of the museum director, a Mr. Gerald Tappan. He sounded gratified at the Hardy boys' interest in the night's mysterious event and invited the famous young sleuths to come as soon as possible to look for clues.

Chet preferred to stay settled for the night, but Frank and Joe started out immediately and reached their destination by eleven-twenty.

The museum was located in a small converted factory building. The director and his wife lived in the former owner's house just across the road. Tappan, who they learned was himself a cartoonist, greeted the Hardys cordially and unlocked the museum for their inspection.