Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
"Can you be sure at this distance?"
"It's part keen eyesight," Joe admitted, "and part good guessing."
"Miss Forman doesn't look much like a companion - more like a barmaid who throws unruly drunks out by herself."
"We've been ducked down here since she wheeled Emily onto the terrace." Joe reclaimed the binoculars they'd bought in town after they'd stowed the gagged gunman at the end of the alley. "I don't see signs that anyone else is at home."
"So we're going through with this?"
"Keep these in your shoulder bag." Joe handed Karen the glasses, took a gray cap out of the pocket of his borrowed raincoat, and pulled it low over his eyes. "I'm taller than the guy who tailed us, but I should be able to pass for him until we're fairly close. Let's roll."
"I'm doing a lot more performing than reporting lately."
"Call it participatory journalism," Joe replied.
Karen stood up, put her hands behind her back, and began walking across the bleak fields toward the mansion.
Joe followed close behind, his head hanging low and the gun he'd taken showing plainly in his right hand. "Act frightened," he whispered.
"I don't have to act. I am frightened."
The crows, who had found something to eat in the tall grass, flapped away from them into the sky, cawing raucously.
Miss Forman looked up when Joe and Karen were about five hundred feet from the wide flagstone terrace. "Willie, you fool," she called out, hand slipping into her sweater pocket. "You weren't supposed to bring her here."
"It's working," Joe said in a tight whisper.
"You were just supposed to follow the girl and keep her away from the police." Annoyance tinged the heavyset blond woman's voice.
"Couldn't be helped," Joe muttered, his head still down.
Emily Cornwall, her mouth slightly open, stared as the two of them approached.
When Joe and Karen were about fifteen feet from the woman, she suddenly glared at them. "You're not Willie!" she exclaimed.
Karen's hands came up from behind her, flinging two fistfuls of swamp muck at Miss Forman's face. She dived at the woman, tackling her around the legs.
Joe sprinted forward, grabbing the woman's wrist before she could yank her gun free. "I wouldn't try anything foolish," he warned.
"You're one of those idiot Hardys." Miss Forman frowned but stopped trying to get her gun out.
"I am a Hardy," Joe admitted. "But I don't think you're in a position to comment on my intelligence. You can get up now, Karen."
As Karen got to her feet Joe told Miss Forman, "Slip your hand out of that pocket. And it had better come out slow and empty."
The woman glared at him but did as he said.
Reaching into the sweater pocket, Joe came out with a .22 automatic. He took a quick look in Emily's direction. "Any more of them around, Miss Cornwall?"
"Just her. Do you have any idea what's going on?" The dark-haired young woman looked very frail. The shadows under her eyes were even deeper than in the pictures Joe had seen, and her face was pale with fear.
"We'll fill you in shortly," he promised. Turning to Karen, he said, "Hold this and keep it pointed at our phony friend here." Joe handed her the .22 automatic and moved to the wheelchair. Then he asked Emily, "Are you all right?"
"Not especially, no," Emily replied. "For one thing, she's got me tied to this wheelchair. I haven't really needed it in months, but Miss Sheridan, my real companion, insisted that we bring it along."
Joe yanked away the plaid blankets and saw that the slender girl was tied hand and foot with lengths of nylon clothesline. "I'll get you out in a second," he said, taking out his pocket knife. "I'm Joe Hardy, by the way. My friend is Karen Kirk."
"I've heard about you and your brother," Emily Cornwall said. "I imagine that all this has something to do with the emeralds."
"Got it on the first guess," Joe said, sawing at the strands of nylon. "Karen is going to stay with you, and once we get Miss Forman safely locked away, she'll fill you in on what's been going on these past few days."
Karen frowned. "You mean I'm staying here?"
"Yes, while I go over to Castle Fear."
In the sun room off the terrace the phone began to trill.
Karen glanced toward the open French doors.
"Let it ring," Joe said. "And we're changing plans - we're getting out of here right away."
***
Frank Hardy sat at the dining table at Castle Fear, staring at Stanley, another thug. But Frank's eyes flashed to the head of the table, where Nigel Hawkins abruptly stood up and tossed his napkin down beside his soup plate.
"You're sure you dialed it right? These blasted provincial phone exchanges." He stalked over to the doorway. "I'll try it myself. That fool woman knows her job. She's supposed to remain at the house around the clock."
After Hawkins left the room Jed turned to Rowland. "Why don't you guys just quit right now? I don't think your boss realizes that he's taken a tiger by the tail here."
"Oh, Nigel's not my boss, dear boy. We're equal partners in this venture."
"Whatever." The young actor waved his hand impatiently. "The point is, none of you clowns seems to realize what you've done here.'
Jed glanced over at his lady friend. "It's bad enough that you kidnapped Jillian, but - hey, when you snatch one of the most popular actors in the world today, you're in big trouble. My studio isn't going to let you retire to some tropical island to enjoy the warm, quiet life."
"My, such an enormous ego for one so young in years." Rowland began laughing. "Really, son, you're in no position to make threats. Not while you're a helpless prisoner in a castle that boasts a fully equipped torture chamber down in the dungeon. Did they show you that on the guided tour?"
Jed and Frank were silent.
"Nigel is something of a softy when it comes to physical violence." Rowland casually bent his heavy silver soup spoon into a U. "but as frank here can testify, I can be quite nasty if I want."
"All too true," Frank agreed. "Don't antagonize him, Jed."
"Hey, I'm not trying to rattle this guy's cage. I'm just pointing out that I don't happen to be your everyday kidnap victim. I'm a celebrity, you know. Maybe they're biting off more than they can chew."
"Jed, dear, they have a lot of very nasty people in their crew." Jillian took Jed's hand, looking frightened. "You're not going to talk them out of going ahead with this scam."
"Wisely put, little Jillian," Rowland said. "You seem much wiser than your young man. I don't understand how you manage to put up with him."
"Limehouse, Walter." The look on Hawkins's face as he hurried back in cut off further conversation. "Put all three of our guests in a cell down below. And hurry."
Rowland pushed back from the table. "Problems, Nigel?"
"I can't get an answer from that Forman woman. The phone rings and rings, but she doesn't pick up." Nigel Hawkins scowled. "Our whole plan depends on keeping Emily Cornwall quietly out of circulation on that estate, so we'll have to go over there and see if anything is amiss." He stopped next to Frank's chair. "Did your brother have something to do with this?"
Frank shrugged. "Until a little while ago I thought you had him here in the castle," he replied. "If Joe's not here, he could be roaming around doing just about anything."
"He'd better not be interfering in my plans." Hawkins's voice sounded a lot less cultured and a lot more grating. "That wouldn't be the least bit smart."
***
"Too bad we talked instead of eating that soup." Jed Shannon's stomach growled as he paced around the small stone room. "No telling how long we'll be stuck down here."
Frank was exploring the damp new cell where the three of them had been locked in. "I wonder what actually happened over at the Talbot mansion," he said, rapping at stones here and there. "More importantly, did Joe have anything to do with it?"
"The worst part is the way I've entangled the two of you in my mess." Jillian sat huddled on a stone shelf that came out of the wall. "I've never thought of myself as being self-centered, although I guess all actresses are to some degree. The more I think about this disaster, the more I realize it was vanity that got me in trouble. Because I believed I was ready to star in a movie . . ."
"Hey, you're more than ready." Jed halted beside Jillian. "I've acted with girls who weren't half as talented as you - or as beautiful."
Jillian looked down. "Thanks. But somehow, starring in a big film doesn't seem all that important right now."
"We'll get out of this," Jed promised. He glanced at Frank. "Do you believe Hawkins won't hurt us?"
"Hawkins seems to draw the line at murder."
"But that other guy - Rowland? You know, we never found out if that was his first or last name. He looks like the kind of guy who's capable of putting a bullet into any one of us." Jed began pacing again.
"I'd say he was the nastier of the two," Frank agreed. He tapped on another of the large gray stones.
"What are you doing that for?" Jillian asked.
"This castle is supposed to have hidden rooms and secret passages," Frank replied. "I'm just checking to see if there's a forgotten exit in here."
"Why not just use the door?" a voice behind them asked.
They whirled to find Joe Hardy grinning at them from the open door of their cell.
Frank Hardy figured his jaw must be hanging somewhere around his belt buckle. "J - Joe?" he finally managed. "How did you get here? Not that we aren't glad to see you," he quickly added. Shaking his head, Frank began to grin.
Joe pushed the heavy oak cell door all the way open, being careful not to make any noise. "Folks usually think you're the scholarly side of this team," he said, returning Frank's grin. "But I can do a little research now and then."
"Meaning?"
"I ran into Karen when I finally reached Beswick this morning - I'll tell you what happened after I - ah, left the train - later." Joe grinned. "She told me about Castle Fear, how you'd gone to scout it out and hadn't come back. I got to thinking about old castles, and that sent me to the local library. Sure enough, they had a couple of musty old books all about Castle Fear, written by a local historian about two hundred years ago. The guy must have had a lot of time on his hands - he'd drawn a complete set of architectural plans, very detailed."
Frank had to grin. "Detailed enough to include the locations of the secret passages and entrances?"
Joe nodded. "Exactly. I picked an entrance that lies just on the other side of the stone wall. All I had to do was wait until nobody was around. I figured the bad guys had tossed you into a dungeon - after all, what's a castle for? After a little poking around, I found you guys."
He turned toward the blond actress. "I'm Joe Hardy, and you must be Jillian Seabright. You really do look a lot like Emily Cornwall."
Jed Shannon looked impressed. "So you've actually seen Emily Cornwall?"
"Karen and I just rescued her from a phony companion by the name of Miss Forman."
"Where are Karen and the Cornwall girl?" Frank wanted to know. "You didn't leave them at the Talbot place, did you?"
"That was what I'd planned at first," Joe admitted. "But then the phone started ringing, and it occurred to me that Hawkins might be checking up. If nobody answered, he'd probably send a carload of goons over to investigate."
"Hawkins did exactly that - right after his phone call wasn't answered," Frank said.
"Well, they won't find anyone at home," Joe said. "We changed plans and loaded Miss Forman into the car I'm using at the moment." He held up a hand to cut off the questions he expected. "I'll tell you how I got hold of the car later. Anyway, Karen and Emily dropped me off within sight of Castle Fear, then took off to deliver Miss Forman to the local law."
"Then all we have to do now," said Frank, "is get ourselves out of here."
"We can get out the same way I came in." Joe tugged a small flashlight out of his pants pocket. "This way to the exit."
Single file, they left the dungeon cell with Joe in the lead, then Jillian and Jed, and Frank bringing up the rear.
As they were passing the stone stairway that led up to the ground floor, the door at its top creaked open. Framed in the light was Limehouse, staring down at them.
"Hey!" he shouted, fumbling for his gun as he charged down the stairs. The big thug was aiming at them when Joe scooped up a rock and threw it at him like his best fastball.
Limehouse flinched back and lost his balance. The pistol flew from his hand to land with a clatter in a dark corner of the dungeon.
"Nice move, Joe," Jed Shannon said.
But Limehouse didn't fall. Moving much faster than a man his size usually did, he thrust a hand out to grab hold of something on the wall. It broke his fall but then tore loose from the rings that had held it to the wall.
Frank sucked in his breath through his teeth when he saw what it was. Though rusty and covered with spiderwebs, the ancient battle-ax still looked lethal enough to take care of all of them.
Waving the ax above his head, Limehouse charged again.
Joe grabbed Jed's arm. "You and Jillian - down that hallway!" Then he joined Frank to meet Limehouse's rush.
Snarling in rage, Limehouse was swinging the ax like a baseball bat. The sharp edges sliced the air as he whipped the handle back and forth.
Frank and Joe had no choice - they had to retreat before the whistling blade got any closer. Unless Limehouse got tired, they wouldn't have a chance. And Limehouse didn't look as if he would tire soon.
"Plan B," Frank abruptly said.
Joe glanced at his brother. "I didn't know we had a plan - Yow!"
Limehouse was leaping for him, the ax held high. But Frank was leaping, too, coming in low under the ax. He swung his leg in a roundhouse kick, catching Limehouse behind the knees.
The big man toppled, the ax clanging against the stone wall.
Joe yanked his brother up. "This way - fast!"
They nearly crashed into Jed and Jillian, who were running the other way. "No good," Jed panted. "It's just a dead end."