The Apeman's Secret (12 page)

“In each town, there's an agent who drums up work for the culties,” Buzz said. “You know, like painting or lawn work or jobs as temporary maids or houseboys. One thing I'll say for the Children of Noah, that cult teaches the kids to work hard and be very polite. And people soon find that out, so they're happy to be able to hire them.”

“Which also makes a lot of money for the cult,” Joe remarked.

“Right. The kids are told that it all goes into the cult treasury. But I'd be willing to bet that means Noah's private bank accounts!”

Buzz squinted out across the glittering sheet of spray furrowing aft from the bow. “I don't know if it means anything,” he went on after a moment, “but I overheard a conversation on the Ark not long after you guys showed up.”

“Who was talking?” Frank asked.

“The guy who's in charge of all the Children of Noah on the Ark, and one of the crew. I might not have paid any attention, except that they were skulking all by themselves up on the boat deck and talking kind of low, as if they didn't want anyone to hear them. They didn't seem to realize I was sprawled out on the deck right nearby, or maybe they thought I was asleep.”

Buzz said that his interest was aroused by the oddness of the conversation. “They seemed to be talking partly in code. For instance, two or three times I heard them say something that sounded like
Cara-Vojjo,
whatever that means. And they also kept referring to the ‘Flower Basket Scene.' Whatever they were talking about, it seemed to have something to do with the cult agent's houseboat in Bayport.”

“What cult agent?” asked Joe.

“The guy who drums up odd jobs for the culties—I mean the ones who come ashore during the day to work.”

Frank and Joe exchanged puzzled glances. Neither could imagine what the conversation might have been about nor what the code words might mean.

But suddenly Tony Prito spoke up. “That first one sounds like an Italian name—Caravaggio.” He spelled it for the others.

Frank frowned, then snapped his fingers. “I've got a hunch I've heard that name before!” he exclaimed. “And I bet I know just where to find out for sure!”

As soon as they had tied up at the boat landing, Tony led the boys a little ways along the waterfront. “I think that's the houseboat Buzz heard them talking about,” he said, pointing to a craft that was moored to a dock nearby.

“You're right!” cried Joe. “Look at that design stenciled on the side, Frank!”

The design portrayed a bird in flight with a leafy branch in its mouth,
the same as the dove and olive-branch symbol on the amulet!

Frank asked the others to keep an eye on the houseboat. Meanwhile he hurried to the Hardy boys' car and drove to the Howard Museum, where he spoke to the art curator, a slender, wispy-haired man with rimless, pinch-nose glasses.

“Mr. Scath, am I mistaken in thinking there was an Italian painter named Caravaggio?”

“No, indeed, Frank, you're quite right. In fact there were two painters by that name. You're probably thinking of the more famous one, Michelan gelo da Caravaggio, who lived during the late fifteen hundreds—had a very melodramatic style with lots of light and shadow.”

Frank socked his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I knew I'd heard that name somewhere!”

“Most likely in the news,” the curator said. “A painting by Caravaggio was sold at auction just a few days ago for an exceptionally high price. It was titled
Girl with Flower Basket.”

Frank sped back to the harbor excitedly. Joe and his two companions reported that the cult agent had left the houseboat and driven off in his car fifteen minutes earlier.

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed on hearing his brother's news. “If that conversation Buzz overheard means what it sounds like, there may be evidence on the houseboat that would help Dad get the goods on Noah Norvel!”

“And now's our chance to find out!” said Frank.

Buzz and Tony had no intention of being left out of the adventure. They tagged along eagerly as the Hardys boldly went aboard the craft. The agent, apparently unworried about any risk of a burglary, had left the houseboat unlocked.

“There it is!” Joe gasped. In the main room of the houseboat hung a large painting. It showed a bare-foot young peasant girl in the marketplace, holding a basketful of flowers!

Then a voice snapped: “You thieves!”

The Hardy boys and their two friends whirled around as they heard the voice behind them. An angry looking, red-faced man was standing in the doorway.

“It's the cult agent!” Tony hissed out of the corner of his mouth to Frank. The older Hardy boy had already guessed as much.

The agent glared at them furiously. He seemed to be almost trembling with rage. Frank thought he detected a trace of alarm in the man's expression as well.

“How dare you young punks break into my houseboat!” the agent ranted.

“We didn't break in, we walked in,” Joe said coolly.

“You realize I could have you all arrested for attempted burglary?”

“I doubt that,” said Frank.

His remark seemed to provoke the agent still further. “Get off my boat,” the red-faced man stormed, “before I call the police!”

Like his brother, Frank had decided that their best tactic was bluffing. “Sure, we'll leave,” he replied calmly. “But don't let that stop you. Go right ahead and call the police if you think you've got a case against us.”

The Hardys led the way across the deck of the houseboat and back onto the pier, followed by Tony and Buzz. They heard the door slam behind them.

The four youths paused at a safe distance from the houseboat, in case the cult agent might still be watching them furtively.

“Looks like we've got Noah and his stooges dead to rights!” Joe exulted.

“It sure does,” Frank agreed. “Remember what Dad told us about that stolen-art racket?”

“Every time something's taken, a fake or forgery is left in its place.”

“Right! So if that picture we saw just now is the Caravaggio painting called
Girl with Flower Basket,
then the one sold at auction must have been a forgery. The two were probably switched just before the auction!”

“I'd say you guys are the ones who ought to be calling the police,” put in Tony with a dry chuckle. “You might even get a reward for finding the real painting!”

“If we did, we'd split it four ways, with you and Buzz,” Frank declared. “But I think we should check with Dad first. We sure wouldn't want to go spoiling any plan of action he may have for dealing with Noah.”

Joe was of the same opinion. Nevertheless, after managing to contact their father by a long-distance phone call, both brothers were somewhat surprised when he advised extreme caution.

“Sit tight until Sam Radley gets there,” Fenton Hardy told his sons. “He'll bring you instructions on just what to do.”

Frank and Joe and their two companions settled down to wait in the Hardy boys' car. It was parked in a spot that enabled them to keep watch on the houseboat, in case any attempt was made to sneak the painting away.

After an hour's wait, Tony Prito reluctantly announced that he had to go. He was due at work at an excavation site where his father's construction company was pouring the foundations for a new building. “Be sure and let me know how things come out!” he said.

“We will,” Frank promised. “And thanks a lot for taking us out to the
Ark
in the
Napoli.”

Almost another hour went by before Sam Radley finally drove up and parked alongside the Hardy boys' car. He brought with him a short, stout man with a bristling reddish mustache. “This is Mr. Hacker of the art auction gallery that sold the Caravaggio picture,” Sam introduced him to the boys.

“He's an expert on Italian painting of that period, so he can tell us whether that picture on the houseboat is the real McCoy.”

“How are you going to get a look at it?” Joe asked, after shaking hands with Hacker. “That employment agent for the cult is still aboard.”

“Your dad's got that all figured out,” Radley said, “and he's also talked to Police Chief Collig, who's promised to cooperate. But we'll need one of your high-school gang to pose as a new recruit for the cult.”

Joe glanced at his brother. “How about Biff Hooper? He even shaved his head so he could go to the comic book party as Cue Ball, remember?”

Frank grinned. “Perfect! That'll make him look all the more convincing. He can pretend he shaved himself bald on purpose, just so he could join the Children of Noah!”

Biff readily agreed to help out when the Hardys called him. Then they stood by while Sam Radley transmitted exact instructions over the phone.

Twenty minutes later, the Hardys' tall, rangy chum arrived on the dock. Walking straight up to where the houseboat was moored, he knocked loudly on the door. The cult agent opened up.

“I want to find out how to join the Children of Noah,” Biff announced and started to shoulder his way inside.

“Hold it, kid!” the agent retorted suspiciously. “Nobody comes barging in here uninvited! I don't even know who you are!”

“My name's Biff Hooper, if that makes any difference. You think I'd have shaved my hair off already if I weren't serious about joining? Come on, let me in! How soon can we go out to the
Ark?”

“I've already told you, nobody comes barging aboard uninvited!” the agent growled. “Just stay put on the dock till the Children of Noah decide whether or not they want to accept you!”

His face was turning red again, and as he spoke, the agent tried to push Biff back out of the doorway.

“Don't go shoving me around!” Biff protested. As if to emphasize his words, the husky footballer pushed back with a strong, stiff-armed shove of his own.

The angry agent responded in kind. His temper seemed to grow shorter with each exchange. Before long, the two were engaged in a noisy scuffle, which soon threatened to turn into an out-and-out fistfight.

In their angry confrontation, neither noticed the policeman who came striding toward them. “All right, enough, you two! What's going on here?” he demanded.

“This punk's trying to force his way onto my houseboat!” the cult agent charged loudly.

“I came to join the Children of Noah, and he started shoving me around!” Biff retorted.

Soon he and the agent were hurling accusations back and forth and arguing as furiously as they had been scuffling a few moments before.

“You're both under arrest for disturbing the peace!” the policeman broke in, shouting to make himself heard. “So pipe down, both of you, and come along with me!”

After summoning help by walkie-talkie, the officer herded his two charges into a squad car, which then drove off to the police station.

The three boys, who had watched the whole episode from the car, burst out laughing at Biff's highly convincing performance.

“Never mind all that,” grinned Sam Radley. “Now's our chance to slip aboard so Mr. Hacker can get a good look at that painting.”

The Hardy boys and Buzz Barton waited on the dock while Fenton Hardy's operative escorted the art expert aboard the houseboat. Ten minutes went by, then fifteen.

“Boy, that guy from the gallery must really be giving the picture a good going-over!” Joe said some time later, with a glance at his watch.

Frank nodded anxiously. “They'd better hurry, or Noah's stooge might get back in time to catch them!”

Actually, Police Chief Collig himself was dealing with the two disturbers of the peace and was doing so in somewhat leisurely fashion. At first he had let them cool their heels in a waiting room at the police station before he found time to interview them personally. Then he questioned each of them at length about their quarrel on the dock.

“Well now, I don't think this incident is serious enough to warrant an arrest,” he announced finally. “Seems to me both of you had reason to get a little huffy, but that's no excuse to start beating each other up. If you'll both shake hands, I'm prepared to dismiss the charges.”

Grumpily the cult agent and Biff obeyed. By the time the agent returned to the dock there was no sign that anyone had entered the houseboat in his absence.

Meanwhile, Sam Radley and Mr. Hacker were informing the three boys about the results of the art expert's inspection of the painting.

“It's definitely not a Caravaggio,” said Hacker. “I'd rate it as a pretty fair copy of the picture we sold at auction, but it would never stand up to close examination.”