The Shattered Helmet (4 page)

“Chet, come back here,” Frank called out. “We haven't got time for that!”

But Chet had already made a purchase, which he slipped into his pocket. He hastened back to the car and slammed the door.

“What did you buy?” Evan asked.

A wide grin spread over Chet's freckled face. “Firecrackers.”

“You've got to be kidding! We're up here for some serious work, and you want to go around shooting off firecrackers!” Joe shook his head.

“Not shooting off,” Chet said. “They're for a special purpose.”

“Like what?” asked Frank.

“I intend to set them off tonight to scare our fancy friend, Leon Saffel.”

“Oh no you don't!” Frank said. “You'll have us thrown out of Hunt before we get started.”

“That's right,” Joe agreed. “Hand them over, Chet.”

“B-but—”

“Come on,” Joe urged. “All we need now is a big ruckus to blast our chance for finding a clue to
The Persian Glory.
”

“Okay,” Chet replied and gave the package to Joe, who slipped it in the pocket of his windbreaker.

Then he drove off again. Shortly afterward, he turned into a parking area several hundred yards from the falls.

Carrying their cameras and tripods, the group set off along a narrow path which led to the bottom of the falls. From high up on the hillside the water leaped down in three cascades until it frothed into a whirlpool basin.

A rushing stream carried it off under a bridge and finally to the river which flowed past Hunt College.

“This is mood all right,” Joe said. He set up his tripod and filmed the swirling waters.

Evan said, “I think we could get better shots from high above. Look, there's a trail going to the top.”

Chet had already started up, and the others followed. The way was steep and rocky, running parallel to the falls which cut a swath through the heavily wooded hillside.

At the foot of the top cascade was a large shallow basin which sloped slightly downward and was dotted with big boulders. Evan jumped nimbly from one to the other until he reached the far side. There he set up his camera.

Chet climbed to one of the boulders in the middle of the rushing water. Perched up high, he had
a dizzying view of the two cascades plunging below him to the valley.

Meanwhile, Frank and Joe ventured a little higher on the trail. From Frank's vantage point, he had a clear shot of almost the entire falls. As his camera began to whir, Joe suddenly cried out, “Look out, Frank!”

A rock, hurled from somewhere above, missed Frank's head by inches. It continued down the gorge and scored a solid hit on Chet's camera!

T
HE
camera fell from Chet's hands into the swift-running water. He jumped in and began groping for it. But his fingers clutched only slippery stones. Suddenly his feet shot from under him. He fell and was swept toward the edge of the basin! Wildly he grasped at a rock and slid off. A foot from the drop-off he gave a desperate lurch, wedging himself between two boulders.

In a moment Evan had leaped to his assistance. Both boys worked their way to the side of the falls where Frank and Joe helped them onto the bank.

“That was pretty close,” Frank said soberly.

Chet managed to catch his breath. “Who threw the rock?” he asked. “Did you see it?”

“No. It came from over our heads. Somebody farther up the trail must have heaved it.”

Chet removed his shirt and wrung it out. He
looked at Frank from the corner of his eye. “Do you suspect that Saffel did it?”

“It's possible,” Frank said. “We'll have to check him out.”

“I think it was somebody from Twister Gerrold's mob,” Joe said.

They hastened back to Hunt, where some of the students had already arrived with their mood films.

“Let's have your work,” Jeff said, “and we'll send it out for rushes.”

“I don't have any,” Chet said, and told Riker what had happened.

“That's too bad. There's a camera shop in town. Perhaps you could rent some equipment.”

At dinner that evening the Hardys made discreet inquiries regarding Saffel. A girl told Joe that Leon had been photographing ducks in the river. But she did not know whether he had spent all afternoon there. Neither did anyone else.

Next morning Jeff continued his lecture on the first motion pictures. “Film was dangerous in the old days,” he said, “because it was made of volatile nitrate. One film, in a vault in Argentina, exploded and blew the whole place apart. In fact, just moving a can of nitrate film could cause it to explode.”

He continued, “But now we have a triple acetate, or safety film. The manufacturers say it has a life span of four hundred years.”

Riker explained that nitrate stock could be copied on acetate, but that it was costly and time consuming. “The old Charlie Chaplin films have been copied that way, and they're still very popular.”

The boys returned to their room after the lecture. Joe unlocked the door with his key, then stopped short and exclaimed, “Look at this! The place is a mess!”

The others crowded in to see the torn-up condition of their quarters. Desks and chairs had been knocked over. Clothes that had been pulled from dresser drawers were strewn about the floor. Two study lamps lay broken.

“Here's how the prowler got in,” Frank said, pointing to the open window.

“The cameras!” Evan said. “What happened to our cameras?”

The boys found their equipment where they had left it, safely tucked away in a closet.

“If the intruder was here to steal something, he certainly missed the only thing that was worth a lot,” Frank said.

The Hardys scoured the room for clues. When nothing turned up, Joe stepped out the window onto a brick ledge and dropped down to the ground. There he found footprints. Most were indistinct, but one set of toe prints told him that the intruder had sprung up to grasp the ledge before hoisting himself into the room.

“The place is a mess!” Joe exclaimed.

Joe searched to the right and left. Suddenly an object lying under a low bush caught his eye. He pulled out a white work glove. On it was a smudge of black paint. He climbed back into the room and showed it to the others.

“Maybe the guy wore gloves,” Chet said, “so as not to leave fingerprints.”

“But why the black smudge?” Evan asked.

“He might have used them for a paint job,” Frank conjectured.

The boys checked and found nothing missing. “Maybe the fellow wasn't a thief,” said Joe. “This could be malicious mischief.”

The Hardys reported the vandalism to the school authorities, who notified the campus police.

The boys straightened their room and after lunch drove into town to find the camera shop.

Frank pulled into a parking lot and they walked along the quaint business section, looking into display windows.

Chet glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “Frank, I think somebody is trailing us.”

The quartet lingered in front of a sports shop and looked back to see a tall girl wearing a sweat shirt, dungarees, and sneakers. She had a winsome face, short auburn hair, and large hips. In her right hand she carried a shopping bag.

The girl stopped and looked the other way until the boys moved on. Then she followed again.

Chet said jokingly, “I think she's got a thing for
you, Joe. Maybe she's just too bashful to speak up!”

“Well, there's one way to find out,” Joe said. He turned and walked toward the girl. “Is there something we can do for you?” he asked.

She nodded with downcast eyes. “I—I guess I'm a little nervous. I don't usually talk to strangers.”

“Don't worry about us,” Joe said. “We're perfectly harmless. I'm Joe Hardy. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others.”

Joe walked ahead of her and said, “Fellows, this is—?”

“Thelma Sanger,” she said. “I live here. My father has a farm outside of town.”

Chet brightened. “My family has a farm too! What do you raise?”

“Corn, potatoes, tomatoes, and some tobacco.”

Frank said, “Thelma, we're taking the film-making course at the college.”

“I know,” she said. “That's what I want to talk to you about.”

Joe noticed a park across the street and he suggested they all go there and sit on the grass.

When they were settled under a shady elm tree, Frank began, “Now tell us, Thelma, how do you know we're taking the film course?”

“I was watching you at the falls.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I followed you up the trail, because I wanted to find out what you were doing.”

“We didn't see you,” Evan said.

“I was sort of hiding,” the girl said shyly and looked at Chet. “I saw what happened.”

“To my camera?”

“Yes. I think I heard a man sneaking off into the woods. But—well, it might have been a deer.”

“I'm glad you told us about it,” Frank said. “Why didn't you talk to us right then and there?”

“I don't know. I guess I didn't have the nerve.” She looked at Chet again. “I know all about the falls. I've explored them since I was a little girl.” She put a hand in her shopping bag and pulled out a camera.

Chet looked dumbfounded. “Hey, that's mine! Where did you get it?”

“When you left, I climbed into the basin where you dropped it. I found it between the rocks.”

“Thanks! That's great! I guess the film's ruined, but otherwise it doesn't look too bad.”

“Let's take it into the camera shop,” Frank suggested. “They can check it out.”

They all trooped across the street and entered the shop. The proprietor examined the camera carefully. He noticed a dent in the housing, but the lens, spring-wind motor, and shutter were undamaged.

“Thanks again, Thelma,” Chet said. “Can I get you a reward? Something like a chocolate soda?”

“Yes, I'd like that.”

As they started up the street Frank said, “Chet, you go on with Thelma. We'll see you back at school.”

“Okay.” Chet waved gaily and the two entered a soda shop.

Frank, Joe, and Evan got into the car, drove around a monument in the center of town, and headed over the bridge toward Hunt College.

At the entrance to the campus they passed Jeff Riker driving in the opposite direction. There was a screeching of brakes, then he backed up.

“Hi, fellows,” he called out. “I've been looking for you.”

“What's up?” Joe asked.

“Oh, just an idea I had that might help you. I'll tell you later. Suppose I come to your room after dinner tonight?”

“Fine,” Frank said and drove on.

Chet arrived just before dinner. He had thumbed a ride back to school and met Frank and Joe who were strolling across the campus. They had left Evan reading in the lounge.

Chet was smiling, and patted his stomach with satisfaction.

“Did you enjoy your soda?” Frank said.

“You bet. All three of them. And brother, can Thelma pack ‘em away! She kept up with me!”

“Yes, I would say she looks well-fed,” Joe said. “Does she play tackle or guard on the high school team?”

“Cut it out,” said Chet. “She may be big, but she sure has personality. Besides, she likes me!”

Banter about Chet's new girl friend continued through the dinner hour. When they finally left the cafeteria, Jeff Riker joined them. They went to their dorm and closed the door. The four boys sprawled on the two lower bunks, while Riker straddled a straight-back chair.

“I think I can help you locate a clue to
The Persian Glory
,” he began.

“How?” Joe asked.

“There's an old film actress living in New York named Betty Love. Her hobby is collecting movie posters from way back. If she has one about
The Persian Glory
, it might list the names of the actors, producers, and writers. If any of those old-timers are still living, they might give you some kind of clue.”

“Great!” Frank said. “By contacting them we could perhaps learn who has a copy of the film.”

“Precisely.”

“Do you know Betty Love's address?”

Jeff nodded. “When you met me on the road I was going to the telephone company office. I found her name and address in a Manhattan directory.”

“Suppose we go see her tomorrow!” Evan said enthusiastically. “It's Sunday, and we won't miss any classes.”

“Why not?” Frank said. “The sooner the better.”

Footsteps sounded in the hall and disappeared as the boys discussed their plans. Suddenly Evan put a finger to his lips. “Listen!”

There was a rustling noise outside the door.

Frank got up, quietly turned the knob, then suddenly flung the door open.

Leon Saffel fell into the room!