Read The Twisted Claw Online

Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Twisted Claw

Table of Contents
 
 
THE TWISTED CLAW
A series of museum thefts launch the Hardy Boys on this baffling mystery. Rare collections of ancient pirate treasure are being stolen. Who is doing it? And how is the loot being smuggled out of the United States?
Frank and Joe's celebrated detective father is working on the case and asks the boys to stake out the
Black Parrot,
a suspicious freighter docked in Bayport Harbor. Disguised as crewmen the teen-age sleuths board the ship, determined to investigate its cargo hold.
Clues that the boys unearth take them on a whirl-wind chase after a self-styled pirate king—a chase that leads to their imprisonment in the fantastic Caribbean island stronghold of the Empire of the Twisted Claw. How Frank and Joe cleverly outmaneuver the pirate king and his cohorts makes a gripping tale of suspense and high adventure.
Frank grabbed the steel girder just in time!
Copyright 0 1997, 1969, 1939 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 BOYS
®
is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 77-86667
eISBN : 978-1-101-07632-3
2008 Printing

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I
Shadowed!
“CONGRATULATIONS!” Frank Hardy shouted to his brother Joe as the track meet ended. “You've won the trophy for Bayport High and set a new record for the hundred-yard dash!”
“You helped, too,” Joe called, jogging along the cinder track. “What about your gold medal in the 440?” he said as he came to a halt.
“Don't forget me!” exclaimed Chet Morton. He was a stout, round-faced youth and a good friend of the Hardys. “I collected a few points in the shot-put.”
“You were great, Chet,” Frank said with a grin.
The trio had taken part in the annual track-and-field meet with Hopkinsville at a stadium near their home town of Bayport. The contest also marked the beginning of summer vacation.
“Well, are we going over to the soda shop to celebrate?” Chet asked.
“Sure, some of the other guys want to come, too,” Joe replied. “Let's go and change—”
He was interrupted by an announcement over the loudspeaker. “Frank and Joe Hardy to the telephone, please.”
“Oh, oh. We'd better forget about the celebration,” Frank said. “Let's go, Joe.”
They went to the manager's office, who handed Frank the phone. “It's your father,” he said.
Frank scooped it up. “Hello, Dad. We won!”
“Nice going.” There was a pause. “Frank,” Mr. Hardy went on, “I'd like you and Joe to come home soon. It's important.”
Within minutes the boys had showered and changed and were in their convertible, driving toward Bayport.
“I hope there's nothing wrong,” Joe remarked anxiously.
“I don't think so,” Frank answered. “I have a hunch it has something to do with a new case.”
Their father, Fenton Hardy, had once been a member of the New York City police force. But now he was engaged in private practice as a detective and was often assisted by his. sons. Working as a team, they had solved many baffling crimes, beginning with
The Tower Treasure.
Their last case was
The Secret Warning,
which had added even more renown to the Hardy name.
“Hi, Mother,” the boys called when they arrived home.
Mrs. Hardy, an attractive, soft-spokeu woman, greeted her sons with a smile. “How did the meet go?” she inquired.
“Just great!” Joe declared. “We won the trophy!”
“We'll tell you about it later,” Frank interrupted. “Where's Dad?”
“Upstairs. He's waiting for you.”
The boys rushed to the second floor and entered their father's study. He was seated at his desk. Mr. Hardy was a distinguished-looking man who appeared much younger than his years.
“We came as fast as we could,” Frank said.
“Thanks,” Mr. Hardy replied. “I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. I'm going to need your help in connection with a new case.”
“What did I tell you!” Frank exclaimed as he playfully slapped his brother on the shoulder.
“What kind of a case?” Joe asked eagerly.
“I can't go into detail at this point. Besides, I'll be leaving on a trip shortly,” his father said. “Here it is briefly. Right now there is a ship in Bayport Harbor called the
Black Parrot.
I know nothing about it other than it might have some connection with my case. I'd like you to keep an eye on the freighter while it's in port. Record anything about the crew or cargo that looks even slightly suspicious.”
Frank, dark-haired and eighteen, a year older than his blond brother, looked at his father quizzically. “That sounds sort of tame, Dad.”
“I know. But it could turn out to be a pretty wild case, as you boys say.”
“Should we contact you if we find any information ?”
“No. I'll get in touch with you.”
At that instant Mrs. Hardy entered the room. “Fenton,” she said nervously, “I'm worried. There's a man across the street. I'm sure he's watching our house. He's hiding behind a tree, but I caught several glimpses of him.”
Joe, the more impetuous of the brothers, jumped to his feet. “Let's go and have a talk with that guy. We'll soon find out what he's up to!”
“Hold it!” Mr. Hardy ordered. “It's possible he has been assigned to shadow me. I don't want him to know he has been spotted. It'll put his cohorts on guard.”
Joe nodded. “This
must
be quite a case. Wish you could tell us more about it.”
The detective did not answer. He glanced at his watch. “I'm due at the airport soon. Somehow I've got to get out of the house without being seen.”
“How about the back door?” Joe suggested.
“No good,” his father said. “Chances are there's another man posted behind the house.”
“Maybe some kind of a disguise would work,” Frank said.
“I'm afraid it would be a bit too obvious under the circumstances,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Unless someone—” His words trailed off as he reached for the telephone book, looked up a number, and dialed. “I'm going to call Mr. Callahan and ask him to come over right away.”
“Our plumber?” Joe asked.
The boys glanced at each other in bewilderment. What could their father possibly want with a plumber at this time?
“You'll see,” Mr. Hardy said with a wink. About ten minutes later a small panel truck came to a stop in front of the Hardy home. Mr. Callahan, a middle-aged man wearing a visor cap and overalls, climbed out. He had a rather large nose and bushy eyebrows.
He walked toward the house, carrying a tool kit in his right hand. The young detectives led him to their father's study, where Mr. Hardy quickly told him of his predicament.
“Now this is my plan, Mr. Callahan,” Mr. Hardy continued. “You and I are about the same size and weight. If you'll lend me your cap and overalls for a while, I can disguise myself well enough to pass as your double—at least at a distance.”
The plumber was an old acquaintance and readily agreed. They left the study and went to the master bedroom. A few minutes later they reappeared. With a putty nose and false eyebrows Mr. Hardy looked amazingly like Callahan.
“A good makeup job, Dad!” Frank exclaimed. “You and Mr. Callahan could be twin brothers.”
At that instant Gertrude Hardy entered the room. She was the tall, angular, peppery sister of Mr. Hardy. “My word! I'm seeing double!” she exclaimed. “Two Mr. Callahans in this room!”
“You're not seeing double,” Joe assured her with a laugh. “One of them is Dad in disguise.”
“And a pretty good likeness too, don't you think?” Frank added.
Aunt Gertrude turned to face the plumber. “Fenton, what on earth are you up to now? Something to do with a new case I take it. One day something awful is going to happen. I'm sure of it!”
Mr. Hardy stepped forward. “I'm afraid you're scolding the wrong man.”
Aunt Gertrude shook her head and marched out of the room. The boys roared with laughter.
“Now back to the business at hand,” Mr. Hardy said. “I'll leave here in Mr. Callahan's truck. You boys take him to the airport in an hour to pick it up. Please bill me for the time, Mr. Callahan.”
“I won't think of it. It's a favor,” the plumber said.
“I insist,” said Mr. Hardy, then addressed his sons, “Any questions before I leave?”
“No, Dad,” Joe replied.
“Let's hope,” the detective continued, “that our friend across the street falls for my trick.”

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