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Franklin W. Dixon

Hardy Boys Mystery Stories: Volume Twenty-One

The Clue of the Broken Blade

This is the original 1942 text

In the 1942 original, the Hardy Boys break up a truck hijacking ring and solve the mystery of the theft of Arthur Barker's swords.

Frank and Joe travel with their detective father, Fenton Hardy, to a town two hours from Bayport to break up a truck hijacking ring and recover two stolen swords for wealthy shipping magnate Arthur Barker.

The 1970 revision is drastically altered.

CHAPTER I

THE MYSTERIOUS TRUCK

”Ouch! Have a heart!''

With a snort Joe Hardy tumbled to the floor while his brother Frank stood over him, waving a folded umbrella.

"Give up?" grinned Frank, poking at Joe's ribs.

There was a moment of silence.

"No!" came the sudden answer.

With a bound the younger boy was back on his feet brandishing a second umbrella. For a moment the fight was nip and tuck. Suddenly Joe's weapon found its mark. Down went Frank.

"Boys! Boys! What is going on here? Stop it this minute!''

Her face white with alarm, Aunt Gertrude stood peering over her glasses into the disordered living room. Frank pulled himself upright, rubbing his side. "Don't worry, Aunt Gertrude, we're just practicing," he reassured her.

"Practicing?" snorted the boys' elderly relative. "Practicing how to kill yourselves. Gracious! Just look at this room. Chairs turned over, your mother's clean rugs all mussed–"

Joe went over and patted his father's sister on her shoulder. ''There, there, Aunt Gertrude, we'll fix everything up again. We were just learning how to duel. You see, we're going to be in a play and have to know the way to do it."

"Yes, Chet Morton and his sister Iola want us to take part in a mystery play being put on for charity," Frank explained further, while Aunt Gertrude looked at them skeptically.

"Hmph. A play, indeed," she said indignantly. "What sort of play is it where two boys have to stick umbrellas into each other–"

"Oh, we're going to use real swords in the play, Auntie," Joe interrupted mischievously. "Sharp ones, too. Golly, we'll–"

"That will be quite enough," snapped the woman. "I'll have to speak to your father about it when he comes in. I'm sure he would not approve of his sons taking part in any dangerous duels."

With a defiant shake of her head Aunt Gertrude flounced off, leaving the brothers convulsed with mirth.

"I'm afraid she isn't going to help our acting career very much,'' Joe observed dryly.

"No, she'll probably be telling Dad about it any minute. I think I hear him coming now.''

Heavy footfalls sounded on the veranda. The door opened to admit a tall, handsome man with graying hair and keen blue eyes. He gave a start as he surveyed the scene in the living room.

"Hmm. Has there been an earthquake?" he queried.

"Hello, Dad!" both boys exclaimed in the same breath.

An instant later they were exchanging sheepish grins and eyeing their parent uncertainly.

"We were just dueling, Dad," Frank offered finally. "Aunt Gertrude–"

"Yes, with your mother away I can imagine what Aunt Gertrude thinks of you," Mr. Hardy winked, waving a hand toward an overturned chair. "Well, come into the study, both of you. I have some interesting things to tell you.''

The brothers needed no second invitation, for such a bidding from their father, the famous detective, usually meant that adventure was in the offing. Fenton Hardy laid a bulging brief case on his desk and sank into his swivel chair.

"Hard assignment," he said, motioning toward the portfolio. "I think I have three of the criminals rounded up, but a fourth has eluded me thus far." He paused and looked out the window thoughtfully. "But that's not what I especially want to speak to you boys about."

Frank and Joe sat on the edge of their chairs, their eyes eager with anticipation. Mr. Hardy spoke.

"I have reason to believe that one of the biggest groups in crime is operating under our very noses,'' he burst forth.

"You mean right here in Bayport, Dad?" Joe exclaimed.

Mr. Hardy shook his head. "I'm not certain they've reached Bayport yet, but they're in our vicinity, possibly as near as Aberdeen."

Frank looked at his brother. "Whew! That really sounds like something. What are they up to, anyhow?"

"Stealing is their principal occupation," replied the detective grimly, "but they won't stop short of killing people who get in their way. Their scheme, boys, is about as clever and brazen a one as I've ever heard."

Frank and Joe squirmed expectantly as their father paused.

"It seems that the ringleaders own a fleet of motor trucks. Their plan is to have their drivers take these huge vehicles to wharves or railroad depots, and–"

"And steal merchandise being unloaded from ships and trains, I'll bet. Is that right, Dad?" Joe asked impatiently.

Mr. Hardy could barely conceal a smile. "Your statement happens to hit the nail right on the head, son. That's just what they're do. The result is that thousands of dollars' worth of valuable goods are disappearing every week."

Frank studied his father's face hopefully. "Are you going to let us help you on the case, Dad?"

His parent nodded. "I was coming to that, Frank. From the way things look I shall be busy for some time on a certain angle of the case. Meanwhile I wonder whether you boys might like to follow one clue I have–"

"Will we! I'll say so," the younger lad exclaimed. ''Dad, you know we'll do anything we can to help you.''

Fenton Hardy looked at his sons gravely. "Boys, I'm afraid these men we are after are extremely vicious. They'll stop at nothing if they suspect you're trailing them. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"We'll be careful," Frank promised.

"Very well. The freighter Nordic is due to dock in the Aberdeen harbor tonight with a load of silver pieces for the Liberty Company. Some of these are very old and extremely valuable. I have reason to believe that the trucking thieves may attempt to steal this cargo. Your job will be to check up, see what happens, and then report to me."

Eagerly the brothers rushed upstairs to pack. They decided to put on old overalls as a disguise but carry good clothes with them. After a parting word with their father they jumped into Frank's car and headed for the broad highway.

"We ought to make it in an hour easily," Joe observed as they hummed along. "Look, there's the Old Mill Restaurant already. How about a bite of supper?"

Twenty minutes later they were off again. Just as dusk was falling they entered the outskirts of the bay city of Aberdeen.

"I hope we're not too late to catch the ship, Frank."

"We made good time and couldn't have reached here any sooner, Joe. Look, isn't that the harbor?"

Frank nosed the car through a narrow, crowded street. Presently they found themselves at a huge wharf.

"There's the Nordic," Joe whispered tensely. "It's just coming in. Boy, what luck!''

A large cargo vessel was being warped into her berth by two snorting tugs. Their hearts pounding in suppressed excitement, the two Hardy boys made their way through the crowd of idle onlookers, reaching the edge of the dock just as the ship came alongside.

"If any of the band Dad mentioned are planning to steal the Nordic's freight, they should be arriving soon," Frank breathed.

There was a loud clank of chains and a strain of hawsers as the vessel was made fast. Directly opposite where the boys were standing, a large door swung open in the ship's side.

"The cargo hold, Frank! Boy, isn't she loaded! Wonder if–"

Frank clutched his brother's arm. Amid a deafening roar a huge covered truck lumbered up, stopping beside them.

"Maybe that driver is one of the thieves," the boy said tensely.

''We'll watch the fellow,'' replied his brother.

"Where's the supercargo o' this ship?" demanded the driver, peering down at the boys. "I'm in a hurry. Got to haul away some valuable boxes without delay. The company don't want 'emstolen."

The brothers gazed at a name painted on the side of the truck. Liberty Company!

"We'll try to find him for you," offered Frank. As the brothers moved off, he whispered to Joe, "Guess we're on the wrong track. But we'll watch and be sure that the fellow doesn't pull any funny business."

"Right," agreed Joe, approaching a ship's officer who had just stepped off the gangplank and was carrying a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Have you some boxes for the Liberty Company?" asked Frank.

By this time the truckman had approached and presented his credentials. Everything seemed to be in order, so the driver was given permission to load the boxes.

"You guys want to earn some money?" he asked, turning to the Hardys. "I want to get this stuff on as soon as possible."

"Sure," said Frank. Then as the man went to unlock the back of the van, he whispered, "Even if we haven't caught any thieves, at least we can help this driver get away before any of the gang arrive."

"Think I'll look over all the trucks here," suggested Joe. "Be back in a minute."

He found nothing suspicious, so returned to assist with the loading. In twenty minutes the task was accomplished, the Hardys paid, and the driver was off.

"Our first assignment turned out to be a wild goose chase," sighed Frank, as the two boys walked to their car.

"I'm afraid Dad will be disappointed," added his brother.

They had gone barely half a mile along the highway out of Aberdeen when a pair of dazzling headlights bore down on them.

"Why doesn't that fellow watch where he's going?" Frank exploded, veering toward one side.

There was a roar as the glare came closer. The boy began to toot his horn. He and his brother held their breaths.

"He's going to hit us, Frank!" Joe shouted.

Just as a crash seemed imminent there was a screech of brakes. A large truck slithered to a stop not three feet from their car.

"Frank! Look at the sign! It says 'Liberty Company'!" Joe exclaimed excitedly.

The driver leaned out of his cab. ''Sorry to scare you," he yelled. "I'm in a hurry. Got to meet a ship."

Frank eyed his brother significantly, then jumped from their car. He rushed over to the big vehicle, with Joe on his heels.

"Did you say you were to meet a ship?" the elder lad inquired. "Was it by any chance the Nordic?"

''That's it, boys. Say, tell me, is she in yet?'' He seemed to be looking at them anxiously.

''She's in, all right,'' returned Frank. ''We just came from there, and helped to load one of your company's trucks."

"What!" The man stared at them aghast. "Do you mean you helped load a Liberty Company truck?"

Frank nodded, his heart skipping a beat. The driver leaped out, his face distorted with rage and dismay.

"Boys, there's only one Liberty Company truck that's supposed to meet the Nordic, and this is it!" he groaned.

CHAPTER II

A CLUE

The truck driver showed his credentials to the boys. They included a letter of praise from the president of the company for long and efficient service. Sick at heart over their terrible mistake, the Hardys finally related the whole story to the man.

"Well, it ain't as if you helped that thief on purpose," said their listener. "Naturally you didn't know what that fellow was up to.''

"Just the same we should have been more cautious," Frank mourned. "After all, we're supposed to be detectives. Some detectives we are!"

The man blinked at them. "Detectives! You boys detectives!" he cried.

Frank introduced himself and Joe. The man smiled broadly and held out a huge hand. ''Put 'er there, boys. I'm mighty glad to know you,'' he said heartily. "I've heard tell of your dad. I'm Tom Klip, best driver the Liberty Company–" He suddenly checked himself. "Guess I ain't the best driver any longer," he went on sorrowfully. "I'll get fired for losin' those boxes, sure as shootin'. It's really all my fault, bein' late gettin' to the ship."

Frank knit his brow. "I'm wondering where other driver got his credentials. Some printing plant must have done a good job of making out false bills of lading."

"You're right, Frank," his brother agreed. "Golly, if we could find the printer we'd have an important clue."

The older boy nodded. "Yes, and here's an idea, too."

For several moments Frank whispered with the others in the darkness. This was not the first time the Hardy brothers had found themselves swiftly laying plans for the solution of some desperate crime.

As true sons of their famous father, one of the greatest detectives the country had ever known, Frank and Joe were rapidly achieving reputations of their own. The first of their adventures was told in ''The Tower Treasure,'' wherein the boys helped their father find some stolen loot after a baffling search.

Their mother, Laura Mildred Hardy, and their Aunt Gertrude sometimes looked askance at the interest the boys took in detective work, though inwardly they were proud of their youthful ability. Fenton Hardy, on the other hand, was openly delighted that his sons were following in his footsteps.

As in the present instance, Mr. Hardy many times had actually turned over the task of solving a mystery to his sons when he himself was occupied with some other case. Though the solution of these riddles often led to great danger, Frank and Joe never once had flinched in their attempts to clear them up. This had been shown in their latest adventure, which was a hunt for spies, in a story called ''The Mystery of the Flying Express.''

As they now stood on the lonely road near Aberdeen, both brothers felt that they were about to embark on one of the most exciting cases of their young careers.

"I'm afraid it's too late to do anything about the robbery, fellows," Tom Klip was saying with a pessimistic shake of his head. "You'll never be able to catch that other truck driver now. He's plumb gone."

"He certainly will be gone if we don't get started after him right away," Frank said decisively. "Tom, suppose you go back to your company's headquarters and stay near a phone. We'll get in touch with you as soon as we find a clue."

"Well, all right, if you say so, but–"

Before the truckman could finish, Frank and Joe had jumped into their car and turned it around. With a toot of their horn they sped back toward Aberdeen.

"I've a hunch where we can pick up a clue," the older boy said between set teeth. "We'll ask the gatekeeper at that railroad crossing near the wharf."

Joe looked thoughtful. "The joke will be on us if Tom Klip is the gangsters' driver and the other fellow turns out to be honest."

"His papers looked authentic," said Frank. "Anyhow, we'll find out for certain if we can catch the other fellow. Here we are.''

Frank put on the brakes as they approached the lights of a grade crossing. ''I hope the gate-tender is still on duty-yes, there he is, Joe."

Stopping the car, he jumped out with his brother right behind him. A grizzled old man standing by the track watched them curiously.

"A truck? Sure, there's been plenty o' trucks passin' here this evenin'," he cackled in response to their questions.

"But the one we're looking for has Liberty Company painted on the sides," Frank pressed.

The old man tapped his pipe. ''Liberty Company! Hm. There was a Liberty Company truck. Let's see, about half an hour ago, near as I can recollect. Crossed both ways.''

"That's the one," Joe exclaimed, trying not to show his excitement. "Which way did it go?"

"Well, let's see. I cain't remember for sar-tin', but I kind o' think he took that there left-hand fork. That road goes off to the mountains. Mind you, now, I cain't be sure–"

With a hasty word of thanks the boys hopped into the front seat and drove off in the direction the man had indicated. As the lights of Aberdeen were left behind, Joe's doubts began to mount.

"How are we ever going to find one solitary truck 'way out here in all this blackness?" he speculated dismally. "Look, there isn't even a house or a gasoline station where we could make any inquiries."

"There's no harm in our trying," replied his brother, though he too began to have misgivings. "One thing's sure. That heavy truck can't go as fast as we can."

"No, but it has a good head start. Say, what's up there? Looks as if we're going into some pretty deep woods," Joe exclaimed.

The road was becoming narrower. A few moments later the brothers found themselves hemmed in by giant trees which swayed weirdly in the wind.

"Golly, what a dismal place," Joe remarked. Suddenly he seized his brother's sleeve, saying, ''Frank! Isn't that a light up ahead?''

Instantly Frank jammed on the brakes and switched off both engine and head lamps. For several moments the boys strained their eyes and ears.

"Are you sure you saw a light, Joe?"

"I thought I did. About a hundred yards ahead. There it is again.''

There was no mistaking the eerie glow filtering through the trees not far distant. As they watched, it vanished. A few seconds later it appeared again.

"Come on, Joe, we'll investigate," Frank whispered tensely.

Their hearts pounding, they left the car and stealthily advanced along the road. Gradually the light grew brighter. It seemed to glow from the deep woods some distance from the edge of the road. Frank in the lead halted and raised a Anger to his lips.

''Sh!" he warned. ''Let's strike through the woods, Joe. The wind's making enough noise to drown out sounds we make, but we'd better be careful anyhow."

Their first steps through the underbrush brought forth the loud snap of dry twigs; otherwise, there was no sound but the brushing of branch against branch.

"Guess we're all right so far," Frank breathed. "Come on."

Gingerly they advanced, trying desperately to avoid stepping on twigs and branches in their path. The strange light wavered mysteriously somewhere ahead of them. Once it almost caught them directly in its rays.

"We'd better crawl from here on," Frank whispered finally, dropping to the ground.

For some time they struggled through the dense thicket. Suddenly Frank whispered excitedly:

''Look, Joe! There's the man we are after!''

"He's painting out the Liberty Company lettering on the truck!" said his brother in a muffled tone.

Quivering with excitement, the boys watched the strange scene. Within a small clearing not fifty feet away the man could be seen standing on a ladder braced against the side of the van.

In one hand he held a powerful flashlight; in the other, a paint brush. Now and then he would pause to play the beam over the work he was doing.

"He has just about finished," Joe murmured. "No, he's going after that other bucket of paint. What's he up to now?''

"We'll soon find out. Oh, he's moving his ladder to a new place. Look, it's red paint he's using this time. He's putting on another sign!''

Now and then above the sighing of the wind the lads could hear the deep grunts of satisfaction as the man worked. The flashlight rays played about eerily as he swayed slightly at his task.

"There goes a 'J,' " Joe whispered. "Now an 'O,' 'L,'-'Jolson,' it says."

"Here comes another word. 'R,' 'A'–"

'' ' Radio,' '' finished Joe. '' Is that all? No! There's the last word. 'Shop.' 'Jolson Radio Shop.' "

"Boy, if this isn't tracking down a thief I don't know what is!" Frank exulted under his breath. "Still, we have to–"

"Look, he must be tired, Frank. He's lying down on the ground. Wonder if he'll go to sleep."

The boys watched tensely. The man had rolled up his coat to form a pillow and had stretched himself on the ground. Suddenly, to their dismay, the beam of his flashlight went out abruptly, plunging the place in darkness.

"What shall we do, Frank?" Joe whispered.

"We must take that truck!"

"The driver may wake up."

"We'll have to take that chance. Let's see how he came in here from the road. Did you bring your light?"

"Here it is. We'd better hold off a while. He may not be asleep yet."

After a little wait they could hear the telltale sounds of snoring coming through the deep gloom. Stealthily they crept into the clearing.

"Stand in front of the truck and snap on the flashlight ahead,'' said Frank under his breath. "Then the rays won't get in his eyes and wake him up."

The beam cut a swath of brilliance through the blackness. Instantly Joe snapped the light off again. Frank, who had been standing guard over the sleeping driver, joined him.

"The truck is parked ready to start right off. There's a steep slope going down to the main road right in front of it," Joe informed his brother.

"Good! That means we can let it roll before we start the engine. We ought to get away before that driver can wake up and intercept us.''

"Are we ready?"

Together the boys listened with bated breaths. Monotonously the man's snoring continued. Frank touched his brother's sleeve.

"All ready, Joe!" he said almost soundlessly.

CHAPTER III

FIRE!

There was a faint squeak as Frank stepped onto the running board of the big truck. The driver, snoring on the ground near-by, made no movement.

''Go ahead!'' whispered Joe, gently nudging his brother. "The fellow's still asleep."

Gingerly the older boy crawled behind the wheel. As Joe walked ahead, playing his flashlight and motioning to his brother to proceed, Frank released the brake. The big truck began to roll. Down the crude wagon track Frank guided it for about two hundred feet. Then Joe hopped inside, the headlights were turned on, and the speed was increased.

"What's that noise, Frank?" Joe asked his brother in sudden consternation.

From somewhere through the trees ahead of them a loud rumble was growing rapidly in intensity.

"It's a train. The railroad tracks must be near here. That's great! The noise will drown out the sound of our motor.''

As the rumble increased to a roar, Frank threw on the power. By the time the raucous clatter of the passing train subsided the Hardys were swinging into the main road.

"Whew," whistled Joe, "between the train and us there was enough racket to wake up any sleeper. Wonder if the fellow has missed the truck yet."

Presently Frank slowed his speed. "Here's the road we took. Our car isn't far away. Why don't you get it, find a policeman, and see if you can catch that driver? I'll take this load to the Liberty Company in Aberdeen."

''Good enough. I'll meet you there as soon as lean. So long!"

With a wave of his hand Joe leaped to the ground and was off to the Hardy car. At top speed he headed for Aberdeen.

"Pardon me, sir, but can you direct me to the police station?" he asked a bystander as he entered the town.

"Third block on your right," came the answer.

Two minutes later he marched up the steps and confronted a sleepy desk sergeant.

"What's that, young man? You say you've located a criminal? Williams!" he called. A patrolman emerged from an adjoining room. "Go along with this young fellow and check up on his yarn," snapped the sergeant. "Sounds like a fairy story to me."

The officer followed Joe to the latter’s car and the two sped off. The Hardy lad related the high points of the experience of his brother and himself.

''If he's still asleep we won't have any trouble capturing him," the lad finished.

"And if he woke up and left, who's going to prove this isn't a lot of nonsense?" demanded the policeman.

Joe slowed the car as they approached the spot where he and Frank had parked previously. ''I think we'd better walk the rest of the way, Officer. He'll hear us coming otherwise,'' suggested Joe.

"All right, young man, lead the way. But it'll go hard with you if this is a practical joke.''

The Hardy boy began to have misgivings. Suppose the truck driver had awakened long before this and vanished? Nevertheless, Joe crawled on through a short cut with Officer Williams following.

Suddenly Joe stopped. "I think I can make out the clearing up there ahead," he whispered.

They listened. There was no sound. "If he's sleeping he certainly isn't snoring," Williams muttered dryly. "Better snap on your light and we'll have a look."

Joe's heart skipped a beat. He drew out his flashlight and pressed the button, almost giving vent to a whoop of delight as a prone figure loomed up in the rays.

''That's the fellow, Officer! That's the truck driver!" he cried.

With a bound Williams reached the clearing.

"Hey, you! Wake up!" he called, leaning down and shaking the figure roughly.

"W-w-what the-say, what's goin' on here!" growled a sleepy voice.

The figure suddenly sat bolt upright. Seeing Joe, the man scowled blackly.

"Oh, so it's you!" he hissed.

"This is the man whose truck my brother and I helped to load,"Joe declared.

"What's your name?" demanded Williams, frowning at the man.

"Moe Gordon. I ain't done nothin' wrong, Chief, honest! Nobody can prove nothin' against me."

"Where's your truck?" snapped the officer.

"The truck? Right over the... say, where is it? You stole it!" he shouted, pointing a finger at Joe. "That young upstart stole it, Chief!"

"Save all that for the judge," ordered the officer. "Come on, get up. You're going along with us."

Cringing and muttering under his breath, the culprit walked between Joe and Officer Williams. ''You'll pay for this plenty,'' he snarled at the Hardy lad.

"Keep your mouth shut," snapped Williams, pushing the man into the car. Turning to Joe, he said, "All right, young fellow, take us back to the police station."

Having deposited Gordon and the policeman safely at headquarters, Joe turned the car about and headed for the Liberty Company. He inquired the way at a gas station and was directed to a large group of buildings about half a mile ahead.

"That you, Joe?" a familiar figure greeted him.

Frank stood in a lighted doorway as his brother drove into the factory yard.

"Hello," said Joe. "I've brought good news!''

"Did you capture him?''

"Certainly did, with the help of Officer Williams of the Aberdeen Police!''

"What's all the rumpus about?" drawled a third voice just then. "Well, if it isn't Frank's brother!" Tom Klip cried, stepping forward and shaking hands with Joe. "So you caught that crook, did you, Joe? By jiminy, you two fellers have certainly done me a big favor. Saved my job and saved the company a lot of money.''

"Before we lose any more time, let's unload the truck," Frank suggested. "First thing we know, somebody else will steal those boxes."

The three went to the rear of one of the buildings where Frank had parked the truck.

''The stuff goes in the warehouse here,'' said Tom. "Won't take us long to get it inside. After that how about you boys coming home with me for a few winks of sleep?"

Best would be welcome indeed after the excitement of the evening. The brothers worked hurriedly under the man's direction, and in no time the valuable goods were stacked safely in the warehouse.

"Thanks, boys. Now for home. Joe, how about tellin' us what happened and how you caught that crook," suggested Tom Klip.

As they drove to a near-by residential section the Hardy lad related his adventure.

"Of course, we'll have to prove to the police that we're really on the level," he concluded. "I promised them we'd come back at eight o'clock in the morning.''

Tom Klip made the boys comfortable for the rest of the night. It seemed to the Hardys that they had just touched their pillows when their host aroused them, saying it was time to keep their appointment at police headquarters.

"Gosh, I hate to move," groaned Joe. "What a dark, dreary day!"

At that moment a car stopped outside. An officer came to the Klip door. Joe and Frank hurried downstairs to speak to the fellow.

"We're looking for a Mister Klip so we can find the Hardy brothers,'' said an authoritative voice.

"We're the ones you're seeking," replied Frank.

"The Chief wants you at headquarters, boys,'' said the uniformed man. ''Better make it snappy. Follow me.''

The Hardys entered their parked car.

"I wonder what all the hurry's about?" speculated Joe. "I'm hungry."

"We'll soon find out," said Frank. "My, that fellow certainly isn't wasting any time. Hope we don't blow a tire going around corners–"

The police car ahead suddenly slithered to a stop. Its occupants jumped out and ran over to the two in the other machine.

"Just had a radio report that there's a bad fire at headquarters, fellows. Follow me if you can, but I've got to make it fast," called the officer.

Frank put on speed and they tore after the police car, whose siren now was screaming.

"I smell smoke," Joe exclaimed. "Look, there's the blaze. We're almost there."

As he turned the next corner, Frank had to jam on the brakes to avoid crashing into a parked fire engine. The street was full of shouting firemen and squirming lengths of hose. Over the scene there hung a pall of smoke, with billows of solid flame spurting from the burning building.

"Boy, that's a real fire," Joe murmured, quivering with excitement. "Maybe we'd better give the firemen a hand. They need it.''

The lads raced to a group of fire fighters and seized a heavy length of hose.

"Help 'em carry it over yonder," thundered the fire chief, panting heavily.

Together the boys struggled with the heavy tubing getting nearer the flames inch by inch. Suddenly Joe gave a cry.

"Frank! There he goes!"

"Who?"

"Gordon! The truck driver we caught! Quick! After him!"

A racing figure, fitfully illuminated by the light of the fire, whisked past them. Like a shot Joe followed. Down the cluttered street he tore, with Frank some distance behind. Just then the older lad caught the glitter of light on metal. Then came a loud dang which sent a chill to his heart. A second fire engine was just turning the corner into their street.

"Look out, Joe! You'll be run down!" he yelled, his lungs almost bursting.

The boy, oblivious of all but the fleeing Gordon, was running headlong toward the corner.

"Joe! Look out!" called Frank.

There was a fierce screeching of brakes as the giant fire apparatus veered crazily into the gutter. Frank's heart sank as a cry sounded through the pall of smoke.

CHAPTER IV

MOE GORDON DISAPPEARS

"Wow! That was too close for comfort!"

The big fire truck had just crashed past, missing Joe Hardy by inches. The boy watched it careen toward the curbing, then straighten again. Frank was glad to see his brother out of danger.

''Now, where's Gordon? Gee, I’ve lost him,'' sighed the younger brother.

The figure of the escaping thief had vanished in the thick curtain of smoke hanging over the street.

"He must have gone that way," continued Joe grimly. "I'll find him if it's the last thing I do. Wonder where Frank went."

At this instant came a splintering crash near him, followed by a loud yell. Joe squinted through the smoke. The front of a large automobile was jutting through the display window of a small confectionery store!

''Is anybody hurt?'' Joe cried, racing over to the wreck. At first the boy saw no one. He yanked open the shop door and went inside. "Gordon!" he gasped in fresh surprise.

Gaping at him from behind a counter littered with shattered glass was the fugitive. The man's shifty eyes darted to and fro, then with warning he lunged directly toward Joe. Lad braced himself, but Gordon was the stronger. Flinging the boy aside, he dashed from the store.

For an instant Joe hesitated. Should he race after the thief, or should he investigate the present scene? Perhaps someone had just been hurt!

A glance through the shattered display window decided him. There was his brother in the very act of pursuing the fleeing Moe Gordon.

"I guess Frank will get him all right," said Joe to himself. ''Now let's see what's going on here."

"Mister! Run fetch a police fellow! My shop, she is done for!" came a shrill voice close at hand.

As the smoke and dust cleared gradually from the interior of the tiny shop Joe saw a small, beady-eyed man with a pointed goatee beckoning to him from a corner of the room.

"Are you hurt?" the younger Hardy lad inquired, looking at the agitated fellow anxiously.

"No matter about me. Look at my shop! The big sedan–she run right through the window! Oh, oh, she is owing me ten thousand dollars' damages!"

Moaning and wringing his hands the man paced to and fro blinking at the wreckage.

"What about the driver of the car? Where is he? Is he injured?" Joe asked.

He was about to climb through the debris to make an investigation when the car door opened. A tall, distinguished-looking man, whose clothes were in a state of wild disarray, stepped down. Knocked out momentarily, he had been lying on the seat of the automobile.

"Is anyone hurt? I'm very sorry this happened," he said in a deep voice that wavered somewhat.

"Ah! You are the fellow that ruinated my little shop," screamed the fussy man with the goatee. ''You will pay me!''

"Pardon me, sir," Joe interrupted, "but is there anything I can do for you? Are you in need of a doctor?"

"A little scratched but otherwise all right, thank you," replied the newcomer. "This is indeed an unfortunate occurrence. In trying to avoid colliding with a fire engine, I found myself forced off the road. My car went out of control and–"

"And you shall pay me," hissed the unpleasant shopkeeper. "Just look! My window! My counter! My candies! I shall get a lawyer and sue you!"

The tall man's face blanched. "Now, now, my good sir, please calm yourself. The damages shall be paid, of course. I hardly think, however, that they will run into the thousands.''

"Ah, that's what you think," howled the shopkeeper venomously. "The damages–"

"By the way," interrupted Joe, looking the shopkeeper squarely in the eye, "weren't you sheltering an escaped criminal a few minutes ago? Wasn't that Moe Gordon behind your counter? And isn't he wanted at police headquarters?"

It was as if Joe had dropped a bombshell. The man's beady eyes took on a look of terror, and sweat poured from his brow. He looked at the tall newcomer, then at Joe.

"There's a prison sentence for anyone harboring criminals,'' Joe went on breezily. ''Perhaps–"

At that instant he heard his name called. "Joe!" cried a voice. "So here's where you've been."

"Did you get him, Frank?"

"Gordon?" Frank's face fell. "He's gone. We had a fight and he stole my wallet. I managed to give him a good thrashing, but he finally got away. Gee, what happened here?''

"This gentleman has just wrecked his car," Joe explained. "The shopkeeper wants thousands of dollars' damages.'' He winked at his brother as he spoke.

"Wasn't Gordon hiding in here?" Frank asked with a sidelong glance at the man with the goatee. "He must have been. I saw him as he was running out."

The tall man stepped up to the shopkeeper. "I think that if you will give me your name, the matter of damages can be arranged," he said.

"I am Charlie Hinchman," snapped the other. "And you will pay me. Your name?"

"I am Arthur Barker, president of the Liberty Company. You can reach me there.''

With an exchange of significant glances the brothers followed Mr. Barker outside.

"Can we take you anywhere?" Joe offered. "Our car is down the street. We have some things to tell you."

Barker looked at them in mild surprise. "Indeed? Very well, let us go down to my office. I should be grateful for the ride. First, I'll identify myself to the authorities and arrange for the disposition of my car."

He spoke to a policeman, called a garage, then joined the boys. They plunged through the crowd which had collected, finally getting to the Hardy car half a block away. Frank started the engine and quickly drove off.

"I'm afraid that fellow Hinchman is going to make plenty of trouble for me," Barker said, worried. "You can see the type of man he is."

"Perhaps we can help you," Frank declared. "You see, we had a little adventure last night that had something to do with your company."

While the man listened the boys related how they had recovered the stolen cases of valuable silver pieces.

"Mighty fine work!" he exclaimed as they continued. "Goodness, I hadn't heard a thing about it. So you are the Hardy boys, eh? Your father's name is well known. Well, here we are. Let's go into my office and complete this story."

Klip was on hand to greet them. Ex-iy, the driver repeated the boys' tale, the boxes are here safe, Mr. Barker, in warehouse."

"But we still haven't caught Gordon," Frank mournfully. "It's all my fault that we haven't. I shouldn't have let him get away."

"Shucks, you couldn't help it," said Joe consolingly. "We'll get him sooner or later.''

"If you need any help from me, don't hesitate to let me know," Mr. Barker offered warmly. "Have you any plans as to how to capture him?"

Frank glanced at his brother. "I think we'll go back to Hinchman's shop, Mr. Barker. Maybe we can pick up a clue there. We'll let you know."

As they drove away, Joe spoke up. "If you could have seen Hinchman's face when I started talking about Gordon, Frank! I'll bet those two are in league."

"I did see his expression when I mentioned Gordon, Joe. But maybe he was just worried about getting money out of Barker for damages."

"Extra money, you mean," Joe smiled. "Well, maybe he was. But I’ve a hunch there's something more to it than that. Why was Gordon hiding in the shop in the first place?"

"He might have run in there because it was handiest place," suggested Frank.

''Maybe so. Well, here we are. Look, the crowd's bigger than ever. There's the wrecker taking Mr. Barker's car away."

After parking, the boys hurried toward the throng. Once again they could hear Hinchman's raucous voice above everything, shrieking:

"Get away from my shop, the whole kit-and-kiboodle of you! And stop stealing my candies, you dratted kids!"

Joe suppressed a snicker. "Look, Frank, every youngster in the neighborhood is helping himself to that spilled candy. Boy, is that man mad!"

"All right, get away from the store, everybody,'' rang out the voice of a police officer.

He strode through the crowd and the onlookers gradually dispersed.

''Shall we see if we can make Hinchman talk about Gordon?" suggested Joe.

Frank shook his head. "If he knows anything about the thief he certainly won't tell us about it."

"Listen, Frank, if those two really are in league, they'll be in communication sooner or later. For one thing, Gordon will want to know who are after him and where they're looking."

"You're probably right but that doesn't help any. Unless–"

"Unless we keep a close watch on Hinchman night and day," said Joe.

His brother nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that would be our best bet, at least for the time being. We'll have to be careful, though, that Hinchman doesn't spot us."

«I tell you what, Frank. See that vacant store diagonally across the street from Hinchman's? There's an alley next to it. Let's hide there and keep watch.''

It was a tedious assignment. The brothers relieved each other only long enough to get a light repast. The shopkeeper spent the entire day superintending several carpenters in the repair of the damage. Finally, as the boys were about to give up in weary disgust, the workmen vent away. The proprietor's wiry form was silhouetted against a light deep in the interior of the partly repaired shop.

"Now's our chance," Frank whispered. "Let's get closer and see what he's up to."

Stealthily they stole across the street in the gathering dusk and approached the store. Frank nudged his brother. "He's talking to somebody, Joe! I thought he was alone.''

The brothers crept to the edge of the broken display window. Cautiously Joe leaned over and peeped inside.

"He is alone, Frank! He's talking on the phone! Listen!"

The muffled tones of the shopkeeper drifted out to them. At first they could distinguish none of the words, then a startling sentence came to their ears.

"No, no, Gordon, don't come here tonight," Hinchman was saying. He was speaking in a low tone of voice with no rasp in it. "The police will catch you sure. What's that? The two Hardy brats?" The rest of the conversation died away in the sound made by a passing automobile.

CHAPTER V

THE UNWELCOME VISITOR

As the noise of the passing car faded away the boys could hear Hinchman's voice again, with excitement, they leaned as close to broken window as they dared. "What's that?" the proprietor hissed into telephone. "Does anyone suspect me? Police? No! Everybody thinks just what I want them to think–that this is a candy store and I am the dumb shopkeeper. Hah!''

They could hear a sharp crack as Hinchman flipped his thigh in an explosion of laughter. Then came a long silence, finally followed by the loan's voice again.

"Yes, it's too bad you didn't get away with the Liberty Company boxes, Gordon. But never mind. Next time we'll do better. So long as nobody knows this little candy store is the headquarters for our trucking business! Ha, some joke, eh? Listen, Gordon, I'll tell you something–"

The boys exchanged triumphant looks as Hinchman's voice sank to an inaudible whisper. 'Guess we really have something to report to now!'' smiled Joe.

"I'll say we have. Come on, we'd better not lose any time. We'll phone him right away."

Together the boys raced down the street and jumped into their car. Five minutes later they hurried into the railroad station where there was a public telephone booth.

"Hello, Dad!" said Frank excitedly a few moments later. "We've traced the trucking gang to their den. No, we'd better not say any more on the phone. Can you come to Aberdeen right away? First thing in the morning? Fine! We'll be at the Lenox Hotel," decided the boy quickly.

The brothers hardly slept, so eager were they to tell their father of the developments in the case.

"What time is Dad's train due?" Joe queried as they dressed shortly after dawn.

"Six-thirty. We'll just about have time to grab a bite of breakfast and get to the station.''

Their faces wreathed in grins, the boys greeted their famous father as he stepped off the train.

''So you really have accomplished something, boys? That's fine. Let's go back to your hotel and talk it over," he suggested.

During the next hour the brothers related in detail everything that had transpired since they had left Bayport. From their father's expression it was evident to them that their work met with his positive approval.

"The question is, what shall we do next, Dad?" Frank asked, as they finished their story.

"You two wait here till I come back," advised Mr. Hardy. "I think I'll have a little chat with Hinchman."

The detective put on his hat and stalked off in the direction Frank indicated. A few minutes later he stood nonchalantly peering through the broken display window of the confectionery shop.

"I see you've had an accident," he drawled, eyeing a small, ferret-like individual who was stooping behind a counter.

"Eh? What's that?" The man looked up with a start. Seeing an apparent stranger he broke into an unpleasant chuckle. "Oh, yes, I have accident, all right. A man drives his big sedan truck into my poor little store. But he’s shall pay!"

The detective casually walked inside and gazed around. "Nice, cozy little spot you have here. I suppose you'll have it completely fixed up?"

Hinchman's beady eyes surveyed Fenton Hardy suspiciously. "I am having it fixed already. The carpenters, they are coming back at ten o 'clock. Are you a stranger in town, Mister?"

Mr. Hardy shrugged his shoulders. "I'm interested in the possible purchase of a small store, to run as a sort of hobby."

The shopkeeper's eyes suddenly gleamed.

"Ah! You are a man after my own heart, Mister. I do the same. My little candy store is my hobby. It is good to have a hobby, yes?"

The detective's face was inscrutable. "You have some other business, then?"

"Ah, yes. I am really a-a truck-a mover. My moving business is at Carside. When I get too tired from that I come over and run my place here."

Mr. Hardy gazed about a moment. "You wouldn't be interested in selling your store to a man who wants a hobby, would you?" he asked casually.

Hinchman cocked his head to one side. ''Oh, no, Mister. It is my-my hobby. I do not want to sell."

The detective eyed the other levelly. "Not even for a-a considerable price?''

"Ah, well, perhaps we can get together, Mister. Naturally I do not wish to sell. But at a price-well!" He shrugged. "What do you think my fine business is worth, Mister?"

"I'd have to think it over," said the detective. "First I must know whether you might be willing to part with it.''

He started toward the door. Hinchman scurried after him.

"You make me a fair proposition, Mister, and the store is yours! Just a fair price, Mister, that's all I ask."

"Thank you. I'll think it over and let you know."

Leaving the shopkeeper staring uncertainly after him, Fenton Hardy sauntered away. Hardly had he gone out of earshot, than Hinchman looked up with a start. Someone was pounding on the back door. There were three knocks, then one knock, then three more knocks.

"Ah! It is Matty Storch. Wonder what he wants?" he said half-aloud, going to the rear of the store and turning a key.

"It's about time you let me in, Charlie," came a whisper, as a slender young man with ugly features slipped inside. "I've been tapping our code for ten minutes."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I had a-a customer in the shop, Matty. Don't be mad. What's the trouble?"

"You'll have another customer in the shop pretty soon if you're not careful. Fenton Hardy's in town!"

"Hardy? Fenton Hardy?"

"Yes, Fenton Hardy, the detective! I saw him at the station this morning. Came in on the six-thirty train. Better watch out, Charlie. We don't want to get tangled with that fellow."

The shopkeeper's eyes popped. "What does he look like, Matty? Is he big and tall? Has he got gray hair? Did he wear a gray hat?''

The ugly young man nodded vigorously. '"That's the fellow, all right. Why? Say, what's ailing you?"

Hinchman was running up and down, wringing his hands and groaning. "Oh, my! Oh, my! Matty, everything is lost! Oh, my, why am I so dumb!''

The young man was staring openmouthed at the distraught shopkeeper. "Say, what's this all about? Did you see Hardy? Tell me!"

Hinchman suddenly stopped his pacing. "Listen, Matty. This morning I was standing here behind my counter. A man comes along and looks in the window–"

Two blocks away in the Hotel Lenox another whispered conference was taking place.

"There's no doubt about Hinchman being in league with the trucking thieves," Fenton Hardy was saying to his sons. "And the candy store, of course, is a cover-up."

He described his interview with the shopkeeper while the boys listened eagerly.

"I think, though, that we'd better proceed carefully," the detective continued. "In the first place, the matter of damages should be settled between Barker and Hinchman. With that out of the way our work will be easier."

"Then let's go right over and see Mr. Barker," Frank suggested. "He should be in his office now."

Half an hour later they were seated around the desk of the distinguished-looking executive. The boys had introduced their father and had informed Mr. Barker of their suspicions concerning Hinchman.

"I certainly shall cooperate with you in every way possible," said the man after hearing their story. "The trucking thieves must be stopped at all costs, of course. I agree with you that, in the meantime, a damage settlement must be made with Hinchman as our first step.'' He pressed a buzzer and a young woman appeared. "Miss "Weed, please phone Mr. Hinchman and ask him if he will be so kind as to come here this evening at eight. Tell him I shall discuss payment for damages at that time."

The secretary disappeared. In the brief silence that followed Frank and Joe gazed wide-eyed at a veritable mass of relics on display in the room. Mr. Barker smiled.

"Yes, boys, those are pieces I've picked up here and there on my travels abroad. That vase came from Siam. That teakwood chair I bought in India. My special hobby is collecting swords, though. I have a great many of them at my home. I'd like to show them to you.''

The brothers said they certainly would like to see them.

"What about this sheathed sword, Mr. Barker?'' Joe asked, pointing to an old weapon hanging over the president's desk. ''Golly, it's a huge thing."

"That," said Mr. Barker, "is my pride and joy. It is a broadsword used by a Crusader during the Holy Wars in the Middle Ages. His name is engraved on the blade and the family coat-of-arms is on the hilt. I found the sword in a small out-of-the-way shop in Europe."

At this moment the secretary returned. ''Mr. Hinchman says eight o'clock will be all right,'' she said. ''He promised to be here on the dot.''

Fenton Hardy stood up. "In that event I think I shall do some other work for the present and wait till I hear what is decided between yourself and the shopkeeper."

"Very good, Mr. Hardy," returned the executive. "I'll have a chat with the man, offer him what I consider to be fair payment, and see how he acts. As soon as he leaves I'll phone you. That should be about nine o 'clock.''

As he noticed the boys again looking at the sword, Mr. Barker asked if they would like to see his collection of them right then. "I'm going home to a late luncheon," he said. "Suppose you come along and eat with me. Then I'll show you my treasures," he added.

Frank and Joe were delighted with the invitation. Mr. Hardy declined, but his sons accompanied the man to his car and rode toward his home. They found their host to be a delightful person, full of interesting stories of the Crusaders and other ancient warriors.

"You know," he smiled, "our own soldiers are a bit like the old knights who rode forth encased in armor. Only today the fiery steeds are engines and the armor is steel tanks!"

In a few minutes the boys found themselves driving through the gates of a beautiful estate. Large trees shaded a vine-covered brick mansion. The interior of the house was richly fur–with, hangings and rugs as fine as museum pieces.

"My father also was a collector," said Mr. Barker in explanation. "Many of the things you see here belonged to him. He traced his, ancestry back many generations and enjoyed trying to find articles belonging to his forebears. We think the knight whose name is on the sword in my office was an ancestor of ours."

"Then that makes the weapon doubly valuable to you, doesn't it?" suggested Frank.

"Yes," agreed the owner. "I should hate to lose it or have anything happen to it.''

Luncheon was announced by a butler. The boys, who had had an early breakfast, were very hungry and greatly enjoyed the meal. Their host encouraged them to tell him of their adventures. Though modest about their exploits, the boys told enough for him to realize they were capable of undertaking to solve almost any mystery.

"My young days were not so exciting," he smiled. "Well, come along," he added, rising from the table. ''Now I'll show you my collection of swords. They represent mystery and excitement of several ages ago."

"I almost wish I had lived then," sighed Joe.

If the boys had tried to guess ahead of time the number of pieces on display they would have failed by several hundred. When Mr. Barker opened a door to a large room, Frank and Joe were astounded. Before their eyes were four walls covered solidly with every type of sword known to a collector. Some were several feet long, others only inches in length. Among them were both dull and shiny weapons, with wide or narrow blades, depending upon their use.

The hilts fascinated the boys. Several had coats-of-arms on them, others were plain with a holy cross embossed on the metal. A few were studded with jewels.

"This exhibition is marvelous!" cried Joe. "It would take days to study these swords carefully."

"You're right," agreed Mr. Barker, "and I want you to come again some time. But before we leave, I must show you my most precious collection. It's in that cabinet in the corner."

He preceded Frank and Joe, opening the door to a high massive chest made of oak. Within hung rows of short, exquisitely made weapons, all with precious stones embedded in the hilts.

"These are very rare," explained Mr. Barker. "In fact, I doubt that there is another in the whole world like any one of them. If I were to–"

The man stopped speaking suddenly and a strange look came over his face.

"Is something the matter?" Frank inquired.

"I-I'm afraid I've been robbed!" Mr. Barker replied in a tone which implied he could not believe his own words.

CHAPTER VI

THE BROKEN BLADE

The Hardy boys were shocked to hear Mr. Barker's words. They expressed their sympathy, then inquired what had been stolen.

"A very valuable and unusual sword," the man answered. "It was used long ago by a matador in bullfights. He must have been a great favorite, for this estoque–that's the name of the matador's sword–is unusually attractive. It must have been presented to him by a very wealthy person; perhaps a king or queen.''

"Why should anyone steal just that particular sword?" Joe asked. "Others here surely are just as valuable."

"I can't imagine why," said Mr. Barker. "Perhaps the thief planned to take more but was frightened away. This room hasn't been locked for some time, but from now on it will be!"

He strode ahead of the boys into the hall and summoned the butler. After telling the man what had happened, he asked that the key to the museum be brought to him.

"And you recall seeing or hearing no stranger around here at any time lately?" he inquired of the servant.

''No sir, "the butler replied. ''And I haven't been away from the house for a week," he added, leaving the room to get the key his employer wished.

Frank and Joe asked if there was anything they could do in regard to the mystery of the stolen estoque.

"Thank you, no," said Mr. Barker. "I'll notify the police, but I presume that finding the weapon will be like hunting for a needle in a haystack. But maybe a good detective–why, I had forgotten entirely for the moment."

"Forgotten what, Mr. Barker?" Joe inquired.

"That you boys have solved so many mysteries!" he smiled. "How would you like to find my estoque for me?"

"I'd like nothing better!" cried Frank.

"Just give me a chance!" echoed Joe.

So it was settled that the police would not be notified until the Hardy boys had had a chance to locate the valuable stolen weapon.

"May we stay here for a while this afternoon and start work?" Joe asked excitedly.

"Yes indeed," replied Mr. Barker. "But don't begin by being suspicious of the servants. All of them have been here many years and are entirely trustworthy. "Well, I must get back to the Liberty Company now. Good luck in your work."

After the man had gone the boys started their investigation. After a two hour search they gave up. Not one piece of evidence had come to light.

"The thief certainly covered his tracks well," sighed Frank, discouraged. "I guess this case will be one to be solved by headwork rather than footwork."

"Maybe you're right," agreed his brother, "so let's start figuring the solution by guesswork. Idea Number One: maybe the estoque is in some pawnshop."

"Idea Two: it may have been sold to a collector," offered Frank. "Or Number Three: the weapon may have been stolen for some sinister use."

"Like stabbing a bull?" grinned Joe.

"I wish it might be as unimportant as that," said his brother. ''But I'm afraid we may pick up the paper some morning and find a story."

"Wow, you give me the shivers, Frank. Let's talk about something cheerful," pleaded Joe. "Say, we'd better get back to the hotel. Dad will wonder where we've been all afternoon."

Their father had not known of his sons' long absence, for he had been busy gathering some Useful data about valuable shipments of cargo. Upon meeting Frank and Joe he heard the story of the stolen matador 's sword with great interest. He thought it a most unusual theft.

"I hope you find the estoque, boys," he said encouragingly. "And one little tip. Look among your bullfighters for the thief."

The eyes of the two young Hardys opened wide. They gazed at their father in admiration.

"We never thought of that!" admitted Frank.

"There aren't any matadors in this country," groaned Joe. "We can't go skipping off to this land and that hunting up bullfighters! What'll we do?"

The detective smiled. "Don't give up so easily," he counseled his sons. "You may get a clue unexpectedly. In the meantime, let's plug at this mystery of the cargo thieves, and more especially on Gordon and Hinchman."

The three Hardys discussed the day's events at the evening meal, but decided to draw no conclusions yet. They would await word of the outcome of the interview to be held at the Liberty Company.

"Golly, I didn't realize it was this late," Joe exclaimed suddenly, looking at his watch after dinner. "It's past eight-thirty already."

"Then we haven't long to wait to hear from Mr. Barker," said his brother with quickening pulse.