Infinity Clue Part 5

They were very close, so when Mr. Rutlidge did this without so much as an explanation, she was surprised and disturbed."

"Does the name Boswell mean anything to you?" Frank asked, changing his line of questioning. "He's the curator of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History."

Wilkinson brightened. "Oh my, yes! Mr. Rutlidge and Mr. Boswell were childhood friends, and the two saw each other quite often." The butler's smile dropped from his face. "In fact, Mr. Boswell was here for a visit just a couple of days before the terrible accident. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," Frank said offhandedly. "Just trying to be thorough. By the way, did Boswell know Meg Rutlidge well, too?"

"Of course," Wilkinson replied. "She's known him all her life."

"How can we get in touch with her?" Frank asked.

"She lives in Baltimore. But you should ask the head trainer, Max, for her exact address. Right now they're trying to settle the estate. Both Meg and Max are supposed to get part, and they're negotiating for it at present."

Frank and Joe thanked Wilkinson for his help. Then they left the old manor house, walking down the hill behind the building to the stables where they found Max. He was shorter than both brothers, and had coa.r.s.e black hair that seemed to be uncontrollable. His hands were too big for his body.

"Yes, I know the diamond was stolen," Max said after he heard their story. "It was on the radio this morning. Say, aren't you the guys who are supposed to have taken it?"

Frank explained that they hadn't stolen the gem, and were presently trying to track down the thief who had.

"Well, what brings you out here?" Max asked as he led a horse from its stall and saddled it up. "Mr.

Rutlidge gave the diamond to the Smithsonian, and everyone around here is happy to be rid of it. Nothing but bad luck, that stone."

"We find the circ.u.mstances of Mr. Rutlidge's streak of bad luck somewhat curious," Frank said.

"Especially since he willed the gem just prior to his accident. It was almost as if he knew what might happen, and was trying to prevent someone from getting his hands on it."

Max shot a sharp glance at the young detectives, then grinned. "Why don't we get you a couple of horses and talk about it while we take a ride?"

"Sure, why not?" the boy replied.

The trainer saddled two mares for Frank and Joe. They started out in a trot over the rolling hillside, then slowed to a walk.

"These used to be fine racehorses," Max said as he pulled alongside Frank and Joe. "Trained them myself. Too old to race anymore, though. We just use them for breeding."

Upon further questioning, the boys learned that Rutlidge's sister had wanted the Faith diamond very much, and had prepared a case to get it back legally from the Smithsonian. Max gave them her address in Baltimore.

Suddenly the sleuths' horses took off as if out of the starting gate of a racetrack. The jolt nearly knocked the boys out of their saddles. Frank managed to grab his reins when his thoroughbred spooked, but Joe had dropped his, and now he hugged the animal's neck as it sped at a full gallop across the field.

However, he gradually began to lose his grip. He tried in vain to slow the animal, which seemed to be driven by some invisible force. Finally, Joe's arm slid from the horse's neck. He grabbed a piece of the saddle, but his balance was going.

"Hold on, Joe!" Frank yelled. He had gained some control over his horse and was pulling alongside his brother. "Jump!" he shouted, urging Joe to leap from one speeding animal to the other.

"I can't!" the younger Hardy yelled back. His foot had become twisted in his stirrup. If he fell now, he would be dragged along under the frenzied racehorse! Yet he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the saddle much longer.

Then, just as suddenly, both horses slowed down and came to a stop. The wild impulse that had possessed them left them the same instant.

"These old beauties still have plenty of steam left in them," Joe groaned as he disentangled himself from the stirrup and climbed down. "I wonder what caused them to spook like that."

Max rode up to the Hardys. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"We're alive," Frank answered with a frown.

"I'm sorry," Max went on. "Sometimes these thoroughbreds get the idea they're back at the racetrack, and they just take off, each trying to outrun the other."

"You could've warned us," Joe grumbled.

Max shrugged and turned back toward the stables.

"Do you think he knew these horses would spook?" Joe murmured to his brother.

"It might have been a good way to put an end to our questions," Frank replied, watching Max disappear up the hill.

"Let's ask him a few questions, like where he was last night when the diamond was stolen," Joe said hotly.

Frank shrugged. "I don't think he'd cooperate. Meg Rutlidge might be a better bet at this point. Boswell didn't tell Detective Barnes that she had been trying to reclaim the stone. If he was trying to cover for someone by accusing Chet of the theft, it may have been Meg!"

"But Chet saw a man enter the museum," Joe argued.

"That doesn't mean she didn't have something to do with it."

The two sleuths took their horses back to the estate. Max had gone, and one of the stable hands led the animals to their stalls.

"We'd better return to town," Joe said as they walked to the car. "We have an appointment at the city dock."

It was dark by the time the two arrived in Was.h.i.+ngton. The dock was located along the Potomac River in the heart of the city. When he found the pier marked number six, Frank pulled the red sports car over to the curb and stopped.

"Well, here we are," he murmured. "I just hope Chet and Fritz are around. This could be trouble."

CHAPTER VIII.

A Clever Deal Pier six was empty except for two people fis.h.i.+ng from the end of the dock. They wore wide-brimmed hats and brightly colored s.h.i.+rts. Figuring them to be Fritz and Chet, the Hardys chuckled at the corny disguise and strolled out on the pier to let them know they had arrived.

"Pssst," Frank whispered loudly as they drew near, "seen anyone around?"

"n.o.body but you guys!" a rough voice answered as the two fishermen jumped to their feet and lunged at Frank and Joe!

Caught off guard, the boys found themselves in the clutches of two strange thugs before they could react.

"We'll take that stone now," Frank's captor demanded. He was a big man with a low, gravelly voice.

"What about the money?" Frank challenged, playing along.

"We'll let you have the money when we see the stone," the man replied, tightening his wrestling hold on Frank.

"That sounds fair." The older Hardy pretended to give in. "But I left it in the car. I'll go and get it for you."

"Go ahead. But if you try anything stupid, remember your brother is with us," the hefty man snarled.

He released Frank, who took one step down the pier, then whirled around and caught him with his fist just above the jaw. In the same instant, Joe hooked his foot around his captor's leg and brought him to the ground.

Fists flew for a few rounds between the battling pairs at the end of the pier, but Frank and Joe were in better physical shape and soon gained the upper hand over their tiring a.s.sailants.

Just then, one of the men hesitated for a second and gestured to his companion to retreat. Both took off down the pier with Joe in pursuit. Frank, however, stood still and stared out across the dark water. He had seen one of the men glance beyond him just before they broke off the fight, as if looking for a signal from somewhere out in the anchorage that lay beyond the docks.

"What happened to you?" Joe said accusingly to his dark-haired brother as he returned from his chase. "I couldn't handle both of those guys all by myself."

"I think I know who arranged this little surprise party," Frank answered. "See that s.h.i.+p anch.o.r.ed over there?"

Joe peered out on the water. A sixty-foot motor yacht lay in the bay, gleaming in the moonlight.

"Someone was on deck watching the whole show through binoculars," Frank went on. "When I spotted him, he put down the gla.s.ses and ducked beneath the railing."

The Hardys hurried to a small marina nearby, where the lights were on. They knocked on the door, and a portly, red-faced dock master greeted them.

"Did you see a couple of guys on the pier with fis.h.i.+ng poles and wide hats?" Joe queried.

The dock master let out a big belly laugh. "You'd be lucky to catch a boot in these waters. n.o.body with any sense would go fis.h.i.+ng around here. Now if you're looking for crabs, that's a different story."

"So you haven't seen two men with fis.h.i.+ng poles," Frank interrupted.

The portly dock master shook his head.

"What about the yacht anch.o.r.ed out in the basin?" Joe asked. "Do you know anything about it?"

"Sure do. A fellow named Jensen owns that beauty. Wayne Jensen is his name. He's been moored out there for a couple of months." The dock master paused. "Say, you youngsters look like you've been in a fight or something."

"We were mugged," Frank said tersely, "And we think Mr. Jensen could have had a hand in it."

"I hardly think Mr. Jensen has to mug people to make money," the portly man told them, his deep laugh bubbling up again. "But if you'd like to discuss it with him, I'll let you use a dinghy to row out there."

The brothers thanked the dock master, who led them to one of several dinghies he had tied at the dock.

Just as Frank and Joe were getting in, though, two figures appeared in the darkness equipped with fis.h.i.+ng poles and wide hats.

"Are those the fellows you were talking about?" the dock master asked.

Without answering, Frank and Joe ran to intercept the muggers. The two tried to avoid them but Frank and Joe stopped them in their tracks with flying tackles. The four landed together in a heap on the ground.

"Hey, what are you guys trying to prove?" a youthful voice cried out.

The Hardys immediately realized that they had just tackled Chet and Fritz! The four got to their feet and dusted themselves off as Frank and Joe apologized and explained their mistake.

"What took you so long to get here, anyway?" Frank questioned his friends. "We could've used your help a few minutes ago."

Fritz explained that he and Chet had come on a couple of motorcycles he kept in his garage. When they left the emba.s.sy, the same gray Peugeot that had followed him to the airport had pulled out behind them.

He and Chet then took different routes, finally shaking the sedan.

Chet drew a rolled up newspaper from his back pocket. "The evening paper just came out. It mentions our names in connection with the diamond theft."

Joe opened up the paper to a small article on the theft. It said that the trio had been released, but were still under suspicion.

"Come on," Frank told his blond brother, "with a little luck, we might be able to clear this thing up tonight."

Leaving Chet and Fritz at the dock to stand guard, Frank and Joe climbed into the dinghy and rowed out to Wayne Jensen's boat.

The night was clear, and the light from a full moon glittered off the surface of the calm Potomac River. As the sleuths drew near the large motor, yacht, they could see a man on the aft deck watching their approach. The boat was even more luxurious than they had guessed from a distance. It looked to be capable of long ocean voyages.

The man aboard the yacht stood up and dropped a ladder over its side.

"Howdy, boys. What can I do for you? I'm Wayne Jensen," he said with a Texas accent as they pulled the dinghy alongside the sixty-foot vessel.

"He's not the phony reporter who put the note in my pocket," Joe said. "But no doubt he's the one who hired that guy."

After obtaining permission to climb aboard, Frank explained that he had some merchandise the man might be interested in.

Jensen eyed the two youths suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"Look," said Frank, "we saw you with your binoculars, watching us as we were jumped on the pier. So don't play innocent."

"Yes, I saw the fight," Jensen admitted, "and I got my binoculars to see what was going on. I would have called the police, but you seemed to be handling the situation very well by yourselves. Probably a couple of muggers, right?"

"No. We had a date with those guys. They were going to buy something from us," Frank said slowly.

"Oh?"

"And we're ready to sell it to you if you have the money!"

Jensen's smile left his face. "I still have no idea what you are driving at, but whatever it is you're involved in, you're barking up the wrong tree."

Frank put his hand in his pocket. He was clearly carrying a small, round object, which he played with in his pocket. Jensen stared at it for a second and a look of anxiety crossed his face.

"What are you boys trying to peddle on me, anyway?" he asked.

"Just a stone," Frank answered.

"What kind of stone?"

Joe handed the Texan the newspaper and pointed out the article on the stolen diamond. The man quickly read it.

"Are you telling me you have this gem with you?" Jensen said coldly. "I could see to it that you're arrested."