Mystery of the Whale Tattoo by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

of them. And now, Charlie ... Oh, excuse me. Frank and Joe, I’d like you to meet Charlie, a soda-making genius!”
    The man behind the counter smiled. “Your friend here is a marvel. I’ve never seen anybody put’em away like him.”
    â€œThat’s the problem,” Chet explained. “Charlie was so impressed that he offered me a King-Size Wonder—that’s his specialty—on the house. I’m not sure I can handle it, but I just can’t bring myself to turn it down!”
    As the crowd chattered encouragingly, Frank and Joe shook their heads in amazement. “How do you do it, Chet?” Frank asked. “How in the world do you do it?”
    â€œI have a natural talent,” Chet replied modestly.
    â€œWell, what’s it going to be?” Charlie asked cheerfully. “A King-Size Wonder or defeat?”
    Chet gnawed on his lower lip. A freckled red-head clapped him on the back. “Hey, buddy, I got an idea. Why don’t you take a couple of spins around the block. That’ll work off some of the sodas you’ve already had, and give you the room you need to take on the big baby.”
    Chet contemplated this a moment, then smiled and stood up. “Ordinarily,” he said, “I shun physical exercise. But this is a worthy cause and I feel that a sacrifice is in order.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit,” Charlie said.
    Chet walked out of the drugstore. He stood on the sidewalk, hitched up his pants, and rubbed his hands together. A determined look settled over his face, then he jogged down the block. The freckle-faced boy and another fan went with him.
    Ten minutes and two laps later, Chet returned to his stool in front of the counter. Charlie had the King-Size Wonder waiting. It was a huge soda, made with four flavors of ice cream and enhanced with a great variety of nuts and fruits. A large mound of whipped cream topped it and a bright-red cherry sat at the peak of the whipped cream. The audience murmured appreciatively.
    Chet picked up his spoon, looked around like a matador, then tackled the soda. His fans cheered as he ate with a slow, steady rhythm. When he reached the halfway mark, the spectators began to applaud. The sound of their clapping hands grew progressively louder as the tubby boy neared the end, then broke into a wild crescendo when Chet scooped out the last bit of ice cream.
    â€œI wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” Frank said.
    Chet’s admirers followed the boys out of the store, congratulating him heartily. A block and a half later the last of the fans fell away. Chet sighed and patted his stomach. “A truly inspiring experience,” he said.
    Frank and Joe could do nothing but express their awe. Then the subject turned to what had happened at the shack. “So that cute blonde of yours,” Frank finished, “was none other than Baby Face!”
    â€œOh, no!” Chet exclaimed. Then he said quickly, “I almost forgot. I have some news for you, too.”
    â€œWhat?” Frank asked.
    â€œKnocker Felsen’s in Mystic. He’s looking for you.”
    â€œYou’re kidding!” Joe exploded.
    â€œNo I’m not.”
    â€œWhat’s he want?” Frank asked.
    â€œI don’t know. He wouldn’t say. But I told him he could find us at Mrs. Snow’s house.”
    â€œOh, that’s great!” Joe said. “Didn’t you stop to think that Felsen may be a member of the gang we’re after?”
    Chet looked embarrassed. Apparently this possibility had not occurred to him. “I’m sorry, fellows. Since he came looking for you right out in the open...” He held his hands up helplessly.
    â€œWhat’s done is done,” Frank remarked. “I think we should play it cool and approach Mrs. Snow’s place indirectly, in case Felsen is up to something sneaky.”
    Three blocks from Mrs. Snow’s house the boys