The Clue of the Hissing Serpent by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

course they have. Where were you?”
    Frank told their story and finally managed to calm his excited aunt. “Did you hear from Dad?” he asked.
    â€œYes, we did,” Mrs. Hardy replied.
    â€œHas he had any luck?”
    â€œHe said he was making good headway, that’s all.”
    The boys went up to their room and soon returned with clean clothes. They handed the dirty ones to their mother.
    â€œLet me put some antiseptic on your scratches,” Mrs. Hardy said.
    She went to the bathroom to deposit the clothes in the hamper and returned with the liquid. While she pressed soaked cotton swabs against the boys’ injuries, Frank dialed police headquarters.
    â€œHi, Chief. Frank Hardy. I’ve got some good news. The Ocean Bluffs police captured Gerard Henry.”
    â€œHe’s a slick operator,” the chief replied. “How’d they do it?”
    Frank told of their adventure and how they had left the wiretap in place in order to mislead Conrad Greene’s enemies.
    Collig thanked him for his information. “I’ll get in touch with Lieutenant Skillman,” he said. “We can tack a few more charges onto that hoodlum.”
    â€œLike fraud, you mean?”
    â€œThat’s right. Let me know if anything further develops, Frank.”
    The hungry boys had just finished a snack when a youth about eighteen came to the door. He had an envelope marked Bayport Museum for the Hardys.
    Frank took it and the messenger hurried off.
    â€œHey, Joe. I wonder what this is all about,” Frank said and slit open the envelope. On a piece of museum stationery was typed:
    Frank and Joe Hardy:
    May have some information to help you.
    Ruby King
    â€œIs this some kind of a gag?” Joe asked.
    â€œIt may be a trap,” Frank said. “We’re pretty good at falling into those lately, you know.”
    â€œNot this time,” Joe said. “Let’s call the museum and ask about this Ruby King.”
    Frank did not like the idea. “It might be like phoning the zoo and asking for Mr. Fox,” he said. “We’ll go over ourselves tomorrow morning.”
    â€œBut not without bodyguards!”
    The Hardys decided to phone their backup team of Biff Hooper, Tony Prito, and Phil Cohen. The latter was a slight, intense boy with a razor-sharp mind.
    The three friends readily agreed to meet the boys next morning and serve as lookouts around the museum.
    When they rendezvoused at nine o’clock, Joe looked at the austere stone building without windows and said, “Not a very inviting place. When I was a little kid, I used to think this was a mausoleum.”
    Biff, Tony, and Phil stationed themselves on the outside. They would go in if the Hardys were not back in fifteen minutes.
    Frank and Joe bounded up the marble steps and opened the heavy bronze door. Inside sat a blond young woman behind the information desk.
    â€œWe’re here to see Ruby King,” Frank said.
    â€œYou’ll find Mrs. King down the hall in the room marked Ancient Art.”
    â€œYou mean there really is a Ruby King?” Joe asked.
    The receptionist cocked her head and looked at the Hardys quizzically. “What made you think there wasn’t?”
    â€œOh, nothing,” Joe muttered. The boys found the proper door and entered a large high-ceilinged room. In it were plaster facades of ancient buildings, glass cases filled with artifacts, tapestries, and a few paintings.
    Their eyes swept the room, finally coming to rest on a small desk in one corner. Behind it sat a buxom, dark-haired woman. She wore a blue dress and eyeglasses. Her hair was piled high on her head. She smiled as the boys approached.
    â€œYou must be Frank and Joe Hardy.”
    â€œYes,” Joe said, surprised, as the woman continued, “You’re detectives, interested in an ancient Chinese chess piece.”
    Frank laughed. “I think you’re the detective, Mrs. King. By the way, is