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Mouth!”
    â€œHe’s probably banking on Satoya being too publicity shy to take him to court. Or maybe he just likes to hear himself talk, and let his mouth run away with him.”
    From the pompous tone of the interview, Humber did indeed sound as if he enjoyed basking in the limelight, however briefly or unimportantly.
    â€œWe still ought to check this out,” Frank said soberly as he handed back the paper to his brother.
    â€œRight.” Joe nodded. “If he knows something we don’t know, the sooner we find out the better!”
    Mr. Hardy had gone out again after dinner to resume his own investigative work, so the boys were unable to ask his advice. Frank, therefore, took the most direct approach. He called the wealthy collector for an appointment.
    â€œHm, haven’t I heard your name before?” Dobert Humber said.
    â€œOur father’s a private investigator,” Frank replied. “He’s quite well known.”
    â€œOh yes. And you and your brother run some kind of boyish detective service, I believe.”
    â€œThat’s right. We’re trying to find out what happened to Mr. Satoya. That’s why we’d like to talk to you about that stolen sword.”
    â€œI see. Well, if I can be of any help, I shall be glad to spare you a few minutes. It’s quite possible my knowledge and expertise may shed some light on the mystery.”
    Joe flashed his brother a questioning glance as Frank hung up the phone a few seconds later.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œHe’ll see us tonight,” Frank said with a grimace. “Sounds like a real fathead!”
    The boys drove out to see Humber, who lived in a beautiful wooded area outside of town. His home, built of gray stone, looked like a huge old English manor house. As they started up to the front door after parking their car, Frank suddenly put a hand on his brother’s right arm.
    Joe guessed at once that Frank had noticed something unusual. “What is it?” he murmured.
    â€œLeft side of the house. Thought I saw a movement in the shadows.”
    Without any hasty action that might telegraph their intentions, Joe casually returned to the car and got a flashlight. Then he and Frank darted in opposite directions, trying to cut off the intruder’s escape. But the flashlight beam failed to reveal any lurking figures.
    â€œMaybe I was seeing things again,” Frank fretted.
    â€œMaybe and maybe not. Never hurts to check.”
    A butler admitted the boys to the drawing room where Humber was waiting. If their host recognized the Hardys as the two youths he had bumped into at Bayshore College, he gave no sign. Instead, he offered them refreshments and insisted on showing them his collection of rare weapons.
    Most of them were displayed in glass cases or hung on the walls of his study. Frank and Joe were fascinated as Humber pointed out his treasures. Among them were an ancient Saxon war axe dating back before the Norman Conquest of England, a knobkerry or African throwing club, a two-bladed scissors dagger from the Middle East, and a katar or punch dagger from India. The latter had a handle with twin crossbars, which the user could hold in order to jab an enemy, the same way a boxer punches with his fist.
    â€œAnd this curious weapon also comes from India,” said Humber, holding up a small but vicious-looking device. “These curved steel blades are called ‘tiger claws.’”

    The claws were attached to a steel bar with a little ring at each end. Humber showed the boys how the wearer could slip his first and little fingers through these rings in order to slash an opponent.
    â€œWow!” Joe muttered. “I’d hate to tangle with anyone wearing those!”
    â€œA very nasty weapon,” Humber agreed. “I’m told these were often used sneakily, to attack an enemy off guard.”
    He seemed pleased by the boys’ interest in his collection and answered all