Read Online The Clue in the Embers by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online

short, slender, and had a black mustache. When Frank got a better look at the man, he was fairly sure that he was the one who had shot the arrowhead at Joe.
    But in the same instant the man had evidently recognized Frank. He whirled and disappeared down an apartment-house cellarway!
    Frank dashed up the street after him. But just before reaching the apartment house he stopped. Had the man fled through the building? And was he armed? Suppose his enemy was aiming a deadly arrowhead at that very moment, ready to let it fly at him!

CHAPTER XI
    A Near Capture
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    FRANK realized that he was exposed to the deadly aim of the blowgun marksman and quickly darted out of range, hiding behind a parked car. He ducked low to lessen the chance of being hit by his concealed enemy, and dashed across the street to take refuge in a doorway.
    â€œHey, Frank!” a familiar voice rang out as the young detective crouched, waiting for the mustached man’s next move. “What are you doing—playing hide-and-seek?”
    â€œChet!” Frank cried as his stout friend ambled across the street toward him. “Hurry!”
    â€œWhat’s up?” Chet asked as he joined Frank in the shadow of the doorway. He told his friend that he was on his way to buy some horse feed.
    Frank quickly related what had happened. Then he asked Chet to run to police headquarters two blocks distant. “Tell them to rush a patrol car to 48 Weller Street!”
    Without even a backward glance, Chet hurried away. Frank kept his eyes glued to the building entrance but saw no sign of the fugitive. Minutes passed. Grimly Frank thought, “Did Chet get to the police safely?”
    Then the welcome wail of a siren sounded as a radio car streaked around the corner. As it pulled up, Frank dashed from his hiding place.
    â€œThe man’s in there!” he cried to Sergeant Murphy, who was in charge of four policemen. They leaped from the car. As everyone ran toward the house, Frank described the suspect. “And be careful,” he warned. “He’s got a deadly aim!”
    â€œCover the back entrance!” Murphy tersely commanded two of the officers. He instructed a third policeman to stay with Frank out front, then he and the fourth man dashed into the building.
    The small crowd that had gathered to watch the action started to disperse when Sergeant Murphy and the other officer emerged from the building without a prisoner.
    â€œSorry, Frank,” the sergeant said, “but we’ve found no trace of a black-mustached man. We checked every apartment. The superintendent tells me that no one in the building matches your description.”
    Murphy called back the other patrolmen. Frank, smarting with disappointment, thanked the police for their effort. The officers pulled away.
    â€œI’m still not satisfied that blowgun guy is not in there,” Frank told Chet. “Let’s watch the place for a while.”
    They took up a position in a diner from which they had a clear view of the apartment house.
    â€œDo you really believe he’s still in there?” Chet asked, munching on his third jelly doughnut. “We’ve been here half an hour.”
    Without taking his eyes off the entrance, Frank replied, “If we wait long enough we may see him.” Ten more minutes passed. Frank began to think about his brother and Tony. They would be waiting at the crosstown avenue.
    â€œChet!” he suddenly gasped. “There he is now —what a break!” He pointed to a short, slender man leaving the front door of the building.
    â€œBut you said he had a mustache!” Chet exclaimed. “This man doesn’t!”
    â€œHe must have shaved it off,” Frank replied.
    â€œAnd he’s wearing a different suit. But there’s no question in my mind that he’s our boy!” Quickly Frank opened the diner door and motioned for his friend to follow.
    â€œWhat are we going