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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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generation to take an interest in the world situation. Otherwise the future's going to be as stupid as the present is."
"Yell that I'm hurt and bleeding. You're afraid I'm dying," he mouthed.
Nodding, Jeanne kept on talking, about school, her parents, dates, her favorite television shows.
Joe took just a few minutes to make the wooden chair tip over. It smashed quite satisfactorily on the hard floor.
Joe got clear, moving to a position at the side of the door, clutching a chair leg. He gave Jeanne a nod.
"Help!" she cried, sobbing. "Oh, please, can you hear me? He fell over, and he's hurt his head. There's blood all over!"
As the guard burst through the door, Joe circled down on him with his best roundhouse punch.
***
Frank took a big chance and threw himself forward, smashing the guy's gun hand down. He heard the big automatic thump to the ground.
Frank rose, kicked the gun into the shadows, and ran through the high, wild grass around the old academy.
He found another break in the stone wall, ducked through, and dashed for his car. The tires screeched as he took off, barely masking the sound of the gunshot not far behind.
He drove on, until he found a diner. The fat man behind the counter looked up as Frank came through the door. "How about a dozen doughnuts?"
"Uh, actually, I just want some change for the phone," Frank told him.
"A half dozen, then," the man said. "A half-dozen doughnuts for fifty cents is a good deal, my boy."
"I'm not denying that. But I — "
"See, I'm planning to close this place in exactly one half hour. Usually I sell out the doughnuts, but tonight I'm stuck with a full dozen left over."
"Okay, give me a half dozen." Frank slapped a dollar bill on the counter. "I'll use the change for the phone."
"Why not go for the whole dozen, my boy? You can have them for seventy-five cents. That's an even more astonishing bargain."
"Fine, great. Just so I get change for the phone."
The counterman picked up the dollar bill, carried it to his ancient cash register. After whapping it a few times with his fist, nudging it with an elbow, and pushing several keys, he got it open. He returned with the change jingling in his palm. "Eighty, eighty-five — ninety — one buck it is."
Frank ran to the phone booth at the back of the empty coffee shop. Dropping in his money, he punched in the Hardy home number.
His aunt Gertrude answered at once. "Hello?"
"It's Frank. Any news about — "
"Yes, Joe just called. He's on his way home."
"Is he okay?"
"Well, he claims to be, but he sounds as though he's coming down with something," his aunt answered. "He said to tell you he's found the owner of the scarf and is bringing her, too."
"I'm on my way now." Frank had been debating whether or not to track down Kevin Branders and make him lead the way to where Joe and Jeanne were being held. But he'd decided to check home first. Now he wouldn't have to visit Kevin. Not yet, anyway.
He was nearly out to the street when the counterman called out, "Hey, wait, you forgot your doughnuts."
***
Joe dug his hand into the paper bag, pulling out another doughnut. "Sure, I can eat at a time like this," he assured his brother. "Just watch me."
The Hardys and Jeanne, after Frank had persuaded their aunt Gertrude to withdraw, were meeting in the living room.
"Fine — enjoy them." Frank turned to face Jeanne on the sofa. "Now explain how you got clear of the kidnappers."
"He was very clever," said Jeanne, smiling at Joe.
"Well, actually the guy Curt Branders left to guard us was big, but he wasn't smart," Joe said modestly as he took a bite of his second cruller. "After I knocked him out, I figured it was a good idea for us to get clear of that furniture warehouse as soon as possible."
"You saw Branders? He's in Bayport?"
"And he's up to his neck in whatever's going on," answered Joe. "He's just using this Circle thing as a cover for something much more serious."
"But how does this Gramatkee fit in?"
"Yell that I'm hurt and bleeding. You're afraid I'm dying," he mouthed.
Nodding, Jeanne kept on talking, about school, her parents, dates, her favorite television shows.
Joe took just a few minutes to make the wooden chair tip over. It smashed quite satisfactorily on the hard floor.
Joe got clear, moving to a position at the side of the door, clutching a chair leg. He gave Jeanne a nod.
"Help!" she cried, sobbing. "Oh, please, can you hear me? He fell over, and he's hurt his head. There's blood all over!"
As the guard burst through the door, Joe circled down on him with his best roundhouse punch.
***
Frank took a big chance and threw himself forward, smashing the guy's gun hand down. He heard the big automatic thump to the ground.
Frank rose, kicked the gun into the shadows, and ran through the high, wild grass around the old academy.
He found another break in the stone wall, ducked through, and dashed for his car. The tires screeched as he took off, barely masking the sound of the gunshot not far behind.
He drove on, until he found a diner. The fat man behind the counter looked up as Frank came through the door. "How about a dozen doughnuts?"
"Uh, actually, I just want some change for the phone," Frank told him.
"A half dozen, then," the man said. "A half-dozen doughnuts for fifty cents is a good deal, my boy."
"I'm not denying that. But I — "
"See, I'm planning to close this place in exactly one half hour. Usually I sell out the doughnuts, but tonight I'm stuck with a full dozen left over."
"Okay, give me a half dozen." Frank slapped a dollar bill on the counter. "I'll use the change for the phone."
"Why not go for the whole dozen, my boy? You can have them for seventy-five cents. That's an even more astonishing bargain."
"Fine, great. Just so I get change for the phone."
The counterman picked up the dollar bill, carried it to his ancient cash register. After whapping it a few times with his fist, nudging it with an elbow, and pushing several keys, he got it open. He returned with the change jingling in his palm. "Eighty, eighty-five — ninety — one buck it is."
Frank ran to the phone booth at the back of the empty coffee shop. Dropping in his money, he punched in the Hardy home number.
His aunt Gertrude answered at once. "Hello?"
"It's Frank. Any news about — "
"Yes, Joe just called. He's on his way home."
"Is he okay?"
"Well, he claims to be, but he sounds as though he's coming down with something," his aunt answered. "He said to tell you he's found the owner of the scarf and is bringing her, too."
"I'm on my way now." Frank had been debating whether or not to track down Kevin Branders and make him lead the way to where Joe and Jeanne were being held. But he'd decided to check home first. Now he wouldn't have to visit Kevin. Not yet, anyway.
He was nearly out to the street when the counterman called out, "Hey, wait, you forgot your doughnuts."
***
Joe dug his hand into the paper bag, pulling out another doughnut. "Sure, I can eat at a time like this," he assured his brother. "Just watch me."
The Hardys and Jeanne, after Frank had persuaded their aunt Gertrude to withdraw, were meeting in the living room.
"Fine — enjoy them." Frank turned to face Jeanne on the sofa. "Now explain how you got clear of the kidnappers."
"He was very clever," said Jeanne, smiling at Joe.
"Well, actually the guy Curt Branders left to guard us was big, but he wasn't smart," Joe said modestly as he took a bite of his second cruller. "After I knocked him out, I figured it was a good idea for us to get clear of that furniture warehouse as soon as possible."
"You saw Branders? He's in Bayport?"
"And he's up to his neck in whatever's going on," answered Joe. "He's just using this Circle thing as a cover for something much more serious."
"But how does this Gramatkee fit in?"
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