Read Online The Ghost at Skeleton Rock by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B

prisoner had been taken to a cell, Lieutenant Garcia turned to the Hardys and said, “May I see the note, please, that was handed to you on the field?”
    When the officer finished studying it, Frank added, “I have a hunch the radio message we got in the plane was a fake, but I’d like to make sure.”
    He asked permission to place a long-distance telephone call to Bayport. In a few minutes Mrs. Hardy’s voice came through.
    â€œIs everything all right?” she asked quickly.
    â€œThere’s nothing to worry about, Mother,” Frank reassured her, then asked if she had sent the radio message.
    â€œWhy, no, son.”
    Somewhat upset, Mrs. Hardy begged her sons to take care of themselves. “And that goes for Chet and Tony and Jack!” she added.
    When Lieutenant Garcia heard Frank’s report, he frowned. “It would appear, senores, that this gang was trying to lure you into some kind of trap. Fortunately their plan failed.”
    He summoned the prisoner who had delivered the note. The man glibly said a stranger had asked him to do the errand. Frank and Joe were sure he was lying, but he refused to change his story and was taken away to a cell.
    After making signed statements, the Hardys were driven back to the airport in a police car. Here they ate a hearty lunch, then took off again for Puerto Rico.
    â€œI certainly hope we have no more delays,” Joe said, heaving a great sigh.
    It was late afternoon when they came in sight of the beautiful Caribbean island. From the air, it looked like a paradise of emerald green. White beaches with waving palms rimmed the shore line. Farther inland, cool blue mountains reared upward from the coastal plain.
    â€œAh me! What a place in which to relax and dream!” Chet said as he peered down from the cabin window.
    â€œYou mean with a well-filled lunch basket?” Tony put in, chuckling.
    To the southeast of the International Airport near San Juan a green-clad mountain peak soared against the sky. “That’s El Yunque— The Anvil,” Jack pointed out. “It’s a tropical rain forest with ferns as high as houses.”
    They landed and admired the large white modernistic terminal building as they walked toward it. The structure seemed to be poised on stilts.
    Mr. Hardy was waiting to greet the travelers as soon as they cleared customs. “Good flight?” he asked.
    â€œWait’ll you hear!” Joe grinned. “We stopped off in Tropicale and barged smack into a revolution!”
    â€œWell, I’m glad you came through it alive!” Though eager to hear all the news, Mr. Hardy cautioned everyone not to talk freely until they were in their hotel rooms.
    The group managed to squeeze into a single taxi. Soon they were whisked through a beautiful residential area of pink and white villas, then out onto a wide boulevard lined by palms, in clear view of the sea.
    â€œPretty nice place,” Chet remarked. “Let’s have some fun while we’re here and not get mixed up with a bunch of crooks.”
    The others smiled. When they reached the hotel, the boys went at once to Mr. Hardy’s room for a conference.
    Frank and Joe quickly related everything that had happened to them since receiving his message of “Find Hugo purple turban.”
    Mr. Hardy was amazed. “So there were diamonds in the dummy! This case is even more complex than I realized,” he declared, his face grave. “And you’ve done a good job. I thought that message might be a clue to a smuggling racket. It was written on a piece of paper left in a hastily vacated house.”
    The detective confided to the boys that he was working for the United States Government on the theft of some rare isotopes—materials which could be used in the manufacture of atomic weapons.
    â€œThe FBI believes they were stolen here in Puerto Rico, en route to foreign countries,” he added. “It looks as if we