The Hooded Hawk Mystery

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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operative assured him that he would start guarding the place at once.
    â€œBut I doubt that those people will return,” he said.
    Iola insisted that the Hardys and Ahmed stay for lunch.
    â€œWe don’t need a second invitation,” Joe said with a grin.
    When the meal was over, the Hardys drove Ahmed home. They thanked the rug dealer for his help. He bowed politely and replied:
    â€œIt is you who are helping my friend Gaphur and my people. I shall be forever grateful to you.”
    Frank and Joe waved good-by, and the convertible moved away. As Frank turned into the Hardy driveway, Joe declared, “Boy, am I tired and hot! A shower will feel good!”
    â€œThat goes for me, too,” Frank admitted. “About the liveliest thing I’m going to do the rest of today is make up a list of pigeon fanciers nearby and try to find out if one of them has lost any carrier pigeons recently.”
    Before locking the garage, they stopped to talk to the falcon. She was bobbing back and forth on her perch as though in welcome. Joe brushed his fingers along the bird’s back between the shoulders and on the feathers of her wings.
    â€œWe sure deserted you today,” he remarked.
    After they had showered and put on clean clothes, Frank and Joe went to their father’s study and started to check the classified telephone directory for pet shops.
    â€œThe owners ought to know something about pigeon fanciers,” Joe declared.
    They made a series of telephone calls which netted no information. There were only four listings left when Frank and Joe heard a noisy car coming down Elm Street.
    â€œSounds like Chet’s jalopy,” Joe said, getting up to look out a window. “And it is!” he added.
    Usually the stout boy nursed along his prized possession as though it were made of solid gold. But today he was evidently in a hurry. He slammed on the brakes and rushed into the house and up the stairs so fast that he was out of breath for several moments.
    â€œHey, Chet, somebody chasing you?” Joe quipped.
    Without replying, Chet held out his hand in which lay a capsule, similar to the one containing the rubies.
    â€œWhere did you get this?” Frank asked quickly.
    Chet finally calmed down enough to speak. “I was standing outside the barn when I heard a plane. At the same time I spotted a pigeon overhead. Suddenly the pigeon flew directly toward the craft and crashed into its windshield.”
    â€œWowt!” Joe said. “That must have been the end of the poor bird.”
    â€œIt was,” Chet went on. “It plummeted right down into the middle of a field!”
    â€œAnd you found it?” Frank queried.
    Chet nodded. “This capsule was on its leg. Wait till you see what’s in it!”

CHAPTER IX
    A Harsh Skipper
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    ALTHOUGH Chet had opened the capsule when he had removed it from the pigeon, he would not reveal the contents to the Hardys. Instead, he waited as Frank removed the top.
    Inside was a tightly rolled bit of paper.
    Frank smoothed out the note. A message, printed in block letters, read:
    CAUGHT L ABOUT TO SQUEAL. HOLDING HERE.
    NO DELIVERIES UNTIL REPLACEMENT ARRIVES.
    Frank slapped Chet on the back. “Good work, pal. This may help to speed up our case.”
    As Chet beamed with pride, Frank turned to Joe. “I guess we’d better forget those pigeon fanciers for the time being and concentrate on this new clue.”
    â€œYou bet!”
    They examined the paper to see if it held any further clues. Holding it to the light, Frank studied the watermark. It looked like a fouled anchor insigne with several other figures that might be porpoises or sea horses.
    â€œLook at this, fellows,” he said. “The next step is to see if we can trace the origin of the paper.”
    From a list in Mr. Hardy’s files, they selected the best-known paper manufacturers and called them asking if it belonged to a special

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