"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 037 - The Ghost At Skeleton Rock (Original)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

"Thanks for the tip, Chief," Joe said. "Frank and I will go right over there."
Frank was equally startled when he heard about the burglary. "I wonder if those
men stole the wrong Hugo, and came back for another try!"
"Sure sounds that way," Joe agreed, "but they must have heard Mr. Bivven say it
was his last Hugo in stock."
The two boys drove through the darkened streets of Bayport to the novelty shop
on King Street. The store was ablaze with light, but no squad car stood at the
scene. Apparently the police detectives had already left, but there was a
patrolman on guard at the door.
The Hardys identified themselves, and Frank added, "Chief Collig just phoned us
the news."
"He called me too," said the patrolman, and let them enter.
Mr. Bivven was busy straightening up the store. "Oh, it's you boys," he
murmured, glancing up as the door's bell tinkled.
Most of the toys, dolls, and scale models had already been neatly replaced on
the shelves.
"Sorry to hear the news, Mr. Bivven," Frank said. "Exactly what happened?"
The proprietor shrugged and sighed. "Place was ransacked but nothing taken.
Dratted nuisance! Burglars twice in one day! I just can't figure it out. Still,
I reckon I'm lucky it wasn't any worse,"
"Mind if we look around for clues?" Frank asked,
"Go ahead, but the police have already done so."
As the boys poked about the store, Mr. Bivven bent down behind the counter. A
moment later he stood up.
"Now that's strange," he remarked with a puzzled frown. "Seems as though
someone's been fiddling with my sales checks."
"Sales checks!" Frank was struck by a sudden fear,
"Yes. Had 'em stashed away in order down here. Now they're all messed up."
"Any missing?"
Mr. Bivven scratched his bald head. "Well, now, that's a mite hard to say
without checking the cash-register tape."
Frank said urgently, "Never mind the rest. Just look for the one you wrote up
for our friend this afternoon. The name was Morton—Chet Morton."
"Sure, sure, I remember. Let me see." Mr. Bivven brought out the sheaf of slips,
thumbed through them several times, then looked up in surprise. "By jingo, that
one's gone. Those burglars must have taken it!"
"That's what I surmised," Frank said. "They came back to check on who had
purchased other dummies lately and found out Chet had one!"
"That means Chet's in danger!" Joe said grimly. "And maybe Iola and their dad
and mother!" Turning to Mr. Bivven, he asked, "May I use your phone?"
"Sure thing."
Thoroughly alarmed by now, Joe scooped up the telephone and dialed Chet's
number. At the other end of the line, he could hear a steady series of rings.
But after a minute he gave up.
"No answer," he reported to Frank. "Come on! Let's get out there fast!"
The boys dashed out of the store, leaped into the convertible, and headed for
the Morton farm. Once outside of town, Frank switched on the long-range lights.
The twin beams probed the darkness as they sped along.
Neither boy spoke, but both were gripped by the same fear. Was the Morton family
in trouble? Why had no one answered the phone when Chet had said he would be at