"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 044 - The Haunted Fort (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

"Just see that you get plenty of rest," the young doctor directed, "and stay away from dangerous ruins!"

As the limousine headed back to Millwood, the millionaire, looking somewhat better, pursed his lips and grumbled. "No sooner get to visit my own fort than it has to fall down on me. I can't understand it-Senandaga rock's not likely to give way like that."

Joe and Frank shared a frightening thought: Had the masonry been pushed down?

"You take care of yourself, Mr. Davenport." Joe smiled. "Frank, Chet, and I are up here to earn our keep as detectives. We'll investigate the fort and keep you posted."

All three boys were eager for a second crack at Senandaga. Was a gold chain made by order of the Marquis de Chambord hidden somewhere beneath its ruins? If so, would they be able to beat the thief, or thieves, in finding the Prisoner-Painter's clue?

During a late lunch the boys asked Uncle Jim about Chauncey Oilman, the man for whom Mr. Davenport apparently had a violent dislike.

"Oilman lives across the lake," he replied. "He's wealthy-inherited a lot-and is an art critic. Writes a column for the local paper."

Uncle Jim also explained that Oilman had bought a fort painting years ago from the Mill-wood philanthropist. "Mr. Davenport has regretted it ever since."

He explained that the critic, a failure as an artist himself, had grown extremely harsh in his published statements about the school. "He's not a very pleasant fellow," Jim added. "You'll probably run into him here on Senandaga Day."

When they had finished eating, the Hardys called the local police and learned that the stolen sedan used by the antique-shop thief had been found abandoned off a highway outside Cedar-town. "Maybe he's gone into hiding nearby," Frank conjectured. "We'll have to keep a sharp lookout."

The boys went to tell Mr. Davenport about the theft. He was disturbed to learn of the stolen frame. "If I'd known it was at the shop, I would've bought it," he fumed.

The art patron then opened a small safe and took out a photostat. It was a copy of an old, detailed map of Fort Senandaga, labeled in script, which Mr. Davenport said the boys could borrow.

"This should be a big help when we begin combing the ruins for some clue to the treasure," said Frank, pocketing the map.

At Chet's urging, the Hardys agreed to attend a studio oil-painting class that afternoon. "You sleuths can still keep your eyes open," said the plump youth.

Joe eyed him suspiciously. "Chet Morton, I sense you've got an ulterior motive."

Chet grinned widely, but said nothing.

Uncle Jim welcomed the three boys to the cool, stone-walled room in which the class was held. Here, long, high windows let in ample daylight.

"I'll just watch," said Frank.

"Me too." Joe grinned. "We'll leave the brush-work to Chet."

The stout boy obtained an easel and the necessary art material, and chose a spot at the back of the room.

Ronnie Rush stood at an easel in front of Chet. He turned around and smirked. "You have talent?"

"I'll soon find out," Chet replied as the Hardys strolled over.

On impulse Joe asked, "Say, Ronnie, you use much of that alizarin crimson?"

Ronnie looked surprised. "Sure. Everybody does."

"In painting, that is?" Joe asked pointedly.