"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 111 - Three-Ring Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

Frank ran his hands over the gem-studded ball. "It sure is. But it's an important clue, too," he said.
"Why?" Chet wanted to know.
"It means we're not dealing with some common crook," Joe told him.
"Well, if he's hot a common crook, then who is he?" Chet asked.
"That's what we have to find out," Frank said. He thought for a moment. "Let's ask around. See if anyone knows who the juggler is."
"Sorry I'm late," a man's voice called out. Frank turned around and saw a clown, dressed like Chet in a blue and white polka-dotted suit and an orange wig, standing by the table. He was about the same height as Chet and looked to be in his early twenties. "The name's Carl Nash," the man told Chet in a cheerful southern drawl. "I'm here to relieve you all."
"I'm Chet Morton," Chet said. He looked at his watch. "Bo told me someone would show up to take over right about now."
Nash grinned as he looked around the backstage area. "It's pretty busy, isn't it? I'd better get started pouring punch for these thirsty people," he said. With that, Nash edged his way past Frank and stationed himself behind the table. He took a quick look at the ball in Frank's hand, smiled, and drawled slowly, "Nifty prop. Are you all Circus U. students from Bayport, too?"
Instead of answering Carl Nash's question, Frank said, "One of the jugglers must have lost a ball. Got any idea who it could have been?"
"Can't say I do," Nash replied, putting some ice in a cup and pouring a drink for a little boy who stood by the table.
"Where are you from?" Joe asked Nash.
Nash's bright blue eyes lit up behind his white clown makeup. "Funny you should ask. Not from around here, that's for darn sure."
"I didn't think so, from your accent, that is," Frank offered.
"You got it," Nash said, raising his bushy orange eyebrows. "I'm a good ol' boy from deep in the heart of Texas."
"Are you a student at Circus U.?" Chet asked eagerly.
"That's right." Nash's clown mouth spread into a wide red smile. "I graduate this year. Trapeze is my specialty."
"Wow," Chet said, impressed. "I guess you're not afraid of heights then."
Joe laughed. "He'd better not be."
"I used to be," Nash said with a chuckle. "But I got over it pretty fast."
"I'll bet," Frank said. He kept passing the ball back and forth between his hands. "Are you ready to go, Chet?"
"If Carl thinks he can handle the crowd on his own," Chet said, turning to the trapeze student.
"No problem,", Nash said. "It's thinning out, anyway. There are just a few circus folks and some VIPs left, from what I can tell," he added, scanning the crowd. "Go on home."
"Thanks," Chet told him, pulling off his wig and putting it in his tote bag. "I'm just glad to be able to take this thing off," he said with a grin.
"I know what you mean," Nash said, scratching at his wig. "It sure does itch. Oh," he went on, turning to Frank and Joe. "I almost forgot. Why don't you two guys come with your friend to class tomorrow? Circus U. is having an open house for students and friends. You'll also get to watch the circus performers in rehearsal. It should be fun."
Chet’s eyes lit up. "That's a great idea." He turned to the Hardys. "I can give you guys a behind-the-scenes tour of the circus."
Frank looked at Joe. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Why not," Joe answered. "We are on vacation after all."
"Thanks for the invitation," Frank said to Carl Nash. "We'll see you tomorrow then."
"Great," Nash said. He went back to working the refreshment stand.
"He seems like a nice guy," Chet commented as he and Joe followed Frank away from the refreshment table.
"Maybe he can show you some tricks on the trapeze," Joe said, grinning.
Chet shook his head emphatically. "Not me. No way. This clown stays on the ground."
Frank led them to a less crowded part of the backstage area. He stopped at the edge of a room filled with circus props.
"Why are we stopping?" asked his brother.
"We need to plan our strategy," Frank replied. "How we're going to find out who that juggler was, why he left this"—Frank held up the gem-studded ball—"in Chet’s bag, and what it all means."
Chet bit his lip thoughtfully, smearing his red makeup. "Why don't we just turn the ball in to the circus officials and let them take care of finding out the answers to all those questions."
"Come on, Chet," Joe said. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"You two are the detectives," Chet replied. "I'm here to learn how to be a clown, not to solve mysteries."
"But Frank and I will need your help," Joe pointed out. "You're in a perfect position to supply us with info on the people here."
"Look, you guys," Chet went on, shaking his head in exasperation. "Don't mess things up for me, okay? If you start snooping around here, the circus people might not like it, and then I could be in trouble."
"Wait a minute," Frank said. "Since when have we put solving a case above our friendship?"
Chet frowned slightly. "Never, I guess. But don't do it now, either, okay?"
"Deal," Frank said, reaching out to shake Chet’s hand. The polka-dotted sleeve of Chet’s costume flapped wildly as Frank pumped Chet’s hand. "So tell us," Frank continued, "who should we talk to tomorrow to find out who that juggler is?"
Chet shook his head and shrugged. "You got me. So far, I've only met Bo Costello. You could ask him, I guess."
"Sounds good to me. Have you got any ideas, Joe?" Frank asked his brother.
"Let's take another look at the ball," Joe suggested. "Maybe there's something about it we missed the first time we looked at it."
"True," Frank said, squinting at the ball. "This may be an ordinary prop, but who knows?"
He held the ball up to the light. The white gems looked like rhinestones or glass, but he took out his pocketknife and scraped at each one of them just to be sure. The gems flaked away under the pressure of the knife. "That tells us one thing, at least."
"What's that?" Chet asked.
"The gems aren't real," Joe explained to Chet. "Otherwise, the knife wouldn't have scratched them."