CHAPTER XII

An Odd Messenger

joe picked up the wig and turned it over in his hands. "You know, when Chet said 'That was no lady' he didn't know just how right he was!"

"Baby Face in disguise," Frank muttered. "He and I are going to have a few things to settle when we finally come face to face."

Joe set down the wig on the cane, which he twirled a moment like a baton. "This proves that at least one of them if not all three were at the carnival."

They went through the rest of the shack, but discovered no additional clues.

"We still don't know Beluga's real name," Frank said tersely.

"Or what his game is," Joe added.

Frank's brow wrinkled as he repeated the message Beluga had sent to Boko. " 'Getting hot. Get-

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ting hot.' It could mean a couple of things. For instance, 'We're almost to our goal.' Or, 'The police are close on our trail.' "

The boys pondered the possibilities. Finally Joe said, "I think we've done about as much as we can do here. What do you say we go back for Chet?"

Frank glanced at his watch. "Okay. The hour's just about up to meet Chet." They hastened off. Reaching the drugstore, the Hardys saw nearly a dozen youths clustered around the soda counter, talking excitedly.

"C'mon, boy. You can do it!"

"Just take it slow and easy."

"No problem, fellow. Still plenty of room left."

"Go for broke, champ!"

The Hardys made their way forward and discovered the object of everyone's attention-Chet Morton! He grinned weakly when he saw his pals. "Hi, Frank. Hi, Joe."

"What are you doing, Chet?" Frank asked.

"Competing in a marathon." Chet made a sweeping gesture with his hand, taking in a row of empty soda glasses.

Joe counted. "Five! You put down five sodas?"

"You bet he did," said a girl at Joe's elbow. "And he's far from finished!"

"That's right," agreed a boy. "The big one's still ahead of him."

"You see," Chet said, "I've never encountered such scrumptious sodas in my life, and before I

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knew it-well, I knocked off five of them. And now, Charlie . . . Oh, excuse me. Frank and Joe, I'd like you to meet Charlie, a soda-making genius!"

The man behind the counter smiled. "Your friend here is a marvel. I've never seen anybody put 'em away like him."

"That's the problem," Chet explained. "Charlie was so impressed that he offered me a King-Size Wonder-that's his specialty-on the house. I'm not sure I can handle it, but I just can't bring myself to turn it down!"

As the crowd chattered encouragingly, Frank and Joe shook their heads in amazement. "How do you do it, Chet?" Frank asked. "How in the world do you do it?"

"I have a natural talent," Chet replied modestly.

"Well, what's it going to be?" Charlie asked cheerfully. "A King-Size Wonder or defeat?"

Chet gnawed on his lower lip. A freckled redhead clapped him on the back. "Hey, buddy, I got an idea. Why don't you take a couple of spins around the block. That'll work off some of the sodas you've already had, and give you the room you need to take on the big baby."

Chet contemplated this a moment, then smiled and stood up. "Ordinarily," he said, "I shun physical exercise. But this is a worthy cause and I feel that a sacrifice is in order."

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"That's the spirit," Charlie said.

Chet walked out of the drugstore. He stood on the sidewalk, hitched up his pants, and rubbed his hands together. A determined look settled over his face, then he jogged down the block. The freckle-faced boy and another fan went with him.

Ten minutes and two laps later, Chet returned to his stool in front of the counter. Charlie had the King-Size Wonder waiting. It was a huge soda, made with four flavors of ice cream and enhanced with a great variety of nuts and fruits. A large mound of whipped cream topped it and a bright-red cherry sat at the peak of the whipped cream. The audience murmured appreciatively.

Chet picked up his spoon, looked around like a matador, then tackled the soda. His fans cheered as he ate with a slow, steady rhythm. When he reached the halfway mark, the spectators began to applaud. The sound of their clapping hands grew progressively louder as the tubby boy neared the end, then broke into a wild crescendo when Chet scooped out the last bit of ice cream.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Frank said.

Chet's admirers followed the boys out of the store, congratulating him heartily. A block and a half later the last of the fans fell away. Chet sighed and patted his stomach. "A truly inspiring experience," he said.

Frank and Joe could do nothing but express

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their awe. Then the subject turned to what had happened at the shack. "So that cute blonde of yours," Frank finished, "was none other than Baby Face!"

"Oh, no!" Chet exclaimed. Then he said quickly, "I almost forgot. I have some news for you, too."

"What?" Frank asked.

"Knocker Felsen's in Mystic. He's looking for you."

"You're kidding!" Joe exploded.

"No I'm not."

"What's he want?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't say. But I told him he could find us at Mrs. Snow's house."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe said. "Didn't you stop to think that Felsen may be a member of the gang we're after?"

Chet looked embarrassed. Apparently this possibility had not occurred to him. "I'm sorry, fellows. Since he came looking for you right out in the open . . ." He held his hands up helplessly.

"What's done is done," Frank remarked. "I think we should play it cool and approach Mrs. Snow's place indirectly, in case Felsen is up to something sneaky."

Three blocks from Mrs. Snow's house the boys took to back yards and advanced stealthily. Reaching Mrs. Snow's property, they split up to recon-

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noiter, agreeing to meet again behind a large clump of lilac bushes.

Joe was the first to spot Felsen. He was hiding behind a tree close to Mrs. Snow's back porch. The three boys knelt at the base of the lilac bushes. "Here's what we'll do," Frank whispered. "Joe and I will circle around and come at him from both sides. Chet, you stay out of the action. If Joe and I run into more than we can handle, you pitch in."

The boys moved out and began creeping toward their positions. When they were set, Frank whistled shrilly and rushed forward. He and Joe reached Felsen at the same moment and the three went down with a thud.

Felsen recovered from the surprise attack quickly and jammed an elbow into Frank's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He threw Joe off and made a rush toward a neighbor's yard. Joe was after him in a flash, bringing the burly carny to earth with a flying tackle. Frank scrambled to his hands and knees, rested a moment until he got his breath back, then rushed into the fray just as Felsen was struggling to his feet. Fowl A right to the chin flattened the big youth.

"Okay, tough guy," Frank said, pulling the groggy Felsen to his feet. "Let's have some explanations."

Felsen pressed a handkerchief to his bleeding

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nose. "Look, you guys, I'm not your enemy. Why'd you jump me like that?"

"Why were you skulking behind that tree?" Chet asked, stepping forward.

"Mr. Solo sent me to give you a message. He told me you were on a tricky case and that I was supposed to be careful."

"Okay," Joe said. "What's the message?"

"The carnival's closing in Bayport. We made as much as we can there and we're moving on to Newton."

Newton was a small town thirty-five miles from Bayport. Neither Frank, Joe, nor Chet could understand why Solo would send Felsen all the way to Mystic just to inform them of the move.

"Was there anything else?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. A note." Felsen went through his pockets. A worried expression came over his face. "I must have lost it!" he exclaimed.

The boys searched the ground, but found nothing. Then Knocker explained that he had planned to return to Bayport earlier that evening. "I can't go now," he said dejectedly. "It's too late."

"Where will you sleep?" Chet asked him.

"Don't know. Could I stay with you guys?"

Frank was suspicious and far from pleased at the prospect. Joe felt the same way. Chet, however, felt that Knocker was okay.

"All right, you can stay with us," Frank said finally. "But no funny business!"

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Felsen was given a cot and fell asleep quickly, and the Hardys and Chet followed suit shortly.

At daybreak Frank suddenly snapped awake and glanced about. Felsen's cot was empty! He leaped up and roused Chet and Joe. Neither of them had heard Felsen leave.

Frank sat down on the cot. "I knew this would happen. Hey, what's this?" He reached down and drew an object from within a fold in the covers. "Felsen's wallet!"

The three of them examined the wallet carefully and Frank located a cleverly concealed secret compartment. From it he drew out a folded piece of paper which he opened.

It was a pencil drawing of a man's fist. At the base of the thumb, and on the tip and the base of the index finger were three sections of a tattoo, which, when joined, formed a whale 1