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find is that Denny Payson is a liar — or «crazy." He laughed. "Just as soon as the real stuff goes through your shredder."

Chapter 6
    Joe eased the door open, putting his eye to the slit he'd created. George and a mousy-looking guy in baggy pants — Corrigan, obviously—were heading down the corridor. In their arms were three brown cardboard boxes like the ones from the file shelves.
    George strolled along with one under each arm. Corrigan staggered under the weight of a single box. Looking over his shoulder in annoyance, George slowed his pace to match Corrigan's.
    "They're taking all the files on the Crowell disaster," Chet whispered, peering over Joe's shoulder.
    "And they're taking them to the shredding machine," Frank said. "We've got to stop them. - The only question is how?"
    Joe grinned. "I've got an idea." He leaned forward, whispering in Chet's ear. A slow smile spread over Chet's face. "Fine," he said. "I didn't really want to keep this job anyway."
    As Frank stared in surprise, Chet opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Oh, hi, Mr. Corrigan."
    "Oh, ah, Chester." Corrigan's voice sounded flustered. "I thought you were out getting a snack."
    "I decided it was too late," Chet said. "Hey, are you carrying that to the shredding room? Let me help you."
    "That's all right," Corrigan said nervously.
    "No, I ought to help." Chet's voice was loud and cheerful. "After all, I'm supposed to be your arms and legs."
    Frank peeked out to see Corrigan and Chet struggling over the box. The head clerk looked over at George. "Ah, why don't you go ahead. I'll be right along," Corrigan said.
    George shrugged and headed quickly down the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, Chet let go of the box. Corrigan staggered backward, sending files flying.
    Joe pushed the door open. "Hi, we're collecting for the Bayport scrap paper drive. Is that] going to the shredding room?"
    Corrigan jumped back. "What? No!"
    "But you just said this was going to the shredder," Chet said.
    "Here, we'll help you pick this stuff up." Joe bent down and grabbed a handful of papers. So did Frank.
    "You're sure we can't just take that box off your hands?" Joe insisted.
    Corrigan shrank back.
    Then came a roar from down the hall. George came charging toward them.
    "Gee, your friend seems awfully upset," Joe said, heading for the stairs. "Maybe we should be moving along."
    Chet faded back into the file room as Frank and Joe ran for the stairs.
    "Wait a second! Give me those papers!" Corrigan dropped his box and began pursuing the Hardys, quickly joined by George, who put his boxes down too.
    Frank and-Joe threw themselves up the stairs. Behind them they could hear the heavy stomping of George's feet and the rabbity, agitated gasping of Corrigan.
    They were halfway up the last flight of stairs, and Joe began to think that he and Frank might just make it.
    Then George's hamlike hand closed on his ankle.
    ; Caught off-balance, Joe fell, the papers scattering from his hands. He tried to kick himself ffree, but he couldn't get the leverage. George's crushing grip was bad enough, but he was twisting Joe's leg so that his free leg was caught under him.
    "You!" George called up to Frank. "Hold it!"
    Already at the top of the stairs, Frank turned—and froze.
    "If you want your brother to keep this leg, you'd better toss those papers down."
    Frank stared down at Joe, the papers tight in his grasp. "How do I know you'll let him go?"
    "You don't," George said, grinning nastily. "That's the risk you take when you go putting your nose where people don't want it." George twisted Joe's ankle a little more, and Joe grimaced in pain. "Come on, kid. This leg doesn't have much give left in it."
    Frank stood, undecided what to do. He was too far away to reach Joe before George really hurt him. He looked from the papers in his hand ; to his brother. But despite his pain, Joe winked · at him encouragingly. His eyes went from the papers to George's face.
    Now Frank