Mystery of the Samurai Sword Read Online Free PDF

entered the building vestibule, a loud, angry voice reached them from the gym floor.
    â€œMaybe we came at the wrong time,” Joe said. “Think we should go on in?”
    â€œMay as well,” Frank said wryly. “I don’t see any receptionist to announce us.”
    The boys had just started to walk through the doorway leading to the gym when a man came charging out, almost knocking them down in the process!

5
    A Breakneck Race
    Joe was the first to recover. “Watch it, mister!” he exclaimed. “Where’s the fire?”
    The man, who was strongly built, with freckled skin and thinning red hair, merely snorted and brushed past the two boys without the slightest apology.
    â€œHow do you like that?” Frank muttered in a taut voice. “The big ape doesn’t even have manners enough to say ‘Excuse me’!”
    â€œI should’ve belted him one!” Joe fumed. “In fact maybe we ought to go after him and demand an apology.”
    â€œForget it,” Frank said, choking back his own temper. “That’s not why we came.”
    The Hardys went on into the gymnasium, where half a dozen dancers were going through various exercises—mostly practicing ballet movements or doing warm-up calisthenics. Two others were engaged in acrobatic flips and leaps under the critical gaze of a man with a lionlike mane of long black hair.
    The boys recognized him from the festival posters as Warlord, whose real name was Yvor Killian. They caught his eye and he came over to see what they wanted.
    Frank introduced himself and his brother and got an immediate smile of greeting.
    â€œOf course! You’re those famous young sleuths, the Hardy boys!” Warlord offered them each a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet such noted manhunters! Don’t tell me you’re here on the trail of a new mystery?”
    â€œMatter of fact we are,” said Frank. “It involves the disappearance of a Japanese businessman named Satoya. Maybe you heard about it on the news broadcasts this morning.”
    â€œIndeed I did! But how can I help you?”
    â€œFor one thing,” said Joe, voicing a sudden impulse, “you can tell us who that turkey was who came barrel ing out the door just a minute ago.”
    Warlord broke into a chuckle. “What happened—did he run you down?”
    â€œHe sure tried to. Call it a nasty collision. If he’d hung around for a few seconds, there might’ve been another collision—between one of our fists and his jaw!”
    Warlord’s chuckle became a hearty laugh. “Excuse me for seeing the funny side, but that sounds just like Humber. He’s one of the most pompous, arrogant louts I’ve ever run into.”
    â€œWho is he?” Frank inquired curiously.
    â€œA wealthy collector.”
    â€œOf what?”
    â€œExotic weapons. And not only wealthy, but spoiled rotten. He thinks whenever he wants something, everyone should rush to oblige him. In my case, what he wants is a yataghan. ”
    â€œWhat’s that?” said Joe.
    â€œA rather short Turkish saber with a double-curved blade,” Warlord explained. “As you probably know, I use various knives and swords in my dance routine, and that yataghan happens to be one of them—quite a fine example of its kind, I might add. Humber wants to add it to his collection, and naturally he thinks I should sell it to him immediately at any price he cares to name.”
    â€œBut you refused,” Joe deduced, “so he went storming out with a bee in his ear.”
    â€œYou’ve got the picture.” Warlord grinned.
    Both Hardy boys were thinking that Yvor Killian was much different from what most people might have expected a dancer to look like, especially one who had anything to do with ballet. Instead of seeming dainty or girlish, he had a square-jawed, rugged-featured face and appeared to be lithe and well muscled