enough to be a fast-punching lightweight boxer. His ready grin and magnetic manner also impressed the Hardys.
âActually, the person we meant to ask you about,â said Frank, returning to the purpose of their visit, âis a man named Axel Gorky.â
âAh, yes,â Warlord nodded. âThe dealer in Oriental objets dâart.â
âYouâve met him?â
âOnce or twice.â
âHe told us last night that he came here to Bayport to call on several customers, including yourself.â
Again Warlord nodded. âHe wanted to show me an eighteenth-century Japanese katana, or long sword. In fact he called me about it this morning, but I told him I wasnât interested.â
âHow come,â said Frank, âif Iâm not too inquisitive?â
âNot at all. It just happens that Iâve got my heart set on another samurai sword, a really beautiful blade that I recently saw in New York. Itâs to be sold at auction next week at the Palmer-Glade Galleries in Manhattan, and I intend to get in the top bid!â
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. âJust one thing more, sir. When we spotted this fellow Gorky at the airport, he was acting like an oddball.â
The Hardys described the incident, and Frank went on, âGorky claims he was trying to attract Mr. Satoyaâs attention, because he hoped Satoya might offer him a good price for the sword.â
Glancing at Warlord with a frown, the older Hardy boy added, âDoes that sound plausible to you? I mean, why should Gorky assume that a businessman like Mr. Satoya would be interested in buying old samurai swords?â
âOh yes, that strikes me as perfectly plausible,â the dancer replied. âYou can take my word for it, Gorkyâs a smart salesman. In fact I believe Satoya was planning to bid on that very sword I just mentionedâthe one at the Palmer-Glade Auction Galleries.â
âWell, I guess that clears Gorky, then,â Frank said. âThanks for your time and help, Mr. Killian.â
âMy pleasure, boys. I hope youâll come and see my troupe dance.â
âWe intend to,â the Hardys replied.
âGood! Just phone in and tell the box office which performance you prefer. Iâll see to it that tickets are reserved for you and your dates.â
The boys drove off in high spirits, but their bubbling enthusiasm was somewhat deflated on arriving home. Fenton Hardy was pacing the living room floor, while their slim, pretty mother sat on the edge of a sofa trying to comfort him. From their parentsâ faces, Frank and Joe could tell at once that unhappy news must have struck the Hardy household.
âSomething wrong, Dad?â Frank ventured cautiously.
âIâve been ordered off the Satoya case!â
âWhat!â both boys exclaimed incredulously.
âWho did the ordering?â Joe asked.
âThe U.S. government,â Mr. Hardy replied. âSupposedly the FBI wants me to handle another investigation. But reading between the lines, the message is perfectly clear, namely, get off the Satoya case! â
âFor crying out loud! They canât do that!â Frank exploded.
âThey not only can, theyâve already done it. And I have no choice except to obey, or else risk getting my license lifted.â The famed detective resumed his pacing, grim and tight-lipped.
âBut wonât they give you a reason?â said Joe.
âJust a lot of nonsense about government policy and more urgent priorities.â
âMeaning what?â
âYou figure it out. It beats me.â Mr. Hardy paused and punched his fist into his other palm. His face was a study in angry frustration. âHang it all, Satoyaâs disappearance reflects directly on my worth as a security expert and a private investigator. Unless I can clear up the case, my reputation may be permanently damaged. It amounts to a matter of honor! But what