The Jungle Pyramid Read Online Free PDF Page B

would stay on the case. Then they went with Chet to the parking lot.
    â€œLet’s stop at police headquarters,” Frank suggested. “We may be able to explain the loss of the gold horse better than Mr. Orlov.”
    He took the wheel and a few minutes later they were talking to the lieutenant on duty. He agreed to cooperate. Hearing their names, he asked if Frank and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy. When he learned that they were, he said, “Fenton is a great detective. I’m glad to hear you’re following in his footsteps.”
    After the lieutenant heard the description of the suspect, he shrugged his shoulders. “Middle-aged man with gray hair, pin-striped suit, carrying a briefcase. Hundreds of men in New York match that description. But I’ll put out a bulletin on him and alert the airlines. Who knows? We might be lucky.”
    The boys thanked the lieutenant and drove to Bayport. After dropping Chet at his house, the Hardys hurried home.
    They found their mother in the living room, reading a magazine. She was a pleasant woman who worried about the cases her husband and her sons handled. But she had confidence in them and knew that they had squeezed out of tight situations many times.
    â€œFrank, Joe,” she greeted them. The boys hugged her. “I’m relieved to see you. What have you been doing?”
    â€œPretending we’re gold bugs,” Joe said with a chuckle.
    Another voice interrupted. “Bugs? We don’t want any bugs in this house! What are you boys up to now?”
    The speaker was their aunt Gertrude, Fenton Hardy’s sister, who lived with the family. She was often stern with her nephews, but they knew she was very fond of them. Miss Hardy admired their skill in solving mysteries, although she tried not to show it.
    Joe laughed. “Aunt Gertrude, these aren’t the kinds of bugs you sweep out the back door with your broom.”
    â€œWe’re not talking about entomology, the science of bugs,” Frank added with a grin.
    â€œGoldology would be more like it,” Joe quipped.
    Gertrude Hardy sniffed. “You boys can keep your ologies and your bugs,” she stated firmly. “Now explain your explanation.”
    â€œDad’s trying to recover a shipment of gold that was stolen from the Wakefield Mint,” Frank told her, “and we’re helping him. As a matter of fact, we’ll be going to Zurich, Switzerland, as soon as we can get a flight.”
    â€œIsn’t that a risky adventure?” his mother asked.
    Frank reassured her. “We’ll interview the director of the Swiss Gold Syndicate and ask if the gold has been routed through there.”
    â€œYou might get buried by an avalanche,” Aunt Gertrude remarked. “What will you do then?”
    â€œWe’ll wait for a Saint Bernard dog to find us,” Joe needled his aunt. “Seriously, though, we’ll be all right.”
    â€œWe don’t want to stay away too long,” Frank said. “Not when we have your delicious pies to come back to.”
    Gertrude Hardy smiled and smoothed back her hair. She could never resist a compliment about her cooking, and promptly invited her nephews into the kitchen for cherry pie and homemade whipped cream.
    The next morning Chet phoned. He was glum. “Dad says I have to stay home and help on the farm,” he reported. “Have fun, fellows, and round up the gold heisters.”
    Frank and Joe flew out of Kennedy Airport the following evening. They would have liked to stay in the city longer to see if they could trace Pedro Zemog, but could not book a later flight that would get them to Zurich in time for their appointment with Johann Jung.
    Their jet zoomed up from the runway, climbed into the sky, and circled over New York’s sky-scrapers. Frank and Joe settled near the rear and got a good view of the Empire State Building, the towers of the trade center, and the tip of lower