foolish," he warned.
"You're one of those idiot Hardys." Miss Forman frowned but stopped trying to get her gun out.
"I am a Hardy," Joe admitted. "But I don't think you're in a position to comment on my intelligence. You can get up now, Karen."
As Karen got to her feet Joe told Miss Forman, "Slip your hand out of that pocket. And it had better come out slow and empty."
The woman glared at him but did as he said.
Reaching into the sweater pocket, Joe came out with a .22 automatic. He took a quick look in Emily's direction. "Any more of them around, Miss Cornwall?"
"Just her. Do you have any idea what's going on?" The dark-haired young woman looked very frail. The shadows under her eyes were even deeper than in the pictures Joe had seen, and her face was pale with fear.
"We'll fill you in shortly," he promised. Turning to Karen, he said, "Hold this and keep it pointed at our phony friend here." Joe handed her the .22 automatic and moved to the wheelchair. Then he asked Emily, "Are you all right?"
"Not especially, no," Emily replied. "For one thing, she's got me tied to this wheelchair. I haven't really needed it in months, but Miss Sheridan, my real companion, insisted that we bring it along."
Joe yanked away the plaid blankets and saw that the slender girl was tied hand and foot with lengths of nylon clothesline. "I'll get you out in a second," he said, taking out his pocket knife. "I'm Joe Hardy, by the way. My friend is Karen Kirk."
"I've heard about you and your brother," Emily Cornwall said. "I imagine that all this has something to do with the emeralds."
"Got it on the first guess," Joe said, sawing at the strands of nylon. "Karen is going to stay with you, and once we get Miss Forman safely locked away, she'll fill you in on what's been going on these past few days."
Karen frowned. "You mean I'm staying here?"
"Yes, while I go over to Castle Fear."
In the sun room off the terrace the phone began to trill.
Karen glanced toward the open French doors.
"Let it ring," Joe said. "And we're changing plans - we're getting out of here right away."
***
Frank Hardy sat at the dining table at Castle Fear, staring at Stanley, another thug. But Frank's eyes flashed to the head of the table, where Nigel Hawkins abruptly stood up and tossed his napkin down beside his soup plate.
"You're sure you dialed it right? These blasted provincial phone exchanges." He stalked over to the doorway. "I'll try it myself. That fool woman knows her job. She's supposed to remain at the house around the clock."
After Hawkins left the room Jed turned to Rowland. "Why don't you guys just quit right now? I don't think your boss realizes that he's taken a tiger by the tail here."
"Oh, Nigel's not my boss, dear boy. We're equal partners in this venture."
"Whatever." The young actor waved his hand impatiently. "The point is, none of you clowns seems to realize what you've done here.'
Jed glanced over at his lady friend. "It's bad enough that you kidnapped Jillian, but - hey, when you snatch one of the most popular actors in the world today, you're in big trouble. My studio isn't going to let you retire to some tropical island to enjoy the warm, quiet life."
"My, such an enormous ego for one so young in years." Rowland began laughing. "Really, son, you're in no position to make threats. Not while you're a helpless prisoner in a castle that boasts a fully equipped torture chamber down in the dungeon. Did they show you that on the guided tour?"
Jed and Frank were silent.
"Nigel is something of a softy when it comes to physical violence." Rowland casually bent his heavy silver soup spoon into a U. "but as frank here can testify, I can be quite nasty if I want."
"All too true," Frank agreed. "Don't antagonize him, Jed."
"Hey, I'm not trying to rattle this guy's cage. I'm just pointing out that I don't happen to be your everyday kidnap victim. I'm a celebrity, you know. Maybe they're biting off more than they can chew."
"Jed, dear, they
"You're one of those idiot Hardys." Miss Forman frowned but stopped trying to get her gun out.
"I am a Hardy," Joe admitted. "But I don't think you're in a position to comment on my intelligence. You can get up now, Karen."
As Karen got to her feet Joe told Miss Forman, "Slip your hand out of that pocket. And it had better come out slow and empty."
The woman glared at him but did as he said.
Reaching into the sweater pocket, Joe came out with a .22 automatic. He took a quick look in Emily's direction. "Any more of them around, Miss Cornwall?"
"Just her. Do you have any idea what's going on?" The dark-haired young woman looked very frail. The shadows under her eyes were even deeper than in the pictures Joe had seen, and her face was pale with fear.
"We'll fill you in shortly," he promised. Turning to Karen, he said, "Hold this and keep it pointed at our phony friend here." Joe handed her the .22 automatic and moved to the wheelchair. Then he asked Emily, "Are you all right?"
"Not especially, no," Emily replied. "For one thing, she's got me tied to this wheelchair. I haven't really needed it in months, but Miss Sheridan, my real companion, insisted that we bring it along."
Joe yanked away the plaid blankets and saw that the slender girl was tied hand and foot with lengths of nylon clothesline. "I'll get you out in a second," he said, taking out his pocket knife. "I'm Joe Hardy, by the way. My friend is Karen Kirk."
"I've heard about you and your brother," Emily Cornwall said. "I imagine that all this has something to do with the emeralds."
"Got it on the first guess," Joe said, sawing at the strands of nylon. "Karen is going to stay with you, and once we get Miss Forman safely locked away, she'll fill you in on what's been going on these past few days."
Karen frowned. "You mean I'm staying here?"
"Yes, while I go over to Castle Fear."
In the sun room off the terrace the phone began to trill.
Karen glanced toward the open French doors.
"Let it ring," Joe said. "And we're changing plans - we're getting out of here right away."
***
Frank Hardy sat at the dining table at Castle Fear, staring at Stanley, another thug. But Frank's eyes flashed to the head of the table, where Nigel Hawkins abruptly stood up and tossed his napkin down beside his soup plate.
"You're sure you dialed it right? These blasted provincial phone exchanges." He stalked over to the doorway. "I'll try it myself. That fool woman knows her job. She's supposed to remain at the house around the clock."
After Hawkins left the room Jed turned to Rowland. "Why don't you guys just quit right now? I don't think your boss realizes that he's taken a tiger by the tail here."
"Oh, Nigel's not my boss, dear boy. We're equal partners in this venture."
"Whatever." The young actor waved his hand impatiently. "The point is, none of you clowns seems to realize what you've done here.'
Jed glanced over at his lady friend. "It's bad enough that you kidnapped Jillian, but - hey, when you snatch one of the most popular actors in the world today, you're in big trouble. My studio isn't going to let you retire to some tropical island to enjoy the warm, quiet life."
"My, such an enormous ego for one so young in years." Rowland began laughing. "Really, son, you're in no position to make threats. Not while you're a helpless prisoner in a castle that boasts a fully equipped torture chamber down in the dungeon. Did they show you that on the guided tour?"
Jed and Frank were silent.
"Nigel is something of a softy when it comes to physical violence." Rowland casually bent his heavy silver soup spoon into a U. "but as frank here can testify, I can be quite nasty if I want."
"All too true," Frank agreed. "Don't antagonize him, Jed."
"Hey, I'm not trying to rattle this guy's cage. I'm just pointing out that I don't happen to be your everyday kidnap victim. I'm a celebrity, you know. Maybe they're biting off more than they can chew."
"Jed, dear, they
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