Hardy to work as undercover operatives on your set, under the aliases of Frank and Joe Harris?"
"I don't know any Frank and Joe Hardy," Osserman stated.
Joe shot up from his chair, but Frank placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.
"We hired Frank and Joe Harris as stunt apprentices," Osserman continued. "They had good union credentials."
"Credentials he forged for us," Joe shouted.
Fraser merely glared at him. "Thank you, Mr. Osserman. Now, these fellas also claim they provided you with filmed evidence of Gil Driscoll sabotaging a stunt. Do you have such a film?"
"Why, no." Osserman sounded perplexed.
"And Janet Wynn. They claim she's been kidnapped," the chief went on. "Have you seen the young lady in question?"
"Of course I have." Now the director sounded astonished. "She performed a stunt this evening."
"It happened after the stunt," Joe roared.
"Has anyone reported her missing? Or did anyone report witnessing a struggle?"
"No, sir," Osserman assured the chief. "I must compliment you on bringing our troubles to an end. Now that you've caught these two, I'm sure we'll have no more problems on the set. But for the sake of the picture, can you please keep this matter out of the press till we finish shooting?"
Fraser agreed, hung up, then called in two of his officers. "Let these two make their phone calls," he said, "then lock them up."
The officers took Frank and Joe roughly by the arms.
"Too bad it's now Saturday morning, guys," Fraser told them with a nasty grin. "The judge won't be behind the bench until Monday."
Frank turned and stared at the chief. "You mean we can't make bail over the weekend?"
"Sorry." The chief didn't sound all that sad. "For the next forty-eight hours you'll reside in a Newbridge jail cell."
As the officers started marching them out, Frank held back a second, looking at the chief. "Okay, you've got us," he said. "There's just one thing I don't understand. We pulled this job perfectly. I'm sure we didn't trip the alarm. So how'd you know we were in the mansion?"
The chief grinned. "Oh, I have my ways." "What ways? We really want to know." Frank smiled. "It's for the book about the heist we'll spend the next twenty years in prison writing." Fraser raised an eyebrow. "The what?" "Should we call you Archibald Fraser," Frank went on, "or just plain Archie?"
"A book, huh?" Fraser laughed. He leaned back in his chair and thought it over. Clearly, he liked the idea. "Well, to tell you the truth, the crime was perfect. I'd even say brilliant." "Then how'd you catch us?" "By an anonymous tip."
The officers allowed Frank and Joe to make their phone calls. Frank dialed the emergency number that Fenton Hardy had given them. But their father wasn't there. The best they could do was leave a message for him and hope that Fenton would find a way to get them out of jail.
After the call, Frank and Joe were fingerprinted and photographed — they'd already been searched at the mansion. Then they were taken back to their cell. "I'm beginning to get used to this place," Joe said, straight-faced. "Still, I wouldn't want to call it home."
He grinned at Frank, trying to cheer him up. But his brother glumly stared out the barred window. "Why do you suppose Driscoll's guys tipped off the cops?" Frank asked after a while.
"You've got me," Joe said.
Frank shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense. They could have had the jewels."
Joe sat across from Frank on his thin mattress. "That's not the only thing that doesn't make sense," he added. "When you handed Driscoll the sack, he didn't even look inside. Instead, he tried to push me over the balcony rail, and he made a run for it. Why was he running? He had us at gunpoint."
Frank slapped his knee. "He was running because he knew the police would arrive any second, and he had to make his escape."
"Then why not take the jewels?" Joe asked, confused.
"He left them behind so we'd be framed." Abruptly, Frank rose from his mattress and paced back and
"I don't know any Frank and Joe Hardy," Osserman stated.
Joe shot up from his chair, but Frank placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.
"We hired Frank and Joe Harris as stunt apprentices," Osserman continued. "They had good union credentials."
"Credentials he forged for us," Joe shouted.
Fraser merely glared at him. "Thank you, Mr. Osserman. Now, these fellas also claim they provided you with filmed evidence of Gil Driscoll sabotaging a stunt. Do you have such a film?"
"Why, no." Osserman sounded perplexed.
"And Janet Wynn. They claim she's been kidnapped," the chief went on. "Have you seen the young lady in question?"
"Of course I have." Now the director sounded astonished. "She performed a stunt this evening."
"It happened after the stunt," Joe roared.
"Has anyone reported her missing? Or did anyone report witnessing a struggle?"
"No, sir," Osserman assured the chief. "I must compliment you on bringing our troubles to an end. Now that you've caught these two, I'm sure we'll have no more problems on the set. But for the sake of the picture, can you please keep this matter out of the press till we finish shooting?"
Fraser agreed, hung up, then called in two of his officers. "Let these two make their phone calls," he said, "then lock them up."
The officers took Frank and Joe roughly by the arms.
"Too bad it's now Saturday morning, guys," Fraser told them with a nasty grin. "The judge won't be behind the bench until Monday."
Frank turned and stared at the chief. "You mean we can't make bail over the weekend?"
"Sorry." The chief didn't sound all that sad. "For the next forty-eight hours you'll reside in a Newbridge jail cell."
As the officers started marching them out, Frank held back a second, looking at the chief. "Okay, you've got us," he said. "There's just one thing I don't understand. We pulled this job perfectly. I'm sure we didn't trip the alarm. So how'd you know we were in the mansion?"
The chief grinned. "Oh, I have my ways." "What ways? We really want to know." Frank smiled. "It's for the book about the heist we'll spend the next twenty years in prison writing." Fraser raised an eyebrow. "The what?" "Should we call you Archibald Fraser," Frank went on, "or just plain Archie?"
"A book, huh?" Fraser laughed. He leaned back in his chair and thought it over. Clearly, he liked the idea. "Well, to tell you the truth, the crime was perfect. I'd even say brilliant." "Then how'd you catch us?" "By an anonymous tip."
The officers allowed Frank and Joe to make their phone calls. Frank dialed the emergency number that Fenton Hardy had given them. But their father wasn't there. The best they could do was leave a message for him and hope that Fenton would find a way to get them out of jail.
After the call, Frank and Joe were fingerprinted and photographed — they'd already been searched at the mansion. Then they were taken back to their cell. "I'm beginning to get used to this place," Joe said, straight-faced. "Still, I wouldn't want to call it home."
He grinned at Frank, trying to cheer him up. But his brother glumly stared out the barred window. "Why do you suppose Driscoll's guys tipped off the cops?" Frank asked after a while.
"You've got me," Joe said.
Frank shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense. They could have had the jewels."
Joe sat across from Frank on his thin mattress. "That's not the only thing that doesn't make sense," he added. "When you handed Driscoll the sack, he didn't even look inside. Instead, he tried to push me over the balcony rail, and he made a run for it. Why was he running? He had us at gunpoint."
Frank slapped his knee. "He was running because he knew the police would arrive any second, and he had to make his escape."
"Then why not take the jewels?" Joe asked, confused.
"He left them behind so we'd be framed." Abruptly, Frank rose from his mattress and paced back and
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