The Secret of Sigma Seven by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

elephant’s trunk. “Bad Bruno! Back to the tent.”
    â€œHow did he get away?” Joe asked. “Didn’t you have him tied up?”
    â€œThere was a metal chain attached to his leg,” the man said, “but it had been unlocked. Someone must have let him loose.”
    â€œWhy would they do that?” Joe asked. “He could have caused a lot of damage or gotten injured. Did you see anybody sneaking around the tent?”
    â€œNo,” the man said. “I don’t know who did this. It might have been somebody who thought they were doing Bruno a favor. People think elephants are so sweet and nice—and they’re right. But one of these babies can crush a car with one foot. They should never be let loose around people. I have no idea why anybody would do that.”
    Joe looked up at the elephant’s friendly face—or what was visible of it through the Surriband mask— and thought about how it had almost put a foot on his own face.
    â€œWell, I hope you keep a close eye on him from now on,” Joe said. “I’d hate to find myself, uh, getting underfoot again.”
    â€œI will, believe me,” the man said. “I’m taking him back to the zoo right now. I should never have agreed to help these movie people.”
    The man led the elephant away. Joe looked after him, his heart still pounding. Suddenly limp, he sagged against the wall of the brick building and let himself calm down.
    Joe took a deep breath and turned to look at the door where Morwood and the man in the leather jacket had disappeared. He saw that it was slightly open. Had Morwood left while he was asleep? he wondered. Joe eased open the door and looked inside. It appeared to be a grounds-keeper’s shed, with rakes and shovels and other implements propped against the wall. There was no sign of either Morwood or the man Joe had seen him meet, and no clues to what they had been doing there.
    Joe muttered angrily under his breath, “If only I’d gotten a better night’s sleep, I wouldn’t have dozed off waiting for Morwood to come back out.” With a sigh, he walked back to the motel door, stepped inside, and headed to the hallway where he had left Frank.
    Frank was still peering through the small window, looking a little bored. Joe came up beside him and glanced through the window.
    â€œMorwood gave me the slip,” Joe said in a frustrated tone. “How are things going here?”
    â€œYou’re not going to believe this,” Frank said, “but Amchick’s showing Devoreaux that film for the third time. The director must really like it.”
    Suddenly the lights in the small room flickered on. “It looks as if that was the last showing,” Joe said.“They’re starting to get up. We’d better make ourselves scarce.”
    Devoreaux and his companions began moving toward the door. Frank and Joe went a short distance down the hallway, in the opposite direction from the lobby, and watched them leave.
    Devoreaux walked out of the room, followed by his bodyguards. When Pete Amchick came out, the director smiled and shook hands with him. They headed toward the lobby and out the front door.
    â€œThey’re acting awfully friendly,” Frank said.
    â€œMaybe we were wrong about Amchick,” Joe said. “He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to kill Simon Devoreaux right now.”
    â€œWell, somebody stole that film and tried to kill both Devoreaux and Jack Gillis,” Frank said. “If it wasn’t Amchick, then it must have been either Morwood or Feinbetter. What happened when you followed Morwood?”
    â€œHe met some guy, and they went into a building behind the motel,” Joe told him as he and his brother walked back toward the lobby. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you wait until they came out of the building?” Frank asked.
    â€œI fell