The Shattered Helmet by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

if there’s anything new at his end,” he suggested.
    It took a few minutes to get in touch with Chet. When he finally came to the phone he was out of breath.
    â€œHi, fellows. I ran all the way. What’s up?”
    Frank told him what had happened.
    â€œWow! You sure had a lot of adverse action out there,” Chet said.
    â€œTrue. How about you?”
    â€œNothing happened here. Red Car never showed up again.”
    â€œThat figures. By the way, how’s the romance?”
    â€œGreat, just great. And boy! I’m learning a lot about film-making. I’m going to be a director someday.”
    â€œOkay, Chet, keep your eyes open.” Frank hung up.
    The boys retired for the night after watching a show on Buster’s television. Next morning they were awakened by the persistent ringing of the telephone.
    Buster Buckles reached it first. “Who?…Who do you want?…Yes, they’re here. Hold on, please.”
    Joe Hardy had wriggled out of his sleeping bag and Buster handed him the phone. “It’s for you. A woman.”
    â€œHello, this is Joe Hardy.”
    â€œJoe, this is Betty Love. I’m here in California.”
    â€œOh—Miss Love, how did you find us?”
    The woman chuckled. “I read the papers.” She added, “I’d like you to come and see me. I have some information for you.”
    â€œWhat kind of information?”
    â€œI don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Do you have a pencil? Then write down this address in Hollywood and come over right away.”
    Joe fumbled for a piece of paper in his jacket pocket and wrote down the address. When he finished he thanked Betty Love and hung up.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” Buster asked.
    â€œBetty Love wants to see us.”
    â€œBetty Love, the actress? I remember her. She played in
The Persian Glory.
”
    â€œShe was the one who told us about you. Now she says she has some more information. Obviously about
The Persian Glory.
”
    Buster scratched his head. “You’ve got an awful lot of enemies. Suppose that wasn’t Betty, but a trap?”
    Frank nodded. “I was just thinking that myself. On the other hand, we have to pursue all possibilities. Buster, would you go with us? You and Evan can wait outside, and if we don’t come out in ten or fifteen minutes, call the police.”
    â€œYou bet!” Buster said. “But let’s eat first, eh? Who wants to get trapped on an empty stomach?”
    After breakfast they left. Again, there was no sign of any tail, but to be on the safe side, Buster drove in and out of side streets and made a quick U-turn at a gas station to throw off any possible pursuer.
    The address which Betty had given them proved to be a lovely home on a tree-lined street. Buster and Evan stayed in the car, while Frank and Joe walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell.
    A strange woman opened the door, smiled, and beckoned them inside. Their footsteps were muted by a thick oriental rug which led to a gracious livingroom. Seated in a high-backed chair beside the marble fireplace was Betty Love.
    She smiled. “Frank and Joe, I’d like you to meet my friend Marian Stewart. She’s another old actress like me.”
    After the boys were seated, Betty Love went on, “I was going through some things Marian kept in storage for me over the years. I found an old diary which might be of interest to you.”
    â€œDoes it have to do with
The Persian Glory?
” Joe asked.
    The elderly woman nodded, reached for a leather-bound book lying on the table beside her, and opened it.
    She leafed through the yellowed pages until she found what she wanted. The entry was dated a few years after Nicholas Pandropolos had returned to Greece. It said that the old, authentic Greek helmet had been found at the studio.
    â€œI remember now,” Miss Love said, “the director was going to send it back to Greece, but