The Mummy Case

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Mummy Case
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WHEN five priceless Egyptian statuettes are stolen from a New York museum, the Hardy Boys travel to exotic Egypt, the ancient land of the Pharoah's curse. En route, the boys are asked to safeguard a mysterious mummy and find themselves tangled in a web of international intrigue.
While searching for the missing statuettes, the Hardy Boys fall into the clutches of a gang of sinister thieves and political rebels, and risk losing the mummy forever! What is the connection between the New York theft and the Egyptian mummy? In an exciting spin along the Nile, the young detectives uncover a secret hiding place with countless stolen treasures and realize they must get to the police fast!
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Copyright © 1980 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published
in 2005 by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group,
345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. THE HARDY BOYS
®
is a
registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a
trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. S.A.
 
eISBN : 978-1-101-07672-9

http://us.penguingroup.com

1
Museum Mystery
Frank Hardy tossed a baseball into the air, brought his bat around in a flashing arc, and hit a line drive that his brother Joe caught with a quick backhand stab.
Joe grinned. “Not bad, eh? Just throw me anything and I'll get it!”
“Pure luck!” Frank retorted. “That one had base hit written all over it.”
The boys were practicing in their back yard for their high-school team's big game with Bayport's arch rival, Greenpoint. Just then their Aunt Gertrude poked her head out of the kitchen door.
“Frank and Joe! You're wanted on the phone.”
“Who is it, Aunt Gertrude?” Frank asked.
“Your father. Come quickly. He's calling long-distance.” Gertrude Hardy, who had been living with her brother's family for quite some time, waved impatiently. She had a habit of disguising her fondness for her nephews behind a crisp, no-nonsense manner.
Frank and Joe ran into the house. Frank picked up the hall phone while his brother went to get the extension in his father's study. “Hi, Dad,” the dark-haired, eighteen-year-old boy said. “What's up?”
“A new case,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Are you both there?”
“Yes,” Joe spoke into the receiver. “Go ahead.”
Fenton Hardy, the famous private detective, sounded serious. “Listen carefully. I'm at the United Nations in New York, working on an assignment for one of its members. I've learned about a plot to overthrow that nation's government. That's all I can say, because it's highly confidential. A leak might trigger an international crisis, and Uncle Sam would be right in the middle of it!”
“What can we do to help?” Joe inquired excitedly.
“Nothing on this case,” Mr. Hardy replied. “But there's something else I'd like you to handle for me. Go to New York tomorrow morning and see Curator Henry Wilcox at the Egyptian Museum. Some statuettes were stolen from the collection. Wilcox wanted me to look into it but I can't because of this UN investigation.”
“Sure, Dad,” Frank said. “We'll be glad to.”
“If you need help, call Sam Radley,” his father added. Radley was one of his top operatives who had assisted the Hardys on many of their assignments.
Mr. Hardy now asked to speak to the boys' mother, and Frank and Joe returned to the yard. They resumed their baseball practice and Joe hit a couple of grounders. “We've worked on a lot of thefts,” the blond, seventeen-year-old amateur detective said, “but we've never chased ancient Egyptian statuettes before!”
Frank grinned. “I hope we catch them. With Dad busy on another case, I'd hate to let him down.”
Aunt Gertrude had come into the yard to hang up clothes. “Ancient Egyptians, eh?” she sniffed. “Next thing I know you'll be playing baseball with a mummy!”
“If a mummy can hit, we'll put him on the team,” Joe declared.
Next morning, the Hardy boys had an early breakfast, then set off on the long drive to New York City. When they reached the museum, they parked their yellow sports sedan in the garage underneath the building and went upstairs. They identified themselves to one of the staff members and asked to speak to Mr. Wilcox. After a brief conversation on his intercom, the man told them to go to the curator's office. “Take the main stairs,” he directed, “then go down the hall past the Weapons Room. Mr. Wilcox's office is at the very end.”
Frank and Joe walked between two replicas of an Egyptian sphinx flanking the staircase, reached the next floor, and went down the hall. As they passed the Weapons Room, they saw an arsenal of ancient arms. Swords, bows, spears, and daggers hung on the walls and a chariot stood in the middle of the room.
“There's enough military hardware in there to start a war,” Frank commented with a grin, then he knocked on the curator's door. Wilcox opened it. He was a tall man wearing rumpled clothing and horn-rimmed glasses. The boys recognized him at once. A famous archeologist, he had been photographed by journalists and television crews at digs in Egypt.
“You must be the Hardy boys,” Wilcox said as he shook hands with the visitors. “Your father told me you'd come. I'm glad you can take this case.”
He led the young detectives into his office, motioning for them to sit down. Then he settled himself in a swivel chair behind his large desk.
“Tell us about the robbery,” Joe began. “All we know is that some statuettes are missing.”
“The pieces disappeared one night from the Statuary Room,” Wilcox declared. “Five small golden statuettes of the ancient pharaohs.” He handed the boys a number of photographs. “Here they are. It happened last week.”
“Does the museum have an alarm system?” Frank inquired.
The curator nodded. “But it didn't go off!”
“Perhaps it was an inside job,” Frank conjectured. “The thief could be someone who works here and knows how the alarm functions.”
Wilcox nodded. “The police arrived at the same conclusion. That's why I had the system changed immediately. Now even the guards don't know how it operates. I was advised to keep it a secret. If the thief is one of my staff and makes another attempt, he'll trigger the alarm.”
“The police are working on the case?” Joe asked.
“Yes. But I felt it would be good for an outsider or two to help. You can mingle with the staff more easily and might find out something the police didn't. People are wary when they talk to the authorities. They might speak more freely to you.”
“We'll be glad to do all we can,” Frank said.
“Good. As for the robbery, I'll have the guard describe it to you.”
Wilcox snapped on his intercom. “Have Ahmed Ali report to my office,” he said.
Ali was a small, dark Egyptian with black eyes and a nervous manner. “I was on duty that night,” he testified. “I saw and heard nothing. The statuettes were there when I checked the room early in the evening. Next morning, they were gone!”
“Where were you during the rest of the night?” Frank inquired.
“Checking the other rooms,” the Egyptian said defensively. “I—”
“It wasn't his fault,” Wilcox put in. “His partner on guard duty became sick and had to go home. It takes two men to patrol the entire museum, but Ali had to do it alone that night. ”
After a few more inconclusive answers, the man left.
“He wasn't much help,” Frank said. “But I suppose he's our one and only suspect so far, simply because he was here at the time of the theft.”
“The police questioned Ali and found nothing,” Wilcox declared. “Also, we've never had any reason to mistrust Ali. He‘s—”
A loud clanging reverberated through the building and interrupted the curator's sentence. On a control board near his phone, a red light began to flash.
Wilcox stared at it in surprise. “The alarm!” he exclaimed. “Somebody's in the Weapons Room!”
He jumped up from his chair and headed for the door with the Hardys close behind him. All three hurried to the Weapons Room.
Ali was standing near the wall, holding an Egyptian dagger in his hand! The sharp blade gleamed as he stood perfectly still, an astonished expression on his face.

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