Night of the Werewolf Read Online Free

List!”
    â€œWhy do you suppose we brought you along?” Joe said with a straight face. “If there’s a car chase and the bullets start flying, we’ll have a shield of blubber protecting us in the back seat!”
    Even Frank could not help laughing as he saw Chefs expression in the rearview mirror. But despite Joe’s teasing, both Hardys knew there was no better friend in a tight spot than Chet Morton.
    At headquarters they spoke to Chief Collig, a long-time acquaintance of their father’s. He had a technician bring the bullet to his office from the ballistics lab.
    â€œWhat can you tell us?” Frank inquired.
    â€œIt’s definitely silver,” the lab officer said. “Hand cast in a mold, I imagine.”
    â€œEnough marks to identify the gun?”
    â€œNo way. It’s too mashed up. But my guess, judging from the weight of the slug, would be that it was fired from a .22.”
    â€œProbably some nut heard about the spooky dog you fellows sighted at the diner the other night,” Chief Collig suggested. “So he got the wild notion there was a werewolf haunting Bayport and figured he might scare it off with a silver bullet.”
    â€œCould be,” Frank murmured doubtfully.
    â€œAnyhow, we’ll keep an eye out for any local mental cases or oddballs on the loose with a gun,” the chief promised.
    â€œThanks. By the way, Joe and I are going away for a few days. If you could have the scout car in our neighborhood check our house now and again at night, we’d appreciate it.”
    â€œWill do!”
    The Hardys drove out of town and by eleven o‘clock were on the New York State Thruway, heading north to the Adirondacks.
    â€œMy stomach’s hollow,” Chet complained. “Couldn’t we stop for a bite to eat?”
    â€œToo early for lunch,” Joe objected.
    â€œI don’t mean a full meal. Just a quick snack to keep going, like a couple of burgers and fries.”
    â€œOkay.” Frank grinned, veering off the road toward a diner. “This place looks decent.”
    Joe took the library book on werewolves inside and looked at it while they were in a booth waiting to be served. A picture of the author, Desmond Quorn, was on the back flap of the jacket.
    â€œIt says he lives near Kingston, New York,” Joe remarked. “We’ll be going right by there!”
    â€œHm, that’s a thought,” Frank agreed. “He might be able to give us some useful information.”
    The Hardys decided to call the author from the phone booth in the diner. Frank soon found his number by dialing information. Quorn immediately recognized the Hardys by name and invited them and their friend to have lunch with him.
    â€œThanks, we’ll be happy to, sir,” Frank said.
    He and Joe had nothing but root beer and let Chet polish off the hamburgers they had ordered. But by the time they reached Kingston, Chet assured them that the snack had in no way spoiled his appetite for lunch.
    The author’s home proved to be a lovely old Dutch Colonial farmhouse. Desmond Quorn himself was a tall, thin man with graying blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses. An interesting talker with a fund of occult lore, he fascinated the boys throughout lunch with yarns and legends about vampires and werewolves.
    â€œWhat’s your opinion, Mr. Quorn?” Chet asked uneasily between mouthfuls of apple pie. “Are there really such things as werewolves?”
    Quorn shrugged and smiled. “I neither believe nor disbelieve. It just happens to be my hobby to collect all the folklore on the subject. But werewolves have certainly been reported in many countries, and a lot of people did believe in them in olden days.”
    â€œThere’s a scientific word for the belief that people can turn into wolves, isn’t there?” said Frank.
    â€œYes, the word is lycanthropy. There’s also a disease called porphyria, which may lead