No Way Out Read Online Free

Kay said. “We’ve got a barrel of gauntlets from our ancestors. Our family’s been collecting this stuff for centuries.”
    â€œYes, and we have crates and rooms full of other stuff,” Ray said. “Dad’s second obsession, after mazes,is medieval and renaissance heraldry. He loves all the legends and myths about knights and swashbucklers. And he’s added a lot of artifacts to the family heirlooms—suits of armor, jousting equipment, banners, and more.”
    â€œEventually he wants to build a museum to house all his stuff,” Kay pointed out. “Right now it’s in warehouses all over the island.”
    â€œAnd in Halifax,” Ray added.
    â€œAnd Scotland,” Kay said. “It’s probably the world’s largest private collection of medieval artifacts.”
    â€œOutside of collections owned by various royal families, of course,” Kay pointed out.
    It had been a late night, and everyone agreed that a hot shower and a warm bed was just what they wanted. With a pledge to the twins to find the person who had declared war on their father and his maze, the Hardys went upstairs to their guest suite.
    â€œVincenzo Blackstone is a perfect suspect,” Joe concluded. He and Frank had cleaned up, and then flopped into their beds in the large bedroom. “He’s got a track record of an attack on another maze—”
    â€œAlleged
attack,” Frank interrupted. “Ray and Kay said it was ‘common knowledge’ that he hired those thugs to do it. But there was no real evidence, no indictment, no trial.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Joe conceded. “You’re right. But it sounds as if the twins are not the only ones who think he was guilty. And they have seen his violenttemper firsthand. Plus, he’s supposed to be jealous of other Mazemasters.”
    â€œYou heard his description, though,” Frank said. “He didn’t sound like the guy you saw running away after the flaming arrow was shot.”
    â€œTrue, but I didn’t get a very clear view of him. And he could have been wearing a bulky costume. Lots of the spectators are completely disguised. Besides, if Blackstone was behind this, he could have hired someone else to shoot the arrow. He seems to have a history of hiring other people to do his dirty work—”
    â€œAllegedly,” Frank interrupted again.
    â€œAll right, all right,” Joe said. “I still say we check him out first thing tomorrow. What did the fire-eater say? Any chance the archer could have used his stuff to light the arrow?”
    â€œHe didn’t think so,” Frank said. “He told me he’s really careful about his equipment because it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. It’s usually locked up tight, and he’s aware of its whereabouts all the time. When he finishes his act, his stuff gets locked up in his truck right away. That’s what he did tonight. He checked it right after the arrow was shot, just in case. But everything was secure.”
    â€œOkay, then,” Joe said. “It’s on to Mr. Blackstone first thing tomorrow. Agreed?”
    â€œAgreed,” Frank said.
    â€œFirst thing,” Joe repeated in a faint mumble.
    The next thing Frank heard coming from his brother’s bed was a familiar snore.
    Frank finally fell asleep, but not for long. He kept waking up, and wasn’t sure why. As he lay in the plush bed, he heard a low racket of weird noises. The Hortons had done a great job of restoring the ancient wood-and-stone mansion. But they hadn’t gotten rid of its groans and creaks and the
tap-tap-tap
sounds that interrupted the late night quiet.
    As he continued trying to go back to sleep, Frank made a game of listening for a noise and then identifying its source.
That’s the wind moving through the wooden beams
, he guessed, after an eerie moaning noise. He heard a strange crackling, and then a sort of grinding