The Clue in the Embers Read Online Free

Tony would mind following his car in the truck. “With all the odd things going on around here tonight, I don’t feel much like driving home alone,” he said.
    Joe offered to ride with the curator. Tony would follow. The car moved slowly along the driveway and turned into the main road.
    Its two passengers rode for a couple of blocks in silence. Then Joe remembered the arrowhead that had been fired at him from the blowgun earlier that day. It was still in his pocket. He pulled it out.
    â€œMr. Scath,” he said when the curator stopped for a red light, “do you know what country this comes from?”
    Scath picked up the object from Joe’s palm. He examined it carefully. “Hm! I have never seen one quite like this before,” he said slowly.
    â€œWhere would you guess it’s from?” Joe prodded.
    â€œThat would be hard to say,” Scath replied. “Could be from South America. But I can’t be sure.”
    Joe slipped the arrowhead back into his pocket. After getting out at Mr. Scath’s home, he stepped up into the truck. On the way to Chet’s house he told his brother about his conversation with the curator.
    â€œMaybe that’s where Valez is from,” Frank said thoughtfully.
    Tony dropped Chet off, then the Hardys.
    â€œLet us know if you hear from Valez again,” Frank called as he drove off.
    The boys went upstairs to their bedroom. Joe noticed it was past midnight. Then he eyed Frank, who stood in the middle of the room, lost in thought.
    â€œHey, for a fellow who’s been on the go since eight o’clock yesterday morning, you don’t seem very sleepy, Frank!” he said.
    â€œI’m not. Why don’t we analyze those ashes you sampled?”
    Joe yawned. “Okay. But let’s try not to wake up Mother. She’ll think we’re crazy to work so late.”
    The boys removed their shoes, put on moccasins, and headed for the laboratory.
    â€œSet up the microtome,” Frank suggested. “I’ll get the photomicrograph ready.”
    Joe shook out the contents of the envelope and selected one of the firmer tiny charred pieces. He clamped this in place on the microtome. Then, running a finely honed knife blade delicately through it, Joe cut off a section.
    â€œWhat thickness?” he asked.
    â€œAbout two thousandths of an inch,” Frank replied.
    Working carefully, Joe cut other tissue-thin sections from several angles, letting them drop onto a glass slide. In a few moments Frank had prepared several photomicrographs of them, showing distinct wood grains.
    â€œNow we’ll see what was burning in the sarcophagus,” Frank said as he prepared to project the first lantern slide.
    The enlarged curves in the picture revealed clear patterns. Frank compared them with a chart in an encyclopedia.
    â€œThe grain matches the mahogany,” he said. The boys examined the pattern again and compared it with further angle shots. “It’s Central American mahogany!” Frank concluded. “And Valez could be from there!”
    â€œAnd the arrowhead!” Joe added. “It all points to Central and South America!”
    â€œFirst thing tomorrow we’ll airmail that arrowhead to Dad’s friend Mr. Hopewell in Chicago,” Frank decided. “He’ll be able to identify it. He’s a specialist in primitive weapons.”
    After storing the packet of ashes and the lantern slides in their small safe, the boys tiptoed back to their bedroom. A few moments later they were sleeping soundly.
    In the morning Joe woke up first. “Hm! I smell bacon and eggs,” he said and jumped out of bed.
    Fifteen minutes later both brothers were in the kitchen, saying good morning to their Aunt Gertrude, Mr. Hardy’s tall, angular sister, who stood at the stove.
    Presently their mother joined them and they all sat down at the dining-room table.
    â€œWhat are you two up to now?” Aunt Gertrude