Free The Clue of the Screeching Owl by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

got down there the captain saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”
    â€œThen Donner, or somebody, had to get him out of the way because he knew too much!” Joe finished grimly. “Remember the blood we found on the leaves?”
    Absorbed in this new possibility, Frank, Joe, and Chet failed to notice that Simon had been making his way quietly toward the back door. In a moment the tall boy had slipped out into the night!
    â€œHey!” called Chet. “Stop him!”
    â€œNo, let him go,” said Frank Hardy calmly. “Simon’s on our side, all right.”
    â€œI just wish we could do something to help him,” Joe put in. “With his talent for drawing he might make out very well in spite of his handicap. He should go to a special art school.”
    Frank agreed, then said reflectively, “I can’t seem to get Colonel Thunder out of my mind, and his resemblance to Donner. Also, I wonder if it could be more than coincidence that the German word for thunder is donner. What do you say we find the carnival, and talk to the colonel? He just might be a relative of Donner.”
    â€œSuppose we drive to Forestburg in the morning,” Joe suggested. “Maybe we can learn something there about the Donner family, and find out where the carnival is. Besides, it’s about time we called Mother to see how things are in Bayport!”
    Morning dawned bright and fresh after the rain, everything seemed greener than before, and the boys’ spirits rose. Frank and Joe emerged from the cabin, followed by Chet, who cradled Mystery in his arms. But suddenly Frank stopped and frowned.
    â€œOh—oh! So much excitement last night we forgot to put up the convertible top before the storm. Now look!”
    Sure enough, there were puddles on the floor of the Hardys’ car, and the seats, though protected by covers, were wet. The boys mopped up the water.
    â€œLet’s take Captain Maguire’s car,” said Joe. “If the captain’s enemies see it, they may think he escaped, and that will bring them into the open.”
    The three set off with Joe at the wheel, Frank beside him, and Mystery and Chet in the rear.
    Apparently the back seat was comfortable, for by the time the car entered Forestburg, both Chet Morton and the beagle were fast asleep.
    â€œLet ’em alone.” Frank laughed. “Last night was too exciting, I guess. You and I can do the detective work, Joe.”
    The two boys walked a block to the courthouse. Because it was only eight o’clock, the streets had little traffic. Frank and Joe, alert with curiosity, looked around. Many stores had offices above. In one upstairs window, which Joe pointed out, was a small sign:

WYCKOFF WEBBER
Attorney-at-Law
    The brothers crossed the street to the courthouse. No one was at work yet.
    â€œWell, let’s try the stores,” suggested Joe. “Somebody here must know the Donners.”
    During the next hour the two young detectives went from shop to shop asking questions about the Donner family. Although one or two clerks or storekeepers admitted the name “sounded familiar,” nobody could give any definite information.
    â€œI’ll tell you what we’re up against,” said the exasperated Joe. “Some of these people are new in town, and they just don’t know the Donners. The others know them, but won’t talk to us. We’re outsiders, and they think we’re prying into local affairs that aren’t any of our business!”
    â€œMaybe so,” agreed Frank. “But there’s one shop I have to visit fast!” He indicated a tailor’s establishment at the end of the block.
    â€œWhat for?” demanded his brother, puzzled.
    â€œJust discovered,” muttered Frank, “I have a hole in my slacks—must have caught them on the rocks last night!”
    A little man with shining bald head and thin black hair at the temples greeted