Free Three-Ring Terror by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

floor, crossing his paws under him and giving them all a wary look.
    â€œI have a student pass,” Chet said, digging intohis pocket and pulling out a card. He showed the card to the woman. “My friends here are brand-new students and they don’t have passes yet.”
    The woman looked at Chet’s pass and nodded. “Okay, but you three are still not allowed in the arena without a Circus U. instructor. This area,” she continued, gesturing toward the animal cages, “is very dangerous right now. The animals are about to rehearse with their trainers, and only professional circus people are allowed here.”
    Frank realized it was useless to try to convince her to let them stay. He sighed, looked toward the trapdoor, and knew they’d have to go after Rosen some other way. “Right,” he said, turning away. “Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here.”
    â€œThanks, Chet,” Joe said as they walked away. “You probably saved us from being kicked out of the building for good.”
    â€œNo problem,” Chet said. “But you guys had better get yourselves a couple of passes.”
    Frank nodded. “Up till now, we’ve been lucky. We’ve either been able to sneak past security guards or no one’s noticed us.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do now that we’ve lost Rosen again?” Joe asked his brother as they left the arena through the front exit and began to round the building toward the parking lot.
    Frank stopped for a moment and rubbed his chin. “We know Rosen’s still around the circus. When Dean Turner gets back, he can get us thosepasses. Maybe we can get him to write out special passes that will allow us to go everywhere in the building.”
    â€œWe can also ask the dean to get us access to Rosen’s file. Let’s stop by his office before we leave for lunch to find out when he’ll be back.”
    The three boys made a quick detour back into the building to Dean Turner’s office. The dean’s secretary, who was using the office next door, informed them that Turner wouldn’t be back that afternoon—he was running late and he had to meet another donor out of the office later that afternoon.
    â€œRats,” Frank said as they headed down the hall toward the exit. “Where does that leave us?” he asked.
    â€œHungry, for one,” Chet said, holding his stomach. “The pangs—they’re too much,” he added dramatically, bending over.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Joe asked his friend. “Rehearsal for when you play the tragic clown?”
    â€œGive me a break!” Chet cried, heading off down the hall. “Detecting is hungry work. You said so yourself before we ran off chasing Ralph Rosen.”
    Joe shrugged, looked at Frank, and followed Chet out the door. “He’s right, you know. Even detectives have to eat.”
    Frank stopped for a moment and tried to think of a way through the dead end they were in.Turner was out, Bo Costello wouldn’t help, Georgianne Unger . . .
    â€œHey,” he called out to Joe and Chet. “You guys, hold it.”
    Joe turned around. “What’s up?” he asked.
    Frank jogged up to where Joe was standing. “We haven’t questioned Georgianne Unger yet. After all, she’s a prime suspect. Maybe she’s the one helping Rosen out.”
    Frank watched his brother think for a moment, then shake his head slowly. “No good. She’s not going to give anything away if she’s involved in the sabotage.”
    â€œI guess you’re right,” Frank admitted. “We’ll just have to get those passes from Dean Turner and do some more searching. It kills me to waste so much time, though.”
    â€œCome on,” Joe urged. “We’ll grab a bite and have another look at the message. Maybe we can make some headway there.”
    Frank gave in and followed Joe. In a few