Free Mystery of Smugglers Cove by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

spheres and pyramids.
    â€œMumbo jumbo.” Frank chuckled.
    In the middle of the room, they felt the intense heat from the furnace and from the liquid metal dripping down the ramp into the vat. Suddenly Frank skidded on a stone sphere the size of a marble. He lost his balance and plunged toward the vat of molten lead!

11
    The Heirloom
    Joe clutched wildly at his brother. His fingers caught Frank’s jacket and he yanked him back in the nick of time.
    â€œAre you okay?” Joe asked anxiously.
    â€œFine,” Frank assured him. “As long as I don’t have to take a bath in that tub! Thanks, Joe.”
    Shuddering after his close call, Frank turned away from the furnace and moved toward the door. Joe was right behind him. The Hardys could hear the murmur of voices, but not what was being said. Frank gently lifted the latch and pushed the door open a crack. All they could see was a barrel of slag, or burned-out lead, but now they could hear everything!
    â€œProfessor Viga, have you turned lead into gold yet?” Nitron demanded.
    â€œNot yet,” Viga admitted. “But I think I know the formula. A few more experiments, and I will have made the discovery of the century!”
    â€œHe’s a nut,” Joe whispered.
    Nitron walked to the slag barrel where the Hardys could see him. Myer also came into view next to him.
    Pointing to the barrel, the smuggler asked, “Is this the burned-out lead?”
    â€œYes,” Viga replied.
    Surreptitiously, Nitron slipped a lump of yellow metal from his pocket and held it behind his back. Myer took it and secretly dropped it into the container, all the while continuing the conversation with the eccentric old man.
    â€œHe ‘salted’ the slag,” Frank whispered, referring to the trick used by crooks of planting something in a certain place, then pretending to find it.
    Suddenly Myer shouted, “Gold!” He reached into the barrel and pulled out the yellow lump that he had tossed in. He held it up for Viga to see. It gave off a soft gleam.
    Viga hurried over and seized it. “I must have overlooked this piece!” he croaked. “Is there any more? Let me see!” Excitedly he foraged in the barrel, tossing pieces of burned-out lead over his shoulder. His head disappeared bit by bit.
    At last he stood up again. “There’s no more,” he said, disappointed. Then he brightened up. “But this lump proves my formula’s correct. All I have to do is review my experiments and find out which one will produce gold every time. Then you can sell it on the world market, Mr. Nitron, and we’ll be millionaires!”
    Nitron nodded. “But right now we have a little problem,” he pointed out. “You said you’d make enough gold to finance the business. I’ve run out of funds completely, so you’d better give me that family heirloom you mentioned to tide us over until you make your gold.”
    Viga nodded. “I’ll stick to our bargain. Soon we’ll have all the gold we need, and I’ll buy the heirloom back.”
    Nitron shrugged. “Fine. I’ll borrow money on it to pay the bills until you start mass-producing.”
    Viga reached inside his robe and pulled out a black jewel case. Opening it, he displayed a beautiful diamond necklace.
    Frank nudged Joe. “That’s the valuable object Nitron was talking about, not the Wester picture!”
    Nitron took the necklace and held it up. The stones glittered brilliantly.
    â€œIt belonged to my mother,” Viga said. “That’s why I don’t want to part with it forever.”
    â€œI’ll take good care of it,” Nitron assured him with a cynical grin. He put the necklace into the case again, slipped it into his pants pocket, and grabbed Viga’s hand. “And now we’ll have to get back to Key Blanco.”
    There was a shuffling of boots on the floor as the smugglers got to their feet.