Free Danger on Vampire Trail by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

man was immediately interested. “I think we might have some information on that,” he said. “You’ll have to talk to the general manager. Follow me, please.”
    They went up a flight of stairs to an office located off the mezzanine. There they were introduced to a thin, balding middle-aged man named Jerrold Morris.
    â€œThey have a question about a Magnacard,” the clerk said and excused himself.
    Morris motioned the boys to be seated and looked at them suspiciously. “Now what was that about a Magnacard?” he asked.
    The Hardys identified themselves, explaining they were on the trail of Whip Lasher. “We’re sure he bought a pair of shoes here,” Frank concluded.
    â€œWell, I don’t know if it’s the same man or not,” Morris said, “but a fellow calling himself Robert Wheeler bought a pair of shoes a couple of months ago. Besides that, he outfitted himself with some of our best merchandise.”
    â€œOn a phony Magnacard?” Frank queried.
    â€œThat’s right. There was another man with him. I wish we could lay our hands on those twol The police are working on the case.”
    â€œDid you get a description of Wheeler and his companion?” Joe asked.
    Morris nodded. “Our shoe clerk remembered Wheeler quite well.”
    Frank showed him the photograph.
    â€œThis could very well be the same fellow,” Morris said.
    â€œDid he leave any clues?” Joe wanted to know.
    â€œNo. We questioned our salesmen. They have no idea where the man was from or where he was going.”
    â€œWhat about the wrappers?” Frank asked.
    Much to the Hardys’ surprise, the packers had not been questioned.
    â€œWe would like to talk with them,” Frank said.
    â€œSure.”
    Morris rose and led the way downstairs to an aisle in the back of the store where several women were busy packing merchandise. He asked if anyone remembered wrapping an order including a buckskin jacket and Mountain Dogie shoes, bought with a Magnacard charge plate. “This might be the man who purchased it,” he said and passed the photo around.
    One woman, Mrs. Jones, identified Wheeler from the picture. “Whenever I see Magnacard on the sales slip,” she said, “I’m interested in the customer. We don’t get millionaires down here very often.”
    â€œWhat did the other man look like?” Frank asked.
    â€œWell, he was kind of chubby, and had dark hair. That’s all I remember about him.”
    â€œDid they talk to each other while they were waiting?”
    The woman frowned. “They mentioned a place called Foot Meadow a couple of times.”
    â€œWhere’s that?” Joe asked Morris.
    â€œNever heard of it,” the man replied.
    â€œNeither have I,” Mrs. Jones added.
    â€œWell, thank you for your information,” Frank said. “You may have been a big help to us.”
    â€œIf you should capture those fellows, let me know,” Morris said.
    â€œWill do,” Frank promised.
    The boys returned to their car, then drove out of the store’s parking lot into a busy street which led past the Brown Palace Hotel. Farther on, as they passed a jewelry shop, Frank jammed on the brakes.
    â€œJoe, look!”
    In front of the shop stood three familiar characters. Juice, Rip, and Fingers!
    â€œOh-oh,” Joe said. “They followed us to Denver!”
    â€œWonder what they’re doing in front of that shop,” Frank said. He pulled up to the curb.
    â€œI’d say they’re trying to case the place.” Joe glanced back and saw Fingers walk into the store while the others waited outside.
    Joe looked at his brother. “Frank, do you suppose this is a stick-up?”

CHAPTER XI
    A Shattering Experience
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    FRANK and Joe looked around for a policeman, but there was none in sight. So they hastened toward the jewelry store.
    Frank said, “I’ll go