Free Mystery of the Samurai Sword by Franklin W. Dixon

asked for Warlord’s extension in the dance troupe’s quarters on campus.
    Another member of the troupe answered. “Yvor’s not here right now,” he said, using Warlord’s given name. “May I help you?”
    Frank told the dancer who was calling and said, “My brother and I would like to ask him about something that happened when he was in Japan.”
    â€œThat must’ve been before he formed our troupe, so I wouldn’t know about it, myself,” the dancer replied. “But look, you’re the fellows who were here before, aren’t you, investigating the disappearance of that Japanese businessman?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell, the campus is still lit up, and things seem pretty lively around here. Yvor should be back soon—so if you want to take a chance and come on over, I imagine he’ll see you.”
    â€œGreat! Thanks,” Frank said. “We’ll be there in about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
    The Hardys drove to Bayshore. With many students on vacation during the summer term, two of the dormitories were empty, and the dance troupe had been assigned rooms in one of them. But the boys were in for an unpleasant surprise.
    When they knocked on Warlord’s door, it was opened by another member of the troupe. From his look of instant recognition, Frank guessed that this must be the person he had talked to on the phone.
    â€œWe’re Frank and Joe Hardy,” he said. “We’ve come to—”
    â€œI know—I know who you are,” the dancer interrupted hastily, with an embarrassed expression on his face. “But I’m not too sure th—”
    He was pushed aside before he could finish speaking, and Warlord himself appeared in the doorway, looking furious.
    â€œI have nothing to say to you two!” he exclaimed. “So kindly leave!”
    The Hardys stared in astonishment. Unlike his friendly manner that morning, the dance star was red-faced with anger.
    â€œWhat’re you upset about?” Frank asked in a reasonable tone, hoping to calm him down. “All we want to do is ask you a few qu—”
    But Warlord cut him short and growled, “Get out!” and slammed the door in their faces!
    The Hardys returned somewhat glumly to their car.
    â€œBoy, I sure wasn’t expecting anything like that,” Joe remarked.
    â€œNeither was I,” Frank concurred. “Whatever happened in Japan must still be a mighty sore point with him. Maybe Humber was right.”
    When the boys arrived back at the Hardys’ house on Elm Street, they found their father home again. They learned that he had gone to the airport to confer with an FBI official, who had flown from Washington expressly to brief him on his new assignment.
    â€œWhat do they want you to do, Dad?” Joe asked. “I mean if it’s not too secret to tell us.”
    â€œActually it may well be connected with the Satoya case,” Fenton Hardy replied. “The Road King Motorcycle Company has received certain threats.”
    â€œThere’s a chance they may merge with the motorcycle division of the Satoya Corporation,” Frank put in. “That’s what Mr. Satoya came over to discuss.”
    Mr. Hardy nodded. “Right—and that’s what the threats are all about. Road King’s been warned to forget the merger, or they’ll regret it.”
    â€œAny leads to go on, Dad?”
    â€œNot really—just suspicions. I have a hunch the threats may have come from another Japanese firm, Gorobei Motors. They’d like to take over the Road King company themselves. In fact they’ve already made an offer. If my suspicions are correct, I may have to fly to Japan to prove them, but so far I’m not sure.”
    After hearing about the unpleasant incident with Warlord, Mr. Hardy offered to cable the Japanese police for information. “I know several of the top police officials