Free Castle Fear by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

popular. Not a single car passed in either direction.
    A half mile from where he'd taken his dive from the train, Joe saw a big black form beside the road. Then he realized it was a car - a large black car, lights out, waiting for something.
    The words of his attempted kidnapper came back to Joe now. This must be the car that was supposed to meet them, Joe thought. Deciding he'd better avoid it, Joe ducked off for the woodlands that lined the road. He hadn't gone three steps before he stepped on a dead branch that broke with a loud snap.
    The side door of the car flew open, and a gruff voice called out, "Did ya get us one of them, Willie?"
    "Ar," answered Joe. He was almost behind the big auto, closer to the woods than the car.
    "Which one is it - Frank or Joe Hardy?"
    "How do I bloomin' know?" Joe snarled. He hoped he was making his voice sound pretty close to that of his almost-kidnapper.
    "Well, don't stand there like a bump on a log. Bring whoever it is over here. Now."
    Instead Joe darted for the woods, away from the car. Behind him he heard the car door slam. He ran on.
    The next sound Joe heard was a pistol shot.

Chapter 12
    It was nearly dawn when Frank and Karen arrived at the small ramshackle hotel two miles from the Beswick train station. The lobby was done in white plaster with moldings on the walls and looked as if it hadn't been renovated since the turn of the century.
    Up from behind the ancient mahogany registration desk popped the bald head of a man of about sixty. "Ah, newly weds, I wager," he said, rubbing his plump hands together and chuckling. "Run off and eloped, have you? Well, you couldn't have picked a more scenic spot. Ah, yes, Beswick is an idyllic little place, and the Winterbotham Wayside Hotel is, if I do say so myself, a jewel in the crown of this quaint and attractive village. I happen to be Winterbotham himself." He chuckled once more and slid the leather-bound register across the desk toward them.
    "Good morning, Mr. Winterbotham," Frank said. "We'd like separate rooms."
    "Don't tell me you're at odds already - and your honeymoon barely under way."
    "We're not married. We're here on business."
    "Business, you say? Well, then, let me assure you that Winterbotham's Wayside Hotel is known throughout the county of Kent as the businessman's haven." The plump proprietor nodded vigorously. "You'll find us ideally equipped for every kind of commercial endeavor. There are, to cite only one of a multitude of examples, telephones in nearly every room."
    He glanced at Frank as if he expected an argument. "The telephone, as I needn't point out to a clever young businessman such as yourself, is a boon to the transacting of business. In addition, there is a very efficient manual typewriter on the premises, and it is available at any hour of the day or night, at a nominal fee, for the typing of the most demanding business documents."
    Frank stared tiredly at the man until the speech was finished. "Fine," he said. "Do you have two rooms available?"
    "I believe I can accommodate you and the young lady, sir. Yes, I can put you in executive suites twenty-two and twenty-five, which are right next door to each other, in spite of the numbers."
    As he signed the register, Frank leaned across the counter. "You seem to know the town well. Are you familiar with Emily Cornwall?"
    "Ah, yes, the poor lass," Winterbotham said, sighing. "Miss Emily arrived a matter of two weeks ago and took up residence in the Talbot mansion."
    Karen came over, yawning, and signed her name. "Would you mind if I went up to my room, Frank? Otherwise I'm going to zonk out right here."
    "Could we have Ms. Kirk's key? Then you could go on with this interesting story."
    "Of course. Nearly asleep on her feet, she is." Winterbotham reached into a cubbyhole behind him. "Here you are, miss, room twenty-five. Do you wish me to see you up?"
    "No, I'll find my own way," Karen said, taking the heavy brass key.
    "Here are the stairs. Climb but two flights