Free Passport to Danger by Franklin W. Dixon

Conciergerie,” Joe told his brother. “He’s the one that jumped me and tried to steal my bag!”
    â€œIsabelle’s probably not far behind,” Frank said. “I don’t think he saw us. Let’s wait until he makes a move.”
    They waited about ten minutes. Joe kept the man in sight as Frank looked in both directions for Isabelle. Finally the man stepped away from the wall and started moving away from the Hardys.
    Frank and Joe followed the man at a safe distance. When they saw him pause for a minute, theystopped and looked at a painting on the wall. When he stepped forward again, he turned quickly and ducked through an arch into one of the smaller side rooms.
    The Hardys walked quickly toward the room into which the man had disappeared. They stepped inside. The room was a medium-size rectangle, about thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. The bottom half of each wall was paneled with rich mahogany wood. On the upper half of the walls hung magnificent Renaissance oil paintings in elaborately carved gold frames.
    Mounted in the middle of the room was a large statue of three larger-than-life-size figures. Only two other people were in the room. They were gazing up at an elaborate mural on the ceiling.
    Joe instinctively noted the location of a security camera. The red light on the camera was off. Then he glanced quickly around the room, his gaze stopping briefly on every face. “He’s gone,” he whispered to Frank. “He came in here, but he didn’t go back out. He totally disappeared!”

10 Without a Trace
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    â€œThe Victoire guy came in, he never went back out, and he’s not here,” Joe said, scanning the room once. “Poof—gone!” Joe walked along one wall, brushing his hand against the wood paneling. “He must have gone into one of those hidden passages behind the wall. That has to be how he disappeared. Now if we can just find the secret door.”
    â€œWatch it,” Frank whispered. The Hardys both looked toward the entrance to the room. Under the arch stood a museum guard, looking their way. “Let’s go for now,” Frank added. “I don’t want to stand out. We can come back later.”
    â€œIf I could just hang out here after hours,” Joe whispered as they left the room, “I’d definitelyfind out where that guy went. Did you notice the camera?”
    â€œIt looks as if it’s been disabled,” Frank noted. “Probably by the Victoires. Come on,” Frank said when they were back in the main gallery. “There’s Isabelle.”
    â€œI’ve been looking for you,” Isabelle said. She had abandoned her camouflage outfit for this meeting and was dressed in jeans and a bulky black turtleneck. “You weren’t by La Victoire, as we’d decided.”
    The Hardys greeted Isabelle. “There are too many distractions,” Frank told her. “This museum is excellent.” The three strolled through the galleries as they talked.
    â€œMmmmmm,” she said, nodding. “So you want to start a Victoire in America. Do you think you will find enough people to make it a real organization? Where is your home base?”
    â€œWe’re on the East Coast,” Frank said, “but we would want to make it a national organization. How old is Victoire? Did you start it yourself?”
    â€œOui,” she said. “I started Victoire almost one year ago. And it was not easy. It still is not easy. Our anniversary is coming up. It is time to make the world listen.”
    â€œWe’ll help—when we start our own group,” Joe said. “Whatever it takes, right? It’s worth it for the cause.”
    â€œHmmmm,” Isabelle said, stopping to turn towardJoe. “Do you really mean that? How long will you be in town? We might be able to use you two as allies. We have some plans in mind. Perhaps you’d like to be sworn in as Victoire deputies