Free Passport to Danger by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

and help us.”
    â€œWhat have you got in mind?” Frank asked.
    â€œWell…” Isabelle paused a moment, then resumed strolling through the gallery. The Hardys fell into step beside her. “Let’s just say that we intend to make our mark on this city,” she said.
    â€œNow would be a good time,” Frank pointed out. “The tournament going on, lots of visitors and tourists here.”
    â€œExactly my thoughts,” Isabelle said. “Paris is always a hostess for travelers and sightseers, but now is an even more special time. It is like when we hosted the World Cup a few years ago. Many new people, many new minds to reach for our cause.”
    â€œSo you’re concentrating on Le Stade?” Frank guessed. “Something like the attention-getting events that have already been happening over there?”
    Isabelle paused again and this time she studied Frank’s face. Again he got the feeling she was reading his mind. And he also knew this was one scary woman. He made himself give her a big grin, and then nodded as if they were coconspirators.
    Then it was as if an invisible curtain dropped between them. She seemed to be bored with the conversation and distracted, eager to get away. Andwhen she spoke, she no longer sounded casual and friendly. She used a very formal tone.
    â€œI will think about what we’ve discussed and get in touch with you if I decide that you can help us,” she said.
    â€œDon’t forget that we would like your help too,” Frank said.
    â€œAh, yes,” Isabelle replied, “to start your own organization. Well, we will see. This interview is over for now.”
    She turned and strode away. Frank noticed that she still wore her combat boots.
    â€œThat is one spooky lady,” Joe said as they watched her turn a corner.
    â€œI had that same thought a few minutes ago,” Frank agreed. “I want to follow her and see what happens next.”
    â€œGo for it,” Joe said. “I’ll hang back here. I want to go back to the room where her henchman vanished. I know I can find the trigger that opens that secret door.”
    â€œCheck your handheld,” Frank said. In an isolated corner, they made sure their watches and handhelds were synchronized. “If we don’t hook back up before, I’ll meet you at closing time down in the reception area.”
    â€œGreat,” Joe said. “Good luck.”
    â€œYou, too,” Frank said, moving toward the corner where Isabelle had turned.
    Joe casually meandered back to the room he had started to navigate earlier. There were a few more people in the smaller room, but the guard had moved on. He checked the security camera and was relieved to see it was still turned off. Joe walked slowly around the room, studying the wood paneling. Each wall had several panels that looked a little less than two feet wide. Each panel had a decoration in the top and bottom corners: a small square of wood.
    There’s probably a sliding mechanism, he thought. Maybe one of those small squares in the paneling moves to the side and trips the latch on the other side of the wall. Joe turned to face the room, as if he were looking at the center statue. Then he reached behind his back with one hand and began running his fingers over the small squares of wood.
    Keeping his eye on the other visitors, Joe worked his way slowly around the room. Occasionally he pretended to drop his visitors’ guide so he could crouch lower. While one hand picked up the guide, the other checked the bottom corners of the paneling for the secret latch.
    When he reached the corner of the room, he stood still for a moment. His hands behind his back, he inched his fingertips along the wall. Wait a minute, he thought. His right hand retraced the last square he had touched. There’s something different about this one. It’s thicker. It sticks out farther from the wall.
    He pushed at the edge of the small