CHAPTER I

A Vanishing Act

"How can the hand be quicker than the eye?" asked Chet Morton. "That's hard to believe!" He climbed into the back seat of the Hardy boys' convertible next to Joe.

"Perhaps the Incredible Hexton will convince you," remarked Frank, who was at the wheel. "All set, Dad?" he asked the handsome man beside him.

"Take off!" Mr. Hardy said, smiling.

It was Friday evening. Bayport High had closed for summer vacation the day before. To celebrate, the Hardy boys and their stout friend Chet were being treated to a magician's show in the nearby city of Claymore.

"I read in a newspaper," Chet went on, "how pickpockets use sleight-of-hand methods. In fact, I have the clipping here in my-" Suddenly he sat bolt upright. "My wallet!" he cried. "It's gonel"

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Frank brought the car to a stop. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Chet searched his pockets frantically. "It's gone all right!"

"Probably dropped out when you got into the car," Frank suggested.

"Then we'd better go back," Mr. Hardy said.

Joe tried to hide a grin. But Chet noticed it. "Wait a minute!" He eyed Joe suspiciously. "Okay, mastermind. Hand it over!"

Joe burst out laughing and gave his chum a brown leather wallet. "Just wanted to prove to you the hand really is quicker than the eye."

"You caught me off guard," Chet replied good-naturedly.

Joe Hardy, blond and seventeen, enjoyed joking and was more impulsive than his dark-haired, eighteen-year-old brother. Both boys were trim all-around athletes. Chet, their schoolmate, had a chunky build and played on the Bayport High football team.

"Let's go, boys!" said Fenton Hardy, grinning. "Any more pocket-picking and I'll pull you in!"

Frank and Joe's father was a nationally known detective who had earned his fame as a member of the New York City Police Department. After his retirement from the force, he had set up his own sleuthing organization. Both sons were following in his footsteps and already had solved many challenging mysteries on their own. Chet

A Vanishing Act 3

often joined in their adventures. Although the stout boy preferred safer pursuits, no danger could make him desert his friends.

"What do you know about Hexton the magician?" Frank asked his father.

Mr. Hardy said the man was a performer of some renown throughout the world, and was much acclaimed for his demonstrations of sleight of hand.

Joe asked, "Dad, do you by any chance have a professional interest in him?"

The detective laughed but did not reply and Joe decided not to press his query further. But he sensed that he had hit upon the truth.

They drove into Claymore, parked in the lot behind the theater, and took their seats just as the houselights dimmed. A tall, dark figure slipped through the curtains and the spotlight blazed upon the Incredible Hexton.

The gaunt magician wore a top hat, flowing black cape, and carried a silver-handled cane. His face sent a chill through Chet.

Hexton had heavy brows, a sharply pointed chin, and the piercing eyes of a medieval sorcerer. He moved into his performance with a catlike grace which indicated a disciplined and powerful body.

The boys watched eagerly as the magician caused coins, cards, and other small objects to disappear, then reappear at his fingertips.

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The finale of the show was billed as the "Vanishing Man Act." Hexton led a short, muscular aide to a boxlike compartment, walled in on three sides by curtains and on the front by draperies. He opened and closed these a couple of times. Inside the curtained area was what looked like an oversized picture frame, supported at each end by posts.

Hexton's aide was strapped to a plank, which the magician and a tall, thin assistant set horizontally into the frame. This was tilted toward the audience at a forty-five-degree angle.

Hexton closed the small curtain and gestured with his cane. In seconds the curtain was reopened. The audience gasped in amazement! The magician's aide, and the plank to which he had been strapped, had vanished!

Hexton bowed low, and his aide strolled onto the stage from the wings, to thunderous applause from the audience. Hexton bowed several times more, and stepped behind the curtain.

"Great performance!" Frank said as he rose from his seat and stretched.

"Do you know how he did it, Dad?" Joe asked.

"I have an idea. Let's go backstage. I think it would be interesting to talk to Hexton."

The detective and his three companions made their way to a door at the side of the stage. They went through it and up a short flight of steps to the wing, where they found Hexton.

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Mr. Hardy introduced himself and his party. "You had us baffled," he said. "Good show!"

"Especially the last trick," said Joe. "That was great!"

The performer smiled cordially. "Perhaps you would like to see how it is done."

Frank looked surprised. "I thought magicians never gave away their secrets."

"Customarily they don't," Hexton replied smoothly, "but, you see, I have recognized your name. I know Fenton Hardy is a star performer in his own field. We both deal in secrets. Mr. Hardy, my job is to mystify, yours just the opposite. I will show you the trick as a professional courtesy."

"That's very gracious of you," the detective replied.

"Not at all," Hexton said quickly. "I have a feeling we ought to become better acquainted."

Mr. Hardy smiled. "An excellent idea."

"One moment," said Hexton. "I must alert my assistant. In the meantime, will you boys please take seats down in the auditorium." Hexton strode off but returned in a couple of minutes. "Follow me, Mr. Hardy."

He led the detective onstage in the now-empty theater. "Would you do me the honor of being my subject?" he asked with a sweeping bow.

The short assistant strapped Fenton Hardy to the plank. With the three boys watching in-

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tently, the magician closed the curtain and waved his cane. When he opened the compartment, the subject had vanished.

"That's neat!" Chet said.

The boys watched for Mr. Hardy to reappear. When some time went by and he did not come out of the wings, Frank and Joe became worried.

"What's happened?" Frank asked anxiously. He and Joe ran onto the stage to examine the compartment, but Hexton blocked them.

"I can't permit you to inspect my device," he said, dropping his pleasant manner.

"Then tell us where our father is!" Joe demanded.

"I don't know," Hexton said slyly. "He must be playing some kind of joke on you."

Joe moved toward the magician. "Step aside. We're going to take a look at that gadget of yours."

Hexton called quickly, "Vordo! Stony!"

Two men emerged from the wings. The first one appeared to be nearly seven feet tall. His massive shoulders, muscular arms, and hard features made him a formidable sight. The other was the thin fellow who had helped with the vanishing act.

"See to it that these boys leave immediately," the magician ordered.

Joe was ready to fight, but Frank caught his brother's upraised arm. Perhaps Hexton was telling the truth.

The assistant strapped Mr. Hardy to the plank

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Joe acceded. "All right, have it your wayl" he said. "But we'll be back!"

The trio hurried out of the theater. Joe insisted upon going to nearby Claymore Police Headquarters to request that a couple of officers go back to investigate.

"All right," said Frank.

When the group returned to the theater, Hex-ton became enraged. "If you try to look at my equipment without a warrant, I'll sue youl" he stormed.

The officer told the boys that since there was no evidence of a crime, the only thing they could do was to file a missing-persons report.

"But we can't just sit around and waitl" Joe declared hotly.

"On the other hand, it's possible Dad is staying away on purpose," Frank reasoned in a low tone. "Let's wait a while before we report him miss-ing."

Joe was not satisfied. "At least let's search the theater."

The police agreed to this and the manager was summoned. He gave permission, but stressed the point that he had no jurisdiction over Hexton's equipment.

The magician and his assistants glared at the Hardys and Chet as they inspected the stage thoroughly. Then they searched other sections of the theater. There was no sign of Fenton Hardy.

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Frank suggested that they return home, in the hope that his father would try to reach them there.

Deeply worried, the three boys hurried across the dark parking lot and got into the Hardy car. As they sped along a straight stretch of road leading from the city, Chet looked out the rear window. He noticed the headlights of a pickup truck drawing swiftly closer.

"Some character is tailgating us," Chet said. "Doesn't he know that's dangerous?"

"Best thing is to let him go by," Frank replied, and pulled closer to the shoulder of the road.

The small truck roared past the Hardys' car.

"A speed demonl" Joe said sarcastically as the truck disappeared from sight.

The route Frank had chosen led them along a narrow, winding mountain road, bordered on one side by a guard rail. Below it was a sheer drop of several hundred feet.

As the car rounded a sharp curve, the boys were horror-stricken to see the headlights of a car directly in front of them. They had only the fraction of a second to brace themselves for a collision!