CHAPTER XVII

Night Attack

inspector Clyde laughed. "See here, my dear fellow. You're not serious about ballooning into Hexton's stronghold, are you?"

"I realize it sounds fantastic," Frank admitted. "But at least it's worth discussing with McHugh."

Joe scratched his head dubiously. "Hexton's guards are bound to spot a balloon."

"Maybe not if we drop in at night," Frank replied.

Chet pointed a determined finger at his friends. "Don't think you two are going to get me to ride in one of those oversized basketballs!"

Joe grinned. "Okay. Anyway, I don't believe there's enough hot air in Scotland to lift you off the ground!"

A little later the boys rented a car and drove to the site of the race. On a grassy plain a few miles west of Perth, more than fifty balloons of all shapes and sizes were preparing for the competi-

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tions. Their bright colors and vivid designs gave the scene a touch of the pageantry of a medieval tournament.

"Look at that!" Chet yelled as they walked across the field. He pointed to a balloon displaying the French national colors from its gondola. "What a beauty!"

At the firing of the starting gun, the contestants leaped onto bicycles, sped to their balloons, and jumped into the gondolas. Then the balloons were released from their moorings and sailed across the field. One of them never lifted off the ground; another, the French entry, rose into the air but became snagged in a tree branch.

"Norn d'une pipe!" screamed the flier. "II est fichu, mon beau ballon!"

"Tough break," said Joe.

Frank asked one of the club members for McHugh. He learned that the pilot was not racing that day, but was helping another contestant a short distance down the field.

McHugh was surprised to see the boys. Frank told him about the plan for getting into Hexton's castle.

McHugh chuckled. "So ye want to be invaders?" he teased. " 'Tis a daring plan ye've come up with, lad. And it will no' be an easy thing to do."

"Can you get a balloon large enough to carry all of us?" Frank asked.

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"Sure. We'll borrow one from the club."

"I'm not going," Chet insisted.

"But we need you for ballast," Joe said with a grin.

"If we get into Hexton's castle," Frank added, "you might see some of his magic equipment!"

"Well-" Chet muttered, weakening. "I guess you'll need somebody around to keep you two out of trouble."

After the races, McHugh and the boys returned to McHugh's apartment in lanburgh to plan their daring adventure. The pilot examined an aeronautical chart and carefully plotted the position of the castle. He pointed out that their success depended entirely upon the winds and the position from which the balloon was launched.

"I understand a balloon has no directional control," Joe said.

"That's not entirely true," McHugh replied. "Since the wind direction generally changes with altitude, we can get some control by ascending or descending."

"How do you do that?" Chet questioned.

"By varying the amount of ballast, or weight carried in the form of sandbags," the pilot explained. "The more ballast dumped overboard, the higher the balloon will go. To descend, we simply release some of the gas from the bag by means of a valve."

"Just one thing," Joe put in. "If we manage

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to reach Hexton's castle, how do we keep from floating right on past it?"

"By using a length of rope attached to a grapnel," Frank replied. "We'll lower it as we approach the castle-and hope it catches somewhere on the wall. This will act as a mooring. Then we can slide down the rope."

Chet took a deep gulp.

"Obviously," Frank continued, "we can't keep the balloon moored there. Hexton's men would spot it sooner or later. So, after we're down, we'll release the grapnel."

"Then I'll sail the balloon a short distance away and land," McHugh added. "With your approval, I'll ask one of the club members to help us. He can drive the lorry containing the launching equipment and assist in our take-off preparations. Later, he can rendezvous with me at the landing spot."

The boys thanked McHugh and drove back to Clyde's office.

"A report that will interest you chaps came in while you were gone," the inspector said. "An lanburgh resident said he was involved in a minor automobile accident several hours ago. It happened on a road north of here. According to the report, it was a near head-on collision. Luckily, both drivers jammed on their brakes and merely smashed bumpers.

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"This fellow stated that the other driver seemed in a devil of a hurry. He simply backed away and sped off in his sports car."

"Sports car!" Frank exclaimed. "Did the other driver get its license number?"

"Yes," the inspector replied. "I've checked it out. The car belongs to a chap named Ross."

"The steward we chased into the hangarl" Joe exclaimed.

"And another thing," Inspector Clyde said. "The accident occurred not far from Hexton's castle."

"I'm not surprised," Frank mused. "Ross could have been on his way there from Prestwick."

The boys were eager to get their balloon trip under way. Weather conditions the next night were unsuitable for the venture. But on the following night, McHugh telephoned the Hardys at their hotel room that, in his estimation, conditions were ideal.

"The way I calculate the winds, lads," he said, "we should take off from a point about five miles southeast of Hexton's castle. I'm familiar with the area, and know several open fields that will serve our purpose."

"Good!" Frank replied. "We'll meet you in a few minutes."

Frank relayed the message to the other boys and all checked the equipment they would take-

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miniature tools, two-way radios, and pencil flashlights.

McHugh had telephoned his fellow club member and soon the lorry containing the balloon and launching equipment was at the door. McHugh was in his own car and the young sleuths hopped in with him. About two hours later the pilot pointed to a clearing just off the road.

"There's a good spot," he announced.

The boys helped to unload the balloon and set up the equipment to inflate it. Makeshift moorings were established to prevent the craft from floating away. Soon a large, spherical, gas-filled bag was looming over their heads, tugging gently at the mooring lines. McHugh and the boys climbed into the gondola and prepared to launch.

"Aye, the surface winds are very light," McHugh observed. "That'll make our attempt to moor at the castle much easier."

As they rose slowly into the air, Chet watched the ground slip away. "Hey!" he declared with a wide grin. "This isn't bad at all!"

A half moon in the night sky provided enough illumination for them to distinguish the terrain below. McHugh varied the altitude by dumping ballast and manipulating the gas-relief valve. The balloon altered its track slightly with changes in wind direction.

More than an hour passed, then Joe pointed directly ahead. "There it is!"

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The medieval structure, turrets looming skyward, presented a ghostly image in the dim moonlight. As they drew near it, Chet called attention to a far corner of the courtyard.

"Look!" he said. "A light! Seems to be coming from one of the castle windows."

"No more loud talking," Frank ordered. "We're getting close. Help me lower the grapnel line over the side."

Slowly the balloon drifted toward the castle. The pilot released gas and eased down to a lower altitude. Just then a sharp, metallic sound pierced the night air.

Ping!

"The grapnel just made contact with the castle wall," Frank observed.

"What's that?" Chet whispered as he and the Hardys heard a faint scraping sound.

Frank peered over the side of the gondola. "The grapnel is being dragged up the side of the wall," he murmured. "It isn't catching hold."

They floated over the courtyard toward the opposite wall. With a lurch the balloon came to a halt.

"We've made it," Joe whispered excitedly. "The grapnel caught."

"So far so good," Frank said tensely. "Now, over the side and down the rope. I'll go first."

"Good luck, lad!" the pilot called.

The boys waited for a moment to make certain

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the coast was clear. Then Frank eased himself over the side of the gondola and got a tight grip on the line. He hung precariously above the ground for an instant, then began to slide down.

Lowering himself gently onto the stone rampart, he peered through the darkness and listened. He then signaled for Joe and Chet to follow. When they were down, they freed the grapnel. The balloon drifted off into the darkness.

The three groped their way along, finally coming to a flight of stone steps. Frank cautiously led his companions down the stairs into the courtyard below.

"There's the light I spotted from the air," Chet whispered, pointing across the courtyard.

"And the door right next to it is partially open," Joe observed.

The boys crept forward slowly until they reached the door. Frank eased it open wider. Peering inside, they saw a long, dimly lighted corridor which extended deep into the castle. It was lined with suits of armor mounted on low, wheeled platforms.

"I don't see anybody around," Joe whispered. "Let's go in."

At intervals along the corridor were large wooden doors with massive iron hinges. As the young sleuths neared the end, they heard muffled voices coming from a room. Its door was slightly

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ajar. Slowly they stalked toward it and Frank looked inside.

Clustered around a huge oak table were Hex-ton, Vordo, Bleeker, Arnold, Ross, and the short twins.

Hexton's voice carried through the opening. "Now get this straight, Vordo. You all know the layout of Nairn Loch Manor?"

"Every detail," Vordo replied.

"No mistakes," Hexton said harshly. "You especially, Bert and Lou." The twins nodded,

"Then it's all set," Hexton said. "Day after tomorrow we'll have in our hands the most valuable collection of jewels in Scotland!"

Frank stiffened. So Hexton did plan to steal the Nairn Loch collection before it went on display!

The men stood up to leave, their chairs scraping on the stone floor. Instantly Frank motioned Joe and Chet to retreat down the corridor. Chet hesitated before a suit of armor.

"What are you doing?" Joe whispered.

"Getting myself a weapon." Chet began to tug at a mace.

A metal gauntlet pulled loose and crashed to the stone floor. The sound echoed through the corridor like a burst of thunder. The door creaked open and the men sprang from the room.

"W-why, it's those snoopers!" Vordo bellowed in surprise.

"Get them!" Hexton commanded.

When the men lunged at the trio, Joe caught Arnold with an uppercut that sent him spinning across the corridor. Frank pushed a suit of armor from its platform, directly into the path of the UGLI men.

"Watch out for Vordo!" he yelled at his brother.

Joe whirled to see Vordo picking up the gauntlet. He flung it at the young sleuth. The heavy object grazed Joe's head, stunning him.

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Meanwhile, Chet was leaping behind one platform after another, pushing suits of armor into the paths of Bleeker and Ross, who were lunging at him. The stout youth grabbed a lance and charged the men.

"Look out!" Bleeker howled.

Chet continued his gallant charge, with Bleeker and Ross running just inches ahead of the point. But the lance proved too cumbersome. The tip lowered to the stone floor, throwing up sparks. Chet stumbled and the two men were quickly upon him.

Arnold, meanwhile, recovered from Joe's up-percut and ran to help Hexton and Vordo, who were grappling with Frank. Three adversaries proved too much and Frank was finally overpowered.

Joe gradually regained his senses and scrambled to his feet. Hexton glared at them.

"How did you get in here?"

"Figure that out for yourself 1" Frank snapped defiantly.

"What now?" Vordo asked Hexton.

The magician's decision came quickly. "We've no time to waste," he said. "Let's take these sons of Fenton Hardy and their friend through the secret passageway to my storeroom. We'll keep them around as insurance-in case we run into any trouble."

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"I'll go ahead and open the door," Bleeker volunteered.

The boys were frisked and the tool kits were removed from the secret pockets of their jackets. Their miniature short-wave radios were also taken.

"Leave 'em their flashlights," Hexton said, and added with a sardonic chuckle, "It'll help 'em see what a lot of trouble they got themselves into."

The three prisoners were prodded along the corridor, then through a camouflaged opening in the wall. Single file, they walked down a long, stone staircase and through a secret passage beyond. The boys could see nothing of their surroundings other than what Vordo's flashlight picked out of the darkness, but they felt a clammy dampness in the air.

"Here we are," Hexton said finally.

Directly ahead was a huge iron door. The hinges squeaked as Vordo pulled it open.

"Get in there!" Bleeker growled.

The Hardys and Chet were shoved into a large dungeon-like room. Scattered about were various devices that Hexton had developed for his magic shows.

"We can't keep 'em here!" Vordo warned. "The lock on this door is so old it won't work!"

"I know," Hexton replied. "But I've something else in mind."

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He pointed to an oversized trunk, standing on end. It was constructed entirely of heavy steel, and held together with large rivets. Near the base were several air holes.

Hexton removed the three massive padlocks that secured the trunk. "Put them in here," he ordered. "They'll never escape from this!"

"You can't do that!" Joe shouted. "There isn't enough room!"

"Shut up!" Vordo snarled.

The magician's cohorts pushed the boys toward the trunk and forced them to step inside.

"This will give you time to regret that you ever thought you could outsmart the Incredible Hexton!" the magician declared, uttering a spine-chilling laugh.

Seconds later the trunk was slammed shut, and the Hardys and Chet were locked in inky blackness 1