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left.
    â€œWhat do you make of it?” Joe asked his brother as they drove away from the motel.
    â€œThis mystery is getting more complicated by the minute,” Frank replied. “Bowden has an enemy all right, and he’s lying when he says he doesn’t know who he is.”
    On the way home the boys noticed another convertible following them. In the rear-view mirror Frank saw that the driver was a good-looking young man in his twenties. He was alone.
    â€œDo you think he’s trailing us?” Frank asked.
    The car had remained fifty feet behind the Hardys’ for about half a mile.
    â€œWhy don’t you find out? Slow down and see if he’ll pass,” Joe suggested.
    Frank did so. The other driver pulled out and zoomed ahead, staring intently at the Hardys as he passed them.
    â€œDid you recognize him, Frank?”
    â€œNever saw him before.”
    When they arrived home Aunt Gertrude told them that the Historical Society had just decided to hold a special meeting that evening. “You can drive me over, then move the cutlasses to the basement,” she said.
    After supper Frank and Joe accompanied Miss Hardy to the Historical Society building. When they pulled into the parking lot in the rear of the old stone building, several members were going in the front entrance.
    As Miss Hardy alighted she pointed to a basement window which was open. “Such carelessness!” she sputtered. “I must speak to Mr. Lightbody. Frank—Joe, please close it and lock it when you’re down there. Humph! The whole place will be full of stray cats!”
    Her nephews grinned as they followed their aunt to the front of the building and went inside.
    â€œThe cutlasses are at the rear of that corridor,” Aunt Gertrude said, pointing. “Carry them downstairs and don’t disturb our meeting!”
    Then she walked briskly into the auditorium.
    Frank and Joe went down the corridor. At the end of it stood a case with the six cutlasses from the Entwistle estate. Joe lifted out two of the short swords and examined them.
    â€œBoy, the real thing!” he remarked in a low voice. “They’re heavy. And look at this edge, Frank.” Taking an old envelope from his pocket he sliced it in half with an effortless motion.
    â€œI’d say these are more dangerous than the cannon,” Frank murmured. “Maybe that’s why some of the Society members don’t want them on exhibit here.”
    â€œHow about a look at the heavy artillery?” Joe said as the boys replaced the cutlasses in the case.
    They looked about for the custodian to show them the basement entrance, but could not locate him.
    â€œI guess we can find our way,” Frank said.
    He walked over to a door and pulled it gingerly. Instead of leading to the basement, it opened into the auditorium.
    Aunt Gertrude was on the dais, gavel in hand. “The meeting will come to order,” she said with authority, and the ensuing bang made it plain that she meant every word.
    As the members quieted, Frank saw the custodian seated in the front row. He was a small, thin man with gray hair and a wispy mustache. The boys decided not to bother him.
    â€œLet’s try this door,” Joe said, walking across the corridor. He turned the knob. The door yawned open into pitch blackness.
    â€œThis is the basement entrance, all right.” He reached inside for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened.
    â€œI guess the bulb’s burned out,” Joe said. “I’ll get a light from the car, Frank.”
    He hurried outside and brought back a flashlight which the boys carried with them at all times. As he beamed it down the steps, Frank lifted the case of cutlasses to his shoulders.
    â€œLead the way, Joe.”
    Joe went slowly down the cellar steps.
    â€œCareful,” he warned. “They’re steep.”
    The next moment he pitched forward. A blow on the side of his head had