The Curse of the Ancient Emerald by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

didn’t.”
    â€œYou did!” I insisted. “You’re the Phantom.”
    â€œI was the Phantom. This”—he waved his hand—“isn’t me. Are you boys playing a prank?”
    â€œNo, listen. You sent this to us. I’m Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank.”
    That got his attention. He rose slowly from his chair. “Hardy? As in . . . ?”
    â€œAs in Fenton Hardy’s sons,” Frank explained.
    I suddenly realized that Dad was responsible for putting this man away for fifteen years. He was probably going to hold a few grudges about that.
    Frank and I exchanged looks, then took a small step back so we weren’t up against the desk. But Kruger didn’t notice. He hurried around the desk, went straight toward Frank, lifted his arm . . .
    . . . and broke into a huge grin.
    He gripped Frank’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Finally I get to meet Fenton’s sons! He mentioned you, back when he caught me. Apparently he nearly missed your third birthday, Frank, because he was after me.”
    â€œI’m confused,” I said. “Why are you so happy to find out who we are?”
    Kruger finally released Frank’s hand. “Because getting caught was the best thing that ever happened to me. If it wasn’t for your father, I’d probably be dead. Please, sit down.”
    Frank and I took our seats slowly. To be honest, I was wondering if this was some sort of trick, but Kruger sat back down himself and leaned forward on the desk.
    â€œI suppose you’re wondering about the name change?” asked Kruger.
    Frank nodded. “That and a number of other things.”
    â€œWell, I can explain about the first. The thing is, when I was in prison, I realized how wrong I was. I was young when I was the Phantom. I had all these ideas in my head about being a modern-day Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich, that kind of thing.”
    â€œRobin Hood gave back to the poor,” I pointed out.
    â€œAs did I. It was never made known, but I made sizable anonymous donations to various charities. But still, it was wrong. It took your father to show me that. When I got out of prison, I just wanted a fresh start. I knew I couldn’t change my name legally. So I went to the one person I knew who could help me.”
    â€œTrethaway,” said Frank.
    â€œAh, you’ve met, have you?” Kruger’s face twisted with distaste. “I regret having to go to him, but I had no other choice. He agreed to supply me with a new identity, but only if I’d give him the inside scoop on my life as the Phantom. How I’d planned various heists, that kind of thing. All for this stupid book. I agreed, as long as he kept my new identity secret. Which it looks like he hasn’t.”
    For the first time since we’d been in his office, Kruger looked annoyed.
    â€œSo,” he continued, “the Phantom has not been sending you riddles. Or stealing things. I’m the Phantom. Or, I was . And I assure you, it’s not me.”
    â€œBut . . .” I picked up the riddle. “We saw you—him . . . whoever—at the museum, at the house.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œLast night and the day before that. Do you have an alibi for those times?”
    â€œI don’t. My son saw me early in the evening yesterday, but he went out to a party. The day before that I was home sick. Some twenty-four-hour bug.”
    Interesting, I thought. He was still claiming his innocence, but he didn’t have an alibi. So no matter how much this guy objected, he was probably just trying to bluff us. Question was, what to do about it? Make a citizen’s arrest? No proof. Tell the police everything and point them in Kruger’s direction? That was a possibility, but I knew they couldn’t do anything without proof.
    I looked at Frank, but he seemed to be just as lost as I was. He