The Witchmaster's Key by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

the stolen articles. They might lead us to the thief.”
    â€œSecond,” Frank said, “there’s the guy who sold them to the curator–alias the witch leader at the Pickenbaugh funeral.”
    â€œThird,” Joe added, “there’s the palmist. She might break the case wide open if only we could find her. Let’s get this info down in writing and see how it shapes up.”
    They took out their notebooks with the pages headed “crimes,” “suspects,” “clues,” and “theories,” and filled in the facts of the Griffinmoor case.
    The Hardys resumed their analysis of the mystery until they began to have a strange feeling that they were being spied on. Frank quickly looked in one direction and Joe in the other.
    Under his breath Frank warned, “There’s a man watching us. He’s too far off to identify. But he’s keeping us under surveillance. Anybody on your side?”
    â€œYes. A fat woman. I don’t know who she is, either. But she’s got a bead on us with opera glasses.”
    â€œBeing spied on from opposite directions makes me jumpy,” Frank muttered.
    Suddenly it seemed as if all the people in Green Park were staring at the Hardys. A nurse wheeled a baby carriage in their direction. An elderly man holding an armful of books peered quizzically over his horn-rimmed spectacles. Faces appeared and vanished behind bushes and trees like mocking ghosts.
    Joe shook himself. “I’m as jumpy as you are, Frank. Shall we go?”
    â€œOkay by me.”
    â€œSuppose the man and woman follow us,” Joe said.
    â€œWe’ll have to give them the slip somehow. Come on!”
    They got up and strolled down the street. “Let’s stop in front of the display window of that shoe store there,” Joe suggested. “Maybe we can see their reflections.”
    Frank nodded and casually pretended to examine the shoes in the window. The man and woman were still behind them!
    â€œOh, great,” Joe muttered. “How about the department store across the street? Maybe we can lose them by leaving through a back door.”
    The boys went in and hurried through an aisle toward the rear. No luck! There was only one entrance! As they walked out, they noticed the couple on the other side of the street.
    â€œThey knew we had to come out here and just waited for us,” Frank said. “Joe, I have an idea on how to get rid of them. Follow me!”
    He led the way to a subway station, where they bought tickets for the
underground
at a vending machine. Hurrying to the escalator, they descended to the bottom. About ten yards opposite them, the up escalator was moving people toward the top exit.
    Frank and Joe turned a corner at the bottom. They were alone.
    â€œQuick!” Frank said. “Put on Burelli’s mask!” In moments both boys were transformed fromvisiting Americans into freckle-faced Scottish youths.
    Frank turned the corner again with Joe on his heels. This time they stepped onto the up escalator. The man and woman from the park were on the other side, going down behind a crowd of riders. Frank and Joe looked at them. They returned the gaze without recognizing their quarry.
    At the bottom, the pair hurried toward the train. At the top, Frank stepped over to the down escalator.
    â€œYou’re not going down again!” Joe blurted.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œPretty risky.”
    â€œJoe, they don’t know us from Adam. And it’s time to get to the station.”
    Riding to the bottom, they mingled with the Londoners waiting there. The man and woman had already gone along the platform and were looking through the crowd, when the train rattled in. It came to a standstill and the doors opened. The Hardys got on board. Some minutes later, safely on their way back to the train station, they chuckled over their strategy.
    â€œWe really fooled them,” Joe said.
    Frank nodded. “We