"Come on, dude, you gotta wake up now! It’s almost midnight, man, come on! Frank hasn’t called, we gotta go to the rescue!"

Matt’s insistent prodding finally caused Phil to sit up and notice his surroundings…and take stock of himself. He was in the living room, on the couch…why wasn’t he in bed, where he belonged? His throat hurt, but only a little. His head hurt a lot, but at least he wasn’t seeing double. He was fairly sure he could get around.

Moving carefully, he got to his feet and went into the bathroom to wash his face, gulped down a couple of aspirins, then went to his bedroom to change into long pants and a clean shirt. At last he went out to face the exuberantly enthusiastic Matt, who was nearly prancing with impatience.

"Matt, listen to me—" he reminded his roommate, "We don’t have to go rescue Frank, he just told us to call the police if he didn’t check in, remember?"

Matt stared at him, shocked. "Dude, you’re not really going to just call the police, are you? I want to ride to the rescue, man! We can call the police when we’re almost there, can’t we?" he coaxed. "We can tell them we found his car there, dude, and then we can go in and help get Frank out! That’s the ticket!"

Phil knew there were several things wrong with that scenario, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on anything specific. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with it, maybe it’s just my head that thinks so – and right now, my head’s completely untrustworthy! "Is there any coffee – ah, good for you!" He poured himself a cup of the aromatic dark brew which Matt had evidently recently made, and took a sip – then shuddered and grimaced. "When are you going to learn to make decent coffee?" Phil demanded.

"I can make decent coffee, dude, but I was in a hurry!" Matt grinned. He picked up his own cup and took a large gulp. Evidently the taste didn’t deter him!

"You must always be in a hurry then, because your coffee always tastes like dry rot!" Phil retorted. He dumped in a heaping teaspoon of sugar and tried again. Drinkable, at least!

Matt’s usual goofy grin spread over his whole face. "Come on, man, hurry up!" he urged. "We’re wasting time, let’s go!"

Phil kept gulping the coffee as he and Matt walked to his car, and slowly began to feel slightly more alive. He slid into the driver’s seat, trying to ignore the tormenting throbbing of his skull, and set out for Long Island. Beside him, Matt had subsided into tense silence.

"I wonder if we should call the Hardys – Frank’s dad," Phil mused aloud. "They might be worried about Frank." He thought a little about that, and reconsidered. " But really, there’s nothing they could do – I couldn’t tell them anything, because I don’t know anything!"

"Dude, they’ll think he crashed at our place, and was too tired to call them," Matt stated, reasonably. "You don’t want them to worry any more than necessary, do you? Like you said, you – or they – can’t do anything about it now."

Phil looked over at Matt’s thin, intense face. For once his roommate’s grin was absent, and his expression was entirely serious. Phil sighed. "Keep telling me that, Matt – if you say it enough times, I might even believe it!"

"What are we going to do when we get to this mansion place?" Matt wanted to know, anticipation growing in his voice once more.

"I don’t know yet," Phil admitted. "But one thing I do know, man, we ARE going to call the police, because they’re going to be needed! I don’t think trying to break into the place on our own is a very hot idea!"

Matt shrugged in resignation. "It will still be exciting, though!" he smiled

"Why aren’t you tired? Don’t you ever need sleep?" Phil demanded testily, irritated by Matt’s insouciance.

"Sure, I need sleep! But I’m not the one who was up all night, last night, and right now I’m too excited to think about sleep! I’m on a real case, man!" Matt bubbled. "I’m, like, a detective! Yeah!"

Phil laughed, despite himself. "You’re not a detective yet, Eckersley."

"Close enough," Matt declared with a grin, "close enough!"

Feeling a little more good-natured now, thanks to Matt’s clowning, the coffee, and the aspirin, Phil turned his thoughts to Allison. If they find her violin, she’ll be so happy! He imagined the look on her pretty, intense face, and grinned. The image actually helped to wake him up. I’d much rather be with her than out here, he mused, getting into who knows what kind of danger!

Through the streets they went, and finally gained the semi-rural area of Hill Point. Phil found their destination by the simple expedient of seeing Frank’s car parked by the roadside, next to a high brick wall, and pulled up behind it. He and Matt got out of their car and went to check the Saturn out, grateful for the light poles which lined the road.

Phil peered through the windows into the car’s interior. Definitely Frank’s car…still has the temporary registration stuck on it, and there’s his detective kit in the back seat! There was no sign of Frank anywhere, however, and Phil felt a qualm or two. I hope nothing bad’s happened to him!

"What should we do next, dude?" Matt whispered, looking around anxiously through the gloom.

For answer, Phil pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit 9-1-1.

It took some fast talking and all the persuasion Phil could muster, to convince the emergency operator that this wasn’t a crank call, and that Phil was in deadly earnest about his missing friend, who might be in trouble, or hurt. She finally agreed to send a police cruiser out to meet them, on the double.

Phil disconnected, and looked around for his roommate, with a sinking heart. Where the hell had Matt wandered off to now? "Matt?" he whispered.

"Right here, dude," came the quiet reply, and whirling towards the sound of the voice, Phil espied Matt perched on top of the brick wall, wedged precariously between the iron spikes, his face plastered with a demonic grin.

"Get back down, RIGHT NOW, before you get in trouble!" Phil hissed in exasperation.

"Don’t you want to get closer?" was Matt’s only response. He stubbornly remained where he was. "Shouldn’t we go see if Frank’s inside?"

Phil gritted his teeth. "NO, I don’t want to get closer, and I don’t want to go see if Frank’s inside!" he hissed. "That’s why we’re waiting for the police, you moron! We’re doing this the right way. No short cuts. Now, get off that damned wall, right now!"

Matt sighed and grumpily slid off the wall, muttering complaints all the while. He slouched against it in the darkness, sulking. Phil leaned against Frank’s car, wishing his headache would stop trying to pound its way outside of his skull. Surely the aspirins had had time to work by now, hadn’t they?

The sound of a car’s motor brought them both to attention, and Matt’s eyes glinted with excitement when a police cruiser pulled up behind Phil’s car. Two uniformed officers, one male and one female, got out and walked up to them.

"Okay, what’s this all about?" the male half of the duo demanded suspiciously.

Phil explained – aided and abetted by Matt, which wasn’t all that much help. It took more than one run-through to convince the officers, and they weren’t very happy about the fact that Frank might or might not have broken into the estate, but finally they agreed to go in and check things out.

The button on the gate was located and pressed, and after a prolonged wait, a grumpy voice on the other end demanded to know what was wanted.

"Police officers," the woman replied. "We need to speak to someone inside the house."

After a brief moment, during which more than one of them held their breaths, there came a reluctant "okay," followed by a buzzing sound, and the lock on the gate snapped open.

The officers marched up the long walk, with Phil and Matt following closely behind while attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. They went up to the front door, which opened at their approach. The female officer, whose name tag read Kinsey, spoke.

"We’re looking for someone – a young man, tall, with dark hair. He seems to have gone missing, and his car was found parked outside your wall. Have you seen him, by any chance?"

The man who had opened the door – a husky, brown-haired man in his forties – shook his head. "No," he muttered crossly. "No one is here except me, my father, and my nephew. And we haven’t seen anyone."

Kinsey eyed him speculatively. "Could we please look around inside?" she requested courteously.

"Do you have a warrant, or something?" growled the man.

"No, we don’t," Kinsey kept her voice polite. "This is just a routine check."

"Then go check somewhere else!" the man snarled, and moved to slam the door shut in her face – but suddenly her partner, Officer Martinez, stepped forward and put his foot in the door, preventing its closure.

"Do we really need to go and get a warrant?" he asked, in a deceptively mild tone.

"Oh Peter, let them in, it’s fine, it’s not a problem." A voice came from inside the house. The door swung wide again, revealing a positively ancient old man standing there…beside Zacary Stein. Matt and Phil registered the boy’s presence with shock, and exchanged worried glances. Zacary gave them one startled look, then dropped his gaze downward.

"I am Ernst Steiner, and this is my son Peter, and my grandson, Zacary," the old man said courteously. "How may we assist you, officers?"

The boys followed the police officers into the house, gazing about curiously at the multitude of antiques and beautiful furnishings. The little group moved down the wide hallway, and entered what appeared to be a music room…and Phil stopped cold. Alli’s violin! He was sure it was Allison’s Stradivarius, displayed in a huge glass case, along with several other fine instruments. He tugged at Martinez’ sleeve. "That’s the violin!" he said. "I’m sure of it!"

Overhearing the remark, the old man laughed genially. "You must be mistaken, young man. That violin has been in my family for many, many years. Of course, one violin tends to look very much like another – the mistake is quite understandable."

Phil glared at him. "That’s not true," he said. "It belongs to Allison Lewis. There’s a plaque on the back of it, with her great-grandfather’s name on it – Frederick Mueller. It’s just a little one, but it’s made of pure gold. All you have to do is look at it, and you’ll be able to tell," he went on, with an entreating look at Officers Kinsey and Martinez.

"We’ll check it out," Martinez reassured him, "after we finish searching the rest of the house for your friend."

"Dude…" Matt had been looking about sharply, and now he moved to pick up a small object which was lying near the glass case. "Isn’t this Frank’s camera?"

Phil looked at it. "It sure is—"

"That’s my camera," the man who had been addressed as Peter interrupted. "I must have dropped it there earlier."

The officers suddenly stopped looking polite and started looking suspicious. Kinsey narrowed her eyes and snapped "All right, assume the position!" – but as Ernst and Zacary complied with the order, Peter whirled about and dashed out of the room and down the hallway.

For a moment, both officers seemed to freeze in place, then Martinez pulled out his gun and trained it on Zac and his grandfather. "Just stay right there," he commanded. Kinsey, meanwhile, was making a call to headquarters on her belt radio, requesting backup. After being assured another car was en route, she patted the old man and Zacary down, frisking them for weapons, but they came up clean.

Phil and Matt, during all this, had been edging unobtrusively towards the door. They were both afraid of what Peter might be doing to Frank right then. They made it into the hallway and started in the direction the fleeing man had gone, but before they had made it too far, they were joined by Officer Martinez. The three hurried along, and found themselves at the top of a staircase descending into the basement.

"Listen!" Matt stopped, holding up his hand. Somewhere below them could be heard movement – footsteps, and crashing noises…and some colorful cursing.

Suddenly, the middle-aged man appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and all three pursuers froze – for Peter Steiner was standing there, holding a gagged Frank Hardy in front of him like a human shield, with a gun pressed firmly against his head!

"Back off, right now!" Steiner barked. "Back off, or the boy gets it!"

Martinez raised his hands slowly. "Just relax, okay? You’re just going to make things worse for yourself. You don’t really want to hurt that kid, do you?"

"I’ll kill him if you don’t let me – us – go, right now," the man spat. "I’m the one in charge, not you!" He shoved Frank roughly up the stairs. Frank, his hands still bound behind him, took one step, then another…

…and swung about, kicking out sharply. He caught Peter Steiner behind the knee, and the man fell heavily. Frank, unbalanced, toppled forward – just as the gun went off, and a loud BANG!! resounded through the house.