Ghost Stories by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 1984-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

THE HAUNTED CASTLE

The jumbo jet thundered eastward high above billowing white clouds that drifted across the Atlantic. Through the window, Joe Hardy could see the coast of Scotland.

“We’ll be landing soon, Frank,” he remarked to his brother. “And then we’ll find out what this mystery is all about. Lord MacElphin sure was secretive when he phoned us in Bayport.”

“He was too nervous to say much,” Frank observed. “There’s obviously something strange going on.

The Hardys were referring to the fact that Lord MacElphin, an old friend of their father’s, had called Fenton Hardy and asked him to carry out an investigation at MacElphin Castle in Scotland.

Mr. Hardy was tied up with an assignment for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, so he had advised the boys to take the case.

“Be careful, though,” he’d warned them. “Lord MacElphin doesn’t get upset easily. Something dangerous must be going on at his castle. Still, I know you two can take care of yourselves. So go ahead and book the next flight to Scotland.”

Frank and Joe drove to New York the next morning and caught a transatlantic jet to Europe. Now they watched as the plane circled around and landed at Prestwick Airport near Glasgow. When they had cleared through customs, they took a taxi and asked to be driven to MacElphin Castle.

The cabbie’s face darkened as he started his car and moved rapidly into the Scottish countryside. “I cannot take ye to the castle,” he informed the Hardys. “I’ll leave ye at the gate and ye’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.”

“Why won’t you go to the castle?” Frank wanted to know. “Is something wrong up there?”

“Aye, you could say that. Something no man or woman should meddle with.”

Joe’s curiosity was stirred. “Can you tell us what it is?”

“It’s the powers of darkness,” the driver muttered hoarsely. “The witch’s curse on the house of MacElphin!”

The Hardys were startled by the outburst of the man, who turned off the highway onto a dirt road that ran through farming country. Then he resumed his weird tale of witchcraft.

“I do not know the whole story because it’s one nobody should pry into,” he went on. “But I wish to tell ye this. The witch’s curse goes back to him they called the Wicked Lord, the first Lord MacElphin, centuries ago. And it continues to this day. That’s why I will not go near the castle.”

He said no more as he continued into the countryside and finally stopped at a barred gate between two stone towers. One bore a plaque that read MACELPHIN CASTLE.

“This is as far as I take ye,” the driver declared. He unstrapped their suitcases from the rear of the taxi and placed them on the grass. Then he took the money Frank handed him and, with a quick wave of his hand, left.

Joe tried the gate. It was locked, so he rang the bell. A buzzer sounded, indicating that the gate had been opened by remote control from the castle. The

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