Mystery of the Samurai Sword by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

this way,” the gallery director said after a brief silence. “We did receive a cabled bid from Japan.”
    â€œAny name?” Frank pursued.
    â€œNo. Just a cable address to which we were asked to send our reply. But for various reasons, I believe the offer may have come from Satoya.”
    â€œMind telling us how much was bid?” Joe asked.
    â€œForty thousand dollars.”
    Joe whistled in awe. “But you didn’t accept?”
    The director shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been ethical. We had already advertised the sword for auction, so we could not back out.”
    â€œDo you by any chance have a picture of the sword that we could see?” Frank queried.
    â€œMatter of fact, I do. We had one made for our sale catalog.” Mr. Sanders plucked an eight-by-ten color print from a drawer and handed it across the desk.
    The Hardys studied it closely.
    â€œHm, the scabbard doesn’t look like much,” Joe remarked.
    â€œQuite right,” Mr. Sanders agreed. “The sword itself is a tachi, the kind that’s designed to be slung from a belt, instead of merely thrust through the wearer’s sash, like the kind called a katana. Its blade is absolutely superb. Our expert dates it as probably of sixteenth-century workmanship by a swordsmith of Mino Province. But the scabbard is what’s called shin-gunto, or army style, just leather-covered metal, of the kind issued to military officers beginning in 1937.”
    â€œThat’s interesting,” said Frank. “How do you explain the difference between the two?”
    â€œIt’s really not all that unusual. Many officers who came from good families and owned fine old samurai swords carried them on active service—but in army scabbards, instead of the original decorated mountings.” With a slight puzzled frown, the director added, “But there is one thing rather odd.”
    â€œWhat’s that, sir?”
    â€œWhen a samurai sword was converted for military wear, the owner would usually switch to a plain military hilt as well.”
    â€œHow could he do that?” asked Joe.
    â€œIt’s quite simple. The metal blade is held in the hilt by a peg which fits clear through the hilt and the tang, or handle end, of the blade. Remove the peg, and the hilt comes right off. But in this case, our expert couldn’t figure out how to get it off.”
    â€œWhy would he want to do that, anyhow?” said Frank.
    â€œTo examine the tang—that’s where the swordsmith’s signature is usually inscribed. But with this one he couldn’t. However, even without knowing the maker, the fine quality of the sword was readily apparent, not only from the workmanship of the blade, but also from the hilt and the tsuba, or hand guard. The hilt, as you can see from the picture, is inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the tsuba is embellished with intricate carving and cloisonné enamel.”
    â€œThey’re really beautiful,” Frank agreed, then rose from his chair. “Thank you very much, Mr. Sanders, for all the information.”
    As Joe got up also, Frank turned to the security man. “I wonder if we could see the scene of the crime?”
    â€œSure thing.”
    The Palmer-Glade Galleries occupied a four-story building which had once been a wealthy New Yorker’s town house. The merchandise was divided into departments, with Oriental objets d‘art being grouped at the front of the third floor.
    The cut windowpane had already been replaced.
    â€œThe facade of the building is quite smooth,” Joe mused thoughtfully. “How do you suppose the burglar or burglars got up to the window?”
    â€œGood question,” the security man said wryly. “We still haven’t figured out the answer.”
    â€œI guess they wouldn’t have dared to use a ladder, even that late at night,” Frank said. “How about a grappling hook and a line, to scale up