"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The man's viselike grip tightened slightly, prompting Frank to answer. "My name is Frank Hardy - I'm a guest here," he choked out. "Hardy?" Frank heard the question in the man's voice, which suddenly sounded much less threatening. "Hold on." The man pulled Frank back a few steps, his grip not slackening for an instant. A click and the living room lights were snapped on. Frank found himself face-to-face with his attacker: a young man a few years older than himself. "Frank Hardy," the man said. "Fenton Hardy's oldest son. I've heard a lot about you." He spoke in a clear, unaccented voice and in the light didn't look at all threatening. He had dark hair just like Frank's - a little longer, maybe - and his face seemed somehow familiar. . .. That was it. Frank snapped his fingers. "You must be Hugh Nolan's son," he said. "That's right," the man said. "Ned - Ned Nolan." He stuck his hand out, and the two of them shook. Frank's other hand went to the back of his neck, to rub some feeling back into the place where Ned had grabbed him.
