Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди

Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди

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ПРИЯТНОГО ЧТЕНИЯ!

Franklin W. Dixon

Hardy Boys Mystery Stories: Volume Seventeen

The Secret Warning

Copyright, 1938, by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc

Illustrated by Paul Laune

This is the original 1938 text

In the 1938 original, the Hardy Boys go deep sea diving to recover the treasure from the sunken "Katawa" and foil the plans of the thuggish Gus Kuntz. The 1966 revision is completely different.

CHAPTER I

TROUBLE!

Tap! Tap! Tap!

"It's a mystery to me," said Joe Hardy as he worked over the engine of the Sleuth, "what it is that puts this motor out of order all the time."

"If we were in Dad's shoes, we'd have the case cleared up at once," replied his brother Frank, referring to their father, Fenton Hardy, well-known detective. "And speaking of shoes, I'll bet you don't know which is the heaviest pair of shoes in the world."

Chet Morton, their stout chum, who was propped comfortably against a bulkhead while the brothers worked over their motorboat, grinned good-naturedly.

"Maybe Frank means mine!" he drawled.

"I'm sure I don't know," admitted Joe.

"I'm afraid you both flunk the examination," declared Frank. "No, Chet's shoes are not the heaviest in the world unless they happen to weigh thirty-two pounds apiece."

The other two whistled in surprise.

"Thirty-two p-pounds apiece!" exclaimed Chet. "Whew! Must be made for dinosaurs!''

"If you weren't one of the best students in Bayport High I'd say you're a bit daffy," said Joe, giving his brother a playful push. "Even a circus fat man doesn't wear such heavy shoes."

Frank was obviously enjoying the stir he had created in the little group.

"No," he said, "the people who wear thirty-two pound shoes aren't dinosaurs and they aren't circus fat men. They're divers. Deep-sea divers."

Chet scratched his tousled head thoughtfully. "That's right," he exclaimed. "I remember reading about them somewhere."

"But you don't remember just what or where," taunted Joe. "Frank, where did you learn so much about divers all of a sudden!"

His brother carefully scraped some carbon from a spark-plug. "Fellow I met yesterday in the barber shop told me a lot about deep-sea diving for sunken treasure. Said he was a diver himself. His shoes have to be weighted down with lead to keep him upright under water and what's more, he has to carry eighty pounds of lead weights over his shoulders; one on his back, the other on his chest to steady him under the surface."

"Say, I'd like to meet that fellow!" exclaimed Joe. "Who is he, anyway?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Frank, who had happened to glance up, caught his brother's arm.

"Look, Joe, there he comes now along the dock. Yes, it's the same man!"

Joe saw a tall, lanky figure sauntering along the wooden walk in their direction.

"You chaps wait here a minute," Frank suggested. "I'll speak to him."

He jumped to the pier just as his new acquaintance arrived at the Sleuth's mooring cleat.

"Why, hello there!" greeted the newcomer affably. "Aren't you the chap I met yesterday in the barber shop?"

"I certainly am, Mr.–"

"Perry," finished the other, smiling agreeably. "Roland Perry. Fine-looking boat you have there. Is it yours?"

"My brother Joe and I own it. Joe," he called, "this is Mr. Perry, the diver I told you about. And this is Chet Morton," he added.

The stranger climbed down into the boat and shook hands with the boys. Then he seated himself astride an old box.

"We'll be through in a few minutes, Mr. Perry," said the older Hardy boy as he turned to replace a cleaned spark-plug. "I've been telling my brother and Chet about the thirty-two pound shoes you said divers have to wear."

Perry leaned back languidly and half closed his blue eyes. "Yes, we have to wear heavy shoes, all right."

He seemed to be meditating, and for a moment said nothing more. Finally he stretched his long legs across an oil tin and chuckled.

"Funny thing, fellows, how I am reminded of the time I was caught in a room just about the size of this boat on the old Borentic. I was on a diving job. Boy! I thought that would be my last minute-and it almost was!"

"The Borentic!" exclaimed Frank. "I remember when that sank-during a hurricane, wasn't it? Did you dive for that?"

Perry grinned. "Well, I didn't exactly dive for the Borentic, but I did make a try for the hundred thousand dollars she had in her vault. What a job! She was lying at a forty-five degree angle in almost two hundred feet of water, and Kuntz and I were detailed to find the vault, blow it open, and bring up the valuables."

"And you got caught in the room? How come?" queried Frank, while the others stared open-mouthed at the engaging narrator.

Perry's eyes once again assumed a far-away look. "Well, we had to cut a hole in the side of the ship to get in. We did this with blowtorches. When we finished this job, I was ordered to go in first."

By this time the brothers had ceased their tinkering completely, and were listening to the story-teller breathlessly.

"And you had only ten minutes in which to find the vault?" interposed Joe.

Perry nodded. "Not a second more. There was no telling what obstacles I might encounter in that short space of time. Well, I–" He hesitated as the roar of a passing motorboat momentarily drowned out his words. Then he went on, "I climbed carefully through the jagged hole in the side of the vessel and slowly felt my way along the tilted corridor."

"I can feel cold chills along my spine already," Joe murmured.

"Me too!" came Chet's emphatic agreement.

Perry's face grew tense. "All of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, the rotting timbers gave way beneath me and I crashed into a cabin below. My lifeline was caught in some splintered rafters above my head and couldn't be used to pull me up. I had only four minutes left!"

"Whew!" whistled Chet, mopping his brow. "I think I'll leave diving off my list of sports!"

"What happened then, Mr. Perry?" asked Frank.

The diver shrugged his shoulders. "I'm still here, so you know I moved successfully. Just as I was about to faint from exhaustion, for I'd been down long past my limit, my foot touched a metal ladder that had been used to reach a trapdoor. That contrivance saved my life, but I was in the hospital for nearly three months afterward."

The tense silence that followed Perry's tale was broken only by the hoarse cough of another motorboat cruising near them in Barmet Bay. At length Frank stood up and reached for his wrench.

"Who was that Kuntz fellow you mentioned?" he queried.

Perry's face took on a worried look. "He used to work with me, but now he has a diving corporation of his own. I think he's one of my bitterest enemies."

The Hardys looked wonderingly at the tall, scowling fellow before them. They sensed that trouble of a deep nature had stirred this man, and they feared that there might be more in the offing.

"Maybe we can help you!" exclaimed Joe.

Perry brightened, waved his big hand, and quickly changed the subject. "Say, here I've been doing all this talking and keeping you boys from your work. How's it coming?"

"Ho! I think we'd all rather hear your experiences than work on a motor," Frank laughed, and his chums agreed heartily. ''There seems to be something wrong with this timing gear," he continued. "I can't seem to straighten it out."

"Let me have a look," Perry offered. In an instant he had shown the boys how to adjust the delicate mechanism. "I think we have it now," he said a moment later. "Start her up, Frank."

"All right, Mr. Perry."

Frank turned on the ignition. The engine spluttered, hesitated, then sprang into life. An instant later the boat lurched suddenly and spun away from the dock.

"Thought we'd better have a little spin before lunch!" came a cry from Chet who was at the helm.

Joe laughed. "It's mutiny, Frank!" he shouted above the clatter of the motor. "You didn't tell Chet to go! Maybe you'd better take the wheel yourself. No saying what our Quartermaster will bump into, with all the Yacht Club boats anchored around."

"And I must be going," said Perry, cupping his hands to make himself heard. "Better drop me off at the dock first if you're sailing any distance. I've an important engagement."

As Frank took a step toward Chet, the fat boy gave the wheel a sudden sharp twist.

"Buoy ahead!" he shouted. "Almost–"

He was interrupted by a cry from Joe. "Lookout!"

The younger Hardy lad's warning came too late. With a sudden splintering crash the Sleuth plowed into a smaller motorboat that suddenly had appeared from astern.

The impact flung Perry into the water. Two irate men in the other boat cursed loudly and shook their fists at the boys.

"You'll pay for this–plenty!" snarled one, a short, thick-set individual with a vicious face.

"Yeah–you Hardys'll hear from us!" yelled his companion menacingly. He was thin and bony, with a hawk-like nose and a plainly visible scar across one cheek.

Before the boys had time to collect their wits, the strangers, muttering threats, gunned their motor and headed swiftly for the opposite shore of the bay.

Frank Hardy leaped to the Sleuth's helm. "Where's Perry?" he yelled. "Joe! Chet! Where's–"

"Over here!" came a hoarse cry from somewhere astern.

Frank advanced the throttle to full speed and the Sleuth lunged through the heavy surf like a giant fish. A moment later Joe tossed out the life-ring.

"I have it!" gasped the diver. He was a strong swimmer, but his heavy clothes and the choppy waters handicapped him considerably.

Frank kept the Sleuth's bow headed into the wind while Joe and Chet tugged at the life-line. A few seconds later Perry, dripping and disheveled, was back on deck.

"Whew!" he panted as the boys eyed him with concern. "Fine sort of an accident for a professional diver!" Suddenly his sheepish grin became a frown. "But look at me–and I'm supposed to meet Fenton Hardy, the detective, in ten minutes!"

CHAPTER II

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE

"You’ve in luck, Mr. Perry!" burst out Frank. "Joe and I are Mr. Hardy's sons!"

''Yes,'' added Joe excitedly. ''You can come home with us now. We'll lend you some dry clothes and introduce you to Dad!"

"Well, this is a pleasant coincidence!" exclaimed the diver. "Bad luck and good, all in the space of a few minutes! I'm ready when you are."

In their excitement the boys had all but forgotten the occupants of the other boat. As Frank eased the Sleuth back alongside the dock, he frowned.

"Wonder who those fellows were!" he mused, "And how did they know our names!"

Joe made the craft fast to her cleat. ''I can't imagine," he said thoughtfully. "But I do know that I didn't like their looks much."

"If they aren't a couple of thugs I'll eat my hat," Chet remarked. "And that reminds me, isn't it about time for lunch?"

"Same old Chet!" laughed the younger Hardy. "But you'd better be careful. We might hold you to that hat-eating promise of yours, just in case those fellows turn out to be nice after all."

"Chet wouldn't mind that," Frank observed dryly.

The chums enjoyed another hearty laugh with their good-natured friend, whose favorite melody was the sound of the dinner-bell. At the corner of Locust Street Chet took leave of the others, heading for his own home at the opposite end of town.

"Well, here we are!" announced Joe in a few minutes as they arrived at a large, handsome stone residence on a quiet street. "Come in, Mr. Perry."

The brothers presented their guest to their mother, who promised them luncheon immediately. "And Frank," she admonished, "get Mr. Perry some dry clothes at once. I think one of your father's suits will fit him better than yours."

It turned out that Mrs. Hardy was correct. Frank was tall but Perry was even taller. His attempt to don Frank's blue serge met with snickers of amused disapproval from Joe.

"Here's one of Dad's," suggested Frank at length. He emerged from his father's closet with a neatly-pressed English tweed suit, and the fit was perfect.

A few moments later as they were eating a delicious meal, the telephone bell rang.

"It's your father," Mrs. Hardy announced as she returned to the table. "He called to say that he won't be home until this evening. In that case," she smiled, turning to Perry, "you'd better stay here and have dinner with us."

The genial diver accepted with a smile of pleasure, much to the delight of the boys, who hoped to hear further accounts of Perry's adventures. Both Hardy lads were curious as to the diver's reason for wanting to interview their father. They had long since learned that when a stranger called to interview Fenton Hardy, his visit invariably meant that something very important was pending.

The famous detective had come to depend a great deal upon his sons for assistance in solving the problems of his professional career.

As true offspring of the renowned detective who had made a reputation for himself with the New York Police Department, they had inherited his unusual keenness and with that his uncanny ability for solving mysteries. In many instances the boys had become involved in adventures of their own, during which they had demonstrated repeatedly a rare courage and wisdom in the face of great danger.

Their first success had occurred when they had located valuable loot which a dying criminal had confessed to them had been hidden "in the tower." The favorable outcome of this case had encouraged them to tackle other problems, including one about a sinister sign post, when Frank and Joe undertook to unravel the mystery surrounding the disappearance of a splendid race horse. In another instance the two lads had exposed a gang of fake eye doctors who had extorted thousands of dollars from unsuspecting victims.

Their success in solving these and other mysteries, as well as bringing the criminals involved in each to swift justice, had won for the Hardy brothers wide reputations of their own as amateur detectives. They had encountered many thrilling adventures, and incidentally had earned substantial sums of money in the form of rewards for their work.

"Well," remarked Frank between mouthfuls of luscious apple pie, "now that Mr. Perry is going to stay for the afternoon, he can have his suit pressed at the tailor's and wear Dad's until tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose–"

"Now that's quite all right, Mr. Perry," said the boys' mother, who always exerted herself to the utmost for the comfort of her sons' friends. "If you take your suit to the tailor's right away it should be ready for you by supper time."

Inasmuch as Perry had several other errands, it was agreed that he should join the boys at their home later in the afternoon.

"In the meantime," Frank suggested, "Joe and I will go down and have a look at the Sleuth."

"Good idea," agreed his brother. "I think that in the excitement this morning we all forgot to look at the damage done to our trusty ship."

Perry excused himself and a few moments later the boys departed for the dock.

"Wonder about that other boat. Do you suppose she was hurt much, Frank?" queried Joe as the brothers approached the dock.

"Really didn't have tune to notice. I don't see how she could have been damaged to any extent. Motor sounded fine when the men left, and she certainly wasn't sinking!"

A detailed inspection of their own craft revealed nothing wrong except a large bruise in the paint near the bow. This the boys retouched, and less than an hour later they returned home to await Perry. To their surprise they were greeted in the living room by the familiar figure of a man, tall and immaculately dressed. He had a shrewd, clean-cut face.

"Hello, Dad!" exclaimed Frank. "We didn't expect you home so soon!"

Fenton Hardy smiled evasively, and the boys knew instinctively that their famous father was working on an important case.

"Hello, boys!" He leaned back in his chair in an attitude of preoccupation. "What's the news with you?"

The brothers needed no second invitation to tell their parent of the diver's visit and the incident in the bay.

"Mr. Perry's in town now, Dad, and he'll be back here before supper time," Frank said, concluding his account of the day's happenings. "He still has on your suit, the English tweed, but he'll–"

At mention of the suit Mr. Hardy suddenly frowned. "Just a minute," he interrupted mysteriously. Then he crossed the room to the desk where he hurriedly ran through some papers.

"What's wrong, Dad?" queried Frank, gazing at his father uneasily.

"Did you boys happen to empty the pockets of that suit before you gave it to Perry?"

"Golly, Frank, we didn't!" Joe sat bolt upright, big-eyed with alarm.

"Boys," announced Mr. Hardy gravely, "you'll have to do some fast work. The coat contained every single note I've made on an important case. If I lose them I'll lose the case, and what's worse, a dangerous criminal will probably get away. Find that suit at once!"

It was seldom that Mr. Hardy had occasion to deal out a command to his sons with such emphasis. The brothers jumped to obey, well aware that their father's tone implied a grave crisis.

At that moment Mrs. Hardy came downstairs. "What's the matter?" She gazed from one to the other, noting the anxiety in their faces.

"The suit we lent Mr. Perry has some of Dad's notes in it," Frank explained. "Of course, he said he'd be back here some time this afternoon, and–"

"I came down to tell you," Mrs. Hardy interrupted, "that Mr. Perry phoned not long ago to say he had received an emergency telegram from his company calling him back immediately. He was taking a plane at once."

"What about the suit?" interposed Joe.

"And what about his company?" queried Frank. "Which one does he work for?"

"He didn't mention it. He seemed to be in a hurry and hung up before I could ask him any questions."

Mr. Hardy paced the floor reflectively.

"Come on, Joe," suggested Frank at length. "We can't stay here wasting time. We'll find the tailor Mr. Perry went to. Maybe he left word there where he could be reached."

The brothers jumped into their car and made a quick canvass of the various cleaning establishments in Bayport. At their third call they located Perry's wet suit. Unfortunately the diver had left no word at that place of his destination.

A quick ride to the airport likewise proved fruitless. Perry had taken the two o'clock plane for New York, the boys were told, but other than that the airport officials could supply no information.

Sick at heart over their costly error, the brothers returned home. Fenton Hardy met them at the door.

"It's all right!" he said brightly. "I've located Perry's company and sent them a wire to have him call me when he gets in.''

"Dad, you're a whiz!" exclaimed Frank admiringly.

"Agreed!" Joe seconded. "How on earth did you ever find Mr. Perry's headquarters? You didn't have a single clue!"

Fenton Hardy laughed. "Boys," he said jovially, "I did have a clue, and so did you! You forgot to call at the telegraph office to find out where Perry's wire came from. I did that, and was told that the Crux Company of New York had sent for him."

"Gosh, what simpletons we are!" Frank blurted out sheepishly. His brother grinned in abashed agreement.

The telephone rang just then and Mr. Hardy answered it in the next room. A moment later he came back, frowning.

"A wire from the Crux Company, boys. They've sent your friend Perry on a diving job at Bailey's Landing. I can't leave. You'll have to go after him. I must have those notes within forty-eight hours!"

CHAPTER III

CAUGHT!

''All set, Joe?"

Frank sat at the wheel of the brothers' car, studying a map, while Joe stowed away a second suitcase in the luggage trunk. It was barely forty-five minutes ago that their father had told them to find Perry. Since time was an all-important factor under the circumstances, the boys had packed hastily.

"All ready, Frank," sang out the younger Hardy lad as he swung himself into the seat beside his brother.

Suddenly there was a shout, and two rough-looking men stepped alongside the car.

"Wait a minute, you!" snarled one of them gruffly, seizing Joe by the sleeve.

"Come out of there, both of you!" snapped the other. "We have a little matter to settle with you."

The Hardys recognized them as the men who had occupied the other motorboat which had figured in the mix-up that morning.

"Well, what do you want?" Frank inquired with a look of annoyed surprise.

"Here!" snorted the thick-set individual who had spoken first. "What are you going to do about this?" He shoved a paper at Frank.

"Malwey Boat Works," the lad read aloud. "Repairs to motorboat, sixty-five dollars. Sixty-five dollars! Say, what is this?"

"You'll find out soon enough, if you don't pay up pretty quick!" growled the thick-set man.

"Maybe they don't remember runnin' us down this morning, Simon," sneered the other. He was a thin, undernourished-looking fellow.

Joe felt himself reddening with anger.

"Look here, you two," he blurted out. "I'm not so sure we ran you down. If we did, we caused no sixty-five dollars' worth of damage, and you know it!"

The two ruffians laughed derisively.

"Funny guy, eh?" snorted the thin one. "Well, you'll pay it or we'll promise you more trouble than you'd like to have." At the last word he scowled ominously.

"Tell you what we'll do," suggested Frank. "We'll all go down to Malwey's and find out about it."

"And no funny business!" warned the one addressed as Simon. The two strangers headed for their car, which apparently was parked around a corner.

At the boat shop Jim Malwey, who had known the Hardy boys since their infancy, drew his young friends aside. "Listen," he whispered, "these fellows are trying to frame you. The accident caused about five dollars' worth of damage. The rest of the bill is for equipment they want me to install. They're trying to make you pay for all of it."

''Thanks, Jim. Say, who are they, anyway!'' Frank inquired of the elderly shipbuilder.

"Thin one's named Ed Bock. The other fellow is Pete Simon. They come in here once, in a while for repairs to their boat. Don't know where they 're from. Can't say I like their looks much."

"Nor do I!" agreed Joe emphatically.

The strangers were becoming impatient. "Say, what's all this whisperin' about?" demanded Bock, advancing toward the boys from their boat, where he and his companion had been inspecting the repairs.

"Yeah," agreed Simon. "What's going on here? How about that money? We ain't got all day!"

Frank strolled over to Bock, who was standing with his arms defiantly set on his hips.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bock," he said, restraining with difficulty an impulse to knock down the impudent fellow, "but the bill for the damage we caused you is only five dollars. We'll pay that much and no more."

''Huh!'' snorted Simon. ''You think you can get away with that?"

"We'll give you five dollars and not a cent morel" stated Joe flatly.

Suddenly the shop door swung open and a plump figure waddled in. "What's all the shooting about?" came in a ludicrous drawl.

Bock and Simon spun around simultaneously. Joe laughed. "Hello, Chet!" he chuckled. "You're just in time for a hold-up. These fellows are trying to charge us sixty-five dollars for running into their boat this morning!"

Chet thoughtfully munched an apple. "If you're the chaps whose boat I ran into this morning, I'll pay you for it," he offered innocently.

"Oh, so you're the kid that ran us down!" Bock spat. "Well, you owe us sixty-five bucks!"

Frank held up his hand. ''I think we’ve done enough arguing," he said decisively. "We'll pay you five dollars and no more. That's that!''

Bock spluttered with rage. "You'll pay for this a thousand times over!" he fairly screamed at the chums. "You'll–"

His stocky companion seized him by the arm.

"Calm down, Bock," he muttered. "These guys and their friend Perry will be sorry soon enough. They'll find out that it won't do 'em any good to trifle with us!"

"That's right," agreed the other. Then he turned to Frank with an evil smile. "Be kind of funny, wouldn't it, if your friend Perry should get his lifeline cut some time?" he hissed.

The older Hardy lad felt a chill at mention of Perry. Was that remark merely a cowardly bluff to frighten them, or was it a secret warning! He could not decide at the moment.

Nevertheless, he was unable to shake off a feeling that these cruel-looking strangers were going to cause them trouble.

The chums talked over the matter among themselves, then decided to remain firm. Frank placed a five-dollar bill on a nearby desk.

"There," he announced, "that pays for the damage we did to your boat. Come on, fellows, let's get going. See you later, Jim."

The chums filed out, leaving the elderly shipbuilder to smile triumphantly at Bock and Simon, who stood glaring after the boys and muttering threats.

"Good work, Frank!" exclaimed Joe admiringly as the brothers clambered back into their car. "Serves them right! Jump in, Chet!"

"I wonder," mused his brother, "if they really meant what they said about Mr. Perry's lifeline. Golly, I'd hate to have anything happen to him!''

"So would I," Joe agreed. "We'd better warn him about it when we find him at Bailey's Landing."

"Bailey's Landing!" blinked Chet from the rear seat. "Say, what are you two planning now? Another trip?"

Joe laughed. The Hardys had been so concerned with Bock and Simon that they had completely forgotten to tell their chum the latest difficulty. Now Chet begged to be taken along on the boys' projected search for Perry. Though he seldom was of any real assistance in solving their problems, his genial good nature had relieved them of much worry and nerve strain on many occasions.

"All right, Chet," Frank agreed. "We'll drive around to your house at once and tell your family."

No sooner had the boys entered the Morton home than Chet uttered a shout.

"Cookies!" he exclaimed. "Golly! We're just in time! Smell 'em?"

He made a bee-line for the kitchen. In a few moments he returned, grinning broadly. "I was right! The girls are making cookies! Whoopee!"

His sister Iola emerged from the kitchen with her chum Cally Shaw. Upon hearing of the boys' projected journey, the girls promptly wrapped up a generous supply of cookies as a farewell gift. Then the brothers and Chet jumped into the car, waved gaily, and headed for the distant hills. Late that night they halted at a rambling structure whose neon sign proclaimed it to be the Mountain Inn.

"And now for some real steak and potatoes!" exclaimed Chet.

During supper the boys noticed an old man watching them closely from another table.

"Wonder what's the matter with him!" Joe mused, swallowing a juicy piece of meat.

"Maybe the trouble lies with us," suggested his brother.

"What's the matter with anything?" queried Chet. "I never tasted a better dinner!"

Suddenly the old man summoned a waiter.

''Say, where's my cane?" he snarled. ''I put it right there beside that radiator when I came in."

The waiter stepped to the place indicated and glanced around it.

"I'm afraid it isn't here, Mr. Suttonwood."

"Isn't there!" thundered the old man. "Well, where is it? I put it there. Ask these people around here! Ask those boys!"

By this time every patron in the dining room was staring in astonishment at the eccentric old man. The waiter was plainly flustered as he approached the chums.

"I'm sorry to disturb you young men," he said, "but Mr. Suttonwood seems to have lost his cane. Have you seen it?"

"No, we haven't," Frank replied. "We've only just come in."

Mr. Suttonwood fixed his beady eyes on the lads. When Frank disclaimed any knowledge of the cane the old man jumped up.

"You're hiding it! You're hiding it!" he screamed wildly. ''Waiter, I demand that these boys be searched!"

The dining room was in an uproar. A moment later the hotel manager appeared and urged his guest to follow him into his private office, promising to investigate the matter there.

"Golly!" exclaimed Chet when the turmoil had subsided. "That old fellow's crazy as a loon! Why should we know anything about his cane?"

"Another mystery," smiled Frank. "But let's take them one at a time. Finding Mr. Perry is our present job."

The boys left word at the hotel desk to be called at five in the morning. The sun had just peeped over the hills when they were ready to start out again.

"Just a moment," said the hotel clerk in an undertone as the older Hardy boy paid their bill. "I'd like to speak to you." He motioned Frank to follow him into an office. "Just wanted to let you know that Mr. Suttonwood called the police about that cane of his. He described you fellows and said he suspected you to be the thieves. Don't suppose anything'll come of it, but I thought I'd warn you."

Frank thanked the fellow and repeated his words to his chums.

"Oh, the old man's crazy," Joe shrugged. "If the police had intended to make trouble for us they'd be here by now, anyway."

"Just the same," said Chet, "I'll feel a lot more comfortable when we get out of this place."

As Frank turned the car into the highway a man standing on the road hailed them.

"Mind giving me a lift to Johnsville?" he inquired in a pleasant voice.

"Sure–there's plenty of room," Chet announced without waiting to consult the others.

Rather than risk offending the stranger, Frank agreed, though he was not particularly enthusiastic about accommodating him.

The man climbed in with Chet and chatted amiably with the fat lad until the car drew up before a traffic light. Suddenly the tone of his voice changed.

"Pull over to the curb, young fellow," he ordered curtly, tapping Frank on the shoulder.

Before any of the boys could say a word he had leaned from the car and blown three blasts on a police whistle. The Hardys were nonplussed. What was the meaning of this!

They had not long to wait for the answer. A uniformed police officer came running to the car. He touched his cap as he spied the man whom the boys had thought to be a hitch-hiker.

"Howdy, Detective Jones. What've you got here?" he queried.

"Just nabbed these boys for robbery, Williams. They stole a wad of money from an old fellow up at Mountain Inn. Look here."

The detective casually lifted the rug on the floor of the car and withdrew a gold-headed cane.

"See!" he said, and flicked open its handle.

To the horror of the chums a large roll of banknotes tumbled out.

CHAPTER IV

A SCREAM IN THE WOODS

"But, officer–"

The detective silenced Frank with a brusque wave of his hand. "Sorry, young fellow, but there's the evidence," he said sharply. "We'll have to ask you to go back to the Inn."

The uniformed policeman took the wheel, and a few moments later they turned back into the driveway at Mountain Inn. On the veranda stood the old man, obviously expecting them.

"Ha!" he snorted as they rolled to a stop. "Caught the scoundrels, did you? Good!" He rubbed his hands together like an old miser about to count his money.

The boys were ushered quickly into the hotel manager's office, Mr. Suttonwood clumping along behind them.

"Frank! Did you see what I saw?" whispered Joe excitedly as the chums were seating themselves.

"No. What?"

"Bock and Simon! Standing there watching us from a corner of the lobby!''

Before Frank could say anything in reply the detective held up his hand for silence.

"All right, Mr. Suttonwood," he snapped. ''Let's hear your story. Make it short, please.''

The old man rasped out the incident of the night before, declaring that the Hardys had stolen his cane and hidden it in their car.

"They must have known about the trick handle and the money in it," he added, glaring at the lads.

"What about it, young fellow?" the detective demanded, turning to Frank. "What's your name, anyhow?"

"Hardy. Frank Hardy. This is my brother Joe, and that's Chet Morton. We're from Bayport."

The detective eyed the lad in surprise. "Hardy? From Bayport? Related to Fenton Hardy, the detective ?''

"He's my father."

For an instant the officer stared skeptically at Frank. Then his stern face relaxed into a broad grin.

"For goodness' sake! Put 'er there, young fellow!'' He held out his hand enthusiastically. "I know your father well!"

Mr. Suttonwood rose and tottered noisily toward the door. "While you're all doing your chatting," he sneered, "I'll go out and pay the reward for the capture of these–these bandits."

"Just a minute," interrupted the detective. "Who's getting the reward?"

"Two chaps out in the lobby named Bock and Simon. Thanks to them, I found out about these young scamps stealing my cane!"

When the old man had stomped out the detective turned to the boys. "Tell me, Frank Hardy," he urged sympathetically, "how did you boys get into this mess?"

Frank related the events of the evening before, concluding with a mention of their previous meetings with Bock and Simon.

"I shouldn't be surprised, Detective Jones," Joe blurted out, "if those fellows deliberately planted that cane in our car. It's a cinch somebody did."

"Sure,'' broke in Chet. ''They probably did it as a practical joke. They look like the kind who would."

"Practical joke nothing!" decided Joe.

The detective pursed his lips. "I'm inclined to agree with you, now that I know who you lads are," he admitted. "I think I'd better have a talk with those chaps in the lobby. Wait here a few minutes."

He returned a quarter of an hour later, frowning.

"I'm suspicious about this Bock and his friend Simon. I don't like their looks nor the way they talk. But there's no real evidence against them just now. We'll see what happens later. In the meantime you boys run along. Fenton Hardy's sons certainly aren't thieves, no matter what anybody says!''

The chums thanked the man warmly and went outside. To their surprise Bock and Simon were waiting for them.

"Golly!" muttered Chet as they approached. "Those fellows are like bad pennies; they turn up everywhere!"

"Oh, so the cops let you go!" snorted Bock as the chums came up to their car. "What do you think of that, Pete?"

"Well, the cops ain't the only fellows who catch people," Simon echoed. "Maybe these wise Hardys and that fat fellow there'll get into trouble with somebody else who won't let 'em go so quick."

Had it not been for Frank's restraining hand, Joe would have lunged at one or the other of the ruffians.

"Never mind them," his brother whispered. "We've far more important things to do right now."

"All right, Frank," muttered his brother with a show of disappointment. "But I think it's just about time we told these fellows a few things!"

As the ruffians moved off the three chums once more headed their car toward their distant destination. An hour or so later Frank switched off the engine and coasted to a stop alongside a roadside lunch-wagon.

"About time we ate!" Chet grumbled, quickly brightening as the smell of hamburgers was wafted to them. "Come on, boys. Onions on mine!"

Lunch progressed rapidly, for the Hardy brothers were eager to get started and make up for time lost on the road. However, it became evident within a very few minutes after the last hamburger had disappeared that any driving was out of the question for the time being.

"I'm so sleepy I could drop off right here," Chet yawned. "We got up too early."

"You're right," Joe agreed. "Let's go over to the patch of woods and have a quick snooze."

"I hate to say so, but I think the idea's a good one," Frank declared, so with Joe and Chet hanging onto the running board he nosed the car into a narrow lane leading into a clump of trees.

"There's a clearing over there," signalled Chet.

"Trust you to find us a soft place where we can lie down!" laughed Joe.

"Might as well be comfortable," grinned the stout lad. "Too bad we didn't bring some sandwiches–we could have supper here."

Frank groaned. "Golly, Chet, how can you talk about supper after eating those hamburgers!''

"Speaking of supper," said Joe, "I think we ought to be in Bailey's Landing by that time."

"We should," agreed the older Hardy lad. "We'll rest here ten or fifteen minutes and then start out. Chet can sleep in the car if he's still tired."

Their chum had already dozed off and within a few minutes the others likewise were slumbering. Suddenly Frank awoke with a start.

''Get out! Get out!" a voice was screeching.

The boy stared about him. Except for his chums sprawled out on the ground beside him, no one else was in sight.

"Hey! Get out of there!" rasped the voice again.

Frank rose to his feet in alarm. "Joel Chet! Wake up!"

"What's the matter?" mumbled the former.

"Somebody's shouting at us. I just heard a voice yelling 'Get out'!"

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling scream. Joe and Chet sprang to their feet.

"Golly, Frank, where's it coming from?" gasped the stout lad.

"Look!" shouted Joe, pointing into the thicket.

The bent figure of an old woman, her white hair streaming out behind, could be seen darting through the underbrush not far from the clearing. A second later the strange apparition had vanished.

''Wait!'' yelled Frank to the woman. ''Wait! We'll help you! Come on, Joe–Chet!"

As the three boys crossed the edge of the clearing the mysterious screech rang out again.

"Leave her alone! Leave her alone!" it warned shrilly.

CHAPTER V

FOLLOWED!

The chums hesitated only an instant.

"Come on!" shouted Frank. "Never mind that voice. Let's find the old woman!''

"She ran this way!" Joe darted behind a large oak with the others at his heels.

"There she is!" burst out Chet. "Quick! She has fallen!"

The person in question had stumbled over a large root and lay sprawled on the ground.

"Get him!" she gasped as the boys ran up. "Catch him quickly!" The woman's eyelids fluttered shut and she sank back senseless.

"Get whom?" blinked Chet.

"I don't know," said Frank, "but you two had better look around and see if you can find out. I'll try to revive her."

The old lady's pulse and breathing continued regular, but she showed no signs of returning consciousness. A moment later the younger Hardy lad dashed up, followed by Chet.

"Can't find anything or anybody," Joe said. "How's the patient?"

"No better," replied his brother worriedly. "I think we ought to get help right away."

With considerable difficulty the boys placed the unconscious woman on the rear seat of the car and headed for the lunch wagon not far distant. As they drew up beside a gasoline pump in front an attendant came toward them.

''Gas? How many?" he queried.

Quickly Frank explained that they needed help for the old woman.

"Jumpin' blazes!" cried the man, peering at the figure on the rear seat. "You've killed old Mrs. Rica! You've run over her!"

"Look here," snapped Joe, "we didn't run over her and we didn't kill her. She fainted. We want some water for her right away!"

The attendant was too excited to listen. "Afraid you're in for trouble," he jabbered. "You'd better drive her home quick!"

"I think we should get a doctor first," Frank persisted, rapidly growing impatient with the stupid fellow.

"Old man Rica is a doctor," returned the attendant, still gaping at the motionless figure. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

After Frank had driven the car over what seemed to be an endless network of bumpy country lanes, a large, ramshackle farmhouse suddenly came into sight near a patch of forest.

"Turn in here," ordered the attendant. "I'll go fetch the Doc."

The chums were not a little apprehensive. The whole situation seemed unbelievable. Though they had done no wrong, they sensed trouble. For one thing, the old lady showed no signs of returning consciousness. And now, who was this Doctor Rica, and what would happen when he should appear on the scene?

The boys had not long to wait. From behind a large barn a towering figure in riding boots and a Western hat emerged suddenly and strode rapidly toward them. Tightly clenched in his massive gloved fist the giant carried a horse-whip.

"Doctor Rica, no doubt," commented Frank, watching with growing uneasiness as the man approached.

"And not in too good a mood," added Joe.

"Give me the Mountain Inn instead of this place any time!" spluttered Chet with teeth chattering.

"What's going on here!" thundered the man as he came alongside the car. Stalking straight to the rear door he took one look at the unconscious woman and drew back with his face horribly contorted.

"Get out of there!" he screamed at the boys. "Get out of that car! You've killed my wife, you–you murderers!"

"Look out, Frank!" cried Joe.

There was a sudden shrill whistling sound followed by a sickening crack. Frank felt a sharp sting across the side of his neck.

Almost blinded in the face of the screeching wMp, the older Hardy lad jumped from the car tod with lowered head charged into the frenzied giant. Joe, in the meantime, ran around from the opposite side to join his brother.

"Murderers! I'll teach ye!" cried the doctor, lashing out with the heavy leather thong. "I'll teach ye to kill people!"

Almost simultaneously the brothers dived at the fellow. Quick though they were, the whip was quicker. With a searing blow on the side of his face Frank fell to the ground all but unconscious. Joe, flinging himself at the man's heavy boots, found himself trapped in a rain of stinging lashes. He hung on grimly, expecting with each succeeding blow to lose his senses.

Suddenly a shrill cry was added to the din.

"Louis! Louis! Stop that! Stop!"

The giant paused abruptly, his arm upraised. When he turned his head in the direction of the cry his jaw dropped and his eyes stared out of their sockets.

"Martha! Martha–you're–!"

The old woman stepped from the car and hobbled toward her husband. "Louis, what've ye done?" she cackled.

The two Ricas looked at the Hardys, who were painfully picking themselves up.

''Oh, they're bleeding!'' exclaimed the woman without waiting for her husband to speak. "Come, Louis–help get them to the house. You must bandage them up. Oh! Why do you not control your temper?"

"Just one moment, Martha," rasped the physician dubiously. "What happened to you? Why were you there in the car, unconscious!"

Mrs. Rica frowned for an instant. Then she brightened. "I remember now," she said. "I was getting some food supplies at the lunch wagon on the highway when Ferdinand flew away from me into the woods. I followed him and ran all about trying to catch him. Then my heart gave out, Louis, and I must have fainted. I remember seeing some boys looking at me just before the blackness came. These boys, Louis–these boys must have been the ones!"

Frank nodded painfully. "Yes, Mrs. Rica, we are the ones."

"And this is the thanks we get for bringing you home!'' grunted Joe, wiping blood from his cheek. ''Say, where's Chet ?''

A tousled head and one eye rose cautiously above the rear door of the car.

"Oh, there he is!" exclaimed Frank. "Hey, come on out, the shooting's over!"

The fat lad climbed hesitantly from the car. "Looks as if peace had been declared in a hurry," he observed dryly. "About two minutes ago I wouldn't have been standing around here for a million dollars. Whew!''

"The doctor and I are terribly sorry, but it was a misunderstanding," Mrs. Rica explained apologetically. "My parrot Ferdinand got away and I tried to catch him. But I couldn't,'' she added ruefully.

"Oh, so that was what we heard shrieking and yelling in the woods–a parrot!" snorted Chet.

"Wasn't that enough!" chuckled Joe. "It certainly started things humming."

"I'm awfully sorry, young fellows," said the physician awkwardly. "If you'll come inside I'll fix up those bruises." The man was obviously ill-at-ease over his hasty action of a few moments before.

When the physician had finished treating their wounds, a weird screech suddenly shattered the tranquility of the farmhouse. "Come and get me! Come and get me!" came the raucous cry repeatedly.

"Ferdinand's back!" exclaimed Mrs. Rica, "We'd better catch him for certain!"

The three chums made a dash for the door.

"There he is–over on the car!" Joe shouted, and was off like a shot with the others in close pursuit. The younger Hardy lunged just as the bird jumped from its perch on the engine hood, and the lad went sprawling in the dust. Frank, who was just behind his brother, managed to catch the parrot by one leg and soon had it well secured.

"Thank you ever so much," beamed Mrs. Rica. "Here, I'll put him in his cage. There, Ferdie–you're a bad birdie!"

Darkness was descending as the chums at length thanked the woman and took their leave, promising to stop for a visit should they ever come that way again. Footsteps sounded on the stony lane as the trio climbed into the car and prepared to start.

"Mind if I go back with you?" inquired a voice, and the lunch wagon attendant stepped up.

The boys were none too cordially disposed toward the fellow, but Frank decided that they might as well take him along since they would go by the eating place.

"I'm certainly sorry about that whippin' you got," the man mumbled apologetically when he had seated himself. ''I found the old doc down feedin' his hogs and I just told him some boys had brought his wife home. Then I stayed in the pasture lookin' at the livestock and didn't know about the hidin' he gave you until just now. Say, where you bound!"

"Bailey's Landing," Chet replied. "Know any short-cuts?"

While Chet and the attendant conversed in the back seat, Frank watched with mounting uneasiness a pair of headlights flashing in his rear-vision mirror.

"First noticed them just after we left Rica's," he told Joe in a suppressed whisper. "They've stayed close behind ever since."

A short while later Frank stopped the car at the lunch wagon and the attendant jumped out. The machine behind them, the lad noticed, did not follow them into the driveway but halted on the road several hundred feet from the entrance to the lunch wagon.

"Much obliged for the ride!" waved the attendant. ''Hope you'll be back!''

"Not if we can help it," muttered Joe dryly as they started off again. Though the fellow had been agreeable on the return trip from Rica's the boys were all relieved to be rid of him and on their way again with no further interruptions in sight.

"Maybe there's somebody after us in that other car," Joe remarked suspiciously.

"They've left us," returned Frank, "at least for the time being. I saw them park at the lunch wagon when we started away."

It was close to midnight when the boys turned in at a roadside hotel for a night's lodging.

"Holy crickets!" exploded Joe as the chums were undressing. "Where's my wallet? It's not in my pocket!" He fumbled frantically through his clothing. "It's gone!" he groaned after a hurried five-minute search. "And so is the hundred dollars I had in it!"

On the highway a car was droning through the darkness. Two evil-faced young men, one of them at the wheel, were laughing scornfully.

"Lucky find, wasn't it, Ed?" rasped one.

"Sure was, Pete!" returned the other. "Good idea of yours to follow 'em to that old farmhouse. The hundred dollars sure will come in handy for us!"

"Lucky we met that lunch wagon attendant too," said Simon. "Saves us a lot of trouble, knowin' they're headed for Bailey's Landing."

CHAPTER VI

JOE DISAPPEARS

The chums searched everywhere but could find no trace of Joe's missing wallet.

"There's nothing to do but go on," said Frank at length. "Whatever else happens, we must find Dad's notes as soon as possible."

Sleep came with difficulty, and morning found them eager to be on their way.

"Just sixty miles to go," announced Frank over his bacon and eggs at breakfast.

"We ought to make it in an hour and a half," said Joe. "We'll find Mr. Perry, get Dad's notes, and be home tomorrow."

"In time for lunch," Chet hoped, plunging into his second helping of shredded wheat.

"We hope!" laughed Frank, little realizing as he said it what a futile desire that would be.

As the chums rode on, the mountains gradually fell behind, and tiny lagoons and inlets appeared over the terrain.

"Ocean's not far ahead," Frank observed. "According to the last sign post, Bailey's Landing is only ten miles away."

A little farther on they came to a fork in the road.

"Left turn to Bailey's, the sign says," Joe called out. "Better watch out for that bridge ahead. Looks a bit rickety."

Frank swung the car up onto the planking. Suddenly there was a splintering crash and the auto stopped abruptly, leaning at a precarious angle. The chums stared at one another, scarcely daring to breathe.

"Come on," said Frank at length. "We'd better get out pronto!"

"Carefully, you mean," Joe amended. "If one more plank gives way I've a feeling there won't be much left of us."

Gingerly the lads crawled from the car and jumped to the solid ground adjacent, heaving sighs of relief. The car, they could see, rested dangerously on its driveshaft with both rear wheels hanging below the splintered planking of the bridge structure.

''A fine mess this is!" muttered Joe. ''Where are we going to get a derrick around here?"

"Somebody's coming," said Chet. "Maybe he'll pull us off."

A high-powered automobile rolled up to the bridge and stopped. The driver, a powerfully-built man with coarse features and iron-grey hair, leaned out.

"Go on!" he shouted impatiently. "Get out of the way! What's the idea?"

"The bridge just caved in under our car," Frank started to explain. "I wonder if you–"

The roar of the engine in the other car interrupted him. Quickly the big machine was turned about and was off in the direction it had come. The chums' astonishment at this act rapidly turned into anger.

"Well, of al–l" Frank bit his lip in exasperation.

"Nice sort of fellow!" snorted Joe. "I hope I meet him again some time. I'll give him a piece of my mind!"

Little did Joe realize how much he would regret that wish.

"I don't see any house around here," said Frank at length. "I guess we'll just have to stay around until somebody comes along."

"I hope all the travelers we meet aren't like the last one," commented Joe dryly.

"Too bad we didn't bring something to eat," remarked Chet, mournfully consulting his watch. "It's been a long while since our last meal."

''Same old Chet!'' laughed Joe. ''No matter what happens, it's all right if there's food around!''

The fat lad was about to retort when the whine of a motor in the distance announced the approach of another car.

"Maybe this is the same fellow coming back," Chet suggested.

"By the looks of him, I hardly think he'd return," observed Joe. "No, it isn't," he added as the second auto swung into view around a bend. "It's of a different make."

A blue touring sedan came to a stop at the bridge and two well-dressed men stepped out.

"What's wrong? Have an accident?" one of them inquired pleasantly. He was tall and spare, with clean-cut features, and appeared to be in his early forties.

"The bridge gave way under our car," Frank explained.

"Well, now, look at that!" exclaimed the other. He was a short, plump man who appeared to be slightly older than his companion. "John, we'd better lend these young fellows a hand."

"We certainly will!" agreed the other heartily. "Let's have a look, Henry."

The two men accompanied the Hardys and Chet to the stranded auto and discussed ways and means of handling the situation.

"A few planks will be necessary, I think," said the plump stranger. "John, why don't you ride over to the mill and get 'em?"

When the man addressed as John had gone, his companion assisted the boys in unloading the car. This was a precarious task but one which the affable stranger declared to be necessary.

"Suppose you boys are going to Bailey's!" inquired the man casually as they worked.

"Well, yes–we were," laughed Frank.

"Oh, we'll get your car off all right," returned the other confidently. "Suppose you are going to watch us raise the Carona?"

"The Carona?" Frank looked up expectantly.

"Say, that must be the job Mr. Perry came down here for!" exclaimed Joe.

"You're right," smiled the stranger. "Do you know him? He's one of our best divers."

"We met him the other day in Bayport," Frank replied. "Are you–do you–work for his company, too?"

The plump man nodded. "I'm Henry Crux. The other man is my brother John. Here he comes now with the planks.''

"Golly!" commented Chet.

Joe uttered a subdued exclamation. "You own the company, don't you, Mr. Crux?"

"Yes, my brother and I own it. As soon as we get your car off the bridge we'll take you to the Landing and show you some real deep-sea diving."

Needless to say, the chums were delighted at their sudden good fortune. An hour later, when the car had been dragged undamaged from the bridge, their anticipation knew no bounds. After a short and rough ride with the Cruxes in the lead, they drew up in the parking lot of the Bailey Yacht Club.

"Perry's resting at his hotel," said John Crux as the boys came over to his car. "You can see him later this afternoon. In the meantime we'll show you around."

The Carona, once a large, expensive pleasure yacht, now lay in seventy feet of water with her side partly ripped out of an explosion. The chums were taken in the company's barge to the spot where the yacht had sunk about half a mile offshore. During most of the afternoon they watched the divers at work through a telescopic device especially designed for the purpose.

John and Henry Crux took turns explaining things to them as the undersea work proceeded. In the course of a few hours the boys had learned much about the intricacies and dangers of deep-sea diving, and of the great skill required to perform such work successfully.

"Now I'm surer than ever that I want to keep my feet on dry land!" exclaimed Chet. "Look at that fellow down there. He's walking right into the hole in the boat's side. Not for me!"

The boys watched, fascinated. Suddenly there was a hail from a small motorboat approaching the scene.

"Hello! Coming aboard the barge!" rang out a stentorian voice.

"Frank! It's Mr. Perry coming aboard!" exclaimed the younger Hardy lad as the motorboat hovered alongside.

"Hello, there!" rang out the words again as its long, lanky owner climbed up onto the after-deck. ''Of all things–the Hardys!''

"Mr. Perry!" exclaimed Frank. "We've been waiting for you all afternoon!"

"Well, here I am, all ready for a bath! It's my shift below, you see. Pretty long job ahead of us, I'm afraid. The old Corona's pretty well water-soaked.''

While Perry was dressing in the heavy diving suit, he chatted amiably with the boys, hinting that he might be able to arrange for them to go down with him some time in the future.

"We'd like nothing better, Mr. Perry!" Joe exclaimed, while Chet backed away unenthusiastically.

"But Mr. Perry," broke in Frank, "we really came to get Dad's suit. He has some important papers in one of the pockets."

"I didn't look in the pockets!" exclaimed the diver. "The suit's at the tailor's now. I'm having a torn place mended before returning the clothes to your father with my apologies."

Frank glanced at his watch. "It's just about closing time now," he said. "I think we can make it if we hurry."

''Sorry I can't come with you,'' Perry apologized. "Jack'll take you to shore in the motorboat." He motioned toward a sailor.

The chums thanked John and Henry Crux for their assistance at the bridge and their hospitality during the afternoon. Then they excused themselves hurriedly.

"Walters' Tailor Shop!" called the diver as they departed. "Eight on the main street."

Back at the landing the trio jumped into their car. Following directions given them by John Crux, they arrived at the little hamlet of Bailey fifteen minutes later.

"There's the shop," said Joe. "Right on the corner."

Frank pulled to a stop and the boys raced to the door only to find it locked.