Joe stared at his brother. Then he asked, “Florida?”
“He left no forwarding address. Bowden must really be scared of somebody.”
Frank and Joe decided to postpone their trip to Pirates' Hill and look for Bowden instead. They would go the rounds of local gas stations, hoping to find that the man had stopped at one and might have mentioned his destination.
They visited one after another without result. As they were about to return home, Joe said:
“Frank, there's a gas station about two miles out of town on Route 7. Maybe Bowden stopped there.”
They headed for the place and a few minutes later pulled in. A boy was in attendance.
“Say,” Frank said to him, “did a man stop here this morning in a green Pontiac hardtop?”
“Yes,” the attendant replied.
“Was he about thirty-five years old, stocky build, and did he have wiry black hair?
“Yes.”
Frank said they were trying to find him and wondered where he had gone.
“Said he had a business deal in Taylorville.”
Elated, the Hardys grinned broadly and thanked the boy.
“I hope we can make Taylorville before Bowden pulls out of there too,” Frank said.
He kept the convertible at a steady pace and they reached Taylorville at twelve o'clock. The town was a fair-sized one, and the streets swarmed with cars and people during the lunch-hour rush.
The boys began a systematic search for Bowden's car, going up one street and down another. After they had exhausted the business area, they started on the residential section.
“I see it!” Frank cried out presently.
Bowden's green hardtop was parked in front of an old-fashioned house which advertised that luncheons and dinners were served there.
“Maybe he's eating,” Joe remarked. “Let's park our car around the corner so he won't spot it.”
Frank agreed this was a good idea and kept going. He pulled into a secluded, dead-end street and locked the convertible. As they walked back toward the restaurant, Frank suddenly grabbed his brother's arm. “We'd better duck. Here he comes!”
“Where?” Joe asked.
“From that house down the streetâthe big white one.”
They stepped in back of a hedge and watched the suspect. He went directly toward his car but did not get in. Instead, he turned into the walk which led to the restaurant and disappeared inside.
“What a break!” said Frank. “Joe, you watch the restaurant. I'll go over to that big white house and see if I can find out what Bowden was doing there.”
Fortunately the restaurant was almost completely screened from the street by tall trees and shrubbery. There was little chance of Bowden seeing the Hardys.
“You can't just walk into that house and ask about him,” Joe said. “Suppose whoever lives there is in league with him?”
“I'll have to do a little acting,” Frank agreed. “Pose as a salesman, for instance, and just try to get a conversation going.”
“Okay. Now what'll I do if Bowden suddenly comes out?”
“Run for our car and give two blasts on the horn. I'll come over right away so we can follow him.”
Frank hurried across the street and rang the bell of the big white house, planning his strategy as he waited.
A thin, white-haired man answered the door. Smiling, Frank inquired if he were Mr. Chestnut. When the man shook his head, Frank asked if he knew where Mr. Chestnut lived.
“Never heard of anybody by that name around here,” the elderly man said. He chuckled. “But you came close, son. My name's a tree one, too, It's Ash.”
Frank laughed. Then he said, “I'm Frank Harber from the Nationwide Insurance Company. You see, we are introducing a new medical plan and Mr. Chestnut had inquired about it. The girl on our switchboard must have gotten the address wrong. Anyway, since I'm here, would you like to hear some more about it yourself?”
Mr. Ash smiled. “Sorry, but I'm already covered sufficiently. Besides, I just spent all my money. A salesman was here a few minutes ago and sold me some stock.”
Frank's heart leaped. He was learning more than he had bargained for!
CHAPTER VIII
Spies
WITHOUT seeming to be too inquisitive, Frank asked Mr. Ash, “Was it oil stock you bought?”
The elderly man shook his head. “It was mining stock. The Copper Slope Mining Company. Ever hear of it?”
Frank said he had and in fact his father owned some.
“I'll bet Dad will be surprised to hear what Bowden is selling,” Frank thought, then said aloud, “Where could I find the salesman if I should want to buy some stock?”
Mr. Ash told him the man's name was Bowden and he was staying at the Garden Gate Motel in Bayport. “That's where he told me to phone him if I wanted more.”
Frank was so amazed that he almost blurted out the fact that Bowden was no longer at the Garden Gate Motel. He thanked Mr. Ash for his courtesy, then walked quickly down the street. Joining his brother, he told him what he had learned. Joe was equally amazed and puzzled. Though the stock was high grade, Bowden's method of transacting business seemed strange. Both boys surmised that the stock certificate he had given Mr Ash was probably a phony one.
“We'll wait for Bowden and trail him,” Frank stated.
It was not long before the suspect came out of the restaurant and got into his car. Frank and Joe dashed around the corner and hopped into their convertible. The trail led toward Bayport, and when they reached the outskirts, Bowden not only turned into the Garden Gate Motel, but went to Room 15, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
“Well, can you beat that!” Joe said.
The boys parked and went into the office to speak to the clerk who had given Frank the information about Bowden's leaving. The man looked surprised.
“I thought you said Mr. Borden on the phone,” he explained. “Sorry. Mr. Bowden is still in Room 15.”
The boys went to see him and held a casual conversation about Pirates' Hill, saying they were going to start searching that area. Frank asked Bowden if he had any suggestions for them.
“No, I haven't,” he replied. “But I'm glad to hear you're going to start work. I don't know how long I can wait around here.”
“Are you thinking of leaving soon?” Joe asked casually, hoping for information.
“Oh, not right away,” Bowden answered. “But staying here to locate that demiculverin is taking a lot of my valuable time.”
“I understand,” said Frank. “Well, we'll let you know what we find out.”
Since it was too late to search on Pirates' Hill that day, the boys went home. They gathered the various tools which they would use for their digging and put them in the convertible.
“We'll have to take time out from the beach party tomorrow to make a search,” said Frank.
Shortly after breakfast the next morning the phone rang. Frank answered the call. It was from Mr. Lightbody. In a highly excited voice the curator cried out:
“The Historical Society building was broken into late last night, and the cutlasses have been stolen!”
“Stolen!” Frank exclaimed. “How did the thief get in? Didn't you secure all the windows?”
“Yes, of course. This time a rear door of the building was forced.”
“Joe and I will be right over,” said Frank.
The entire family was upset by the news. Aunt Gertrude declared that she was going along.
“I feel a personal responsibility for those cutlasses,” she said.
Miss Hardy and the boys set off at once. By the time they reached the Historical Society building, Chief Collig was there.
“This certainly is unfortunate,” he said. “I can't understand how that thief got in here so easily.”
“Don't forget, Latsky is a safecracker,” Joe reminded the chief.
“Wait a second,” Frank said. “Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know for certain that it was Latsky who broke in here the second time.”
Chief Collig agreed with Frank's reasoning. He said he would put extra men on the case and notify the State Police to be on the lookout for Latsky.
“Neither he nor anyone else has shown up at the cabin in the woods,” the officer reported. “I believe the fellow knows we're watching the place and won't return.”
At that moment there was a loud booming of the old mortar in the town square. Frank and Joe looked at each other and smiled. They had completely forgotten that it was Independence Day! They had planned to watch the parade, then start off for the beach party.
It was eleven o'clock when they leached home. Joe carried the food to the car while Frank consulted a book on tides in the Bayport area. Coming out to Joe, he said:
“I guess we can't take the
Sleuth
after all. The water will be too shallow near Pirates' Hill. It will be low tide in the middle of the day.”
“How about asking Tony if we can go in his
Napoli?”
Joe suggested. “It draws much less water than the
Sleuth.”
“Good idea, Joe. I'll call him.” He went to the phone.
“Sure, we can use the
Napoli,”
Tony said. “I'll meet you at the dock.”
The Hardys drove off, heading first for the Morton farm. Chet and Iola were waiting for them, with several baskets of food which included lobsters and a sack of clams. Their next stop was at the Shaw house to pick up Callie, then they drove directly to the waterfront.
“Hi!” cried Tony, giving his friends an expansive grin. The
Napoli
was chugging quietly at her berth.
After the food and digging tools had been transferred to the craft and the Hardys had brought their diving gear from the Sleuth, everyone stepped aboard and Tony shoved off.
When they reached the end of the bay and turned up the coast, the young people watched for Pirates' Hill. Minutes later they saw it in the distance. The hill was a desolate hump of sand-covered stone jutting into the sea. There was not a house in sight, except one small cottage about half a mile beyond the crown of the hill.
“That must be Sergeant Tilton's place,” Frank remarked.
Tony slowed down the
Napoli
some distance off shore and said he was going to test the depth with a pole before going any closer toward land.
“Say, how about my trying out the diving gear now?” Chet asked.
“You can use mine,” Frank replied. “I'll help you adjust the equipment.”
“I think I'll put my gear on, too, in case Chet runs into trouble,” said Joe.
He quickly strapped his air tanks into position and the two boys stepped to the gunwale.
“Hold it!” said Tony. “A guy in a motorboat over there is waving at us frantically. Wonder what's up.”
“Who is he?” Frank asked.
“I've never seen the fellow before,” Tony replied as the boat hove alongside.
Frank called out to the newcomer, a fisherman about fifty, and asked him what was wrong.
“I'm glad I got to you folks in time,” the stranger replied. He spoke excitedly. “I just spotted a giant sting ray near here while I was fishing.”
“A sting ray!” Frank echoed in surprise. “Well, thanks for telling us. We'll stay out of the water.”
Tony pulled a pole from the bottom of the motorboat and asked Frank to test the depth from the prow of the
Napoli.
Then slowly he steered the boat shoreward.
All this time Joe had been casting his eyes over the large expanse of water. There was no sign of the sting ray. Finally he said aloud:
“Do you suppose that man was trying to scare us away from here?”
“What do you mean?” asked Callie.
“Well, a lot of funny things have been going on lately,” said Joe. “It wouldn't surprise me if that fellow had some reason for not wanting us to go into the water.”
He found binoculars in a compartment and trained them on the other boat which by now was a good distance away. The craft lacked both a name and Coast Guard identification number.
“That fisherman isn't alone!” Joe exclaimed. “I just saw another man's head pop out from under the tarpaulin!”
“Can you see his face?” Frank asked.
“No. He's getting up now, but his back's turned to us.”
“Let's find out who those two men are!” Joe urged.
Tony revved up the motor and the
Napoli
skimmed across the water. Joe kept the binoculars trained on the mysterious fisherman. Suddenly they seemed to realize that the young people were heading directly toward them. Like a flash the man who had remained hidden before dived under the tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat.
The other man started the engine. Then, in a roar which carried across the waves, the boat raced off.
“Wow!” Chet exclaimed. “Some speedy craft!”
“I'll say it is!” said Frank. “That's no ordinary fishing boat!”
The
Napoli
was fast but not fast enough to overtake the other boat. After a chase of a mile, their quarry was out of sight. Tony turned back to Pirates' Hill.
The boys continued to discuss the men's strange actions until they were almost ashore. Then Chet said, “Let's forget the mystery. If I don't eat pretty soonâ”
“We'll take care of that,” his sister promised.
Tony anchored the
Napoli
in a scallop-shaped cove, and the young people waded ashore, carrying the baskets of food with them.
“This is an ideal spot for a beach party,” Callie said enthusiastically.
She and Iola took charge and gave orders. Frank and Tony were asked to collect driftwood, while Chet and Joe gathered plenty of seaweed. In a few minutes they returned.