The Hidden Harbor Mystery (13 page)
Read The Hidden Harbor Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
“Here!” cried Joe, ducking into an open, vacant room. From the staircase came the pounding steps of their pursuers. Then the boys heard the opening and slamming of doors along the hall.
Passing from one suite to another through connecting doors, the boys dodged their enemy. When the chase was over, and it was quiet in the corridor, they cautiously tiptoed outside.
The next instant Joe cocked his head. “I'm sure I hear groansâin here!”
He yanked open the door to a large linen closet. Bart Worth, bound and gagged, lay on the floor. Quickly Frank and Joe released him. Overhead, the ceiling shook under heavy running footsteps up and down the third floor.
“Good! Those crooks are looking for us upstairs!” Joe said.
But before the trio could slip out of the hotel, they heard Stewart and Jed dashing downstairs. Pulling the closet door shut, the three friends lay low while the men rushed past and down to the lobby.
Frank, Joe, and Bart stepped into the hall. Frank, carrying a large hamper of clean linen, went to the second-floor landing and looked around. The floor boards creaked loudly beneath him.
“There they are!” cried Stewart from the foot of the stairs.
As the thugs, followed by the bellman, charged up the wide staircase again, Frank suddenly heaved the big hamper at them. A blizzard of white sheets, towels, and pillowcases billowed down upon the men. While they struggled to disentangle themselves, Bart cried, “Leave them alone. We'll get the police!”
He and the boys sprinted for the front door. They ran to Bart's car and roared away from the old hotel.
“Sorry to get myself caught like that,” the editor apologized. “But I'd told my office to reach me here if I received an important phone call I've been expecting. So I really fell for it, when the bellman paged me.”
“Who jumped you?” Joe asked. “Stewart and his crony Jed?”
“Yes. I heard them talk about somebody they called âthe boss,' who wanted the âthree troublemakers gotten rid of this time without fail!'”
“We were sure Blackstone wasn't behind this scheme,” Joe remarked. “Now, I don't know what to believe, after that faked call from Jenny Shringle.”
By this time Bart had pulled up at the Sea City police headquarters. Inside, the editor reported the assault on himself and the boys. Two squad cars were dispatched with sirens screaming. The chief asked the Hardys and Bart to remain in case they should be needed to identify their assailants.
Frank and Joe, however, felt sure that Stewart and Jed had already left the hotel. Their conclusion proved to be correct. When the officers returned, they reported that the thugs and the bellman, whom the men evidently had bribed, had fled. The manager, who doubled as clerk, had been away during the fracas.
“We'll find those hoods!” Frank declared as Bart and the Hardys drove off. “They can't get away with this!”
Bart said he would treat the Hardys to supper in Larchmont. As they ate, the brothers tried to cheer the young editor, who appeared greatly depressed.
“I'll bet Blackstone
was
behind this ambush,” Bart insisted. “He'd be most apt to use Jenny Shringle's name. But I can't prove that, either!”
was
behind this ambush,” Bart insisted. “He'd be most apt to use Jenny Shringle's name. But I can't prove that, either!”
“Somehow I doubt he'd go to such lengths to win a libel suit,” Frank stated. “Even if his family's reputation is at stake. Don't forget,” he reasoned,
“Cutter's
men worked this trap. We did overhear Cutter in a real argument with Black stone this morning. Of course, they could be working together to get rid of us, and still fighting among themselves.”
“Cutter's
men worked this trap. We did overhear Cutter in a real argument with Black stone this morning. Of course, they could be working together to get rid of us, and still fighting among themselves.”
“In any case, the three of us are in real danger,” Bart stated grimly.
“Yes, the three of us,” cried Frank, rising suddenly from the table, “and Chet! He's all alone! Those hoods know we'd do anything to rescue Chet if they kidnaped him!”
Hastily Bart paid the check and they ran to the car. All maintained an anxious silence as they sped for Larchmont. At last the sedan was on the fishermen's road, heading for the campsite.
When they reached it, Frank, Joe, and the editor leaped from the car and turned on flashlights. A scene of devastation such as that caused by the hurricane met their eyes. Food, clothing, equipment lay strewn around. A brand-new tent slashed in ribbons hung from its pole. In the sand was a confusion of footprints.
“We're too late!” Joe groaned. “Chet's gone!”
Suddenly, on the shore road, two yellow headlights approached the stunned trio.
“They're coming back!” Frank said.
Quickly the three put out their lights and ducked behind a clump of small pines. The car drew up and stopped. The door slammed. Someone shuffled across the sand. An unmistakable tuneless whistle warbled on the night air.
“Chet!”
Frank, Joe, and Bart rushed forward in joyful relief to greet their friend.
“Sure it's me,” replied the stout boy. “Who else? Hey!” He clapped a hand to his head. “Leapin' lizards! What went through this place? The new tent ruined! My pots and pans! My food!”
“Don't worry about it,” Frank said. “The main thing is, you're okay. Where did you go?”
“Got lonesome and went to the movies. I'm sorry, fellows. Guess I'm a punk guard.”
“You did the right thing,” Frank assured him. “You wouldn't have stood a chance against those crooks! They wrecked this place.”
The boys then told their friend of the Sea City adventure.
Chet gulped. “I sure was lucky. We can always get a new tentâand more food!”
Everyone laughed, including Bart, whose spirits seemed to have lifted. Some minutes later, the editor said good night.
As the taillights of Bart's car disappeared down the road, Chet and the Hardys set about restoring what order they could. Suddenly Joe called out, “Heyâa light! Way in the distance. Might be in the swamp around Rand's property!”
Immediately Frank ran over to his brother. “Maybe it's the tall fellow we think is the professor! Let's take the Indian relics and have a talk with him!”
Fortunately, the valued artifacts had been locked in the convertible's trunk. The boys lifted out the carton and set out. Soon, with flashlights off, they were treading carefully around the pond.
“Sh!” Frank warned the boys and stopped. “I thought I saw something move in the swamp!”
The searchers peered intently ahead. Everything appeared motionless. Again they went forward. Out of nowhere, it seemed, a gleam of light darted about in the swamp just ahead. As the boys crept steadily closer, they made out a familiar hat.
“Must be Rand!” Joe hissed. “He's examining something in his hand.”
Wordlessly Frank motioned Joe to move up on one side of the man, and Chet the other. The boys set themselves to surround him in hopes of preventing a sudden flight.
“Helpâhelp!”
A strangled cry followed by a heavy splash came from the dark pond behind them!
The long-coated man straightened up and started forward. But he stopped when the three boys broke from cover and dashed toward the pond in the direction of the cry. Now a child's terrified scream rent the night air.
Joe, in the lead, reached the bank of the pond first, and beamed his flashlight full ahead. To his astonishment, Grover and little Timmy were running back and forth, wailing and looking in panic toward the water.
“Quick, quick!” cried Timmy as Joe came up. “Some devil just pulled Mr. Blackstone under the water!”
CHAPTER XVII
Underwater Prison
“WHERE did Mr. Blackstone go down?” cried Joe. At the same time, Frank and Chet crashed through the bushes onto the bank of the pond.
“Th-there!” Timmy pointed to a swirl in the dark water about twenty feet from shore.
Chet held two flashlights while the Hardys plunged in. They submerged and stroked downward. Joe, groping his way through the underwater darkness, suddenly grasped what felt like clothing.
He could barely make out the shape of a heavy-set person. Samuel Blackstonel Seizing one of the big man's arms, Joe tried to push upward. But he could make no progress. Blackstone was being dragged deeper!
While Joe kept tugging, Frank spotted his brother, glided in, and grasped Blackstone about the waist. Suddenly the boy came in contact with something soft and slippery, that was tightly clamped around the victim's body and holding him down!
“The monster!” Frank thought.
With all his might he wrenched at the slimy form until its grip was loosened. Though it wriggled back threateningly, Joe pulled Mr. Blackstone free.
Their lungs bursting, the swimmers bore the unconscious man to the surface. Chet quickly waded in and helped haul all three to shore.
“Timmy,” ordered his grandfather, “you run up to the house and bring back help. Git, now!”
Meanwhile, Frank loosened Mr. Blackstone's clothing and administered artificial respiration. Joe, Chet, and Grover worriedly looked on, watching for signs of life.
Finally, to everyone's vast relief, Mr. Blackstone gasped, sputtered, and began breathing.
“Easy, sir,” Frank cautioned him. “Just lie still and rest.”
Joe turned to the elderly servant. “Did you see what happened? Tell us everything.”
“I was taking my walk, as I do every night, when me and Timmy met Mr. Blackstone on the path. He hurried to the edge of the pond like he saw something. Next thing we knew, he gave a yell, and something dragged him right into the water!”
Now the waiting group heard excited voices, then a series of lights could be seen winding toward them through the brush.
In a moment three of Mr. Blackstone's servants, carrying flashes, blankets, and axes, and led by little Timmy, reached the bank.
“Quick! Cut two saplings,” Frank directed.
When this was done, the Hardys and Chet constructed an improvised stretcher, and Blackstone was lifted onto it and carried up to his house.
“Rand,” he muttered incoherently as the boys and Grover waited in his spacious bedroom for the family physician to arrive. “Randâdid it.”
Frank, Joe, and Chet stared at one another in puzzlement. They listened as Blackstone rambled on, “Randâsent noteâmeet him at pondâtalk over our differencesâRand did it.”
At that moment the doctor entered and hurried to the man's bedside. After a quick examination, he warned, “Mr. Blackstone mustn't talk or be questioned. I must ask you all to leave.”
The boys and Grover filed out. Joe whispered, “But Professor Rand couldn't have been responsible! He wasn't near the pond.”
“Grover,” Frank asked, “where does Mr. Blackstone keep his mail? We'd like to see that note from Professor Rand he just mentioned. I assure you we're trying to
help
Mr. Blackstone.”
help
Mr. Blackstone.”
“He might not like it if I do what you ask,” the butler objected.
“We'll have to take that chance,” Frank said.
The servant nodded and led them downstairs to the study where the Hardys had witnessed the quarrel between the cousins. Grover handed Frank a spindle of papers from the desk. On top was a hand-printed note signed, “Ruel.”
“I'll keep this for evidence,” the boy told Grover. “I'll write a receipt for it.”
After doing this, the three boys hurried back to camp. There Frank drew Professor Rand's map from the glove compartment of the convertible, and compared the printing to that on the note.
“Not the same!” Joe explained. “The note's a fake! Whoever sent it probably thought forged printing wouldn't be detected. But on this map Rand uses a little flourish at the beginning of each word.”
“We must find Rand,” Frank said soberly. “He's innocent, but not in Blackstone's eyes.”
The boys headed for the pond. Off in the swamp they noticed the solitary light still moving about.
Joe started forward, but Frank restrained him, saying, “Noâleave him there. Follow me.”
The boy led the way to the Rand property and into the underground passage. They then entered the beverage room and lighted the lamp. Frank took care to leave the door ajar.
“Now,” he said, “we'll wait for the professor here. He'll probably come home this way.”
Some time later the boys heard the door to the passage creak open. Slow, weary footsteps came along the corridor. Abruptly, the steps stopped in front of the beverage room.
“He's seen the light!” Joe whispered.
The Hardys and Chet shrank back behind the door, which moved inward. A tall figure in a raincoat and a floppy hat stepped toward the table.
Quickly Frank pushed the door shut, and the boys stood against it.
“Wh-what!” The man whirled.
“Please sit down, Professor Rand,” said Frank. “We're sorry to startle you, but it's very important that we have a talk with you.”
The tall man sank into a chair. Recovering his composure somewhat, he exclaimed, “Talk with prowlers and intruders! Never!”
“You
are
Professor Rand?” Frank queried.
are
Professor Rand?” Frank queried.
“Of course I am. Who are you? And why are you snooping around?”
Pleasantly Frank made introductions, and explained that the boys had been retained by Bart Worth. “He asked us to help him prove that a certain story printed in his newspaper about the old Blackstone family was the truth.”
Rand nodded. “What has that to do with me?”
Joe replied, “Mr. Blackstone nearly drowned in the pond tonight. Somebody or something pulled him in, and he's blaming you!”
The professor looked shocked. “How terrible! I did not realize that cry I heard was Samuel's. I was about to see who it was when I spotted you boys going toward the pond.” Rand added emphatically, “Samuel and I may be at odds, but
I
would not resort to such tactics.”
I
would not resort to such tactics.”
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