The House on the Cliff

Table of Contents

 

 

 

Match Wits with The Hardy Boys®!

Collect the Original
Hardy Boys Mystery Stories®

by Franklin W. Dixon

 

 

 

 

The Tower Treasure
The House on the Cliff
The Secret of the Old Mill
The Missing Chums
Hunting for Hidden Gold
The Shore Road Mystery
The Secret of the Caves
The Mystery of Cabin Island
The Great Airport Mystery
What Happened at Midnight
While the Clock Ticked
Footprints Under the Window
The Mark on the Door
The Hidden Harbor Mystery
The Sinister Signpost
A Figure In Hiding
The Secret Warning
The Twisted Claw
The Disappearing Floor
The Mystery of the Flying Express
The Clue of the Broken Blade
The Flickering Torch Mystery
The Melted Coins
The Short-Wave Mystery
The Secret Panel
The Phantom Freighter
The Secret of Skull Mountain
The Sign of the Crooked Arrow
The Secret of the Lost tunnel
The Wailing Siren Mystery
The Secret of Wildcat Swamp

The Crisscross Shadow
The Yellow Feather Mystery
The Hooded Hawk Mystery
The Clue in the Embers
The Secret of Pirates' Hill
The Ghost at Skeleton Rock
The Mystery at Devil's Paw
The Mystery of the Chinese Junk
Mystery of the Desert Giant
The Clue of the Screeching Owl
The Viking Symbol Mystery
The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior
The Haunted Fort
The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge
The Secret Agent on Flight 101
Mystery of the Whale Tattoo
The Arctic Patrol Mystery
The Bombay Boomerang
Danger of Vampire Trail
The Masked Monkey
The Shattered Helmet
The Clue of the Hissing Serpent
The Mysterious Caravan
The Witchmaster's Key
The Jungle Pyramid
The Firebird Rocket
The Sting of the Scorpion
Hardy Boys Detective Handbook
The Hardy Boys Back-to-Back
The Tower Treasure/The House
on the Cliff

 

 

 

 

Celebrate 60 Years with the World's Greatest Super Sleuths!

“Maybe I can give you a tip where to find
your father,” said Pretzel Pete

PRINTED ON RECYCLED PAPER

Copyright © 1987, 1959, 1955, 1927 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. .S.A.

THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-440-67316-0

1998 Printing

“So YOU boys want to help me on another case?” Fenton Hardy, internationally known detective, smiled at his teen-age sons.

“Dad, you said you're working on a very mysterious case right now,” Frank spoke up. “Isn't there some angle of it that Joe and I could tackle?”

Mr. Hardy looked out the window of his second-floor study as if searching for the answer somewhere in the town of Bayport, where the Hardys lived. Finally he turned back and gazed steadfastly at his sons.

“All right. How would you like to look for some smugglers?”

Joe Hardy's eyes opened wide. “You mean it, Dad?”

“Now just a minute.” The detective held up his hand. “I didn't say capture them; I just said look for them.”

“Even that's a big assignment. Thanks for giving it to us!” Frank replied.

The lean, athletic detective walked to a corner of the study where a long, narrow carrying case stood. Tapping it, he said:

“You boys have learned how to manipulate this telescope pretty well. How would you like to take it out onto that high promontory above the ocean and train it seaward? The place I mean is two miles north of the end of the bay and eight miles from here.”

“That would be great!” said seventeen-year-old, blond-haired Joe, his blue eyes flashing in anticipation.

Frank, who was a year older than his brother and less impetuous, asked in a serious tone of voice, “Dad, have you any ideas about the identity of any of the smugglers?”

“Yes, I do,” Mr. Hardy answered his tall, dark-haired son. “I strongly suspect that a man named Felix Snattman is operating in this territory. I'll give you the whole story.”

The detective went on to say that he had been engaged by an international pharmaceutical company to trace stolen shipments of valuable drugs. Reports of thefts had come from various parts of the United States. Local police had worked on the case, but so far had failed to apprehend any suspects.

“Headquarters of the firm is in India,” the detective told the boys. “It was through them that I was finally called in. I'm sure that the thefts are the result of smuggling, very cleverly done. That's the reason I suspect Snattman. He's a noted criminal and has been mixed up in smuggling rackets before. He served a long term in prison, and after being released, dropped out of sight.”

“And you think he's working around Bayport?” Joe asked. He whistled. “That doesn't make this town a very healthy place to live in!”

“But we're going to make it sol” Mr. Hardy declared, a ring of severity in his voice.

“Just where is this spot we're to use the telescope?” Frank asked eagerly.

“It's on the Pollitt place. You'll see the name at the entrance. An old man named Felix Pollitt lived there alone for many years. He was found dead in the house about a month ago, and the place has been vacant ever since.”

“It sounds as if we could get a terrific range up and down the shore from there and many miles across the water,” Frank remarked.

Mr. Hardy glanced at his wrist watch. “It's one-thirty now. You ought to be able to go out there, stay a fair amount of time, and still get home to supper.”

“Oh, easily,” Joe answered. “Our motorcycles can really burn up the road!”

His father smiled, but cautioned, “This telescope happens to be very valuable. The less jouncing it receives the better.”

“I get the point,” Joe conceded, then asked, “Dad, do you want us to keep the information about the smugglers to ourselves, or would it be all right to take a couple of the fellows along?”

“Of course I don't want the news broadcast,” Mr. Hardy said, “but I know I can trust your special friends. Call them up.”

“How about Chet and Biff?” Joe consulted Frank. As his brother nodded, he said, “You pack the telescope on your motorcycle. I'll phone.”

Chet Morton was a stout, good-natured boy who loved to eat. Next to that, he enjoyed being with the Hardys and sharing their exciting adventures, although at times, when situations became dangerous, he wished he were somewhere else. Chet also loved to tinker with machinery and spent long hours on his jalopy which he called Queen. He was trying to “soup up” the motor, so that he could have a real “hot rod.”

In contrast to Chet, Biff Hooper was tall and lanky. To the amusement—and wonder—of the other boys, he used his legs almost as a spider does, covering tremendous distances on level ground or vaulting fences.

A few minutes later Joe joined his brother in the garage and told him that both Chet and Biff would go along. Chet, he said, had apologized for not being able to offer the Queen for the trip but her engine was “all over the garage.” “As usual,” Frank said with a grin as the two boys climbed on their motorcycles and set out.

Presently the Hardys stopped at Biff Hooper's home. He ran out the door to meet them and climbed aboard behind Joe. Chet lived on a farm at the outskirts of Bayport, about a fifteen-minute run from the Hooper home. The stout boy had strolled down the lane to the road and was waiting for his friends. He hoisted himself onto Frank's motorcycle.