Read The Mark on the Door Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Mark on the Door (2 page)
“Nobody's aboard!” Frank responded.
The boys guided the
Sleuth
alongside the craft. Joe was about to board it when three men suddenly sprang from behind the gunwale. One struck Joe on the head with a blow that sent him crashing back into the
Sleuth.
A split second later two of the men clobbered Frank. He slumped unconscious.
Sleuth
alongside the craft. Joe was about to board it when three men suddenly sprang from behind the gunwale. One struck Joe on the head with a blow that sent him crashing back into the
Sleuth.
A split second later two of the men clobbered Frank. He slumped unconscious.
CHAPTER II
The Missing Witness
“WHATâwhat happened?” Joe moaned as he regained consciousness.
Frank, still groggy, had already managed to get himself to his feet. “We were jumped by three men hiding aboard the
Ira Q.”
Ira Q.”
“Cardillo must've been one of them,” Joe surmised.
The boys reached into the salty water and bathed their bruises. Then they scanned the dark sea.
The mist had thickened and there was no sign of the
Ira Q.
Before they could start their stalled motor, the Hardys heard the piercing sound of a foghorn. It was followed by shouts.
Ira Q.
Before they could start their stalled motor, the Hardys heard the piercing sound of a foghorn. It was followed by shouts.
“Ahoy! Ahoy! Is anybody out there?”
“Must be the harbor police!” Joe said.
The boys yelled in reply. Soon the running lights of the police boat loomed out of the fog. A small radar antenna revolved atop a mast on the cabin roof.
“You must be the Hardys!” an officer cried. “MacPherson said you were out here! We found his boat!”
The boys glanced over the stern of the police craft. In tow was the
Ira Q.
Ira Q.
“Did you find anyone aboard?” Frank asked.
“No. The boat was abandoned. We almost ran it down!”
Frank and Joe were mystified. Where could the three men have gone?
After telling the harbor police officers what had happened, the Hardys followed them back to MacPherson's dock. Sandy, along with Police Chief Collig, greeted them.
“What's all this about?” Chief Collig asked, and was promptly brought up to date on the Cardillo case.
“There's not much to go on,” the chief commented. “But I'll alert my men. Chances are those scoundrels will show up again.”
The boys thanked the harbor police, berthed the Sleuth for the night, and drove home.
They were met at the door by their mother, a slim, attractive woman. “We've been worried about youâout in this fog,” she said. “Oh, look at those awful bruises! What happened?”
“Nothing serious, Mother,” Frank told her. “Joe and I just tangled with some crooks and came off second best.”
“Crooks? Criminals, you mean!” The voice was that of Aunt Gertrude Hardy, a tall, angular woman who breezed into the room. “Good gracious! I hope you're not involved in another mystery!”
“Hello, Aunt Gertrude,” Frank said with a grin. “Don't worry about us. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Indeed!” Aunt Gertrude sniffed. “What about those bruises on your heads?”
“We just forgot to duck,” Joe quipped.
“Oh! Teen-agers!” Aunt Gertrude scolded. “Your mother and I have been keeping a fine dinner warm. Come on. Sit down.”
Gertrude Hardy, unmarried sister of Mr. Hardy, had come to live at her brother's home. She was fond of her nephews, but thought that detective work was too dangerous for them.
The boys' mother smiled affectionately. “Yes. Come eat. Aunt Gertrude made you an apple pie for dessert.”
Frank and Joe had just finished their second helping of pie when Fenton Hardy arrived home.
“Hi, Dad!” Frank said cheerfully.
“Hello, boys. You look well-fed.”
“How was your visit to New York?” Joe asked as they went into the living room.
“Fine,” replied the tall, middle-aged detective. “I'd have been home earlier, but I had to take the train. The airport was fogged in.”
Mr. Hardy, youthful looking for his years, greeted his wife, then sat in a large wing chair.
“Wait till you hear what happened to us today,” Joe said. He recounted the stories about the periscope and the
Ira Q.
Ira Q.
“Very mysterious,” Mr. Hardy remarked. “And you say you saw the periscope in the bay? Maybe it had something to do with Cardillo.”
Joe frowned in disbelief. “Do you think that's possible?”
“We'd have an awful time proving it,” Frank said, “unless the Coast Guard comes up with something.”
“What about the
Sleuth?”
their father asked. “Was it badly damaged?”
Sleuth?”
their father asked. “Was it badly damaged?”
“A dent, that's all,” Joe replied. “But not serious enough to keep us from our fishing trip.”
The detective leaned forward, slapped both his knees, and looked disappointed. “I'm afraid I won't be able to go.” He sighed. “I must start working on the New York case right away.”
“Oh nuts!” Joe exclaimed.
“Can you tell us about your case?” Frank asked.
Mr. Hardy's brow creased. “It seems that a group of scoundrels has been peddling worthless stock in New York and New England. It has been sold in the name of a Mexican firm called Costa QuÃmico Compañia. That's Spanish for Coast Chemical Company.”
“I read something about that fraud,” Frank interrupted. “Didn't several Bayport people buy some of the stock?”
“Yes. Like others, they were extremely gullible people who can be talked into a fast deal.”
Mr. Hardy told the boys that the authorities were not certain as yet how the fraud was being worked. However, the Securities Exchange Commission had filed indictments against three men in New York.
“But to get a conviction,” the detective explained, “the authorities are depending on the testimony of Elmer Tremmer, a Bayport bookkeeper, who kept records for the swindlers. Tremmer's not too bright, but he's honest. It's believed he was innocently involved in the fraud.”
“What's the problem?” Joe questioned. “Won't he cooperate?”
“On the contrary,” Mr. Hardy said. “I'm told he was eager to testify. Four days ago he went to New York and checked in at a hotel. He was scheduled to appear at a preliminary hearing the following day. However, Tremmer disappeared shortly after his arrival and hasn't been seen since. My job is to try and find him.”
“Do you think he was kidnapped?” Frank asked.
“Perhaps,” his father replied. “Or scared off.”
After Mr. Hardy finished outlining his new case, it was late and the boys went to bed. Early the next morning they received a telephone call from their buddy Chet Morton.
“Hi, Chet!” Joe said. “This is a great honorâyour getting up so early to phone us.”
“Stow the funny talk. I called to ask if you and Frank are going out in the Sleuth today?”
“We didn't plan to, but we can. Why?”
“I'll tell you later. It's a surprise!” Chet announced excitedly. “Meet me at your boathouse in an hour, and you'll witness the marvel of the century!”
As the Hardys drove off to the rendezvous, Joe said, “What do you think Chet is up to?”
“He probably has some new hobby,” Frank replied. “Whatever it is, we can be sure of one thing. It'll be good for a laugh.”
Chet, plump and jovial, lived on a farm outside Bayport. He was always experimenting with one hobby or another. Many were short-lived, but once in a while they were useful for the Hardys in solving a mystery.
The young detectives arrived at their boathouse just as Chet came rumbling along in his father's farm truck. On the rear of it was an odd-shaped contraption hidden under a tarpaulin. Chet pulled up and hopped out.
“Now for the unveilingl” he announced. “If you fellows were wearing hats, I'd tell you to hold onto them real tight. You're in for a whale of a treat!”
He flung aside the tarpaulin with one swoop. Resting on top of two metal pontoons was a bare wooden frame, triangular in shape. At the apex was a delta-wing of thin, light fabric.
“Well, what do you think of it?” Chet asked proudly.
Joe stared at the contraption. “It's neat. But what is it?”
“You're looking at the Marvelous Morton Water Kite!” Chet said.
“Sounds impressive,” Frank commented. “What does it do?”
“That should be obvious! My masterpiece will float on the waterâsee the two pontoons? You guys are supposed to tow me around the bay. Then, when we get up enough speed, the delta-wing will carry me into the air like a sea gull.”
“Pretty dangerous!” Joe muttered.
“Nothing doing!” said Frank. “That gadget looks too tricky to be handled by an amateur.”
“Aw, come on,” Chet pleaded. “I've spent a lot of time building this.”
Chet was so persistent that the Hardys finally consented to tow him. But they urged their friend not to try anything fancy until he acquired some experience in controlling the kite.
While the Hardys untied the
Sleuth,
Chet changed into his swim trunks and extended a long line of nylon rope from the kite to the
Sleuth's
stern. Then he strapped himself to a small seat aboard the winged contraption.
Sleuth,
Chet changed into his swim trunks and extended a long line of nylon rope from the kite to the
Sleuth's
stern. Then he strapped himself to a small seat aboard the winged contraption.
“All set?” Joe yelled to his friend.
“Haul away!” Chet responded.
Frank advanced the throttle and the Sleuth moved ahead.
“Faster! Faster!” Chet shouted.
Frank increased speed, then he glanced back to see how the experiment was progressing. The fabric wing became rigid and the kite bounced a couple of times, then lifted a few feet off the water.
“Leaping lizards! Look at that!” Joe exclaimed.
“More speed!” Chet ordered.
Frank increased the power. Suddenly the kite went into an abrupt climb high above the water.
“Chet! Be careful!” Joe shouted.
At that instant the towline went limp and fluttered down toward the water.
“Help!” Chet shouted as the towline snapped.
“He's in free flight!” Frank yelled. âAnd gliding toward the shore!“
As the kite passed over land, a warm, vertical air current carried it up even higher. The boys watched helplessly as Chet vanished over the crest of a hill.
“Help!” Chet shouted as the towline snapped
Speeding back to the boathouse, they leaped into their car and drove off in pursuit. Five minutes later Joe pointed to a knot of people peering at a factory chimney. Cries for help were coming from the stack. Chet was hanging on courageously.
Sirens wailed as the Bayport Fire Department and Police Emergency Squad vehicles screamed to the scene. Reporters and photographers rushed to record the rescue as Chet and his kite were untangled and brought to safety on a towering aerial ladder.
Chief Collig arrived to make sure the situation was under control. When he spotted the Hardys, he hurried over to talk to them.
“I tried to contact you boys a couple of hours ago,” the chief said. “One of my men came across an unlocked car in a parking area near MacPherson's dock. No one knew who owned it, so we decided to run a routine check. The car was sold by a dealer in New York to a man named Pancho Cardillo! The address on the registration is fictitious.”
“I'll bet Cardillo is not his real name either,” Joe commented.
“If you boys would like to take a look at the car,” Collig said, “you'll find it at the police garage.”
“We'll do that,” Frank answered.
The Hardys drove a subdued and badly frightened Chet back to his truck, then hastened to the police garage. There they examined the car minutely. Frank noticed a small object jammed underneath the gas pedal. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a broken finger ring with a strange insignia on it.
“Look, Joe. Indian craftsmanship, I'll bet.”
“Aztec, I'd say,” Frank said.
The insignia was a cluster of faggots from which a flame issued, with a large letter P in the center of the design.
“Maybe it's a family crest,” Joe suggested.
Frank dropped the ring in his pocket. Then he and his brother drove home. As they entered the house, intending to show the ring to their father, he summoned them to his study. Mr. Hardy was holding a white sheet of letter-size paper.
“This just came a few minutes ago,” he said. “Frankly, I'm baffled. I don't know what to make of it.”
He handed the letter to his sons. Their eyes widened when they saw the typewritten message:
BEWARE OF THE MARK ON THE DOOR!
CHAPTER III
The Strange Symbol
“WHAT mark on the door?” Frank asked. Joe hastened out to examine their front and back doors and the garage as well.
“No signs there,” Joe said when he returned.
“The envelope was postmarked Bayport,” Mr. Hardy said, “which brings the mystery right to our doorstep.”
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