The Secret of Skull Mountain (13 page)

Joe ran around the counter and turned on his flashlight. A pair of eyes looked at him appealingly. The prisoner was Chet Morton!

JOE UNTIED the rope which bound Chet's hands and feet, while Frank removed the plump boy's gag.

Chet gasped. “Am I glad—”

“Not so loud!” Frank cautioned him in a low voice, glancing toward the office.

“How did this happen?” Joe asked softly.

In a whisper Chet said that while returning from a late movie, he had decided to pass the plumbing shop to see if everything was in order.

“I saw the light—thought I ought to investigate,” he went on. “The bell tinkled when I stepped into the shop and two guys came out of the back room and jumped me.”

He looked at the Hardys quizzically. “How come the bell didn't give you away?”

Joe showed his handkerchief and Chet nodded understandingly.

“Who are they?” Frank queried, nodding toward the rear room.

“Sweeper and Limpy.”

The three boys looked at the light in the transom over the closed door. Although they could hear voices, the sound was too faint for them to distinguish the words.

Suddenly they became aware of a strange, hissing noise.

Frank tiptoed to the door and looked through the keyhole, but the key was in it. Quietly he placed a chair beside the door, climbed up, and gently pushed open the transom a few more inches.

Sweeper and the man with the limp were kneeling on the floor in front of a small iron safe. Sweeper was holding an acetylene torch, and its bluish flame was cutting a circle through the metal around the lock of the safe.

Frank felt a tug at his trouser leg and looked down. Chet was eager to see what was going on.

Frank stepped down and whispered, “Safe-cracking.”

As Chet climbed onto the chair, both Hardys signaled him to be careful.

Chet nodded reassuringly, then tried to peek through the transom. “I can't reach!” he whispered. “Can you find me a couple of books to stand on?”

Joe nodded reluctantly. He brought a few bound catalogs from the counter and Chet stacked them on the seat of the chair. He climbed onto them and teetered precariously.

“Watch out!” Frank whispered sharply. He grabbed at the plump youth, but too late! Chet gave Frank a wild, despairing look as the catalogs skidded out from under his feet. He leaped to the floor, past the tumbling books.

The boys heard exclamations from inside the office. The acetylene torch was shut off.

Swiftly Frank lifted the chair away from the door, then he and Joe ducked behind the end of a far counter. Chet lay down where he had been before as if bound and jammed the gag into his mouth. The office door was flung open and Sweeper came straight to Chet.

“Mmm. Okay. It wasn't him.”

“Then what was it?” asked Limpy from the doorway.

Sweeper stared at the books sprawled near the upright chair. At that moment a large black cat walked into the rectangle of light which streamed through the open doorway. He stopped and looked at the two men, then meowed piteously.

Sweeper laughed. “A snooping cat—that's what it was!” he said, pointing. ‘Must've jumped on the chair and knocked ail those books off.”

He picked up a book and threw it at the animal. The cat squalled and ran to another part of the shop.

“Come on, Green!” Sweeper said impatiently. “We've got to finish this job.”

Green limped after him and closed the door. Again there came the sound of the acetylene torch.

Frank signaled a huddle, and the boys moved some distance from the door. “We must get word to Dad and Chief Collig.”

But Chet shook his head. “Your dad's in Chicago,” he whispered. “He got a phone call shortly after you left to pick up Joe at the grocery. He telephoned me and said to tell you he'd be back as soon as he could.”

Joe groaned. “And we wanted to show him the tunnel and look for the hideout.”

“We'll have to handle it alone,” said Frank. He turned to Chet. “The convertible's parked a few doors to the left of the shop. Drive to Chief Collig's house and bring him here!”

“Will do,” said Chet, and hurried out.

The Hardys hastened back to the office door and Joe took up the watch. Several minutes later he saw the torch cut a complete circle through the metal of the safe. Its lock fell out onto the floor.

Sweeper swung the heavy door open, reached into the safe, and took out a metal box. He snapped the lid up and dumped the contents on a desk.

The thin man fumbled through some papers impatiently, then snatched an envelope. He drew out a roll of currency.

“There it is!” he cried exultantly, flipping the bills with his thumb. “Five thousand bucks! Kleng's promised me this cash ever since I started to do his dirty work, but he's never delivered. Well, we're square now, even if Kleng doesn't know it!”

Green wasn't listening. He leafed nervously through the scattered papers, wetting his lips and muttering under his breath.

Finally he drew out a bank check and stared at it. His fingers trembled. A look of triumph came over his face.

“That it?” Sweeper asked.

“Yes.” Green looked at Sweeper, his mouth quivering. “For years, Kleng's been holding this against me,” he said. “I used to be a respectable accountant. I worked for Kleng. Then, to get more money for my family, I forged his name to this check.” He broke off and stared at the slip of paper. “Kleng threatened to have me sent to jail unless I helped him carry out his scheme. But now!” His voice was suddenly gleeful. “I'll destroy the check and be free!”

Sweeper laughed. “We're both free, fella! You can forget Kleng and I'll spend the five thousand!”

Suddenly the boys heard a noise at the front door. Someone outside was fumbling with the handle. Quickly Joe stepped down, swung the chair aside, and ducked behind the counter with Frank.

The front door opened and sharp heel taps sounded on the floor. From their hiding place, the boys saw a woman open the office door. The light fell on her face.

Mrs. Kleng!
She stared into the back room. “What are you two doing here?” she demanded.

Then the boys saw Sweeper's arm pull her into the office. The door slammed shut.

Joe glanced at Frank. “What shall we do?”

“Better wait for Chet and the chief. If the three in there try to leave, we'll stop them.”

Angry voices sounded in the office. In shrill tones Mrs. Kleng denounced Sweeper and his companion for their treachery.

“My husband planned this whole reservoir setup,” she declared, “and now you think you're going to rob him! He's the one who got the syndicate to promise the backing and what have you done, but—”

“I've done plenty!” Sweeper cut in. “And if it weren't for my brains, this whole operation would have been sunk!”

The woman snorted contemptuously. “Brains! You're so stupid you left the front door unlocked while you robbed the safe!”

Green spoke up excitedly, “We couldn't help it. The lock was jammed!”

“Pipe down!” ordered Sweeper. “Somebody'll hear you!”

After that the voices fell and the boys could catch only a sharp word now and then. Suddenly the front door opened and the Hardys whirled to see Chief Collig with Chet.

Quietly the two walked to Frank and Joe. “Reinforcements coming,” the chief said softly. “The men still in there?”

Frank nodded. “Mrs. Kleng's with them, and they didn't seem too happy to see her.” Briefly, he whispered what he and Joe had overheard.

Chief Collig nodded, then walked past the boys to the office. With one quick movement, he threw open the door. “All right, lady,” he said. “Step aside.”

Mrs. Kleng whirled around with a startled look. “What's the idea?” she asked.

“You're all under arrest!” the chief announced gruffly.

Sweeper saw the boys and snarled. Green stood gasping like a hooked fish.

“You can't arrest me!” Mrs. Kleng's voice rose shrilly. “My husband owns this shop! I came here for some money he asked me to get for him and found these two crooks”—she pointed a bony finger at Sweeper and Green—“breaking into the safe! They're the guilty ones!”

Collig was not impressed. “I'm holding you as a material witness.”

Mrs. Kleng flashed him a bitter look. “Do what you want. I won't talk.”

The chief produced a pair of handcuffs and chained the two men together.

“Sweeper,” said Frank, “where's Dr. Foster?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the tall man replied.

“You'd better tell us,” Joe said sharply.

Sweeper raised his brows. “Take it easy, boy. You don't know who I am. I'll be out of this jam before daylight.”

“You're Timothy Kimball Jr.,” said Joe, “and this is one time your father can't help you.”

The thief stared at Joe. “You think you're pretty smart, figuring that out.”

“You'd be wise to cooperate, Kimball,” said the chief. “Where's that hideout?”

Sweeper's lips tightened. “I'm telling nothing,” he said. And neither is Green, if he knows what's good for him.”

The small man gulped.“ 'Course not, Sweeper. I won't talk.”

Sweeper gave the Hardys a twisted smile. “It's all up to you, boys,” he said. “Good luck!”

Flanked by the boys, the chief marched his three prisoners to the door, where a squad car had pulled up.

“This takes care of some of the crooks,” Joe said, grinning. “Now for the others!”

DAYLIGHT was breaking over Skull Mountain when Frank and Joe climbed to the top of the narrow trail. Bob and Dick greeted them on the ridge.

The boys unslung the gas masks from their shoulders and handed one to each of the engineers, keeping a mask apiece for themselves. All had canteens and flashlights.

“Where's Chet?” asked Dick.

“Still in the sack,” Joe replied with a grin. “He's coming later in his jalopy.”

“See your dad?” Bob questioned them, looping the strap of his mask around his neck.

“No,” said Frank. He quickly told all that had happened the night before.

“Did you tell the police about the tunnel that you think goes to the gang's hideout?” Bob asked.

“Yes,” replied Frank, “and while we were at Chief Collig's office last night, he called Dad in Chicago. We reported all we'd discovered so far, and it was decided to round up the gang here tomorrow.”

Joe explained that Mr. Hardy was ready to arrest the members of the syndicate in Chicago, but figured he might need one more day.

“In the meantime,” Frank put in, “he wants us to locate the cavern and any tunnels that go to it. We're to sketch the layout for the police, so they can cut off all avenues of escape.”

Bob gave a low whistle. “If one of the gang catches sight of you, it could wreck the whole operation.”

“To say nothing of what they'd do to you if they nab you,” Dick added.

“It'll be touchy,” Frank agreed with a grin.

“We'll be glad to help you,” said Bob.

Dick nodded. “Just say what you want us to do.”

“Thanks,” said Frank. “First let's see if there's water in the channel. After that, we'll tackle the right-hand branch of the tunnel.”

A moment later the rectangular slab of rock had been removed and the crevice exposed.

Joe slid into the fissure, then Bob and Dick followed. Frank came last, and using the handhold, pulled the rock over the opening. The Hardys turned on their lights and crawled single file into the low-roofed tunnel ahead.

The four worked their way downward on their hands and knees. After a while they were able to walk erect. When they reached the fork, Joe paused. For a few minutes the boys listened for a sound from the right-hand shaft.

“You think the gang is down there now?” Bob asked quietly.

“Could be,” Frank replied. “We'd better be quiet. No telling how sound carries in these passages.”

Walking softly, the boys descended the tunnel which led to the underground stream. As they drew closer, the Hardys realized there was no sound of rushing water. Soon the floor leveled off, and the four saw the small landing ahead. They hastened to the edge and Frank shone his light downward. The floor below was damp, and tiny pools of water sparkled in the light. But the stream they had seen the night before was gone!

“That proves it!” Frank declared, his eyes shining. “This is the tunnel which runs from the reservoir!”

Bob nodded. “There's no doubt of that now,” he said slowly. He stared down at the empty channel. “There can be only one explanation why the water flows through at night and not during the day,” he added. “And that's a lock! It's probably close to the mouth of the tunnel.”

Dick grinned. “All we have to do now,” he pointed out, “is what we've been trying to do all along—locate the entrance to the channel and close it!”

“Maybe we could just block it off here,” Joe suggested.

Bob shook his head. “We couldn't be sure the block would hold in this place.”

Joe played his flashlight beam down on a jagged gap in the rock wall across the shaft.

“As long as the water's dammed up during the day,” he said hopefully, “one of us might be able to crawl through that opening and along the tunnel to the mouth!”