The Hooded Hawk Mystery (13 page)

“No, and it doesn't look as if he's going to have any, either,” Collig replied. “He refuses to see anyone, even an attorney! And he's made no attempt to raise the bail money. Frank, that fellow is plenty scared of somebody!”

“My guess,” Frank said, “is that it's Captain Flont!” He said good-by and hung up. Then he drove to the boathouse with Radley and Joe. A quick look around showed that repairs were well under way and that the
Sleuth
could be returned to its berth before long.

Presently Chet's jalopy rattled up the street and pulled to a stop. Lanky, good-natured Biff Hooper swung his long legs over the side, and Tony Prito followed. Chet squeezed himself out of the driver's seat and joined the group. They all walked to the
Sleuth
and went aboard. Frank took them across Barmet Bay, out through the inlet, and into the swells of the ocean beyond. It was just past midnight when Frank outlined the Hardys' plans.

“When we get to Windward, we'll cruise around and find out what we can,” he said. “If we don't learn anything, then Joe and Radley and I will go ashore to investigate.”

Tony, who owned a boat of his own, would be left in charge of the
Sleuth.

Two hours later the forbidding rocky slopes of Windward were etched in black against the moon-lit sky. The motor of the
Sleuth
was throttled down and a search of the waters began. They found no boats anchored and none were visible in any of the many inlets among the rocks.

At three-fifteen Radley and the Hardys decided to go ashore. They donned their swim trunks and slid over the side without a sound.

Treading water beside the boat, Frank said in a low voice to the boys in the
Sleuth,
“You fellows cruise back and forth, keeping your eyes open for anything that might be stirring. We'll swim out again just at daybreak and meet you.”

Chet, Tony, and Biff wished them luck, then started off. They cruised around for some time without seeing another boat or sighting anything suspicious. Finally, as the first streak of dawn appeared in the east, Tony moved the
Sleuth
to the spot where they had left the swimmers.

After what seemed like a long wait, Tony said, “Fellows, I'm worried. Frank, Joe, and Radley are overdue.”

The three in the boat could not see anyone along the shore or in the water that lay between the
Sleuth
and the rocky beach. Tony moved the boat a little closer and got out the binoculars. There was not a sign of anyone on the rocks.

“I'll—I'll bet the smugglers got them!” Chet said nervously. “What'll we do now?”

“Give them fifteen minutes,” Tony advised, “and then storm that island!”

 

 

 

 

FRANK
,
Joe, and Radley had swum easily to the narrow, rocky beach on the windward side of Venus Island. The water was chilly, but their brisk strokes had kept them from feeling the cold.

A jagged cliff that rose abruptly about twenty feet back from the shore was clearly outlined in the moonlight. Before emerging from the surf, the swimmers had made sure that no guard was on duty on the beach. They gazed around the desolate shore but could see no evidence of anyone having been there recently.

Frank mused, “Footprints or signs of beaching a boat could have been washed out by the waves.”

They climbed a trail that wound up the face of the cliff and turned their attention to a woods of windswept pines, which came to within a hundred feet of the cliff's edge. The three sleuths peered ahead.

Frank spied a light among the trees. “I wonder if that light is coming from a house. I thought this area of the island was uninhabited.”

“Let's find out,” Joe urged.

They found a path among the trees and followed it until Joe held up his hand in warning.

“I think I hear voices!”

He and the others paused to listen. Not far from them several men were talking, part of the time in English, part in a foreign tongue the trio had come to recognize as a dialect of India.

The Hardys and Radley crouched behind a clump of bushes, trying to fathom the conversation. The voices carried clearly on the night air, and the listeners were provoked at not being able to translate the foreign words. Presently the watchers were electrified upon hearing:

“Cap's late. I hope he didn't run into trouble. A motorboat was cruising around here a while ago. Better go take a look.”

There was no verbal response to the command, but a blond man began to walk toward the watchers' hiding place. After he had gone a short distance, they followed silently, hoping the
Sleuth
was now far enough from the island not to be noticed.

“If that fellow has a boat hidden nearby and decides to set out for the
Sleuth,”
Joe whispered tensely, “we'll jump him!”

“Right!” Frank replied.

The man paused briefly at the edge of the cliff, then gingerly made his way down the trail to the beach. Radley and the Hardys crept to the brink and peered below. They did not see the
Sleuth,
but a surprise awaited them. A large motor dory, its engine off, was being propelled by oars toward the beach. As they watched, it glided to a stop just beyond the rocky shore. The watchers could see two men in the dory, but the figures were not close enough to be identified.

“Say, Frank,” Joe whispered, “that sure looks like the same dory that met the
Daisy
K the night of the moonlight ride.”

The blond man on the stony shore gave a low whistle. Almost instantly Radley and the boys became aware of tramping feet and a few moments later a dozen dark-skinned men, carrying trousers and shoes, came down the trail, passing just a few feet from the three in hiding. They were followed by a light-haired man. When they reached the beach, he pointed to the dory and immediately the men splashed through the waves toward it.

“Smuggled Indians!” Joe said in a hoarse whisper. “Let's try to stop them!”

Radley gripped Joe's arm. “That would only mean our capture. They outnumber us almost six to one!”

Joe calmed down as the aliens climbed aboard and the oars dipped into the surf. The dory was some distance from shore before its engine was started.

As the two islanders came up the path and moved off among the trees, Frank whispered to Joe:

“Those men obviously are guards here,” he said. “Do you suppose they're the two we watched being transferred from the
Daisy K
to the dory?”

“Come on!” Joe urged. “Let's collar them!”

He sprang into action. Without a backward glance to see if the others were following, he set off on a run among the trees after the blond men.

Frank and Radley tried to stop Joe. They hurried after him, but within a few seconds, they heard sounds of a struggle.

“Joe ran into trouble,” Frank said in a tense whisper.

Minutes later they spotted the two guards prodding Joe toward a group of small buildings set deep in a grove and almost hidden from view. One of the men kicked open the door of the nearest building and Joe was thrust into a lighted room.

“We've got to free him!” Frank said. “This gang will stop at nothing!”

Radley restrained him. “Hold it, Frank,” he said sternly. “Look what happened to Joe. The thing to do is to outwit these men.”

“You're right,” Frank replied. “Tell you what,” he said, noticing that the sky was lightening. “Tony, Chet, and Biff will be waiting offshore. Suppose you swim out to the
Sleuth
and try to follow the dory with the aliens in it. See where it goes. Then bring help back here. In the meantime, I'll try to think up a way to free Joe and maybe pick up more evidence.”

His companion nodded and left at once. Frank waited until he heard the familiar roar of the
Sleuth's
engine as it took off at high speed, before he started his own work. Moving swiftly and cautiously, he edged in close to the building where Joe was imprisoned.

Through a closed window he saw that his brother had been bound to a chair. A coil of rope and a knife lay on a nearby table.

As he watched helplessly, the two middle-aged guards began cuffing Joe's face. Quickly Frank moved to another window which was open. He heard one of the guards say:

“This kid just won't talk. Put the gag back in.”

“I don't buy his story,” the other man said as he replaced the gag, “that he came to Windward to swim all by himself in the middle of the night. He's a spy. We ought to check the area to see if there are any pals of his lurking around.”

Frank ducked around the corner just in time. For, an instant later, the door of the cabin burst open and the two men rushed out. Frank, desperately realizing he must conceal himself, dodged behind a tree.

One of the guards announced he would circle the cabin. Frank held his breath, as the man passed without noticing him. The other zigzagged through the woods between the house and the beach, looking for trespassers, but shortly returned to report there was no evidence of other intruders.

The two men re-entered the house. Frank returned to the open window. There was no possible way he could move in on Joe's captors without being seen.

A few minutes later one of the guards said, “Keep an eye on our prisoner while I go to eat breakfast. I'll spell you later, after I've talked to Cap. I've got a hunch about this kid!”

Frank wondered what he meant by the last statement, then smiled triumphantly. This was his chance to free Joe!

He ducked into hiding again as the guard came out, closed the door behind him, and walked toward one of the other buildings. Frank waited until the man had entered the cabin, which stood about a hundred yards away, then quietly moved to the door of Joe's prison and slowly turned the knob. The door was unlocked!

Picking up a piece of shale from the path, Frank threw it at a windowpane. When the piece of rock crashed through, Joe's guard whirled away from the boy's side and dashed to the window. At the same time, Frank flattened himself against the door, his hand on the knob. As the guard gingerly leaned out the shattered window, Frank eased open the door and entered the room, his bare feet making no sound.

With lightning speed Frank whipped the gag from Joe's mouth with one hand, and with the other grabbed a knife from the table and slashed at the rope which bound Joe's hands.

This was barely accomplished when the man at the window pulled his head in. Before he could turn, Frank gripped him around the throat, stuffed the gag in his mouth, and caught one of his arms in a judo hold. Then he threw him to the floor. Joe quickly bound the guard with the rope that had seconds before secured him.

The prisoner glared at the Hardys as they consulted in low tones. “I sure messed this deal up,” Joe remarked ruefully. “Thanks for turning the tables.”

Frank grinned understandingly. “I'll keep a lookout in this room while you investigate the rest of the cabin,” he said. “If that other guard heard the glass breaking, he'll come to see what happened.”

Joe picked up a flashlight from the table in order to explore the dark rooms beyond. Frank posted himself at the door. In a few seconds Joe was back at his brother's side.

“There are two more rooms in this building,” Joe reported. “One's locked and—what do you know?—in the other there are five carrier pigeons in cages!”

Frank was excited at this news. “That clinches it. We've come to the right place. Let's go see if we can find out if Cap is who I think he is.”

The boys checked the bonds on their prisoner, then rolled him under one of the bunks which lined two walls, and left the cabin. As they approached the building which the other guard had entered, Frank pointed out a high radio aerial that rose from the roof. “They have a powerful set,” he said.

Both boys peered cautiously in a window, and noted that it must be the building where the guards and the aliens ate their meals. At one end was an old-fashioned cooking stove. Two long dining tables, capable of seating a large number of people, stood at the other side of the big room.

Seated at a smaller table which stood against the far wall was the guard. In front of him was a short-wave sending-and-receiving radio. Over it, he was sending the startling message:

“We've captured a spy. From your description, I think he's one of those Hardy boys!”

Frank and Joe gulped. The news was out! But no more must be sent!

Joe sprang through the doorway and threw himself at the man, knocking him away from the instrument and clipping him soundly on the jaw. The man sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

With the mike switch released, the transmitter was cut off. Frank, who had followed his brother into the room, instantly turned on the receiver. The cold, hard voice of Captain Flont was saying:

“We're being followed! I'm going to open fire!”

Terror in their eyes, Frank's and Joe's hearts sank.

“The
Sleuth!”
both boys thought. “It must be the
Sleuth
that Captain Flont has spotted!”

 

 

 

 

A FEELING of hopelessness swept over Frank and Joe. There was no way to warn their friends that Captain Flont intended to fire on them!

Frank paced up and down the cabin, clenching his fists. Then, suddenly, he thought of a way in which Captain Flont might be tricked.

Grabbing a paper napkin from one of the dining tables, Frank wrapped it around the mouthpiece of the short-wave microphone. Perhaps the napkin would muffle his voice enough to prevent its being recognized. He pressed the mike switch.