The House on the Cliff (8 page)

“I'm sure that those people know more about Dad's cap than they're telling,” Frank said grimly, as the boys mounted their motorcycles and rode back toward Bayport.

“What are you planning to do next?” Phil asked as he pulled his machine alongside Frank's.

“I'm going right to Chief Collig and tell him the whole story.”

“Okay, we're with you!”

The boys rode directly to police headquarters and left their motorcycles in the parking lot. Chief Collig looked up as his six visitors were ushered into his office.

“Well,” he said heartily, “this is quite a delegation! What can I do for you?”

As Frank and Joe took turns, with an occasional graphic illustration from one of the other boys, they told the full story and showed him the bloodstained cap.

Chief Collig looked grave. “I don't like the sound of this at all,” he said finally. “We must find your father at once! This cap is a good clue.” Then he went on, “Of course you realize that the area where the Pollitt house is located is outside the limits of Bayport, so my men can't go there. But I'll get in touch with Captain Ryder of the State Police at once, so he can assign men to the case.”

The boys thanked the chief for his help and left. Chet, Tony, Biff, and Phil went their separate ways while Frank and Joe turned toward home. They decided not to upset their mother about the bloodstained cap, but merely tell her that the State Police would take over the search for her husband.

“I still think there's some connection between Dad's disappearance and the smuggling outfit and the house on the cliff,” Frank declared.

“What I've been wondering,” said Joe, “is where those two motorboats came from that day Jones was attacked. We didn't see them out in the ocean earlier—at least not both of them.”

“That's right. They could have come right out from under the cliff.”

“You mean, Frank, there might be a secret harbor in there?”

“Might be. Here's the way it could work. Dad suspects smugglers are operating in this territory from a base that he has been unable to find.” Frank spread his arms. “The base is the old Pollitt place! What more do you want?”

“But the house is on top of a
cliff.”

“There could be a secret passage from the house to a hidden harbor at the foot of the cliff.”

“Good night, Frank, it sure sounds reasonable!”

“And perhaps that explains why the kidnapers got away with Jones so quickly on Saturday. If they left the Kane farmhouse just a little while before we did, we should have been able to get within sight of their car. But we didn't.”

“You mean they turned in at the Pollitt place?”

“Why not? Probably Jones is hidden there right now.”

“And maybe Dad too,” Joe cried out excitedly.

“That's right. I'm against just sitting and waiting for the state troopers to find him. How about asking Tony if he will lend us his motorboat, so we can investigate the foot of that cliff?”

“I get you!” Joe agreed enthusiastically. “And if we pick up any information we can turn it over to the State Police and they can raid the Pollitt place!”

WHEN the brothers arrived home Frank and Joe assured their mother that the State Police would soon find Mr. Hardy. Some of the anxiety left her face as she listened to her sons' reassuring words.

When she went to the kitchen to start preparations for supper, the boys went to phone Tony Prito. After Frank explained their plan to him, he agreed at once to let them use the
Napoli,
provided they took him along.

“I wouldn't miss it for anything,” he said. “But I can't go until afternoon. Have to do some work for my dad in the morning. I'll meet you at the boathouse at two o'clock.”

“Swell, Tony. I have a job of my own in the morning.”

Chet called a few minutes later. As Frank finished telling him about the plan, he whistled. “You fellows have got your nerve all right. But count me in, will you? I started this thing with you and I'd like to finish it. We've got to find your father!”

After Chet had said good-by, Joe asked his brother, “What's on for the morning?”

“I want to go down to the waterfront and talk to Pretzel Pete again. He might have another clue, Also, I want to find out when the
Marco Polo
is due back here.”

Joe nodded. “I get it. You think something may be going on then?”

“Right. And if we can find Dad and lead the Coast Guard to the smugglers before the boat docks—”

“Brother, that's a big order.”

By nine o'clock the following morning Frank and Joe were down at the Bayport docks. Pretzel Pete was not in evidence.

“We'd better be cagey about asking when the
Marco Polo's
coming in,” Frank cautioned. “The smugglers probably have spies around here and we'd sure be targets.”

Acting as if there were no problems on their minds, Frank and Joe strolled along whistling. Once they joined a group of people who were watching a sidewalk merchant. The man was demonstrating little jumping animals. Frank and Joe laughed as they bought a monkey and a kangaroo. “Iola and Callie will get a kick out of these,” Joe predicted.

“Say, Frank, here comes Pretzel Pete now!” Joe whispered.

The Hardys went up the street, saying in a loud voice in case anyone was listening, that they were hungry and glad to see Pete.

“Nobody can make pretzels like yours,” Joe exclaimed. “Give me a dozen. Two for my mouth and ten for my pockets.”

As Pretzel Pete laughed and pulled out a cellophane bag to fill the order, Frank said in a whisper, “Heard anything new?”

“Not a thing, son.” Pete could talk without moving his lips. “But I may know something tomorrow.”

“How come?"

“The
Marco Polo's
docking real early—five A.M. I heard Ali Singh is one of the crew. I'll try to get a line on him.”

“Great! We'll be seeing you.”

The boys moved off, and to avoid arousing any suspicion as to why they were in the area, headed for a famous fish market.

“Mother will be surprised to see our morning's catch,” Joe said with a grin as he picked out a large bluefish.

The brothers did not discuss the exciting information Pretzel Pete had given them until they were in the safety of their own home. Then Joe burst out, “Frank, if the Marco Polo gets offshore during the night, it'll have to lay outside until it's time to dock!”

“And that'll give those smugglers a real break in picking up the stolen drugs!” Frank added. “Maybe we should pass along our suspicions to the Coast Guard.”

“Not yet,” Joe objected. “All we have to go on is Pretzel Pete's statements about Ali Singh. Maybe we'll learn more this afternoon and then we can report it.”

“I guess you're right,” Frank concluded. “If those smugglers are holding Dad, and find out that we've tipped off the Coast Guard, they'll certainly harm him.”

“You have a point.”

When Frank and Joe reached the Prito boathouse at two o'clock, Tony and Chet were already there. Tony was tuning up the motor, which purred evenly.

“No word from your dad yet?” Tony asked. The Hardys shook their heads as they stepped aboard.

The
Napoli
was a rangy, powerful craft with graceful lines and was the pride of Tony's life. The boat moved slowly out into the waters of Barmet Bay and then gathered speed as it headed toward the ocean.

“Rough water,” Frank remarked as breaking swells hit the hull. Salt spray dashed over the bow of the Napoli as it plunged on through the white-caps. Bayport soon became a speck nestled at the curve of the horseshoe-shaped body of water. Reaching the ocean, Tony turned north. The boys could see the white line of the shore road rising and falling along the coast. Soon they passed the Kane farm. Two miles farther on they came within sight of the cliff upon which the Pollitt house stood. It looked stark and forbidding above the rocks, its roof and chimneys silhouetted against the sky.

“Pretty steep cliff,” Tony observed. “I can't see how anyone could make his way up and down that slope to get to the house.”

“That's probably why nobody has suspected the place of being a smuggling base,” Frank replied. “But perhaps when we look around we'll find an answer.”

Tony steered the boat closer toward the shore, so that it would not be visible from the Pollitt grounds. Then he slackened speed in order that the sound of the engine would be less noticeable, and the craft made its way toward the bottom of the cliff.

There were currents here that demanded skillful navigation, but Tony brought the
Napoli
through them easily, and at last the boat was chugging along close to the face of the cliff.

The boys eagerly scanned the formidable wall of rock. It was scarred and seamed and the base had been eaten away by the incessant battering of waves. There was no indication of a path.

Suddenly Tony turned the wheel sharply. The
Napoli
swerved swiftly to one side. He gave it power and the craft leaped forward with a roar.

“What's the matter?” Frank asked in alarm.

Tony gazed straight ahead, tense and alert. Another shift of the wheel and the
Napoli
swerved again.

Then Chet and the Hardys saw the danger. There were rocks at the base of the cliff. One of them, black and sharp, like an ugly tooth, jutted out of the water almost at the boat's side. Only Tony's quick eye had saved the
Napoli
from hitting it!

They had blundered into a veritable maze of reefs which extended for several yards ahead. Tony's passengers held their breaths. It seemed impossible that they could run the gantlet of those rocks without tearing out the bottom of the craft.

But luck was with them. The
Napoli
dodged the last dangerous rock, and shot forward into open water.

Tony sank back with a sigh of relief. “Whew, that was close!” he exclaimed. “I didn't see those rocks until we were right on top of them. If we'd ever struck one of them we'd have been goners.”

Frank, Joe, and Chet nodded in solemn agreement. Then, suddenly, Frank cried out, “Turn back! I think I saw an opening!”

Tony swung the boat around. The opening which Frank had spotted was a long, narrow tunnel. It led right through the cliff!

“This might be the secret entrance!” Joe exclaimed.

“I think it's large enough for the boat to go through,” said Tony. “Want me to try it?”

Frank nodded tensely. “Go ahead.”

The Napoli slipped through the opening and in a few moments came out into a pond of considerable extent. The boys looked about expectantly. Steep slopes covered with scraggly trees and bushes reached to the water's edge. But there was no path or indication that any human being ever came down to the pond.

Suddenly Frank gave a gasp of surprise and said, “Look to my right, fellows.”

Among the thickets at the base of the steepest slope stood a man. He was very tall, his face was weather-beaten, and his lips thin and cruel. He stood quietly, looking at the boys without a shadow of expression on his sinister face.

Upon realizing he had been observed, the man shouted, “Get out of here!”

Tony throttled the engine and Frank called, “We aren't doing any harm.”

“I said ‘Get out!' This is private property.”

The boys hesitated. Instantly the man, as though to back up his commands, reached significantly toward the holster of a revolver.

“Turn that boat around and beat it!” he mapped. “And don't ever come back here! Not if you know what's good for you.”

The boys realized that nothing would be gained by argument. Tony slowly brought the boat around.

“Okay,” Joe called cheerfully.

The stranger did not reply. He stood gazing fixedly after them, his left hand pointing to the exit, his right tapping the gun holster, as the motorboat made its way out through the tunnel

“Looks as if he didn't want us around,” remarked Tony facetiously, as soon as the
Napoli
was in open water again.

“He sure didn't!” Frank exclaimed. “I expected him to start popping that gun at any moment!”

“He must have an important reason. Who and what do you suppose he is?” Tony asked in bewilderment.

“Fellows,” Frank said thoughtfully, “I think that man might have been Snattman!”

“FRANK!” Joe exclaimed. “I think you've hit it! That man had no reason to act the way he did unless he's covering up something.”

“Something like smuggling, you mean,” said Chet. “He must be Snattman or one of his gang.”

“And,” Frank went on, “the fact that he was in that cove must mean he has some connection with the house on the cliff.”

“Snattman, king of the smugglers!” Tony whistled. “You guys really get in some interesting situations!”

“I'll bet that he's one of the fellows who chased Jones that day in the motorboat,” Joe cried.

“And tried to kill him,” Frank continued the thought.

“Let's get away from here!” Chet urged.

“Why should we go now?” Frank demanded. “We've stumbled on something important. That hidden pond may be the smugglers' base.”

“But if they use the house how do they get to it?” Tony asked. “Those cliffs up from the pond were mighty steep.”