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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

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“Our friend has pretended to faint,” Joe said quickly. “Maybe we'd better let her think she's getting away with it.”
“Not around this hotel she won't get away with it!” declared the detective.
“I think we can handle it ourselves without the publicity,” Joe suggested smoothly. “If you'll see that she's helped out to a taxi, we'll take over.”
The detective nodded. He went into the restaurant. In the meantime Frank and Joe walked out to the front entrance and jumped into their car. A few minutes later the false Mrs. Harrison was escorted to the street.
“I'm feeling much better now,” they heard her say. “If you'll get me a taxi ... so stupid of me ... just a weak spell ... I'll be all right.”
“Okay, lady,” the house detective said as he hailed a taxi. He helped her in. “Hope you feel better when you get home.”
“Thank you.”
The taxi pulled away. Frank and Joe followed in their car.
CHAPTER XIV
Spy in the Shadows
THE taxi with the woman suspect gained speed. Frank and Joe followed close behind.
“I wonder where Aunt Gertrude went,” Joe said.
“We'll catch up with her later,” Frank replied. “Right now I'm very curious as to where we're going.”
Five minutes later the taxi stopped in front of a rooming house about six blocks from the hotel. The woman got out. She paid the driver and hurried up the steps.
After she had gone inside, Joe stood guard while Frank rushed to a telephone to call police headquarters. When he said a suspect in the express-carton racket had been cornered, he was told that a detective would be sent to the rooming house at once.
“We had a call a few minutes ago that that woman was at a downtown hotel,” the officer reported. “She moves fast.”
“Aunt Gertrude must have notified him,” Frank said to himself.
Within three minutes a squad car pulled up at the curb and a man from headquarters jumped out. Quickly the boys introduced themselves and said they would like to go into the house with him.
“Okay. Come on!” agreed the detective.
The only occupant of the rooming house at the moment, besides the owner, was “Mrs. Harrison.” They found her packing a trunk in a room that was in a state of disorder. She looked up in alarm.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“Police,” said the Bridgewater detective, showing his badge. “Taking a trip, eh? Let's have a look at some of this baggage.”
“Not without a warrant, you don‘t!” the woman snapped.
“Here!” The man pulled a “Jane Doe” search warrant out of his pocket, then proceeded to check through the belongings in the trunk.
The woman watched him tensely. There was nothing but clothing, shoes, and hair curlers.
Frank and Joe, meanwhile, searched the room. In a corner closet they found a cardboard box. Frank pulled it out.
It was addressed to Miss Gertrude Hardy!
“Here's the evidence!” Joe exclaimed. He examined the contents, There were old books and pictures, antique jewelry and heirlooms, but no personal letters.
“Why didn't you sell our aunt the whole lot?” Frank asked the woman.
She glared at him. “This box does not belong to me. Someone else must have left it there. I never even saw it!”
“Sorry, lady, but you'll have to come to headquarters,” the detective said. He informed her of her constitutional rights, to which she replied with a snort.
Frank and Joe followed the squad car to police headquarters. The woman was booked on theft and blackmail charges. She refused to say anything, however, and was held for arraignment.
“Aunt Gertrude will make a perfect witness,” Joe said.
The Bridgewater police chief thanked the Hardys for their help and gave them permission to take home the top from the carton with Aunt Gertrude's name on it. It was hanging loose and the boys promised to return it if needed as evidence.
“She'll have to claim her property later,” he said. “It's a lucky break for us, getting this woman behind bars,” he added. “After she's had time to think the matter over, she'll probably start talking. Then we'll nab the rest of the gang.”
Frank and Joe left police headquarters and drove around for a while in search of their aunt.
The carton was addressed to Miss Gertrude Hardy!
When they could not find her, they went to the railroad station. The train for Bayport had just pulled out.
They hurried home, reaching the house about ten minutes before Miss Hardy arrived in a taxi. When she walked in, both boys were innocently absorbed in the afternoon newspaper. The top from the carton was lying on a living-room table.
“Back already!” exclaimed Joe. “We thought you'd stay a couple of days!”
“I transacted my business sooner than I expected.” As Miss Hardy took off her hat her eyes fell on the box top. She blinked, took off her glasses, put them back on again. Then she gasped. “Where did this come from?”
“We found it in Bridgewater,” replied Joe.
“You what?” She turned crimson.
“Expressman here gave us a tip,” Frank explained. “We rushed over and nabbed a woman in a rooming house.”
Aunt Gertrude gave both of them an inquiring look. They knew she was wondering whether they had seen her in Bridgewater. She said nothing, however, and went to her room.
“It isn't often we see Aunty blush.” Joe laughed. “She's dying to ask us questions, but she's afraid to. What do you suppose is in those letters? She must have wanted them badly.”
“I'll bet they're old love letters.” Frank grinned. “Dad said Aunt Gertrude was engaged at one time.”
The boys found it difficult to think of their aunt as a romantic person, but Mr. Hardy had often told them that his sister was very popular and had had many admirers. Conversation on the topic was interrupted by a telephone call from Mr. McClintock.
“I don't like to wait two weeks for that ship,” he announced. “Tried to get other reservations this morning. Tell me, what does a man have to do in order to get some? Bring a letter from the president of the Maritime Commission? It's perfectly ridiculous!”
Frank and Joe were secretly amused. Now Mr. McClintock was finding out for himself how difficult it was!
“By the way,” the man continued, “I went down to the docks and heard someone say there'll be a freighter coming in tomorrow morning. Get down there early and meet the boat!”
“Sure, Mr. McClintock. We'll try!” Frank promised.
Following his instructions, they went to the waterfront before breakfast, arriving just as a big freighter pulled slowly up Barmet Bay. As it approached the dock the Hardys were amazed to see that it was the
Hawk.
“Wonder why she came back so soon,” Joe remarked. “She couldn't have sailed very far.”
“Bet she's in for repairs,” Frank replied. “Say, maybe Captain Sharp will be in a better frame of mind this time and give us passage.”
But when the
Hawk
was moored and Captain Sharp came ashore he looked as dour as ever. Nevertheless, the boys decided to speak to him. They walked up, smiling.
“Welcome back, Captain,” said Frank. “Carrying any passengers this time?”
Sharp squinted at them. “I'll say you two are persistent,” he grunted. “You got my answer last time.”
“We hoped you might have changed your mind.”
“Well, I haven't. Now stop bothering me!”
Captain Sharp brushed past them, but Joe hung on like a barnacle. “All right, we won't mention it again,” the boy said. “But I'd like to ask you something else. Have you ever seen or heard of a ghost ship, a phantom freighter, out beyond Barmet Shoals?”
Captain Sharp turned and glared. “Are you trying to make a fool out of me? Phantom freighter, indeed. Do I look like a man who believes in fairy tales?”
“There's been talk around here—” Joe began, but the captain interrupted him fiercely.
“That'll be enough of your impudence. Get out of my way!” He pushed Joe aside and strode down the pier.
The boys decided to eat breakfast at a diner along the waterfront, thinking that perhaps they could pick up some information about a passenger freighter. They had no luck, so they started for home. On the way they found themselves across the street from Klack's Agency. A shabby man sat on a bench in front of the place, idly watching passers-by.
At the same moment Captain Sharp, looking thoroughly preoccupied, hurried into the agency. The Hardys followed and stood listening in the doorway.
Turning to the clerk, Sharp said, “I want to hire another cook. Mine jumped ship.”
The girl nibbled at the end of her pencil. “We haven't had many cooks in here looking for jobs lately. If you can wait until Mr. Klack comes back—”
“What?” growled the man. “I want to hire a hand and I want him right now!”
The shabby man rose from the bench outside and sidled into the office past the Hardys, to whom Sharp paid not the slightest notice.
“I'm your man, skipper,” he said. “How much does the job pay?”
Captain Sharp looked him over from head to foot. He asked a few brusque questions about his experience, a bargain was struck, and the two left.
The girl looked at the boys. “You here again?” she snapped.
Frank, having heard that Klack was away, merely asked if she had booked passage yet for his party. She replied in a bored manner that there were no reservations for them and that they would have to wait until Mr. Klack got back.
“Let us know when he returns,” said Frank. But from the look on the clerk's face he knew that she would do nothing of the sort.
Reaching home, the boys had a conference with their father and told about the return of the Hawk.
“Captain Sharp undoubtedly is in on something crooked,” said Fenton Hardy. “We don't have any proof, but his freighter should be watched. As for Klack, I can tell you why he's out of town. The FBI has become interested in his activities.”
“You think he's hiding?” Frank asked.
“Yes.”
“On the
Hawk?
”
“No. The ship could be searched too easily.”
Joe was standing near a front window. He glanced out and saw something that made him step back quickly. “We're being watched,” he said.
Mr. Hardy and Frank hurried to the window, not close enough to be seen, but enough to look out. Across the street, in the shadows of a tree, a shabby man stood gazing at the Hardy house.
“Why, that's the man Captain Sharp hired as a cook in Klack's office!” exclaimed Frank.
CHAPTER XV
The Abandoned Farm
“CAPTAIN Sharp definitely has something to hide,” Mr. Hardy said grimly. “He's afraid we suspect him.”
“And that we'd see something if we ever got far enough out of Bayport Harbor!” Joe added.
“Which is precisely what we have to do, and fast. We can't wait a couple of weeks for the
Crown of Neptune
to sail,” Frank said. “I have an idea. Suppose Biff Hooper tries to get us tickets at another out-of-town agency.”
“Good thought,” Mr. Hardy agreed. “But you'd better not call him from here. Our phone might be tapped.”
“Then how do we contact Biff?” Joe asked.
“Your mother will take care of that,” Mr. Hardy said with a grin and called in his wife. She readily agreed to the plan that he outlined. On her way shopping she would call Biff from a pay telephone.
“If the spy follows you, we'll tail him,” Mr. Hardy told her.
But the man remained where he was, seemingly not interested in Mrs. Hardy's leaving.
“I must get out of here myself,” the detective said. “I almost hope he'll follow me. I may learn something.”
He went upstairs. After a while the boys heard shuffling footsteps in the hall. An old man, white-whiskered and bent with age, appeared.
“I won't be long, boys,” he croaked, a twinkle in his eye. “Just checking out the
Hawk.
If the guy tails me, don't worry!”
Frank and Joe laughed. Their father's disguise was perfect. The detective went out the back door and made his way toward the corner.
Eagerly the boys watched from the window. Either the suspicions of the man across the street had not been aroused, or else he was posted there to shadow only Frank and Joe. He did not stir.
“I suppose we might as well stay home and wait for Biff's report,” Frank said. “Dad's watching the
Hawk
and there's nothing much we can do anyhow.”
BOOK: The Phantom Freighter
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