Read The Short-Wave Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Short-Wave Mystery (4 page)
A faint glow of light could be seen moving about inside the front windows!
CHAPTER IV
Irate Stranger
JOE was as startled as his brother by the eerie light in the mansion. “Oh, oh! Maybe this trip wasn't so useless after all!” he whispered.
“Come on! Let's find out what gives!” Frank urged.
Switching off their flashlights, the young sleuths darted across the lawn.
“Watch it!” Joe warned suddenly. “Whoever's in there may be coming out!”
The light was moving toward the front door. Both boys dived for cover among the bushes surrounding the porch. A moment later the door creaked open. A small figure stepped out and clicked the lock shut behind him.
Frank and Joe peered cautiously from the bushes. To their amazement, the mansion's mysterious visitor was a boy, about eleven or twelve years old!
“Just a kid,” Joe muttered. Feeling a bit foolish, the Hardys rose from their hiding place.
The boy gave a screech of fright and leaped down the porch steps in a wild dash for safety. Frank and Joe grabbed him before he had gone more than a few yards.
“Sorry if we scared you,” Frank said. “We just want to know what you were doing in there.”
Joe switched on his flashlight for a better look at their captive. The boy was freckle-faced, thin, and shivering, clad in a threadbare sweater, dirty jeans, and tennis shoes.
“What's it to you what I was doing?” he retorted defiantly. “And stop blinding me with that light, wise guy!”
“Okay. Simmer down, pal.” The chuckle left Joe's voice as he went on, “We could call the police, you know, if you'd ratherâOof!”
Lowering his head suddenly, the boy had butted Joe in the midriff! As Joe staggered back, the youngster made another break for freedom, but again Frank seized him. The boy flailed his fists, punching wildly, but the Hardys managed to pinion his arms.
“Wow! You pack a mean wallop in those knuckles!” Frank said, smiling.
Joe added soothingly, “Just take it easy now. We're not going to hurt you.”
“Then stop talking about calling the cops!”
“All right. Fair enough.” Frank relaxed his hold. “I'm Frank Hardy, by the way, and this is my brother Joe. What's your name?”
The boy hesitated, then muttered, “Jimmy.”
“Jimmy what?”
“Jimmy Batter.”
“Batter?”
exclaimed Joe. “You mean you're related to the man who owned this house?”
exclaimed Joe. “You mean you're related to the man who owned this house?”
“Sure. He was my uncle-Uncle Elly.”
Frank and Joe exchanged thoughtful glances in the moonlit darkness. “What were you doing here, Jimmy?”
The boy shrugged. “Just looking around.”
“What for?”
“For nothing!” Jimmy flared. “Does there have to be a reason? Uncle Elly was good to me, that's all. IâI just wanted to get another look at the place before it's sold.”
“Did Mrs. Batter know you were coming?” Frank persisted. “I mean your aunt.”
“Naw. Neither does my ma. She wouldn't have anything to do with Uncle Elly, and she didn't like me seeing him, either. That's why I had to sneak over after dark.”
“How did you get in?” asked Joe.
Jimmy produced a key. “Uncle Elly gave it to me. He liked to have me come and visit him, especially after he got laid up in bed.”
Frank rubbed his jaw, considering. The boy's story sounded plausible, but Frank was not altogether convinced. Nor was Joe. Both felt Jimmy might be holding back something.
“How much longer are you guys going to keep me here?” the boy complained. “I answered your questions, didn't I?”
“Yes, you did,” Frank admitted. There was something appealing about the small, undernourished youngster, shivering in the autumn darkness. “Look, Jimmy! How'd you like to come home with us for some sandwiches and cocoa?”
Jimmy stared in surprise. “What's the catch?”
“No catch,” Joe said. “We're kind of hungry, after that workout you gave us. How about you?”
“Guess I wouldn't mind. Where do you live?”
“Elm Street. That's our convertible parked down there on the drive.”
Jimmy gave an admiring whistle. “Hey! Pretty keen!”
“We have a ham radio setup, too,” Frank added persuasively. “You can listen in, if you like.”
“All right. I'll come along.” Jimmy's bored, casual tone of voice made both Hardys grin.
When they reached home, Frank and Joe found that Aunt Gertrude had retired early. “Guess we'll have to rustle up our own snack,” Frank said. He heated cups of cocoa while Joe made man-sized ham sandwiches.
Jimmy ate so ravenously that the Hardys wondered when he last had had a decent meal. “Boy, this is a swell house!” the youngster said, looking around the cheerful kitchen.
When the snack was finished and Jimmy had stuffed his pocket with cookies, Frank and Joe asked if he would like to see their short-wave rig. The youngster's thin face lit up. “Sure!”
They climbed the stairs to the attic radio shack. Jimmy watched, wide-eyed, as the older boys warmed up their set, then picked up and responded to a couple of distant hams. Feeling they had won the youngster's confidence, Joe began questioning him again about his visit to Elias Batter's mansion.
At once Jimmy's expression changed. “None of your business!” he blurted. “Don't think you can con me with any free handoutâI knew all along there was some catch to it!” He darted for the stairway. Joe sprang up to follow.
Frank had been turning the dial. He was about to join Joe in pursuit of the youngster when both boys froze as a voice crackled from the radio:
“Aardvark bulldog... Aardvark bulldog...”
“Aardvark!” Frank echoed with a startled glance at Joe.
“The code name Dad told us about!” As Joe spoke, a loud volley of barks came over the speaker.
Then the voice resumed, droning out a strange flow of words and numbers. Grabbing a pencil, Frank jotted them down:
After a pause, the voice repeated the message. Again came a sound of barking. Then silence.
“Jumpin' catfish!” Joe gasped. “Do you suppose that was the gang?”
“Could be. It certainly was a code of some kind âand that means whoever sent it must have some reason for keeping the message secret.”
“If only Dad were home!” said Joe. “Think he'll be in tonight?”
Frank shook his head. “When we shoved off for school this morning, he told me he was flying to New York and wouldn't be home until tomorrow.”
“Try calling him at his usual hotel,” Joe suggested. “I'll check on Jimmy.”
The boys hurried downstairs. There was no sign of their freckle-faced guest, but Joe found the front door ajar. Evidently Jimmy had failed to slam it tight when he stormed out.
Frank, meanwhile, put through a long-distance call to New York and succeeded in contacting their father. Mr. Hardy received the report on the code message with keen interest.
“The 'aardvark bulldog' part must represent the thieves' call signs,” he said thoughtfully.
“Right, Dad. And the barking could be the response, indicating that contact has been made or the message has been received,” Frank declared.
“It may take a good bit of work to crack the message itself,” the detective went on. “See what you fellows can do with it, and we'll talk more tomorrow when I get home.”
The Hardy boys pored over the message a while, then belatedly tackled their homework. Finally, as a swelling patter of rain outside caused them both to yawn drowsily, they went to bed.
Next day when they arrived home from school, Frank said, “I've been thinking, Joeâmaybe we ought to check that story Jimmy told us.”
“Wouldn't hurt. What do you have in mind?”
“Well, for one thing, I'd like to know if he really is Elias Batter's nephew.”
The Hardys checked the Bayport telephone directory. The only Batter listed was the late Elias Batter. Frank dialed the attorney, J. Sylvester Crowell, and asked if Elias had had a nephew.
“Why, yesâa boy named Gordon, Jimmy Gordon,” Crowell replied. “His mother is Elias Batter's sister. She's a widow. Why do you ask?”
“We met Jimmy and just wanted to be sure who he is,” Frank said guardedly. “Could you give me Mrs. Gordon's full name and address?”
After jotting down the information, Frank hung up with a frown. “So we know Jimmy lied to us about his last name, at least.”
“That's not surprising,” Joe said. “He was probably worried we might get in touch with his mother and tell on him.”
Aunt Gertrude had gone out to visit a neighbor. The boys raided the cookie jar, then went up to their room, intending to resume work on the code message. Joe saw his brother glance sharply out the window.
“What's the matter?” Joe inquired.
“There's a man down in the yard. We'd better go see what he wants.”
The brothers hurried downstairs again and out the back door. A tall, gaunt man, rather seedily dressed in a snap-brim hat and checked topcoat, was peering into the garage.
“Want something?” Frank asked.
The man seemed startled, but he spoke truculently. “You two are the Hardy boys?” Frank nodded. “And you killed a deer the other day?”
“We didn't kill it,” Joe said. “We found it dead on the road. Someone elseâ”
“Don't give me that!” The gaunt man glowered at them. “I got evidence you punks ran it down. That was my pet deerâ”
“Your deer!” Frank exclaimed, astonished.
“That's right. I raised it from a fawn. You two even took the head and pelt.” The man's narrow eyes roved around the yard and squinted at the house windows. “I aim to find them.”
“Just a minute!” Frank blocked the intruder's path. “I haven't heard of any 'pet' deer running loose in Barmet Woods.”
“Well, you're hearing about it now! That deer was worth at least sixty dollars to me, but if you'll pay for it, I won't make any trouble.”
“We're not paying anything,” Joe said firmly.
The man hesitated. “Make it thirty, then. I wouldn't want to see you fellows go to jail. But if I have to call the policeâ”
“We'll call them ourselves,” Frank broke in. “What's your name, mister?”
“Now hold on. Let's cool down, buddy. No sense asking for a lot of bad publicity.” The man's voice became frankly wheedling. “Make it twenty and we'll call it quits. You kids can afford that. Do you work after school?” Again the stranger peered around inquisitively.
“Never mind about us,” Frank said. “We didn't kill the deer and we won't pay a cent. What's more, you'd better tell us who you are and what you're doing here.”
“Smart alecks, eh?” The man's bony, long-nosed face twisted with anger. Shaking his fist, he turned down the driveway. “You haven't heard the last of this. I gave you a chance to stay out of trouble. Now you'll have to settle the hard way!”
CHAPTER V
Alley Escape
FRANK and Joe stared after the gaunt stranger as he strode off down the driveway.
“You don't suppose he can really make any trouble for us, do you?” Joe muttered.
“Of course not,” Frank scoffed. “Our front end isn't dented and we reported the accident. That guy's just a phony!”
“Sure, but if it comes to a showdown, we can't prove it wasn't our car that hit the deer.”
“I think the game warden knows us well enough to take our word. But let's find out.”
The boys hurried back into the house. Mr. Dorsey, the game warden, snorted angrily when Frank telephoned and told of their caller. “If that fellow's story were true,
he'd
be in trouble with the law. Around here it's illegal for a private owner to keep a wild deer as a pet. Just send the man to me if he bothers you again.”
he'd
be in trouble with the law. Around here it's illegal for a private owner to keep a wild deer as a pet. Just send the man to me if he bothers you again.”
“We sure will,” Frank said gratefully. “What I'd like to know is how he got our names.”
Dorsey explained that he had had a call about the deer on Saturday night. “I thought it was some indignant wildlife lover, but it could've been this same fellow. Said he'd seen the dead deer earlier and wondered if some poacher had got it. I told him you boys had reported the accident, and I'd given you and your chum the head and pelt.” The warden added, “Sorry it led to you two being annoyed.”
“That's all right,” Frank said. “We just wanted to check up on the guy.”
Joe chuckled in relief after hearing what the warden said. “Just a shakedown artist, eh?”
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