"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 014 - The Hidden Harbor Mystery (original)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

He said something in a low voice to the watchman of the life-saving station, bade him goodbye, and turned away. The door closed again.
Frank drew back quickly and pressed himself against the side of the building as the woman and her companion came down the steps.
"I parked the car up at the top of the slope," she was saying. Let's hurry !"
"I can't get out of this infernal place too soon to suit me," grumbled Rand. He took the woman's arm to help her along the path.
Frank turned to Chet and Joe.
"We'll follow them, but be careful. Don't get too close. Try to take the license number of that car if you can."
The boys set out in pursuit, keeping at a safe distance behind the pair hurrying up the slope toward the parked machine. The automobile had been turned around so that it was now facing in the direction of Croston.
As soon as Ruel Rand and his companion stepped into it Frank broke into a run. The lights were switched on, the engine roared. Frank was within a few yards of the car as it pulled away-close enough to get the license number and to discern that it was from a Southern state. The machine lurched off up the slope, gathering speed.
"Come on !" Frank called to the others "We'll follow them!"
By the time they reached their own automobile, which they had rented for the evening, their quarry had gained a substantial lead. Frank flung himself behind the wheel, and as Joe and Chet scrambled into the front seat beside him, he swiftly turned the car around and swung it onto the road. Then he put on speed.
Within a few minutes they caught sight of the bobbing tail-light ahead, having dashed down the narrow, rocky road at breakneck speed. But Ruel Rand's auto was not loafing. Try as he might, Frank found it impossible to overhaul the car ahead.
The road cut into a main highway, where traffic was comparatively heavy. The big sedan in which Rand and the woman were driving fairly flew along. The gap between their car and that of the Hardys widened swiftly. A truck, swinging out from a gas station, partially blocked the road, so that Frank was obliged to apply the brakes and pull over to the side to avoid a collision. By the time the vehicle had straightened out and given him clearance the tail4ight of the Rand machine had vanished altogether.
"No use!" sighed Frank. "We'll never catch that man now."
"He certainly showed his heels to us," said Chet. "I wonder if he knew he was being followed."
"Maybe. He didn't lose any time putting distance between himself and that life-saving station. However, I got the license number. What do you think? It's down in that Southern state where we just came from!"
"Wow-ee," said Joe. "That's interesting. Well, I guess there's nothing left for us to do now but take the next train back to Bayport."
Frank drove back to Croston. The boys were disappointed over their failure to confront Ruel Rand, but hopeful that the license number of the mystery car might be a clue that would help them to trace their quarry. They returned the hired automobile to the garage and took advantage of the few minutes that remained before train time to put in a telephone call to the hospital, and inquire about the condition of Mr. Blackstone.
"The operation was successful," they were informed. "The patient is resting easier this evening, but it will be several days before he will be able to leave the hospital."
"That's good," said Chet, when Frank repeated this information to the others. "Maybe the man will be a little more sensible now that his head is fixed up. If he is able to think straight he may conclude that he was pretty foolish to have us arrested."
When the Hardy boys returned to Bayport that night and reached their home they found a surprise awaiting them. Their father had been called away, and there was a guest in the person of their Aunt Gertrude, a sharp-tongued, peppery maiden lady who spent most of her time paying lengthy visits to her relatives. In the opinion of her nephews she was "a terror," and although they had a genuine fondness for her and knew that she secretly regarded them as her favorite kin, both lads had good cause to respect her tongue and her temper.
"So," the good lady snapped at the breakfast table the following morning, glaring at them over her spectacles. "A fine state of affairs I find here. I come for a quiet little visit and what do I hear? My nephews are in jail. In jail! For beating up an old man and robbing him! Disgraceful! For the first time in the history of the family--a Hardy in jail! What have you to say for yourselves?"
"Nothing much, Aunty," said Joe with becoming meekness, "except that we didn't do it."
"Then why were you arrested?" demanded their aunt triumphantly. "The police don't go around arresting people for nothing. There must be something behind it."
"It was all a mistake, Aunt Gertrude," Frank explained. "We were trying to help the old man, and someone else robbed him, but he thought we were to blame."
The lady sniffed.
"Time and time again," she declared, looking at Mrs. Hardy, "I have warned you, Laura, that no good would come of letting these boys go gallivanting around the country playing at being detectives. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times, that it would surely end in trouble. And now look what happens. They get shipwrecked, they come within an inch of drowning, and then they get thrown in jail."
She darted a fierce glance at the culprits again.
"I'm going to cut you out of my will!" she snapped. "You have disgraced the family name. Never did I think I'd live to see the day--"
"But we're innocent!" protested Frank. "You surely don't believe we would rob an old man, do you, Aunt Gertrude ?"
In her heart their relative did not believe it, but the opportunity for delivering a lecture was too good to be missed.
"Isn't it enough that you've been arrested?" she demanded. "That's the disgraceful part. Oh, dear, I don't know what the younger generation is coming to, I'm sure."
She broke into a stormy monologue on the iniquities of modern youth, under cover of which the boys finished their meal and excused themselves.
''We 'd better clear out of here," grinned Frank, "or Aunt Gertrude will make things hot for us around this house. I'm going to get busy and write to the state license bureau this morning and see if I can't trace that car of Rand." Accordingly he sent off a letter at once.
The boys wisely stayed out of Aunt Gertrude's way, venturing home only at lunch time. However, this gave the good lady a solid hour in which to express her decided opinions of errant nephews who got themselves arrested.
The next afternoon, when the postman arrived, Frank hurried out into the hall. Eagerly he looked into the mail-box and thumbed over the letters which had just been delivered.
"Here it is!" he exclaimed. "An answer from the license bureau."
Joe peered over his brother's shoulder as Frank tore open the missive that had come in reply to his inquiry.


CHAPTER VII

THE WARNING


THE letter was brief and to the point, but it gave the Hardy boys the data they wanted. It read as follows:

"In reply to your communication of September 12th, we beg to inform you that the license number noted in your letter is issued in the name of Ruel Rand of Hidden Harbor."

That was all, but it was quite enough. It gave two vital pieces of information-that the car had belonged to Ruel Rand, and that his address was Hidden Harbor.
"That mysterious place again!" exclaimed Joe. "The one outside of Larchmont. We heard about it when we were down getting the handwriting specimens."