"And we lose a perfectly good car," objected Joe.
"We won't lose it, because we'll be right in it all the time."
"The thieves won't be likely to steal it if we're in it."
"They won't see us. We'll be hiding in the locker."
Joe saw the merits of the plan at once.
"And they'll kidnap us without knowing it?" he chuckled.
"That's the idea. They'll drive the car to wherever they are in the habit of hiding the stolen autos, and then we can watch our chance to either round them up then and there or else steal away and come back with the police."
This, then, was the explanation of their mysterious behavior, and as they crouched in the locker they were agog with expectation.
"We'll just have to be patient," whispered Frank, when they had been in hiding for more than half an hour. "Can't expect the fish to bite the minute we put out the bait."
Joe settled himself into a more comfortable position.
"This is the queerest fishingI'veever done," he mused.
It was very quiet. They had no difficulty in breathing, as the locker had a number of air spaces that they had bored in the top and sides, invisible to a casual glance.
Once in a while they could hear a car speeding past on the Shore Road.
Minute after minute went by. They were becoming cramped. Presently Joe yawned loud and long.
"I guess it's no use," said Frank, at last. "We're out of luck to-night."
"Can't expect to be lucky the first time," replied his brother philosophically.
"We might as well go home."
Frank raised the lid of the locker and peeped out. It was quite dark. The Shore Road was deserted.
"Coast is clear," he said.
They got quickly out of the locker. They lost no time, for there was a possibility that one of the auto thieves might be in the neighborhood, watching the roadster, and if their trap was discovered it would be useless to make a second attempt.
They got back into the car, Joe taking the wheel this time. He drove the roadster back onto the highway, turned it around, and they set out back for Bayport.
Both lads were disappointed, although they had not yet given up hope. They had been so confident that their plan would be successful that this failure took some of the wind out of their sails, so to speak.
"We'll just try again to-morrow night," said Frank.
"Perhaps the auto thieves have quit."
"Not them! They'll fall for our trap yet."
"I'm glad we didn't tell any of the fellows. We'll look mighty foolish if it doesn't work."
The car sped along the Shore Road, the headlights casting a brilliant beam of illumination. As they rounded a curve they caught a glimpse of a dark figure trudging along in the shadow of the trees bordering the ditch.
"Wonder who that is," Frank remarked, peering at the man.
Joe bore down on the wheel, swinging the car around so that the headlights fell full on the man beside the road. Then he swung the car back into its course again.
The fellow had flung up his arm to shield his face from the glare, but he had not been quick enough to hide his features altogether. Frank had recognized him at once.
"So!" he remarked thoughtfully. "Our friend again."
"I didn't get a good look at him," Joe said. "Somehow, he seemed familiar."
"He was. I'd recognize that face anywhere now."
"Who was it?"
"Gus Montrose."
Joe whistled.
"I wonder what he's doing, skulking along here at this time of night."
"I have an idea that we'll find out before long."
"Do you think he has anything to do with the car thefts?"
"Shouldn't be surprised. He seems a rather suspicious sort of character."
They sped past the dark figure, who went on, head down, hands thrust deep in his coat pockets.
"I'd like to know more about that chap," mused Frank. "I'll bet he's not hanging around here for any good reason."
Montrose Again
The Hardy boys were not discouraged by this failure. They realized that it was too much to hope for success in their venture at the first trial and resolved to lay their trap again.
If their parents were curious as to why they had remained out so late, they gave no sign of it, and the following night Frank and Joe again drove out along the Shore Road in their new car. This time they went to another parking place, not far from the spot where Isaac Fussy's automobile had been stolen.
Again they turned out the lights, again they crawled into the locker at the back, and again they remained in hiding, while car after car went by on the Shore Road.
An hour passed.
"Looks as if we're out of luck again," whispered Joe.
"We'll stay with it a while longer."
Frank switched on his flashlight and glanced at his watch. It was almost ten o'clock. They heard an automobile roar past at tremendous speed, and a few moments later there was the heavy rumble of a truck.
"Funny time of night for a truck to be out," Frank remarked.
"That first car was sure breaking all speed laws."
After a long time, Frank again looked at his watch.
"Half-past ten."
"Another evening wasted."
"Are you getting tired?"
"My legs are so cramped I don't think I'll ever be able to walk straight again."
Joe had inadvertently raised his voice. Suddenly Frank gripped his arm.
"Shh!"
They listened. They heard footsteps coming along the road. The steps sounded clear and distinct on the hard highway. Then they became soft and muffled as the pedestrian turned out onto the grassy slope.
"Coming this way," whispered Frank.
Some one approached the roadster cautiously. The boys could hear him moving around the car. After a moment or so, one of the doors was opened and some one clambered into the seat.
The boys were breathless with excitement. Was this one of the auto thieves?
But the intruder made no move to drive the car away. Instead, when he had snapped the lights on and off, he got out, closed the door behind him and strode off through the grass.
The first impulse of the two brothers was to clamber out, but they realized that this would be folly. They remained quiet, as the footsteps receded into the distance. The man gained the road again and walked slowly away. Finally, they heard the footsteps no more.
Frank sighed with disappointment.
"I thought sure we had a bite that time," he said.
"It was only a nibble."
When the lads were quite sure their unknown visitor had gone, Frank raised the lid of the locker and the boys got out.
"I guess it was only some farmer on the way home. He probably just got into the car out of curiosity."
"He wasn't an auto thief, that's certain, or he would have driven off with it."
"Not much use staying around any longer."
They got back into the seat. Nothing had been disturbed. Beyond turning the lights on and off, the stranger had tampered with nothing.
Frank started up the engine, and drove the car back onto the Shore Road. There was not much room in which to turn around, so he drove on down the road for about a quarter of a mile until he came to a lane which offered sufficient space.
Just as he was bringing the car around to head back toward Bayport, the headlights shone on two figures coming up the road. In the glare, the men were clearly revealed.
"There's our friend Gus again," remarked Frank quietly.
He was right. There was no mistaking the surly visage of the ex-farmhand. The man with him was unknown to the boys, but he was no more prepossessing than his companion. Broad of build, unshaven of face, he was not the sort of fellow one would care to meet alone on a dark night.
"Handsome-looking pair," Joe commented.
The car swung out into the road and the two men stepped out into the ditch, turning their faces away. Frank stepped on the accelerator, and the roadster shot ahead.
"This seems to be Gus Montrose's beat," he said, when they had driven beyond hearing distance.
"Wonder what takes him out along here every night."
"Perhaps he was the chap who got into the roadster."
But Frank shook his head.
"That fellow went away in the direction Montrose is coming from," he pointed out. "And, besides, he was alone."
"That's true, too."
Wondering what brought Montrose and his villainous-looking companion out the Shore Road on foot at that hour, the Hardy boys drove back into Bayport.
"Better luck next time," said Frank, cheering up.
"We won't give up yet. Third time's luck, you know."
"Let's hope so. To-morrow night may tell."
They drove back into the city without incident, and when they reached their home they saw that there was a light in their father's study. Frank's face lengthened.
"I'll bet we're in for it now. He doesn't often stay up this late."
"He's likely sitting up to lecture us."
They put the car into the garage. The light in the study seemed ominous just then.
"Well," said Joe, "I guess we might as well go in and face the music. If the worst comes to the worst we'll tell him just what we were up to."
They went into the house. It would have been easy for them to have gained their room by the back stairs, but the boys had too much principle to dodge any unpleasantness in this manner, so they made a point of passing by their father's study. The door was open and they saw Fenton Hardy sitting at his desk.
He was not writing, but was gazing in front of him with a fixed expression on his face. A telephone was at his elbow.
To their relief, he smiled when he saw them.
"Come in," he invited.
Frank and Joe entered the study.
"Did you catch any auto thieves?" asked their father.
The boys were astonished.
"How did you know we were after auto thieves, Dad?" asked Frank.
"It doesn't take a great deal of perception to find that out," their father answered. "All these mysterious doings can have only one reason."
"Well, we didn't catch any," Joe admitted.
"I didn't think so. They've been busy to-night."
"Again!"
Fenton Hardy nodded.
"I've just been talking to the secretary of the Automobile Club. He telephoned me a short time ago. The thieves cut loose in earnest this evening."
"Did they steal another car?"
"Two. They made off with a new Buick that was parked down on Oak Street, and then they stole a truck from one of the wholesale companies."
"Can you beat that!" breathed Joe. "Two more gone!"
"They were taken within a few minutes of each other, evidently. The reports reached the police station almost at the same time. The truck mightn't have been missed until morning, but one of the wholesale company employees was coming home and he recognized it as it was driven away. He thought it rather suspicious, so he went on up to the company garage and found the truck had disappeared."
The brothers looked at one another.
"A truck and a pleasure car!" exclaimed Frank. "Why, that must have been—"
The same thought had struck Joe.
"The two cars that passed us on the Shore Road! What time were they stolen, Dad?"
"Some time between half-past nine and ten o'clock. Why? Did you see them?"
"Two cars went out the Shore Road a little before ten o'clock. They were both going at a fast clip. I remember we remarked at the time that it was a funny hour of the night for a truck to be out."
"The Shore Road, eh? Did you get a good look at them?"
The boys were embarrassed.
"Well, to tell the truth," said Frank hesitatingly, "we didn't exactly see them. We heard them."
"Hm! You didn't see them, but you heard them, and you were on the Shore Road. That's a little mystery in itself," remarked their father, with a smile.
He reached for the telephone and asked for a number. In a short time his party answered.
"Hello, Chief. This is Fenton Hardy speaking.... Yes.... I've just had information that the big car and the truck went out the Shore Road way a few minutes before ten o'clock.... Yes.... You've made inquiries?... I see.... That's strange, isn't it?... Yes, my information is quite reliable.... All right.... Let me know if you hear anything.... Don't mention it.... Thank you, Chief.... Good-bye."
He put down the telephone.
"I was talking to Chief Collig. He says the three towns at the other end of the Shore Road were notified immediately after the thefts were discovered and that they had officers watching the roads from ten o'clock on."
"And they didn't see the cars?"
Fenton Hardy shook his head.
"Not the slightest trace of either of them."
Frank and Joe looked at one another blankly.
"Well, if that don't beat the Dutch!" Frank exclaimed.
"You're quite sure of the time?"
"Positive. I had just looked at my watch."
"Well," said Fenton Hardy, "since the cars haven't been seen in any of the other towns and since there aren't any other roads, the Shore Road must hold the solution. I think I'll do a little prospecting around the farms out that way to-morrow."
"We've been doing a little prospecting ourselves," admitted Joe, "but we haven't been very successful so far."
"Keep at it," their father said encouragingly. "And good luck to you both!"
The Suspect
It was late before the Hardy boys got to sleep that night.
The events of the evening, culminating in the discovery that the auto thieves had been at work in Bayport while they were lying in wait for them on the Shore Road, gave the lads plenty to talk about before they were finally claimed by slumber.
In the morning, it required two calls to arouse them. They dressed sleepily and had to hurry downstairs in order to be in time for breakfast. This did not escape the notice of ever-watchful Aunt Gertrude.
"WhenIwas a girl," she said pointedly, "young people went to bed at a reasonable hour and didn't go gallivanting all over the country half the night. Every growing boy and girl needs eight or nine hours' sleep. I'd be ashamed to come down to breakfast rubbing my eyes and gaping."
"It isn't very often they get up late," said Mrs. Hardy. "We can overlook it once in a while, I suppose."
"Overlook it!" snorted Aunt Gertrude. "Mark my words, Laura, those boys will come to no good end if you encourage them in coming in at all hours of the night. Goodness knows what mischief they were up to." She glared severely at them.
Frank and Joe realized that their aunt was curious as to where they had been the past two evenings and was using this roundabout method of tempting them into an explanation. However, as Joe expressed it later, they "refused to bite."
Instead, they hastily consumed their breakfast, drawing from the good lady a lecture on the dreadful consequences of eating in a hurry, illustrated by an anecdote concerning a little boy named Hector, who met a lamentable and untimely death by choking himself on a piece of steak and passed away surrounded by weeping relatives.
The boys, however, were evidently not impressed by the fate of the unfortunate Hector, for they gulped down their meal, snatched up their books, and rushed off to school without waiting for Aunt Gertrude's account of the funeral. They were crossing the school yard when the bell rang and they reached the classroom just in time.
"I feel like a stewed owl," was Joe's comment.
"Never ate stewed owl," returned his brother promptly. "How does it taste?"
"I said I felt, I didn't say I ate," retorted Joe. "Gee, but your eyes do look bunged up."
"What about your own?"
"Oh, if only I had had just one more hour's sleep!"
"I could go two or three."
"Aunt Gertrude was onto us."
"Yes, but she didn't get anywhere with it."
"Hope I don't fall asleep over my desk."
"Same here."
The morning dragged. They were very sleepy. Once or twice, Joe yawned openly and Miss Petty, who taught history, accused him of lack of interest in the proceedings.
"You may keep yourself awake by telling us what you know of the Roman system of government under Julius Cæsar," she said.
Joe got to his feet. He floundered through a more or less acceptable account of Roman government. It was dreary stuff, and Frank, listening to the droning voice, became drowsier and drowsier. His head nodded, and finally he went to sleep altogether and had a vivid dream in which he chased Julius Cæsar, attired in a toga and with a laurel wreath on his head, along the Shore Road in a steam-roller.
Miss Petty left the Romans and began comparing ancient and modern systems of government, which led her into a discourse on the life of Abraham Lincoln. She was just reaching Lincoln's death when there was a loud snore.
Miss Petty looked up.
"Who made that noise?"
Another snore.
Joe dug his brother in the ribs with a ruler and Frank looked up, with an expression of surprise on his face.
"Frank Hardy, are you paying attention?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Frank, now wide awake. In his dream he imagined Julius Cæsar had turned on him and had poked him in the ribs with a spear.
"Do you know who we were talking about?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am."
"Do you know anything about his death?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Frank, under the impression that the lesson still dealt with Cæsar.
"How did he die?"
"He was stabbed."
"He was stabbed, was he? Where?"
"In—in the Forum. He was murdered by some of the senators, led by Cassius and Brutus, and Marc Antony made a speech."
The class could contain itself no longer. Snickers burst out, and these welled into a wave of laughter in which even Miss Petty was forced to join. Frank looked around in vast surprise.
"This," said the teacher, "is an interesting fact about Lincoln. I don't remember having heard of it before. So he was stabbed to death by the senators and Marc Antony made a speech?"
"I—I was talking about Cæsar, Miss Petty."
"AndIwas talking about Abraham Lincoln. Will you be good enough to stay awake for the remainder of the lesson, Hardy?"
Frank looked sheepishly at his book, while Chet Morton doubled up in his seat and gave vent to a series of explosive chuckles that soon brought the teacher's attention to him and he was required to recite the Gettysburg Address, stalling completely before he had gone a dozen words. By the time the teacher had finished her comments on his poor memory, Chet had other things to occupy his mind.
Frank and Joe Hardy were wide awake for the rest of the morning.
After lunch, they were on their way back to school, resolving to cut out the late hours, so as not to risk a repetition of the ridicule they had suffered that morning, when Frank suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure not far ahead.
"Why, there's Gus Montrose again," he said. "Wonder what he's doing in town?"
"Let's trail him," Joe suggested.
"Good idea. We'll find out what he does with his time."
The former hired man of the Dodds was shambling down the street at a lazy gait, apparently wrapped up in his own concerns. Frank and Joe followed, at a respectful distance. When Montrose reached a busy corner he turned down a side street and here his demeanor changed. His shoulders were straighter and his step more purposeful.
Taking the opposite side of the street, the boys strolled along, keeping well behind Montrose but not letting him out of sight. They followed him for about two blocks and then, leaning against a telegraph pole at the next corner, they saw Montrose's companion of the previous night. He looked up as Montrose approached, and then the pair met and joined in earnest conversation.
There was something peculiarly furtive about the two men. Not wishing to be observed, the Hardy boys stepped into a soft drink place near by and bought some ginger ale, which they drank in the store, keeping an eye on the pair across the street, through the window.
Finally, Montrose's companion moved slowly away, and Montrose himself shambled across the road. He was lost to sight for a moment.
"We'll trail him a little while longer," said Frank. "We have about a quarter of an hour before school opens."
They paid for the ginger ale and stepped out of the shop. To their astonishment, Gus Montrose was coming directly toward them. They had lost sight of him in the window and had assumed that he had gone on down the street. Instead he had turned back.
They affected not to notice him, and were starting back up the street when Montrose overtook them and brushed against Frank rudely.
"Look here," he said, in a gruff voice. "What's the idea of followin' me, hey?"
"Following you!" said Frank, in tones of simulated surprise.
"Yes—followin' me. I saw you. What do you mean by it?"
"Can't we walk down the same street?" inquired Joe.
"You didn't walk down here by accident. You followed me here."
"You must have something on your conscience if you think that," Frank told him. "This is a free country. We can walk where we like."
"Is that so? Well, I'm not goin' to put up with havin' a pair of young whippersnappers trailin'mearound town," snarled Gus Montrose. "Hear that?"
"We hear you."
"Well, remember it, then. You just mind your own business after this, see?"
"If you think we were following you, that's your own affair," returned Frank. "We're on our way to school, if you'd like to know."
"Well, see that you go there. You're better off in school than monkeyin' in my affairs, let me tell you. And a sight safer, too."
The man's tone was truculent.
"Oh, I think you're pretty harmless," laughed Joe.
"You'll find out how harmless I am if I catch you followin' me around again. Just mind your own business after this and keep goin' in the opposite direction when you see me comin'."
The man's insulting tone annoyed Frank.
"Look here," he said, sharply, facing Montrose. "If you don't start off in the opposite direction right now, I'll call a policeman. Now, get out of here."
Somewhat taken aback, Gus Montrose halted.
"You were followin' me—" he growled.
"You heard what I said. Clear out of here and stop annoying us."
If Montrose had hoped to frighten the lads, he was disappointed. Like most cowardly men, he backed down readily when confronted with opposition. Grumbling to himself, he turned away and crossed the street.
The Hardy boys went on toward school.
"That'll give him something to think about," remarked Frank.
"You hit the right note when you said he must have something on his conscience or he wouldn't have thought we were following him."
"I'm sure he has. A man with a clear conscience would never suspect he was being trailed. There's something mighty fishy about Gus Montrose and his queer-looking friend."
"Too bad he saw us. He'll be on his guard against us now."
"That doesn't matter. We can keep an eye on him just the same. I'd give a farm to know what the pair of them were talking about."
"And I'd give a five-dollar bill just to know if he put that fishing pole in the car up at the Dodds' and got Jack into trouble."
"So would I."
The boys were greatly puzzled. They were convinced that Gus Montrose was up to no good and this conviction had only been strengthened by their encounter. They reasoned that a law-abiding man would scarcely have shown such resentment as Montrose had evidenced.
"Well, whether he's one of the thieving party or not, we'll take another whirl at the Shore Road to-night," said Frank, as the two brothers entered the school yard.
Joe glanced at the sky. Massed clouds were gathering and the air was close.
"Looks as if we'll have to call it off. There's going to be a storm."
"Storm or no storm, I have a hunch that we'll get some action before the day is out."
Both Frank and Joe were right.
There was a storm, and before midnight they had more action than they had ever bargained for.
Kidnaped
Rain threatened throughout the afternoon, but although the sky darkened and there was an ominous calm, the storm held off. After supper the Hardy boys went outside and looked at the clouds.
"It's sure going to be a jim-dandy," declared Joe. "Do you think we really should go out to-night?"
"A little thing like a storm won't hold the car thieves back. They'll operate in any weather."
"Won't they think it queer to see a car parked out in the rain?"
"They'll probably think it was stalled and that the owner went to get help."
"That's right, too," Joe agreed. "I guess we can chance it."
"We'll put the top up to protect ourselves. And, anyway, it's dry in the locker."
"The rain will be the least of our worries in there," said Joe, with a grin. "Let's be going."
They went out to the garage and put up the top of the roadster, then got in. As they drove down High Street there was a low rumble of thunder and a splash of rain against the windshield.
"Storm's coming, right enough," Frank said. "Still, I have a hunch."
Ever since the previous night he had been possessed by a feeling that their next venture would be crowned with success. He could not explain it, but the feeling was there nevertheless.
They spied Con Riley, in oilskins against the approaching downpour, patrolling his beat, and drew up at the curb.
"New car, eh?" said Riley, surveying the roadster grimly. "I'll be runnin' you in for speeding some of these days, I'll be bound."
"Not in this boat," Frank assured him. "If we ever hit higher than thirty the engine would fly out."
"Thirty!" scoffed the constable. "That looks like a real racin' car. You mean ninety."
"We'll take you for a drive some time when you're off duty. We just stopped to ask if there was anything new about the auto thieves."
Riley looked very grave, as he always did when any one asked him questions pertaining to police matters.
"Well," he said, "there is and there isn't."
"That means there isn't."
"We ain't found 'em yet. But that don't mean they won't be found," said the officer darkly. "We're followin' up clues."
"What kind of clues?"
"Oh, just clues," said the officer vaguely. "We'll have 'em behind the bars before long. But you'd better keep an eye on that car of yours. It's just the kind somebody would steal."
"Trust us. There's been no trace of the other cars, then?"
Riley shook his head.
"Not a sign. But them thieves will go too far some of these fine days, and then we'll catch 'em."
"Well, we hope you're the man who lands them," said Frank cheerfully, as he edged the car out from the curb again. "So long."
The boys drove away, and Con Riley patiently resumed his beat.
"The game is still open," remarked Joe. "If the police had learned anything new, Riley would have heard about it."
"Whenever he says they're following up clues, you can be certain that they're up against it. The thieves are just as much at large as they ever were."
It was beginning to rain heavily before they reached the outskirts of Bayport and by the time they were well out on the Shore Road the storm was upon them. Thunder rolled and rumbled in the blackening sky and jagged streaks of lightning flickered through the clouds. Rain streamed down in the glare of the headlights.
As the downpour grew in violence, the road became more treacherous. Without chains, the rear wheels of the car skidded and slithered on the greasy surface.
One of the numerous defects of the roadster's mechanism was a loose steering wheel. Under ordinary circumstances it gave little trouble, but on this treacherous road, Frank experienced difficulty in keeping the car on its course.
Just outside Bayport was a steep hill, dipping to the bluffs that overhung the bay. Under the influence of the rain, the sloping road had become wet and sticky, and as the roadster began the descent Frank knew he was in for trouble.
The car skidded wildly, and the faulty brakes did not readily respond. Once, the nose of the roadster appeared to be heading directly toward the steep bluff, where only a narrow ledge separated the boys from a terrible plunge onto the rocks of the beach below. Joe gave a gasp of apprehension, but Frank bore down on the wheel and managed to swing the car back onto the road again in the nick of time.
But the danger was not yet over.
The car was tobogganing down the slope as though entirely out of control. The rear wheels skidded crazily and several times the car was almost directly across the road, sliding sideways, and when it did regain the ruts it shot ahead with breath-taking speed.
Almost any second the boys expected the roadster would leave the slippery clay and either shoot across the ledge into space or crash into the rocky wall at the left.
Somehow, luck was with them. Luck and Frank's quick work at the unreliable wheel saved them from disaster.
The car gained the level ground, settled into the ruts, and went speeding on at a more reasonable rate. The lads now breathed more easily.
"Looked like our finish, that time," observed Joe.
"I'll say it did! I wouldn't have given a nickel for our chances when we were about half way down the hill."
"Well, a miss is as good as a mile. We're still alive."
"And the old boat is still rolling along. When we get back I'm going to have that steering wheel fixed. It very nearly cost us our lives."
On through the storm the Hardy boys drove, until at last they reached the place where they had parked on the previous night. There was no one in sight as they drove out onto the grass, and Frank turned off the engine and switched out the lights. Quickly, they scrambled out, raised the lid of the locker, and got inside.
The locker was warm and dry. The boys were comfortable enough, aside from being somewhat cramped, and they could hear the rain roaring down on the top of the roadster as the storm grew in violence.
Warned by their former experience, the boys had made themselves more comfortable than they had previously been. On the floor of the locker they had spread a soft rug and they had also supplied themselves with two small but comfortable pillows.
"I am not going to wear out my knees and elbows," Frank had said. "The last time we were out my left elbow was black and blue."
"We'll fix it up as comfortable as a bed," Joe had answered.
In addition to the rug and pillows the boys had brought along a small box of fancy crackers and also a bottle of cold water, for hiding in the locker for hours had made them both hungry and thirsty.
"I could eat a few crackers right now," remarked Joe, shortly after they had settled down to their vigil.
"Same here," answered his brother. "Pass the box over."
Each lad had several crackers and followed them with a swallow of water. As they munched the crackers the thunder rolled and rolled in the distance and they could see an occasional flash of lightning through a crack of the locker door.
"It sure is a dirty night," Frank whispered, as they crouched in the darkness of their voluntary prison.
"Even for auto thieves."
Thunder rolled and grumbled and the rain poured down in drenching torrents. They could hear the beating of the surf on the distant shore of Barmet Bay, far below.
Minutes passed, with only the monotonous roar of the storm.
"What's the time?" asked Joe finally.
Frank switched on the flashlight and glanced at his watch.
"Half-past nine."
"Time enough yet."
They settled down to wait. Scarcely five minutes had passed before they heard a new sound above the clamor of the rain and wind.
Some one stepped up on the running board of the roadster, flung open the door, and sat down behind the wheel. The boys had not heard the intruder's approach, owing to the noise of the storm, and they sat up, startled.
The newcomer lost no time.
In a moment, the engine roared, and then the car started forward with a jerk.
It lurched across the grassy ground, then climbed up onto the Shore Road. Back in the locker, the lads were bounced and jolted against one another. They did not mind this, for there was wild joy in their hearts. At last their patient vigil had been rewarded.
"Kidnaped!" whispered Frank exultantly.
Once on the road, the car set off at rapidly increasing speed through the storm. The man at the wheel was evidently an expert driver, for he got every ounce of power the engine was capable of, and held the roadster to the highway. The roar of the motor could be heard high above the drumming of the rain.
In the darkness of the locker, the boys sat tight, not knowing where the car was going, not knowing how long this wild journey might last. They kept alert for any turns from the Shore Road, realizing that they might have to find their way back by memory.
For above five minutes, the car held to the Shore Road, and then suddenly swerved to the right.
Neither of the boys had any recollection of a side road in this part of the country, and they were immediately surprised. However, by the violent lurching and jolting of the roadster they were soon aware that they were on no traveled thoroughfare and that they were descending a slope over rough ground. There was a loud swishing of branches and the sharp snapping of twigs, that indicated the roadster was passing through the woods.
The man at the wheel was driving more carefully now that he was off the Shore Road and comparatively safe from observation. He was evidently following a road of sorts, although the car swerved and jolted unmercifully, but at length he came to even more precarious ground.
The rear of the roadster went high in the air and came down with a crash. Frank and Joe were flung violently to the bottom of the locker, and Frank felt a most stunning blow on the head.
Thud!
Another terrific jolt. The car pitched and tossed like a ship in a storm.
Bang!
A tire had blown out.
But this did not appear to worry the driver. The car canted far over on one side, lurched forward, and then came down on all four wheels with a terrific impact.
The boys were badly shaken up. They tried to brace themselves against the sides of the locker, but this was of little use as the roadster's bumpy and erratic progress inevitably dislodged them. They were thrown against one another, bounced from side to side, bruised and battered.
It was apparent to them that the roadster was being driven over some rocks—not the boulders of the beach, but over a rocky section of ground where there was no road.
They shielded their heads with their arms as well as they could, to prevent themselves from being knocked senseless against the sides of the locker. The speed of the car slackened. Then they felt a long series of short, sharp bumps, as though the car were being driven over pebbles. Stones banged against the mudguards.
"We're on the beach," reflected Frank.
They did not suffer the jouncing and jolting that had given them such discomfort a short time previously. The car traveled along the beach for a short distance, then turned to the left and ran quietly and smoothly over what the boys judged to be a stretch of sand. It then began to climb. The ascent flung the lads against the back of the locker.
It was of short duration, however.
The roadster came to level ground again, then rattled and rumbled on over an uneven surface.
The boys noticed a peculiar, hollow sound. The roar of the motor seemed to be echoing from all sides. The car had slowed down, and at last it came to a stop.
Battered and bruised, the lads crouched in their hiding place, wondering what would happen next. They could hear the driver scrambling out of the front seat. Then there was a voice:
"That, you, Alex?"
"Yep."
"What have you got?"
"Big roadster."
"The one we were talking about?"
"You bet."
Other voices followed, voices that echoed and re-echoed, and then footsteps clattered on rock.
"A beauty!" exclaimed some one. "Have any trouble?"
"None at all," said the voice of the man who had been addressed as Alex. "Nobody in sight, so I just hopped in and drove it out."
"Swell boat!" declared some one else. "Fine night to leave it out in the rain."
"That's what I thought," said Alex. "So I drove it in out of the wet."
There was a general laugh. From the number of voices, the lads judged that there were at least three or four men standing near the big car.
"Wonder who owns it," said one of the several men.
"I don't know whodidown it, but I know thatweown it now," answered Alex promptly.
"What'll we do? Leave it here?"
"There isn't room inside. Might as well leave it."
"I guess nobody will come along and steal it," remarked Alex, who was evidently the wit of the party, for another burst of laughter greeted his words. "Want to look the car over?" he asked.
"Oh, it looks good enough from here."
"What's in that locker?" said one of the men. "There might be something valuable."
A thrill of fear went through the two boys.
One of the men approached the back of the car. Frank gripped his revolver firmly.
The Cave
In a moment the lid of the locker would have been raised.
Then came an interruption.
"The boss wants us," said one of the men.
The man approaching the back of the car halted.
"All right," he growled. "We'll leave this."
He turned away. The Hardy boys sighed with relief.
"I guess he's waitin' for a report," observed a voice, as the men began to move off. Their footsteps sounded sharp and clear on the rocks.
The sounds died away.
Complete silence prevailed. Not even a murmur broke the stillness. The lads remained quiet in the darkness of their hiding place.
Finally Frank stirred.
"They've gone," he whispered.
"What shall we do now?" asked Joe.
"Let's get out of here first. They may come back at any minute."
Frank raised the lid cautiously. The blackness without was as utter and complete as the darkness within. He could see nothing.
He listened for a moment, thinking possibly some of the gang had remained behind, but he heard nothing. Quickly, he got out of the locker and leaped to the ground. Joe followed. They closed the lid.
"Boy! I thought it was all up with us," whispered Joe. "When he came over to open the locker my heart was thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it."
"Me, too. Well, we can thank their boss—whoever he is. I wonder what kind of place we're in, anyway."
Frank switched on his flashlight.
By its brilliant gleam, he saw that they were in a rocky passageway, a large tunnel evidently in the bluffs along Barmet Bay. It was wide enough to accommodate the roadster, but did not offer a great deal of leeway on either side. It appeared to be a natural tunnel, although there was evidence that human toil had been responsible for widening it and clearing it out.
Frank stepped forward and cast the ray of light before him.
It revealed a blank wall of rock. Then, as he moved the flashlight to one side he saw that the tunnel slanted toward the left.
"What'll we do?" asked Joe. "Follow it up along?"
He spoke in a whisper, but the walls magnified his voice and he awakened uncanny echoes.
"Sure. We'll have to be careful, though, or we might meet them on the way back."
Frank took the lead. He stepped forward very carefully, making no move that might dislodge a loose fragment of rock and start a tumult of echoes that would bring the gang upon them.
Cautiously, they advanced. Joe took his revolver from his pocket and gripped it tightly.
They realized that they were dealing with a band of desperate men, who would stop at nothing if they were discovered.
The Hardy boys rounded the corner of the passageway, and Frank's flashlight revealed a number of large boxes, stacked up against the side of the tunnel. They halted and Frank scrutinized some lettering on the boxes.
"The Eastern Importing Company," he read.
"Why, that's the name of the company that lost the truck!" Joe exclaimed. "Remember? The two men who were held up and rolled down the bluff."
"It's the same name, all right. I'll bet this is some of the truck cargo."
The boxes were seven in number, and on each was inscribed the name of the Eastern Importing Company.
There was no doubt in the minds of the Hardy boys now that they had made a momentous discovery. This was plainly the hiding place of the auto thieves, and although none of the stolen cars were in evidence, the big packing boxes spoke for themselves.
"We'll see what's farther on," Frank decided.
He went ahead. Joe tiptoed close behind. The flashlight illuminated the rocky floor of the tunnel.
It began to widen out. Stacked against the wall they came upon more packing boxes, some of which had been torn open.
"More loot," Joe commented, in a whisper.
Every few steps, Frank halted and switched out the light. Then they stood in the darkness, listening. They had no desire to stumble on the auto thieves or reveal their own presence.
However, the boys heard not a sound. There was not a glimmer of light in the impenetrable gloom that lay before them.
A few yards farther, the tunnel widened out into a veritable cave. Here, as Frank turned the flashlight to and fro, and the boys were confronted by a sight that made them gasp for the moment.
In the great rocky chamber, they saw three large pleasure cars and a small truck, parked close by the clammy walls.
"The stolen autos!" breathed Joe.
There stood four of the missing cars, undamaged, in this secret cavern in the bluffs. They had been driven in along the tunnel from the beach. It was an ideal hiding place and as the entrance to the tunnel was doubtless well masked, the cars were as safe from discovery as though they had been driven into the ocean. At least, so the thieves probably thought.
"We've found them!" Frank exclaimed.
All the missing cars were not hidden here, but the boys judged that the rest were probably stored farther on. For the flashlight revealed a dark opening in the rock at the other end of the cavern, an opening to a tunnel that no doubt led to other caves farther on.
The Hardy boys knew that the Shore Road bluffs, in certain places, contained caves and passages, some of which had never been entered. Although like most Bayport boys, they had done a certain amount of exploring along the beach, they had never heard of the existence of this underground labyrinth. It seemed strange to them that so elaborate a series of caves had never been explored and their existence was comparatively unknown.
"Wait until Bayport hears of this!" Joe said. "Let's get out of here and hurry back to town."
"I suppose we should," Frank admitted. "I'd like to know where those men went."
"If we go any farther they may catch us, and then we'd be out of luck."
"But if we start back to town we'll have to walk, and they might all clear out in the meantime. It would be a few hours before we could get back here with the police."
"We'd have the satisfaction of recovering the cars, anyway," Joe pointed out. "I believe in playing safe."
"I'd like the satisfaction of rounding up this gang as well."
Frank advanced toward the opening at the far side of the cave.
"I think I'll just poke along in here a little way and see where it leads," he said.
Joe was dubious. He was of a more cautious nature than his brother, and was satisfied to let well enough alone. They had found the missing cars. This alone was sufficient, he reasoned. Having come this far without mishap he did not like to risk spoiling their success. However, he followed Frank into the tunnel.
It was narrower than the one which had led them to the cave, and its sides were rocky and uneven, while the roof was low. It was quite evident that none of the cars could have been driven through this narrow space, and as the boys went on they found that the roof was lower and the walls even closer together.
Finally, the flashlight showed them that it was almost impossible to continue, as projecting rocks jutted out and there was just enough space to admit passage of one person. Beyond that, the tunnel seemed to close altogether.
"Guess this is a blind alley," said Frank. "We may as well turn back."
He handed the flashlight to Joe, who led the way on the return trip through the tunnel.
Suddenly there was an uproar immediately ahead, a clamorous, deafening crash. The boys jumped with astonishment. In the darkness of the subterranean cavern their nerves had been keyed up to a high pitch, and this tremendous clatter was so unexpected in the dead silence that had surrounded them that they were almost paralyzed with momentary fright.
There followed a rattling and bumping of rocks, and then silence once more.
"What was that?" exclaimed Joe, recovering from his scare.
"Sounded to me like a fall of rock." Frank's voice was shaky, for he had a suspicion of what had actually happened.
"It seemed mighty close."
"That's what I'm afraid of. It may have blocked up this tunnel."
Hastily, the boys went forward. In a few moments the flashlight revealed a sight at which their hearts sank.
The passage before them was completely closed up!
Great boulders, ledges of rock, and a heavy downpouring of earth formed an apparently impenetrable barrier ahead. A loose stone, no doubt dislodged when they went by a short time before, had given way and had brought down this miniature avalanche from the roof and sides of the tunnel.
"We're trapped!" Frank exclaimed.
The Auto Thieves
The cave-in had imprisoned the Hardy boys.
The flashlight revealed not a single opening. The tunnel was blocked up, and for all the boys knew the barrier continued right to the outer cave.
"Now we're in for it," remarked Joe dubiously.
The boys realized that there was nothing to be gained by shouting for help. Even if their cries were heard, which would be unlikely with that solid mass of rock before them, it would only bring the auto thieves upon them.
"We'll have to work fast," said Frank. "There isn't any too much air in this place now, and if we don't get that rock cleared out of the way we'll be smothered."
"Do you mean to say we'll have to move all that rock aside?"
"What else is there to do?"
"It might take hours."
"That's better than dying in here," returned Frank philosophically. "You hold the light and I'll get busy."
He flung off his coat and attacked the formidable barrier.
Starting at the top, he moved rock after rock aside, placing them on the floor of the tunnel. The work was slow, and he seemed to make little progress. For, as the rocks were taken away, they showed only more rocks behind. It was evident that the cave-in had been of considerable extent.
Joe became impatient.
"I feel useless," he said. "You hold the light for a while and let me work."
"Put it in a ledge some place and we can both work."
Joe hunted around and managed to find a convenient ledge of rock on which to rest the flashlight. Its beam was directed at the barrier and, rid of the encumbrance, Joe was then able to lend a hand to the work of removing the débris.
Patiently, the brothers toiled, lifting aside the rocks and putting them back on the floor. Every little while a fresh shower of dirt and stones would come rattling down from the roof. The task seemed hopeless.
"Looks as if this goes on for yards," panted Joe wearily.
"We might get out in a couple of years," Frank said, resting for a moment. "Still, if we can only clear a small opening it'll be enough to let us out."
He attacked the barricade again with renewed vigor.
Wrenching at a large rock, he tugged and pulled until it became dislodged from the surrounding débris. Frank was just dragging the huge stone away when there came a warning rumble, a cry of alarm from Joe, and he leaped back.
He was just in time.
With a crash, a large section of the roof caved in, a flat ledge of rock just missing his head by inches. A mass of rubbish descended with a roar.
"Get out of the way!"
"Get out yourself!"
"Gee, it looks as if the whole roof might come down!"
"I got some dust in my eyes."
"Same here. Say, this is the worst yet."
"Humph! We'll be lucky if we are not buried alive."
Much crestfallen, the boys bumped into each other, rubbing their eyes and clearing their throats of the dry dust that had come down with the rocks.
Then they gazed at each other in dismay, and not without reason.
All the boys' work was undone. The barrier was now larger than it had ever been.
"That fixes it!" said Frank gloomily.
The ledge of rock that had given way was of such extent that it was impossible for any one to move it. Their path was completely blocked.
"No use working atthatany more!"
Frank sat down on a rock, regarding the impassable heap.
"Buried alive," he remarked, at last.
"No one will ever find us here."
The boys realized the gravity of their plight. No one knew they were in the tunnel. No one had seen them enter. If they perished here, their bodies might never be recovered.
"Think we ought to start calling?" asked Joe hopefully.
"Looks as if we'll have to do something. Perhaps if we do call, the men won't hear us."
"How about going back along the tunnel? There was still a sort of opening, you remember."
"It's our only chance."
Frank had little hope that the tunnel had another outlet. However, he grabbed up the flashlight and the boys picked their way back along the rocky passage.
When they came to the place where the tunnel had seemed to end, they surveyed it dubiously.
"I'll go ahead," said Frank. "Like as not, I'll get stuck in here and you'll have to come in and pull me out."
He wedged himself into the opening between the rocks, holding the flashlight before him.
To his surprise he found that although there was a blank wall immediately ahead, the tunnel turned sharply to one side and in the glow of the light he saw that it continued for some little distance, a very narrow passage, but one that offered sufficient space for him to continue.
"It doesn't end here after all," he called back to Joe. "Perhaps it does lead outside."
He went on. Joe scrambled through the opening and followed close behind.
With growing elation Frank found that the tunnel continued. When he had gone about fifteen yards he rounded a sharp corner, and gave a cry of delight.
Here, on the wet floor, he spied the imprint of a man's shoe!
"There's been some one here before us," he said to Joe, in excitement. "A footprint!"
"Which way does it lead?"
"The way we're going. This isn't so hopeless after all."
This evidence that another human being had been in the tunnel gave the boys new courage.
"We'd better go quietly. Chances are that the auto thieves are somewhere around."
A few steps farther, and Frank spied a light in the distance. At first he thought it was only a reflection from his own flashlight, but when he switched it out, the light still glowed steadily through the darkness ahead.
They moved cautiously. Frank did not turn on the flashlight again. He was afraid it might be seen. Step by step, they moved forward, and the glow of the mysterious light became brighter. It was soon so strong that it even cast a certain amount of illumination into the tunnel and the boys saw that the passage was almost at an end.
Then they heard a voice.
They could not distinguish the words, but they could hear some one talking in a quick, rasping tone. Then another voice interrupted.
Frank laid a warning hand on his brother's sleeve.
"Quiet does it," he warned.
They crept forward.
The tunnel evidently opened into another cave. Edging ahead as close to the entrance of the passage as they dared, the boys saw that the light was from a huge lamp. It was not turned toward them, or the tunnel would have been bathed in a strong glare and they would have been seen, but it cast a strong radiance over a small cave-in which half a dozen men were sitting.
The cavern was bare, but there were boxes scattered about on the rocky floor, and these provided makeshift seats. The lads caught only a glimpse of the eerie scene, the shadowy figures, and then they drew back, for two of the men were facing them and for a moment they thought the fellows could not have failed to see them.
However, the glare of the immense lamp evidently blinded them to anything beyond, for they did not move.
A gruff voice spoke.
"Well, we can run that big touring car out to-night. Clancy says he can do the repainting to-morrow and we can get rid of it in a day or so if everything goes well."
"He took his time about selling that coupé."
"There was a hitch somewhere. He thought the dicks were watching his place, so he had to lay low for a few days."
"Well, I guess it's all right. I don't blame him for not taking any more chances than he has to."
"Rats!" said some one else. "He's takin' no chances! We've got away with everything fine so far and the cops haven't suspected any of us yet."
"Clancy's different," said the man with the gruff voice. "He's at the selling end, and that's where the danger lies. It's no trouble to steal these boats. The dicks don't try to trace 'em from that end, for they know there isn't much use. They watch until we try to get rid of 'em."
"Clancy's smart. He even burns out the engine numbers. When one of those cars leaves his hands, even the owner wouldn't recognize it if you took him for a ride in it."
"We've been making out all right so far, but we can't get too bold. The whole countryside is stirred up, and the farther we go the more chances we're taking."
"That's true. Just the same, we're about as safe here as any one can be. Nobody knows about these caves."
"Lucky break for us that they don't. If I didn't know about them I could walk up and down that beach for a month of Sundays and never spot an opening."
"That's a nice-lookin' roadster you landed to-night."
"It's been parked out on the Shore Road for two nights past. It seemed a shame to neglect a nice boat that way, so I took it in."
"What would anybody park a car out there for on a night like this? Wasn't there anybody around?"
"Not a soul. Mebbe the driver was out fishin' and got caught in the rain and didn't get back. Or he might have had engine trouble."
"It ran for you, didn't it?"
"Sure. But I can make 'em run when nobody else can."
"You sure know how to handle a car. I'll say that for you."
There was a stir in the cave.
"Here he comes now," announced some one.
Then the boys heard a familiar voice, a voice that sent a thrill of excitement through them.
"Coast is clear. You can run that car out now, Dan."
It was the voice of Gus Montrose!
Captured
Tensely, the Hardy boys crouched in the tunnel, as they heard the voice of the Dodds' former hired man.
"It's a dirty night out," he was saying. "You're welcome to the trip, Dan."
"Still raining?"
"Pouring. I'm soaked to the skin," grumbled Montrose. "It's no fun, ploughing down through that gully."
"Well, you won't have much more to do to-night," said one of the men placatingly. "We landed a fine roadster while you were out."
"The one I was telling you about?"
"The same."
"Seems funny about that car being parked on the Shore Road three nights in a row. I saw it there the other evening and passed it up. Then last night I got in and would have driven it away, only I couldn't get it started. Different kind of car than any I've ever been in. I went out and found Sam and we were going back when we ran right into the car turning around in a lane."
"Didn't see who was in it, did you?"
"No. The headlights shone right in our eyes. Seemed like a couple of young fellows. If they had been a little slower we'd have had the car."
"Well, we have it now. They'll wish they wasn't so smart, leavin' it out in the rain that way."
"Nice wet walk they'll have if they live in Bayport," laughed Gus Montrose shortly. "I know who Iwishowned it."
"Your little friends?"
"Those brats of Hardy boys," returned Gus. "Followed me for about three blocks to-day when I went uptown to meet Sam."
"What was the big idea?"
"Aw, they kid themselves that they're a couple of amateur detectives," rasped Montrose. "Just because they've been lucky in a couple of cases they think they gotta go spyin' on everybody."
"What made 'em spy on you?"
"How should I know? I guess Dodd must have put them up to it."
"They don't figger you're mixed up with these missin' cars, do they?"
"How could they? Nobody has anythin' on me," bragged Gus. "But I told them a few things, anyway. I told 'em to lay off followin' me or they'd get somethin' they wasn't lookin' for."
"What'd they say?"
"They backed down. Got scared and beat it."
"That's the way to talk to them," approved the man called Dan. "Scare the daylights out of them."
"Speakin' of daylight—it'll be daylight before you reach Atlantic City with that car if you don't hurry up."
"All right. All right. I'll start movin'," Dan growled.
"You might as well take some of that junk we got from the Importing Company's truck, and ask Clancy to sell it for us. And don't you forget to collect the money from him for the last car we turned over to him."
"I won't forget. Some of you guys had better come along and load a couple of those boxes for me."
There was a heavy tramping of feet, that indicated the men were leaving the cave. The Hardy boys could hear their receding footsteps and the diminishing voices. Finally the cave was in silence.
Frank peeped out of the tunnel.
"They've gone," he whispered.
"Are you going in?" questioned Joe.
"Sure. There's no one around."
He stepped out onto the rocky floor, with Joe at his heels.
The cave was not as large as the one in which the cars were stored, but from the boxes scattered around and from a litter of empty cigarette packages, burnt matches, old clothes, and other things lying about, it was clearly the meeting place of the gang.
"Well, we've found the auto thieves, all right. The next thing is to trap them."
"We can't do it alone, that's certain," said Joe. "I think we ought to get out of here as quickly as we can."
"There's probably only one opening to this place," answered Frank, flashing the light about the walls.
It fell on a dark opening through which the thieves had departed. There was no other passage apparent, beyond the one through which the boys had entered.