A FIGURE IN HIDING

A blind peddlerâ€™s warning and a weird glass eye plunge Frank and Joe Hardy into one of the most bafiling â€™cases they have ever tackled.

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The young detectivesâ€™ investigation takes them to a walled estate guarded by savage dogs, where a wealthy businessman is hiding out in fear of his life. Later, a midnight telephone tip leads to a strange encounter on a lonesome hillside-and a hair-raising escape from death at the bottom of Barmet Bay.

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The theft of a valuable Oriental idol called the Jeweled Siva, a daringly designed hydrofoil speedboat the Sea Spook, the strange disappearance at sea of a prime suspect, and a walking mummy all figure excitingly in this complex case.

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In a climax that will hold the reader spellbound with suspense, Frank and Joe find themselves trapped in a sinister house of mystery from which there seems to be no escape!

âSignals are coming over this glass eye!â

Copyright Â© 1993, 1965, 1987 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset
Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYSÂ® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07630-9

2008 Printing

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

A Blind Lead

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EXCITED fans were still milling about the Bayport High athletic field as the Hardy boys came out of the dressing room after their teamâs post-season win over the Alumni All-Stars.

âGreat pitching, Frank!â a. schoolmate yelled. âYou really bore down in the clutches!â

Dark-haired, eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy grinned and waved. âDonât think that double of Joeâs with the bases loaded didnât help!â

As the boys reached the street, a blind peddler approached them. He was wearing dark glasses and tapping a white cane. âBuy a pencil, please?â he mumbled.

Joe Hardy, blond and a year younger than his brother, fished in his pocket for a coin and dropped it into the manâs tin cup.

âThank you, sir!â The peddler pressed a pencil and a small white card into Joeâs hand as the boys hurried past him toward their red convertible, parked several yards up the street.

Joe glanced at the card as they were climbing into the car. âHey! Whatâs this?â

âWhatâs what?â

âTake a look. The blind man gave it to me.â

Frankâs joking smile changed to a bewildered frown as he studied the card. It bore the picture of a human eye and a printed plea for better eye care from a national health society.

The picture had pencil marks over it. The pupil had been changed to a catlike oval shape with zigzag spark lines radiating from it. Some of the words in the printed heading had been crossed out:

WATCH OUT
FOR THE FIRST SIGNS OF
BAD EYESIGHT!

Frank turned the card over. Scribbled in pencil on the blank side was the notation: Tell FH!

ââFHâ must mean Dad!â Frank exclaimed.

Fenton Hardy, the boysâ father, had been an ace detective on the New York City police force before he retired to the coastal town of Bayport and became a famous private investigator.

âBut what about those crossed-out words?â Joe queried. âThis way, it reads âWatch out for bad eye!â â

âLetâs try to find that blind man!â Frank suggested.

The boys dashed back down the street, but the peddler was already lost to view among the throng outside the field. Frank and Joe circled the block without catching sight of him.

âIâll bet heâs one of Dadâs underworld informers,â Frank stated. âHe didnât want to be seen talking to us, so he got lost in a hurry.â

âThatâs probably the answer,â Joe agreed as the boys headed back to their parked car. âBut if the peddler was so afraid of being spotted, why didnât he phone his message?â

âMaybe he tried and got no answer, so he tracked us down. Letâs go home and see if Dadâs back from his trip yet.â

Frank and Joe hopped into their car and Frank drove off.

Two blocks farther on, as they stopped for the traffic light, a truck owned by the Prito Construction Company pulled up alongside. Tony Prito, a lanky, black-haired school chum, was at the wheel.

âHowâd the game come out?â he called.

âFrank handcuffed âem! Three-nothing shut-out!â Joe waved his clasped hands in a victory sign.

âNice going! Wish I couldâve seen it!â As Tony shifted gears to start up again, he added, âIf you fellows want to see something pretty, take a spin out on the bay. Bill Braxton has his Sea Spook on a shakedown run.â

âHey! Thatâd be worth watching,â Joe said.

Frank toed the accelerator. âMaybe we can catch it if we hurry.â

The Sea Spook, a new, rakish hydrofoil craft, was the talk of Barmet Bay. Bill Braxton, a young mechanic and stock-car racing driver, had designed and built it in his spare time.

A few minutes later the convertible turned up the driveway of the Hardysâ pleasant, tree-shaded house. Frank and Joe leaped out and bounded up the front steps. The door was locked. Frank quickly opened it with his key.

âAnyone home?â he called. His voice echoed emptily through the house.

âI guess Mother and Aunt Gertrude arenât back from that bazaar yet,â Joe said. âWe can leave a note for Dad.â

He hurried to the hallway telephone stand and began jotting a message on the memo pad.

âTell him weâll be out in our boat so he can call us,â Frank suggested. âThen we can give him the details over our radio.â The Hardy boysâ motorboat, the Sleuth, was equipped with a powerful marine transceiver.

After pausing in the kitchen for glasses of milk and a handful of cookies, the brothers locked up and headed in the convertible for the Bayport waterfront. As they rolled along through the hot June sunshine, Joe flicked on the dashboard radio. A newscaster was saying:

âA daring robbery in New York City last night netted thieves a small Oriental idol called the Jeweled Siva, valued at over twenty thousand dollars. The owner of the art curio shop from which it was taken said the ivory figure stood only six inches high but was studded with valuable gems.â

âWow! Thatâs some haul!â Joe murmured. âI wouldnât mind working on a case like that.â

The two boys, who had inherited their fatherâs zest for crime puzzles, had already solved a number of baffling mysteries starting with The Tower Treasure. On one of their most challenging cases, The Sinister Signpost, they had restored a stolen race horse to its owner.

When they reached the waterfront, Frank pulled into a parking lot and the brothers strode off toward the Hardy boathouse. In a few minutes the Sleuth was knifing through the harbor toward open water.

Joe grinned in delight at the feel of their boat leaping along through the waves. Frank was scanning the blue expanse of the bay through binoculars. Presently he picked out a fast-moving hull that was throwing up plumes of spray.

âThereâs the Sea Spook! Man, look at that baby go!â

Joe gunned the Sleuth. Soon it was close enough for them to view the Sea Spook clearly without the glasses. The hydrofoil was streaking over the surface at a speed that made the boysâ eyes pop.

âShe must be doing fifty knots!â Joe gasped.

The Spookâs hull stood well above the waves, on struts connected to her curved foils. They were planing along through the water.

âWatch your course!â Frank cautioned Joe.

The Sea Spook began to execute a graceful figure eight, so tightly and smoothly that the Hardys could scarcely believe their eyes. It rounded the final turn, then headed seaward again.

Joe opened the throttle wide, trying not to lose the other craft, but it sped off. âItâs hopeless!â he groaned.

A moment later the hydrofoil reversed course again. Apparently its pilot was going to do another figure eight. This time, the execution was not nearly so smooth.

Frank snatched up the binoculars. âThatâs not Braxton at the wheel,â he reported. âHe turned it over to another fellow.â

The new pilot was sweeping a much wider curve that brought the Sea Spook almost abeam of the Sleuth. He closed the top half of the eight so erratically that Joe was taken by surprise.

âLook out!â Frank yelled. âWeâre on a collision course!â

The hydrofoil was bearing down on the Sleuth at blinding speed. Joe glimpsed two frantic faces at the cabin window. Frank could see Braxton pushing his shipmate aside to take over as Joe swerved the Sleuth hard a-starboard.

In the nick of time, the Sea Spook banked to port. But the turn threw up a sheet of spray that hit the Sleuth like the slap of a giant hand. Already heeling, the motorboat turned turtle and both boys were thrown into the water!

Frank and Joe swam to the surface, gasping and blinking. The hydrofoilâs hull was slowly settling into the waves as Braxton reduced speed. He brought the craft around and halted it near the Hardys. Then he dashed out of the cabin to the open afterdeck, his passenger at his heels, to haul Frank and Joe aboard. In a few moments they stood on deck.

âAre you okay?â Bill Braxton asked anxiously. He was a tanned, muscular young man, wearing a seamanâs jersey and faded dungarees.

âSure. No harm done,â said Frank. âJust soaked to the skin. Good thing itâs such a hot day.â

Braxton started to apologize for the accident, but the man with him interrupted. âWhat in blazes is wrong with you punks?â he stormed at the Hardys. âHavenât you got brains enough to keep out of the way? This thing isnât a paddle boat, you know!â

Joeâs quick temper flared. âA paddle boatâs all you should handle, mister!â he retorted.

âRelax, Joe,â Frank cut in. âWe probably did come closer than we should have. Got too interested in watching, I guess.â

âLetâs all forget it,â Braxton said hastily. âWeâd better do something about your boat.â

He maneuvered the Sea Spook close to the Sleuth and helped the brothers right it. But the motorboat had shipped too much water to be used again immediately, so a towline was attached and the hydrofoil started back to port.

âBy the way,â Braxton told his passenger, âthese two boys are Frank and Joe Hardy. Their dadâs a famous detective. Maybe youâve heard of him.... Boys, meet Mr. Lambert.â

The man gave a surly grunt. Frank and Joe nodded coolly. Lambert was about forty, with a gaunt, hard-looking face that seemed strangely pale. His long, thin nose was slightly crooked, as if it had once been broken.

On the way into the harbor, the Hardys asked Bill numerous questions about his interesting craft. He explained that as it got up speed, the water exerted an upward lift on the foils, just like air on the wings of a plane.

âIs this an ocean-going job?â Joe asked.

âSure, except that it jolts a bitâ in heavy seas,â Braxton replied. âMost designers use submerged foils for that type of service, but Iâve worked out ones that are pretty smooth.â

He added that Mr. Lambert was interested in buying the craft and that todayâs run had been a demonstration.

After they had pulled alongside the dock, Lambert said curtly, âIâll get in touch with you later, Braxton.â He picked up his sports jacket which had been flung on one of the seats, put it on, and scrambled up the dock ladder.

âNice guy,â Joe muttered. âNot even a thank-you for the ride!â

Bill grinned wryly. âHeâs a possible customer, so I had to be nice to him. Actually, it was his fault your boat got swamped. He froze at the wheel.â

âI knowâI saw you take over,â Frank said. As he spoke, Frank saw something glittering on the deck and stooped down to pick it up. âSay, is Lambert blind in one eye?â

âNot that I know of. Why?â

âSomeone dropped a glass eye. It isnât yours, is it?â

Braxton shook his head. âGood grief, no. That thing doesnât even look wearable!â

He stared at the object in puzzlement. So did Joe. It seemed larger than a glass eye should be and had a queer-shaped pupil with reddish vein lines radiating outward.

Suddenly Joe gasped. âJumpinâ catfish, Frank!â he exclaimed. âThat looks just like the eye on the blind manâs card!â

CHAPTER II

Trouble on the Wire

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FRANK was startled. âYouâre right, Joe. The eye has the same oval-shaped pupil.â

âAnd these veins are just like the spark lines penciled on the picture.â

Braxton was mystified. âI suppose you two know what youâre talking about,â he said dryly, âbut it makes no sense to me.â

The Hardys grinned. Frank explained briefly about the blind peddlerâs card. Then he asked if the young mechanic knew Lambertâs address.

âNo, and he doesnât live in Bayport,â Braxton replied. âHe came here just to see the Spook. I believe heâs staying at the Bayview Motel.â

âJoe and I will take the glass eye there and see if itâs his,â Frank said.

The Hardys changed into swimming trunks, which they got from their car, then wrung out their drenched clothing and spread it to dry while they bailed out the Sleuth. By the time they were ready to start for home, the boys looked fairly presentable again.

âGood thing this wash-and-wear stuff dries so fast,â Joe said, âor weâd get a lecture from Aunt Gertrude.â

Frank chuckled. âSheâd have us turning blue with pneumonia, and then bawl us out for going near such a crazy contraption as the Sea Spook!â

The boys parked in the Hardy driveway and hurried into the house. Their pretty mother and tall, angular Aunt Gertrude Hardy had returned. Mrs. Hardy informed her sons that their father had sent a telegram saying he would not return home until the next morning.

Aunt Gertrude, though strict, was very fond of her nephews and always interested in the mysteries they were solving. âWhatâs that card you boys left on the telephone stand?â she asked.

âOh, nothing very important,â Frank said, his eyes twinkling. âItâs just something a peddler gave us for Dad.â

âHumph.â Aunt Gertrude pursed her lips.

The boys smothered grins, knowing she had already gleaned as much from Joeâs note and was curious to know more.

Mrs. Hardy laughed. âNow stop teasing, you two,â she admonished.

âOh, it doesnât matter, Laura,â her sister-in-law said airily, and started for the kitchen.

Frank and Joe followed her and related the whole episode of the blind peddler.

âThe fellow probably spotted a one-eyed murderer in town,â Miss Hardy said. âIn fact, the killer may be after him and he wants your father to rescue him.â

The boys became serious. âHonestly, Aunty,â Joe said soothingly, âwe did pick up a clue. Itâs sort of gruesome.â

Curiosity overcame Miss Hardy. âI donât scare easily. Show it to me.â

Joe took out a folded clean handkerchief and unwrapped it, disclosing the glass eye. Aunt Gertrude gasped, but quickly demanded, âWhere did you get that?â

When Frank explained, Aunt Gertrude wagged her head. âThis is a sinister omen. You two be careful.â

After supper the boys drove to the Bayview Motel. The manager, a fat, balding man, shook his head when they inquired for Lambert.

âSorry, boys. You just missed him. He checked out not moreân fifteen minutes ago.â The manager frowned. âCertainly looked upset.â

âHow come?â Joe asked.

âSearch me. When he stopped in after dinner and told me to get his bill ready, he looked calm enough. Then about half an hour later when he came to check out, he was red in the face and acted sore at something. Kind oâ worried, too.â

âMaybe he got a disturbing phone call,â Frank suggested.

Again the manager shook his head. âNoâif heâd had a call, Iâd know it because they all come through this switchboard here.â

Frank explained that he and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy, the private investigator, and asked if Lambert had left any forwarding address.

The manager leafed through the card file of registrations. âNo. He left that space on his card blank.â

The boys thanked him and walked out. As they drove away, Frank said, âWhen Lambert went to pack, he may have discovered heâd lost the glass eye. That could be what upset him.â

âMaybe,â Joe agreed. âBut so what?â

âHe may go back to Braxtonâs boathouse to find out if he dropped it on the Sea Spook.â

âHey, thatâs an idea! Step on it, Frank!â

âThereâs an easier way.â Frank swung off the road toward a hamburger drive-in. âIâll give Bill a ring. Heâs probably still tinkering.â

Setting the brake, Frank jumped out of the convertible and hurried to the small building. He thumbed through a directory, then dialed the number on a pay telephone. Braxton answered.

âBill, this is Frank Hardy. Has that fellow Lambert been back to your boathouse asking for the glass eye?â

âLambert? No. I havenât seen him. Why?â

Frank hastily explained.

âYou want me to stall him if he shows up, eh?â Bill said. âOkay, Frank, Iâllââ

Braxtonâs voice broke off with a groan. There was a crashing noise as if the phone had fallen from his hand. A moment later came a click. Frank jiggled the hook frantically, but the line was dead.

He dashed out to the convertible and told Joe how the call had been cut short.

âWhat do you suppose happened?â Joe asked.

âI donât knowâbut someone hung up and I doubt if it was Bill!â

Frank sent the car roaring out of the lot. As it sped back into Bayport, the summer evening traffic seemed even worse than usual. Three red lights in a row left both boys fuming with impatience at the delay.

When they finally reached the waterfront, Frank parked and they ran to Braxtonâs boathouse. The shedlike structure extended over the water on piles. The dockside door was unlocked. The brothers burst in and gasped when they saw the young mechanic sprawled face down near his desk. Frank reached him first.

âIs he alive?â Joe murmured fearfully.

âStill breathing.â Frank fingered Braxtonâs scalp. âThereâs a big lump on the back of his head. Someone must have sneaked up and conked him while he was talking to me.â

The Hardys noticed signs of a hasty search. Desk drawers had been yanked open and ransacked. Blueprints lay scattered about.

âBillâs attacker wanted something pretty bad,â Joe remarked. âI wonder if it was that glass eye.â

Using a handkerchief so as not to smudge any fingerprints, Joe phoned the police and asked for an ambulance. Meanwhile, Frank was working on Braxton and soon revived him.

âYou didnât see who hit you?â Frank asked.

Bill shook his head painfully. âIt became stuffy in here so I opened the door. I suppose thatâs why I didnât hear the guy come in.â

Beyond the working platform, the Sea Spook lay rocking gently in its berth, enclosed by a wooden walkway on each side. The Hardys went aboard and saw that Braxtonâs storage lockers in the cabin also had been rifled.

A police car and an ambulance soon arrived. The intern insisted that Braxton be taken to the hospital for X-rays and observation. The police then took charge, and the boys went home. No report came during the evening and finally the brothers went to bed.

Next morning when Frank and Joe came down to breakfast, they found their father already at the table. Fenton Hardy, a tall, big-shouldered man, greeted his sons with a grin.

âWhen did you get back, Dad?â Joe asked eagerly.

âFlew in about an hour ago. I hear you fellows had some excitement yesterday.â

âIt was pretty grim,â Frank said. He and Joe gave their father all the facts.

Mr. Hardy had the blind manâs card on the table near his plate. âThis must have come from Zatta,â he remarked. âHenry Zatta.â

âOne of your regular informers?â Frank asked.

âYes, he picks up a good many underworld tips for me. In fact, heâs an ex-con himself.â

âHe must have heard our names and spotted us as your sons,â Joe said. âThat is, if his blindness is phony.â

Fenton Hardy nodded. âItâs partly an act, although he is missing one eye.â

Frank and Joe exchanged glances, then Joe excused himself to hurry out to the boysâ laboratory over the garage. He brought the glass eye back to the table. âCould this be Zattaâs?â

Mr. Hardy studied it, then shook his head. âToo large and grotesque to be wearable.... Hmm. This eye business may have something to do with the Goggler gang. They wear spectacles with bulging eyes on all theirâSay, wait! Did you say Lambert had a crooked nose?â

âThatâs right,â Frank answered. âWhy?â

âSounds like a hoodlum named Spotty Lemuel.â

As soon as the Hardys finished breakfast, the boys accompanied their father to his study. He leafed quickly through his criminal file and soon produced a photograph.

âThatâs Lambert, all right!â Joe exclaimed. âNo wonder heâs called Spotty. His face here is covered with freckles.â

Mr. Hardy nodded. âHe probably had them bleached off by a dermatologist.â The detective suggested that the boys try to locate Zatta, since he himself would be busy on a new case. Joe asked hopefully if this had anything to do with the theft of the Jeweled Siva. Mr. Hardy said No, saying he had been engaged to run down a swindler named Pampton.

Soon afterward, as Mr. Hardy left the house, Frank called the hospital and learned that Bill Braxton was better. A moment later the doorbell rang loud and long.

âSufferinâ cats! Whoâs that?â said Joe.

The boys went to answer it. A startling sight greeted them. Their visitor was a thin old man with a hearing aid. Bare from the waist up, he wore Bermuda shorts and a floppy straw hat and carried a Malacca cane.

âOut of my way, boy!â Nudging Frank aside with his cane, he rushed in and rasped, âQuick! Shut the door! Theyâre after me!â

Frank looked out in astonishment. âThereâs no one after you-just a station wagon cruising along the street.â

With a moan, the old man fainted.

CHAPTER III

The Gatepost Eye

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FRANK and Joe carried the old man to the living-room sofa.

âWho in the world is he?â said Joe.

âAnd who was after him?â Frank added.

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude came from the kitchen. Both women gasped in alarm at sight of the old man, who was breathing heavily.

Mrs. Hardy felt his pulse and Aunt Gertrude said, âGet some water.â

As Frank hastily brought a glass, the man began to revive. With one of his bony hands he fumbled in a pocket of his shorts and plucked out a bottle of pills.

âSh-sh-shake me out t-two, son.â

Frank obeyed and the old man gulped them down. Presently his color returned and he struggled to sit up. Aunt Gertrude attempted to make him comfortable, but the old man yanked the sofa cushion from her hand.

âLeave me alone, woman!â He added in a mutter, âConfounded females! Just like my daughter! I wouldnât be in this fix if she hadnât shanghaied me to that blasted farm!â

âYouâre very independent,â Laura Hardy said with a smile.

The elderly man glared at her. Then, as she continued to smile, a twinkle came into his watery blue eyes and he cackled, âYes, I am. But I can see that doesnât impress you.â

Glancing out the window, Frank saw the station wagon cruise past again. The gold lettering on it read: DOC GRAFTONâS HEALTH FARM. He remembered hearing of the placeâa luxurious resort overlooking Barmet Bay where older men of means came to regain their health.

âSay, is that where youâre staying?â Frank asked. âDoc Graftonâs Health Farm?â

The manâs face darkened with wrath. âDoc Graftonâs Vegetable Farm they should call itâor loony bin! Figured Iâd go loony myself if I had to sit around there listening to my arteries harden. So I sneaked off.â

The man snorted and fished a large cigar from his pocket. He unwrapped it, bit off the tip, and lit the cigar with a gold lighter.

âYou say you sneaked away from the health farm?â Joe asked.

âUh-huh. Had my chauffeur meet me outside. Then some fellow down at the harbor told me to get in touch with the Hardy boys.... You two are the Hardy boys, I presume?â

âYes, sir.â Frank introduced everyone, and the old man explained that he was Zachary Mudge, a financier and businessman from New York.

âMy daughter and her husband claimed I needed a rest,â Mudge went on, âso like a fool I let âem ship me down here to this vegetable farm. Claimed Iâd have a heart attack if I didnât stay away from that stock-market ticker tape.â The elderly manâs bushy gray eyebrows shot up. âWhich reminds me! Have to call my broker! You, boyââwaving to Joeââhelp me to the phone!â

Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude retired to the kitchen while Frank and Joe waited for their eccentric visitor to make the call. Finally he returned to the living room, contentedly trailing clouds of smoke.

As he sat down, Aunt Gertrude marched into the hall. She flung open the front door and stood vigorously fanning the hall air. Mudge grinned merrily and took another deep puff.

âYouâerâwere saying that you wanted to get in touch with us, sir,â Frank reminded him.

âOh, yes. About thatâwhat did you call it?âhydrofoil.â Mr. Mudge explained that he had watched the Sea Spook through binoculars the day before, and had heard several people talking about it. âLooks to me like the coming thing for water travelâmaybe a good investment opportunity.â

He explained that he had had his chauffeur drive him to the waterfront to talk to the craftâs designer. But someone near the boathouse had told him about the assault on Braxton and advised him to see the Hardys. Mudge said he had looked up their address and told his chauffeur to drive him to their house.

âThen I noticed that health-farm station wagon on our tailâsomebody at the place must have spotted me leaving. I slipped out of the car when we stopped for a traffic light and hoofed it the rest of the way.â The elderly tycoon grimaced. âGuess I overdid things a bit.â

âBill Braxton is still in the hospital,â Frank said. âWe called just before you got here. But he should be out in a day or two. By the way, another man is interested in the Sea Spook.â

âWhatâs that?â Mudge stiffened, his eyes glinting suspiciously. âWho is he?â

âHe gave his name as Lambert,â Frank said.

Mudge scowled. âNever heard of him.â

At this point, a limousine pulled up in front of the house. Zachary Mudge explained that he had ordered his chauffeur to pick him up here.

âAppreciate your help, boys.â

They grinned. âGlad to give it.â

As soon as Mudge had gone, Frank and Joe drove off in search of Henry Zatta. They cruised back and forth through Bayport without catching sight of the pseudo-blind man.

âDad did say he works in other towns along the coast,â Frank reminded Joe.

âRight. Letâs try Ocean City next.â

A couple of miles outside the town limits of Bayport they sighted a pudgy figure in a heavy sweat suit jogging alongside the road.

Joe gasped. âDonât tell me thatâs Chet Morton!â

âWorking out off-season, too!â Frank chuckled. âBoy, now weâve seen everything!â

Although Chet made a good lineman on the Bayport eleven, he was not noted for his physical activity. Chetâs chief hobbies were food and relaxation whenever he had a chance.

The Hardys pulled up and their chum stopped to greet them. His moonface was lobster red and dripping with perspiration. Chet pulled out one end of the thick towel draped around his neck and mopped his forehead.

âYou out of your mind?â Joe teased. âI thought youâd engaged a hammock for the summer.â

âIâm getting in shape,â Chet retorted. Plopping himself down on a boulder, he plucked out a candy bar, peeled off the wrapper, and began munching it hungrily.

âThat chocolate bar will put you in shape,â Frank said with a grin, âlike a lead balloon.â

âAw, cut it out! I have to have some quick energy, donât I?â

âListen, whatâs this roadwork all about?â Joe asked. âYouâre not doing it for fun.â

Chet looked smug. âJust wait and see, wise guys. Certain people needed a powerfully built young fellow for an important athletic post, and I was their natural choice.â

âChoice for what?â Joe gibed. âA before-and-after model for one of those diet ads?â

âOkay, pal. Have your laugh.â Chet got up, and this time set off at a brisker pace.

The Hardys grinned and drove on. They spent the day searching Ocean City and a number of other places but found no trace of Zatta. Finally they returned to Bayport for a late supper.

Just as they were leaving the table, the telephone rang and Joe answered. The caller was the manager of the Bayview Motel.

âThat fellow Lambert just came back here and left a forwarding address for mail,â the man said. âI thought you boys might want to know.â

âWe sure do!â Joe said eagerly. He copied down the address and was surprised when it turned out to be a street on the outskirts of town. âThanks a lot.â

Joe showed the address to Frank. âLetâs go see what Lambertâor Spotty Lemuelâhas to say.â

âOkay, but weâd better pass this information along to Chief Collig in case he wants to follow up on what happened to Bill Braxton.â

Police Chief Collig was an old friend of the Hardys. After leaving a message for him with the police operator, Frank and Joe hurriedly started off in their convertible.

The address was on Malabar Road, a quiet street of old houses which were set well back from the pavement and screened by big trees and heavy shrubbery. Dusk had fallen as the boys cruised along slowly, aiming their spotlight at the house numbers. The one they soughtâ25âwas visible in brass letters on a tall gate.

âLook!â Joe gasped, and Frank pulled over.

The spotlight glow revealed a large eye chalked on the gatepost!

In seconds the boys were out of the car. To their surprise, a FOR SALE sign was posted on the fence. The house looked dark.

âApparently Lemuel hasnât moved in yet,â Joe murmured. âBut what about that eye?â

As the brothers walked to the gate, a figure moved on the front porch and came down the drive. He was a boy about sixteenâa wiry, cocky-looking youth in tight jeans and motorcycle boots.

He leaned on the gate and stared up and down at the Hardys with a mocking grin, his jaws chomping on a wad of gum. âKnow what that means?â he said, pointing to the chalked eye.

âMaybe,â Frank said evenly. âWho are you?â

âThe checker, stupid. Who dâyou suppose?â the boy retorted. âLook, are you guys here for the meeting or just snooping around?â

Joe glanced at his brother. âWeâre here for the meeting.â

âThen letâs see your pass.â As the brothers hesitated, the youth pointed to the eye again and rasped, âCome on, donât try to con me. Have you got one or havenât you?â

On a sudden hunch, Frank took the glass eye from his pocket. The boy nodded. âOkay. Go on around to the back and knock twice.â

As he spoke, he opened the gate. The Hardys entered and walked up the drive.

âLooks as though we made the grade!â Joe whispered triumphantly.

The boysâ hearts were thumping as they went to the rear of the house. Here the weed-grown yard was shrouded in gloom. Joe was about to knock on the back door when Frank stopped him.

âWhatâs the matter?â

âI donât know exactly, Joe, but thereâs something about this setup I donâtââ

He broke off with a cry of alarm as two figures sprang at them out of the darkness! Both boys were seized and rough hands were clamped over their mouths!

CHAPTER IV

Muscle Man

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THE brothers struggled wildly to break loose from the steely hands that clutched them and dug into their faces. As the two boys twisted around, they saw that the thugs were wearing nylon stocking masks drawn tightly over their heads.

Joe managed to brace himself long enough to deliver a stinging kick on the left shin of his foe. The man yelped with pain and loosened his hold. Joe promptly jerked his face free and let out a volley of piercing yells.

âHelp! ... Help! ... Help!â

Frankâs attacker was a thickset, barrel-chested brute. The man was scrabbling at Frankâs pockets as if groping for the glass eye, which gave Frank an opportunity to wrench one arm loose. He swung a chopping right hook that caught his assailant on the side of the head.

Furious, the man let go of Frank and dealt him a stunning backhand cuff that left the boyâs right ear ringing. But Frank, too, was able to shout for help.

The Hardysâ cries seemed to throw their attackers into a frenzy. Joeâs opponent had tried to rip his pockets, but now bent all his efforts on silencing the youth. The other man clutched Frankâs neck in his huge paws and tried to throttle his yells. The brothers fought back like wildcats, kicking, punching, and clawing.

Suddenly a police siren shrilled nearby. Brakes screeched to a halt and footsteps came pounding up the drive. The thugs hurled the boys aside and raced across the yard. Vaulting a back fence, they vanished into the night. Two policemen dashed up to Frank and Joe.

âThey went that way!â Frank panted. âA couple of masked men!â The officers plunged in pursuit.

âHey, Frank! Letâs not forget that kid out front!â Joe exclaimed.

The boys ran around to the front of the house, but the âlookoutâ had disappeared. By now, neighborsâ doors were opening and heads were popping out of windows along the street. The officers soon came running back.

One said to the Hardys, âHop in with us and we may be able to nail those hoods before they get too far away.â

Joe went with the driver while the other policeman accompanied Frank in the convertible. On the way, each of the boys gave an account of what had happened and the police driver turned in a radio alarm.

Frank kept in touch with the prowl car via the Hardysâ own two-way radio. The searchers sped up and down streets, crisscrossing the whole surrounding area. But after the officers had stopped to question a number of people, the pursuit was finally given up.

âHow did you get to us so fast?â Joe asked the police driver.

âChief Collig told us to go to 25 Malabar Road and pick up a man calling himself Lambert for questioning,â the driver replied. âSome neighbor must have heard you two yelling, because we got another emergency call on the. way.â

The car returned to the scene of the attack and the policemen entered the house, using a strip of celluloid to open the door lock. The place proved to be empty. Frank and Joe were asked to accompany the two officers to police headquarters and report to the chief.

Collig, a big, grizzled veteran of the Bayport force, listened intently to the boysâ story. âYou think this whole caper was arranged by Spotty Lemuel, alias Lambert, to get hold of the glass eye?â he asked.

âSure looks that way,â Frank said. âAssuming he was the one who conked Bill Braxton, he must have heard enough of the phone conversation to guess that we had the eye. He also knew we were already looking for him, so he gave that phony address to the motel manager in hopes weâd fall for it.â

Collig nodded. âThat figures, all right.â He asked to see the glass eye and studied it for a moment. âAny idea why Spottyâs so eager to get this back?â

âNot yet,â Frank said, âbut Dad got a lead that may give us the answer. Weâd like to hang on to the eye till we find out for sure.â

âOkay. Iâll have to admit itâs got me stumped.â As the boys walked down the stone steps of headquarters, Frank said, âHow about a milk-shake?â

Joe grinned. âYou read my mind. I can sure use one!â

They drove several blocks to the Hot Rocket, a favorite eating spot of their high school crowd. A familiar yellow jalopy was parked outside.

âWell, well! Look whoâs in there!â Frank said.

The chunky figure of Chet Morton, the jalopyâs owner, was seated in one of the booths. He was poring over a magazine and munching a hamburger.

âHi, fellows!â he mumbled.

The Hardys gave their order and slid onto the seat across from him. Frank flipped up the cover of Chetâs magazine and saw that it was Muscle Man. A weight lifter with bulging arms and torso decorated the cover.

âWow! You really are going in for physical culture!â Frank chuckled.

âAnd he-man food,â Chet said, as the Hardys milkshakes were served. âThat stuff youâve got is for sissies. From now on, Iâm sticking to ground beefsteak, milk, raw fruits, and leafy vegetables. No more candy.â

He paused to flex a bicep and compare it to a photograph in the magazine.

âBoy, this is serious!â Joe said. âWhatâs suddenly made you so hip on body-building?â

âJust for that wisecrack, Iâll tell you,â Chet said proudly. âMeet the new Assistant Supervisor of Physical Training at Doc Graftonâs Health Farm!â

Frank and Joe stared in astonishment. âAssistant Supervisor of Physical Training!â Frank echoed. âAre you kidding?â

âDo I sound like it?â Chet bragged. âThe chef there comes to our farm and buys all his vegetables. He told the doc about me and he offered me a job bouncing medicine balls to the guests and helping them work out. I start tomorrow morning.â

Joe burst out laughing. âNow I get it. You mean they hired you as an exercise boy!â

Chet scowled. âWell ... Iâll be helping Doc Grafton train the people who come there, so Assistant Supervisor is what the job amounts to. The doc used to be a real boxing trainer!â

Joe winked at his brother. âCan you picture Chet putting Zachary Mudge through the exercise bit?â

At Chetâs puzzled look, the Hardys told him of their eccentric visitor. They also briefed him on their new mystery, ending with the recent attack on them.

The chubby boy whistled. âGlass eyes! Strong-arm crooks on the loose! Not for me!â

Frank grinned. âWe may have to call on your muscles for help!â

âOh, Iâll be too busy for detective work,â Chet said hastily. Although not eager to get involved in any dangerous situations, he had often joined the brothers in their sleuthing, and was a loyal friend.

âIf you start tomorrow morning, Chet, how come you arenât home and asleep?â Frank asked. âMuscle men need their rest.â

âAw, I got roped into picking up Iola and Callie after the movie,â Chet explained. âThey went to the Bijou to see some creepy love picture.â

The Hardys perked up. Joe liked Chetâs sister, Iola, and her friend Callie Shaw was Frankâs favorite date.

âUhâlook, old buddy,â said Joe, âwhy donât you stay put and study some more valuable health tips? Frank and I can pick up the girls and bring them back here.â

Chet looked up slyly. âWill you guys treat?â

âWhat a chiseler!â Frank groaned. âBut okay.â

âThen sureâgo ahead.â

âWhat time does the show let out?â Joe asked.

âTen-fifteen,â said Chet, and signaled the waiter for another hamburger.

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. âTwelve minutes. Letâs scram, Joe.â

The Bijou, a small neighborhood theater, closed its box office early and the marquee lights were already out. The Hardys found a parking spot down the street. Then they walked toward the theater.

As they approached it, a weird figure came dashing out the lobby. The man was clutching a tin box under one arm. His head was covered with a stocking mask. Over this was hooked a pair of comic-disguise glasses with bulging eyeballs that glowed in the dark!

âGood grief! Whoâs that nut?â Joe gasped.

Almost at the same moment came a scream from somewhere inside the lobby. The boys dashed forward just in time to see the woman cashier rush out of the office, waving her arms hysterically. âStop him, someone!â she shrieked. âHeâs a thief!â

The masked man was already leaping into a car -a sleek, racy-looking blue hardtop. Before the Hardys could reach him, the engine roared and the car shot away from the curb.

âThat was one of the Goggler gang!â Frank shouted. âCome on, Joe!â

The boys ran back to their convertible, jumped in, and sped in pursuit. They could see the hardtopâs taillights twinkling in the distance. Luckily the street was almost deserted.

âRadio the police!â Frank said, hunching over the wheel. Joe did so.

The hardtop shot through a red light ahead. Frank had to slam on the brakes as a car turned in front of him. Then he gunned after their quarry. Rounding a corner on screeching wheels, the getaway car sped eastward.

âHeâs heading for the Willow River bridge!â Joe exclaimed.

The river gleamed in the distance as the boys entered a wooded park section at the townâs edge. Suddenly there was a deafening bang in front of them.

âA punctured tire!â Joe cried out.

The car ahead lurched and spun out of control, then careened into a ditch!

CHAPTER V

The River Spy

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FRANK swung off the road and braked to a screeching halt. Both boys sprang out.

The blue hardtop was lying on its side, the wheels still spinning. Before the Hardys could reach it, the upper door swung open and the holdup man climbed free. But it was clear he was dazed or injured. He took a few staggering steps and toppled face forward.

The boys were at his side in a moment. The man moaned, then lifted his head painfully. The faint moonlight revealed a swarthy, hook-nosed face. Apparently he had jerked off his spectacles and stocking mask while driving.

âAre you hurt?â Frank asked.

âI ... I donât know.â Wincing, the man struggled to push himself upright.

Frank hastily frisked him. âGrab his arm, Joe, and help me swing him over so I can search his other coat pocket.â

The boys noticed that the man was wearing gloves. As they maneuvered him into a sitting position, he screeched in agony. âOw! ... My knee!â

âSorry,â Joe murmured.

The boys propped the stranger as comfortably as they could against a nearby tree. Frank felt in his other pocket and found no weapon. Noticing the youthsâ calm, expert manner, the holdup man snarled, âWho are you punks, anyhow?â

âFrank and Joe Hardy, if that makes any difference,â Frank replied evenly. âOur dadâs a private investigator.â

The manâs eyes gleamed as if in recognition.

âIâll watch him, Joe. Go give the police another call.â

âRight!â

But as Joe turned away, the man plucked at his trouser leg. âNo! Wait!â the thief exclaimed desperately. âIâll make a deal with you! This job didnât amount to muchâthe cash box is in the wreck somewhere. But if you guys let me go, Iâll put you onto something bigâreally big! Iâll tell you who copped the Jeweled Siva!â

âThe Jeweled Siva?â Joe paused in surprise.

âWeâll listen, but weâre making no deals,â Frank said. As the holdup man glared at them, Frank jerked his head toward the convertible. âGo ahead and make that call, Joe.â

His brother strode back to their car. The thief was groaning and clutching his knee. Frank glanced up the road to see if any other cars were approaching.

Without warning, one of his feet was yanked off the ground! Frank landed heavily on his back. âJoe! Help!â he yelled.

The thief sprang up and raced toward the bridge.

âStop him!â Frank scrambled to his feet and both boys sprinted after the fleeing holdup man.

But the fugitive reached the bridge far ahead of them. In one swift movement he hoisted himself to the steel railing and dived headfirst into the water.

The Hardys reached the spot moments later. By now, the moon had clouded over again and the river was shrouded in darkness. Nothing could be heard except the lapping of the water against the bridge piers. The boys were furious at themselves.

âWe would have to fall for that hurt knee gag!â Joe stormed.

âI sure fell,â Frank said in disgust.

The police soon arrived and a search was made along both banks, but without success. Then the boys went to headquarters to check over the mug shots, but the thiefâs picture was not among them. By the time Frank and Joe got back to the Bijou, the show was long over. Eventually they found Iola and Callie with Chet at the Hot Rocket.

âJoe! Help!â Frank yelled

âWell! At last!â lola, a slender, dark-haired girl, greeted the Hardys with an eager smile. âInstinct tells me you two got involved in that movie holdup!â

âHowâd you guess?â asked Joe.

Chet groaned. âI knew it! Send these two on a perfectly innocent errand and they get mixed up with a gang of crooks!â

âNot a gang.â Frank smiled. âJust oneâand he got away.â

âSounds exciting! Tell us about it!â begged Callie, a pretty brown-eyed blonde.

The Hardys related what had happened and apologized for leaving the two girls stranded. âYouâre excused.â Iola giggled. âIt didnât take us long to locate my brother!â

âListen, I should be in bed by now, getting my rest,â Chet complained.

âOkay,â Joe said. âBut at least give us time for a hamburger if weâre going to foot the bill.â

When the brothers reached home, their mother and Aunt Gertrude had already retired for the night. But Fenton Hardy was going over some case reports in his study. Frank and Joe told him of their exciting adventures.

âYou boys have had a full night,â Mr. Hardy commented. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and added, âItâs odd that a member of the Goggler gang should rob a small movie theater.â

âHow come, Dad?â Frank asked.

âThat gang has pulled some of the biggest jobs in this part of the countryâbank stickups and jewel thefts. A petty crime like this is something new for them.â

âDo you suppose that deal he offered us was on the levelâto tell us who stole the Jeweled Siva?â Joe put in.

âHard to say,â the investigator replied. âIt almost sounds as if heâd broken with the gang and was out for vengeance. Incidentally, Iâve been asked to take on that Jeweled Siva case.â

The boys were elated. But their father told them he would be unable to handle the case until he found the swindler, Ace Pampton, whom he had been engaged to track down.

âPamptonâs trail led here to Bayport,â Mr. Hardy went on, âbut I found out this evening he hopped a plane for St. Louis, so Iâm going there myself on the first flight tomorrow morning. Suppose you boys go to see the owner of the Jeweled Siva and get all the preliminary facts.â

âDo you mean it, Dad?â Joe said eagerly.

âCertainly. That would be a real help. The ownerâs an elderly woman named Mrs. Lunberry. She lives at a little place called Brockton up Willow River.â

âGreat! Weâll go there on the Sleuth first thing tomorrow,â Frank promised.

By eight oâclock the next morning the Hardy boys were steering their motorboat out of Barmet Bay into the mouth of the river. As they neared the bridge, the brothers saw a tow truck hoisting the movie thiefâs getaway car out of the ditch.

âLetâs see if thereâs any news of the holdup man,â Frank proposed.

Joe swerved toward shore and they moored the boat to the bridge abutment. A police detective named Reilly was supervising the hoisting operation.

âFind any clues?â Frank asked.

Reilly shook his head. âThe cash box was in the car with the money spilled out, but I guess you fellows know that. No fingerprints.â

âWe noticed the thief wore gloves,â Joe remarked.

âHis gun mustâve been lying on the seatâit fell out the window when he tipped over,â the detective added. âIt was under the car.â

âLucky break for us, I guess,â Frank said. âHave you traced the car yet?â

âIt was stolen from a new-car storage lot. The company is Izmir Motors over in Ocean City.â Reilly gestured toward the tow truck which bore the name of the same firm. âThe license plates were stolen too.â

The car was a brand-new Torpedo V-8.

âToo bad it had to get banged up that way,â Joe said, admiring its sleek lines.

As the Sleuth proceeded upriver, Frank noticed a shiny green sedan parked on the road overlooking the shore. Farther on, he saw it cruising along slowly. As their boat passed a grove of trees, he was surprised to find it parked again.

âThat car must be tailing us!â he exclaimed.

As Joe gunned the Sleuth toward shore for a closer look, Frank snatched up binoculars. The car sped off and he had time to spot only the first part of the license numberâDZ 7.

âThatâs odd,â he muttered, lowering the glasses.

âWhatâs odd?â

âJoe, it may be just a coincidence, but that job was a brand-new Torpedo V-8!â

CHAPTER VI

Oriental Curse

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âDm you get a look at the driver?â Joe asked.

Frank shook his head ruefully. âI was trying to focus on the license, but got only part of itâDZ 7. I think there was a man at the wheel waiting, and another fellow jumped in.â

Puzzled, the Hardys continued upriver. Forty minutes later they reached the little village of Brockton and tied up at the public boat landing. A little boy with a sunburned nose who was fishing off the dock with a bamboo pole scowled at them.

âCan you tell us where Mrs. Lunberry lives?â Frank asked him with a smile.

âThat gray cottage over near the woods.â The lad indicated the direction with a jerk of his head and kept on scowling. âYou guys realize you just scared off a big fat bluegill?â

Joe grinned. âSorry, pal. Next time weâll keep our big fat boat out of your way.â

The Hardys strode to the cottage. Their knock was answered by a silver-haired, elderly woman, bent and careworn.

âWeâre Frank and Joe Hardy,â Frank explained. âYou called our father about the Jeweled Siva.â

âOh, yes! Come in, come in!â she replied. âWill Mr. Hardy be able to take the case?â

âNot yet. But he asked us to get the facts.â

Mrs. Lunberry invited the boys to sit down. Frank and Joe glanced about the small living room. The furnishings were comfortable but meager. They noticed well-worn books, some antique-looking pottery, and framed photographs of people apparently in outdoor foreign scenes.

âI can imagine what youâre thinking,â said Mrs. Lunberry as she seated herself on the faded chintz-covered sofa. âYouâre wondering how someone as poor as I am ever happened to own such a priceless object as the Jeweled Siva. Well, thereâs a long story attached to it.â

âWeâd like to hear it,â Joe murmured.

âMy late husband, Clarence Lunberry, was an archaeologist,â the woman began. âHe went on expeditions all over the world, to dig among ancient ruins. Often I went with him.â

âDid he bring the Jeweled Siva back from one of his expeditions?â Frank asked.

âYes, from a remote jungly part of India called Tripura. He had heard of a lost temple there and after many hardships he found it. The temple had fallen into ruins, but a beautiful little jeweled carving of the god Siva was still inside. The natives told him a curse would fall on anyone who disturbed the figure, but Clarence ignored their warnings and got permission to take the idol with him.â

âThe curse didnât come true, I hope,â said Joe.

Mrs. Lunberry shook her head sadly. âIndeed, it did. Two members of the expedition diedâone from malaria and one from being mauled by a leopard. Clarence himself had all sorts of bad luck after that. He was crippled in an accident and had financial troubles, but he always refused to give up the Jeweled Siva.â

The widow said that she had kept the figure after her husbandâs death. But with her funds almost gone, she had finally been forced to put it up for sale. The tiny idol had been on display in the shop of an art and antique dealer named Fontana in New York City.

âWonât Fontanaâs insurance company pay you for the loss of the figure?â Frank queried.

âOrdinarily the company would pay for such a theft, but not in this case,â Mrs. Lunberry replied. âYou see, when I arranged to let Mr. Fontana handle the sale of the Siva, a business contract was drawn up to cover our agreement. But I know little about such things and I was slow in getting the papers signed.â

âYou mean, there was no contract in force when the Jeweled Siva was stolen?â Frank asked.

âExactly. And the insurance company requires one on all items that Mr. Fontana takes into his store to sell for an outside owner. So, I shanât get a penny. I donât know what Iâll do if your father or the police donât find the Siva!â

Mrs. Lunberryâs voice broke and she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. âOh, dear! I almost believe there is a curse on that figure!â

Frank and Joe did their best to comfort her.

âDad will certainly do everything he can, Mrs. Lunberry,â Frank promised. âAnd so will we.â

Suddenly the womanâs face went white. She sucked in her breath sharply, then gave a piercing scream!

âWhatâs wrong?â Joe cried out. Both boys sprang up from their chairs.

âThe window! I saw something!â she gasped hysterically. âLike a head with no face! It was horrible!â The elderly woman was trembling.

âWeâll see whoâs out there!â Frank told her, and the boys dashed outside.

âThere he goes!â Joe yelled, pointing as they rounded a corner of the cottage.

A man with a stocking mask over his head was running toward the woods! Frank and Joe sprinted in pursuit. They plunged in among the trees. At first they were guided by faint sounds of rustling shrubbery and steps trampling dry leaves. Then, as the Hardys groped and darted about in the forest gloom, the sounds faded. The boys were forced to slow down and search the crushed underbrush for signs of the fugitiveâs trail.

âItâs hopeless,â Frank groaned at last. âHe could be a mile from here by now!â

Disgusted, the Hardys walked back to Mrs. Lunberryâs cottage. Frank stopped short.

âLook there, Joe! Under the window!â

The crude drawing of an eye had been chalked on the gray clapboard siding! The oval pupil and spark lines were instantly recognizable.

âJust like the glass eye and the drawing on Zattaâs card!â Joe said grimly.

When the brothers went back to the cottage, they found Mrs. Lunberry pale but much calmer. She offered the boys some tea.

âNo, thanks,â said Frank. âWeâd like to show you something if youâre feeling all right.â

âOf course.â Mrs. Lunberry sounded a bit apprehensive, but she accompanied the boys outside. The sinister drawing of the eye seemed to frighten her again.

âEver seen anything like it before?â Joe asked.

âYes, Iâm almost certain I have,â she said shakily. âPerhaps it was in connection with my husbandâs work, butâoh, dear, I just canât think right now. It may come back to me later.â

Frank promised that their father would get in touch with her as soon as he was free to work on the case. He also asked Mrs. Lunberry to let them know if she recollected where she had seen such an eye.

âIâm sure it signifies something terrible!â she said uneasily. âItâs probably connected with the curse on the Jeweled Siva!â

Frank and Joe said good-by and walked back to the boat landing. They hoped the fisherboy would be there. The mysterious man might have quizzed him. But the lad was gone. The Hardys got into the Sleuth and headed for Bayport.

âDo you suppose that guy in the stocking mask was the same one who trailed us in the green Torpedo car?â Joe mused.

âI donât know,â Frank replied, âbut letâs check on that auto dealership in Ocean City.â

When working on a case, the brothers usually kept the Sleuthâs radio turned on to pick up any calls from home. Just as they neared the mouth of Barmet Bay, Tony Pritoâs voice came over the speaker:

âNapoli calling Sleuth! ... Come in, please.â

The Napoli was Tonyâs own speedy little craft.

âSleuth at mouth of river,â Frank replied, picking up the microphone. âWhatâs happened, Tony?â

Their chum asked, âWhen will you be back?â

âWeâre on our way now. Why?â

âSomebody was asking for you. Iâll tell you all about it when you get here,â Tony replied. âOver and out.â

âHmm. Wonder what that was all about,â Frank muttered as he put down the mike. Joe shrugged.

Rounding out of the river into the bay, the Sleuth bounded over the waves toward their boathouse. As they neared it, another motorboat put-putted out to meet them.

âItâs the Napoli!â Joe remarked.

Tony drew alongside. âChet Morton wants to see you two as soon as possible,â he reported.

âHeâs the one who was asking for us?â Frank inquired.

âRight. Chet says itâs urgent. He wants you to meet him at Doc Graftonâs Health Farm at eleven-thirty.â

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. âOnly a quarter to eleven. What say we stop at the hospital first and see how Bill Braxtonâs making out?â

âGood idea,â Joe agreed as he berthed the Sleuth.

The boys drove to Bayport General Hospital and went to Braxtonâs room.

âHi, fellows!â he greeted them. The mechanic was lounging in a chair, reading a magazine.

Frank grinned. âYou donât look very sick.â

âMe? Iâm rarinâ to go. Luckily I have a very thick skullâfrom being a racing driver, I guess.â

âNo aftereffects from that clout on the noggin?â Joe asked.

âNot a bit. The doctor was afraid I might have suffered a concussion, so they kept me for observation. But theyâre discharging me today.â

The boys discussed with Bill the mysterious attack on him. âSo Lambertâs a crook named Spotty Lemuel,â Bill said. âWonder why he picked on me!â

Frank asked, âHow did Spotty first hear about your hydrofoil, by the way?â

Bill wrinkled his forehead. âDonât know exactly. I met him at the track once in Ocean City. I drive stock cars over there, you knowâfor Izmir Motors.â

lzmir Motors! Frank and Joe looked startled at hearing the name of the auto dealership.

âSomething wrong?â Bill asked, puzzled.

âWeâre not sure,â Frank said. âBut it happens we were planning to check on that same place.â

Leaving the hospital, the Hardys drove out of town to the health resort. It was located on a hillside overlooking the bay. Its wooded rolling acres were enclosed by a high wire fence. Brass letters arching over the driveway proclaimed: DOC GRAFTONâ S HEALTH FARM.

Chet was waiting at the entrance for the Hardys. His usually calm face looked excited.

âI just found out you guys are going to be kidnapped!â he said.

CHAPTER VII

Beach Battle

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âKIDNAPPED?â Joe echoed. âAre you serious?â

âOf course Iâm serious!â Chet retorted.

The chubby youth was wearing white trousers and a green gym shirt with the name of the health resort in white letters across his chest.

âOkay, tell us,â Frank said.

Chet gave a worried glance behind him. âI canât talk about it here,â he whispered. âI quit at noon. Wait and Iâll tell you the whole story.â

âIf youâre not going to tell us till twelve oâclock,â Joe said, exasperated, âwhyâd you get us up here at eleven-thirty?â

ââCause you two are always chasing around on some goofy mystery case, thatâs why. I wanted to make sure youâd be here in plenty of time.â Chet regarded the young sleuths somberly. âBoy, if this tip I got is right, you fellows have really got yourselves in a spot. I wouldnât want to be in your shoes!â

âStop looking so smug,â Frank said. âWhat are we supposed to doâpark here and just worry?â

âCome on inside and Iâll show you around,â Chet invited. âWait a second.â

He hurried over to a small stone gatehouse and spoke to the uniformed gatekeeper. The man gave Frank and Joe a brief once-over and nodded. âOkay. Just this once.â

The Hardys hopped from the convertible and the three boys started up the curving graveled drive.

âHow come you get off so early?â Joe asked.

âWell, itâs my first day,â Chet replied, âso all they had me come in for was to learn my way around and get a uniform and stuff like that. Besides, I have an after-dinner athletic period tonight.â

The emerald lawn swept upward to a large white porticoed building. On a stone-flagged terrace in front, guests were sunning themselves in deck chairs. Several outbuildings could be glimpsed, set back among tall oak trees.

âSome layout,â Frank murmured admiringly.

âYou bet! Itâs strictly for guys with big bankrolls,â Chet boasted.

As the boys stood chatting and looking around, a burly man with a shock of thick black hair came toward them. He also wore a green gym shirt, revealing sloping, muscular shoulders and furry, apelike arms. His nose was flat and almost shapeless. Cauliflower ears stuck out of his bulletlike head.

âGood grief, whoâs he?â Joe muttered.

âThe bouncer, probably,â Frank said. âIâll bet heâs coming to give us the heave-ho.â

âRelaxâheâs harmless,â Chet assured them.â âHis nameâs Rip Sinder. Used to box heavyweight when Doc Grafton was a fight manager and trainer. Now heâs sort of a general handyman. Incidentally, donât be surprised at the noises Rip makes. He got punched in the Adamâs apple and it damaged his vocal cords so he canât talk.â

The ex-pug approached and handed Frank a note penciled in spidery handwriting. It read:

Iâd like to talk to you about
Braxtonâs hydrofoil.

Z. Mudge

Frank looked surprised. âWhere is Mr. Mudge?â

Rip Sinder gave a guttural grunt and made stabbing gestures toward the terrace.

âThank you.â Frank restrained a start as he took in the boxerâs huge, sausage-fingered hands.

âCome on. Letâs go see him,â Joe said. He whispered to his brother, âWhatâs wrong?â

âDid you get a look at Sinderâs hands?â

âBig, arenât they?â Chet said.

âIâll say theyâre big,â Frank retorted under his breath. âJust like the pair of hands that tried to throttle me last night!â

Chet shuddered. âYou donât mean Rip did it?â

Frank shrugged. âProbably a coincidence. But Iâd like to get my hands on the personâwhoever he is.â

The pudgy lad groaned. âRemind me to keep away from you two. You attract trouble!â

Zachary Mudge was seated in a deck chair with his spindly legs stretched out. As before, he was clad only in shorts and a straw hat.

âDid you want to see us, sir?â Frank said.

âWhat? Speak up, boy!â As Frank repeated his words in a bellow, Mr. Mudge fiddled with his hearing aid. âAll right, all right! You donât have to shoutâIâm not deaf. Certainly I want to see you. Why do you think I sent for you?â

âWell, here we are, sir,â Joe said, grinning.

âWhat about that fellow Braxton? Is he out of the hospital yet?â

âHeâs getting out today, sir.â Suddenly Joe snapped his fingers. âFrank! We forgot to tell Braxton about Mr. Mudge!â

The elderly man snorted contemptuously. âTypical! You young whippersnappers wouldnât remember to come in out of the rain if someone didnât remind you. How about Lambert? Has he made Braxton an offer yet?â

âNo, sir. Braxton hasnât seen him,â Frank replied.

Mudge cackled and rubbed his hands in glee. âFine! Then thereâs still time to sew things up! All right, sonnies.â Settling back, Mudge pulled his straw hat down over his face.

âWhat a character!â Chet Morton whispered as the boys walked away.

Chet hurriedly showed Frank and Joe through the splendid gymnasium building. This included a pool, steam room, tiled showers, and handball courts. The main room was equipped with exercise mats, trampolines, pulley weights, and other apparatus. Chet dropped several broad hints about his prowess as a gymnast.

âOkay, letâs see you perform on that,â Joe challenged, pointing to a leather horse.

âNot now. I have to change.â Seeing the Hardysâ grins, Chet burst out, âOkay, if you think I canât! Iâll show you!â

Seizing the steel grips, he hoisted himself off the floor, getting somewhat red in the face. Then he tried to swing his legs around the horse. But as he let go with one hand, his grip with the other loosened.

âOops!â Frank cried, and Chet landed heavily on the mat in a sitting position.

âThat doggone handgrip was slippery!â Chet explained, wincing as he got up.

âSure.â Joe repressed a smile. âAnyhow, it was a good try.â

Chet changed clothes in the locker room and the three boys walked back down the drive.

âWell, itâs noon and youâre through here,â Frank reminded Chet. âHow soon do we get briefed on that kidnapping tip?â

Just then Chetâs yellow jalopy drove up outside the gateway. Two girls sat in the front.

âHey! Iola and Callie!â Joe exclaimed.

The girls waved gaily and the trio hurried to meet them. Chet was chuckling as he ran.

âWell, fellows, itâs like this,â he said. âYouâre about to be kidnapped by two dangerous dollsâfor a beach party!â

Frank and Joe stopped short, their jaws dropping open in surprise. Chet, Iola, and Callie burst into peals of laughter.

âMan, did I ever have these guys going!â Chet informed his two conspirators. âThey were expecting some big underworld trap!â

âWhoâs complaining?â Frank retorted with a grin. âCallie can kidnap me any day.â

âThey even brought our surfboards!â Joe said.

âAnd your trunks and two picnic hampers!â Chet added, peering into the back seat. âLetâs go!â

Callie rode with Frank in the convertible, while Joe piled in with Iola and Chet. They drove to a spot just north of Barmet Bay, called Gremlin Beach, which had become popular for surf-riding because of its high swells.

âWhat a day for surf-birds!â Joe cried as the foursome jumped out onto the clean white stretch of sand. An onshore breeze was blowing, and the waves from some distant storm were piling into high-crested breakers. Two boats came into view, kicking up plumes of spray.

âTony and Biff!â Frank exclaimed. Biff Hooper was another Bayport High pal.

The Napoli and Biffâs boat, the Envoy, soon arrived. Both boys had brought dates. In a few minutes the young people were frolicking in the water. Frank and Joe, expert surf-riders, brought screams of delight from the girls. They soared and dipped like skimming sea gulls.

Biff tried and did a âwipe out,â coming up from the spill with a mouthful of salt water.

Presently the girls went ashore to broil hamburgers and frankfurters. Joe, glancing shoreward, noticed a youth with sun-bleached hair talking to Iola. She looked annoyed. Suddenly Joeâs pulse skipped a beat.

âHey, Frank!â he called. âItâs that wise guy who checked our âpassâ at the empty house last night!â

The Hardys bounded out of the water. The stranger saw them coming and beat a hasty retreat. But Joe grabbed his arm. âHold it, Buster! You have some explaining to do!â

In answer the youth swung a surprise blow at Joeâs jaw, knocking him off balance. But Frank darted after the attacker and tackled him.

âNow start talking!â Frank ordered, letting him get up.

The youth said his name was Fred Hare and that he was spending a week at a resort hotel in Bayport with his parents. He told the Hardys he had been paid five dollars to act as lookout at the house on Malabar Road.

âBy whom?â

âSome man I met on the street. I never saw him before,â Fred Hare whined. His description of the man was vague.

âCould have been Spotty Lemuel,â Joe said.

At a call from Tony, the Hardys turned their heads. Fred seized his chance and sprinted toward a sand dune. Frank and Joe took after him, but as they topped the dune they saw him leap into a boat.

âI fed you guys a pack of lies!â he jeered, and gunned the motor. âI know plenty more!â The boat sped off.

Joe was furious, but Frank calmly strode back to their convertible to call Chief Collig. As the radio warmed up, the Hardys were startled to hear Aunt Gertrudeâs voice over the speaker.

âBoys! Come home at once!â she said. âIâve caught the scoundrel whoâs behind this mystery!â

CHAPTER VIII

DZ7â

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âTHIS is Frank, Aunt Gertrude! Who is the fellow youâve caught?â

âIâve no time to explain!â Miss Hardyâs voice snapped back. âJust get home here at once and help me attend to him! Your mother is out. Over and out!â

The Hardy boys looked at each other in stunned surprise.

âGood night!â Joe gasped. âI wonder who it is sheâs nabbed.â

âYour guess is as good as mine,â Frank said. âWhoever it is, weâd better blast off in a hurry!â.

Iola and Callie looked stricken when the Hardys announced they had to rush home. But Iola quickly recovered her impish good spirits. âEven detectives must eat!â She quickly handed hamburgers to Frank and Joe.

The Hardys ate quickly, then sped off along the highway. Reaching town, they wove their way through traffic to the house at Elm and High.

Frank and Joe dashed inside. The place seemed strangely quiet.

âAunt Gertrude! Where are you?â Joe yelled.

The boys hurried downstairs to the basement where the Hardysâ short-wave set was located. No one was there.

âSomething must have happened to her!â Frank said fearfully.

They ran up from the basement, then mounted the hall stairway two steps at a time. Faint noises drew Frank to their fatherâs study. He burst in and stopped short with a gasp.

âSheâs in here, Joe!â he called.

Miss Hardy was bound to a chair. Her mouth was covered with a manâs handkerchief, but her eyes flashed fire. A warning had been lettered on a piece of paper and clipped to the collar of her blouse:

TAKE MY ADVICE AND KEEP THIS
BLABBERMOUTH GAGGED ALL THE TIME!

Frank and Joe hastily untied their aunt.

âWell! Itâs about time you two got here!â she fumed as the handkerchief was removed. âThank heavens you finally did!â

âWhat happened, Aunty?â Frank asked.

Miss Hardy was not ready to tell her story just yet. Declaring that she felt faint, she sank into an easy chair and called for smelling salts and a cup of strong tea. At last she began to tell what had happened.

âYour mother went downtown this afternoon,â Aunt Gertrude began. âThen a bit later a meter reader from the lighting company knocked at the back door and went down into the basement. I was busy straightening up and didnât hear him go out. But I assumed he had left after a couple of minutes.â

âGo on!â Joe urged.

âWould you believe it, I discovered him here in your fatherâs study trying to crack open the safe!â

For the first time, the boys looked over at the steel safe.

âLeapinâ lizards!â Joe cried.

Chalked on the door was the same drawing of an eye that Frank and Joe had found under Mrs. Lunberryâs window!

The safe door seemed to be securely closed, but the metal showed deep gouge marks and a broken drill bit lay on the floor nearby amid fragments of metal and some pottery.

âLooks as though he never did manage to get into the safe,â Frank remarked.

âIndeed he didnât!â Gertrude Hardy retorted. âI snatched up a vase from the hallway table and struck him over the head with it. The man wasâout cold, I believe you two would say.â

Frankâs and Joeâs faces broke into broad grins. âNice work, Aunty,â said Frank. âIs that when you went downstairs and called us over the radio?â

âYes,â Aunt Gertrude went on, âbut when I came back up to check on him, the scoundrel had revived. This time he waved a small bottle of nitroglycerine that heâd brought to blast open the safe, and threatened to blow up the house. Iâwell âbecame faint with nervous shock and that was when he tied me up. But not before I gave him a good piece of my mind!â

The two boys darted a glance at each other. They admired Aunt Gertrudeâs spirit, and pictured her scolding the intruder roundly as long as she could. No wonder he had clipped on the blabbermouth sign!

âI guess he cleared out suspecting youâd called for help,â said Frank. âWhat did he look like?â

Miss Hardy replied promptly, âThe man was clearly a criminal typeâI could tell that from the shape of his ears!â

Joe smiled. âAnd the fact that he was cracking a safe,â he said innocently.

âNever mind the jokes, young man. Features do reveal character.â Miss Hardy asked for pencil and paper and sketched the intruderâs ears. She added, âHe was about five feet eight, blond, broad-shouldered, and had a tooth missing in front.â

âYouâre very observant, Aunt Gertrude,â Frank said sincerely. Turning to his brother, he remarked, âIt sure wasnât Spotty Lemuel.â

Joe agreed, suggesting the intruder might have been the masked man who had eavesdropped at Mrs. Lunberryâs house. Suddenly Joe slapped his forehead. âBoy, weâre really batting a thousand today! We never did call the chief about Fred Hare!â

âWeâd better phone him right now.â Frank made the call, giving Collig a complete rundown.

The brothers, although eager to resume their sleuthing, decided to stay at home for the day in case the safecracker returned.

The next morning after breakfast the Hardy boys drove to Ocean City and asked directions to Izmir Motors. The automobile dealership was located in a low, white, modernistic building with a glass-fronted showroom. At one side was the used-car display lot. Parked in an open field at the rear were row upon row of gleaming new Torpedo sedans, station wagons, and convertibles awaiting sale.

âThis outfit must do a big business,â Joe remarked.

The boys prowled around, peering at the license number of every green Torpedo sedan. Those on the new-car lot had no plates, but there was one on display among the used cars and anotherâevidently a salesmanâs demonstrator âstanding near the building. Neither checked out. Around the corner, however, they spotted a third green sedan parked at the curb.

Its license number was DZ 736-421!

âWow! Maybe weâve struck oil!â Joe exclaimed.

The boys hurried into the showroom and were greeted by a dapper-looking salesman.

âWeâd like to speak to the manager,â Frank said.

âRight over there in the office.â

The manager, a balding and middle-aged man with rimless glasses, was speaking on the telephone. A desk name plate identified him as H. J. Sykes, Sales Manager. As he finished talking, he gave the Hardys a cold, narrow-eyed stare. Finally he hung up. âSomething I can do for you?â

Frank then began, âWeâre trying to trace a car, sir.â

âWhat for?â Sykes broke in curtly.

âOur father, Fenton Hardy, is a private investigatorâitâs in connection with one of his cases,â Frank explained. âI think the car weâre after is parked right around the corner. Itâs a new green Torpedo sedan, license number DZ 736-421. Can you tell us who owns it, please?â

âNo, I canât!â the manager snapped. âMy timeâs valuable. I have other things to do than to help amateur private eyes.â

His rudeness stung Joe into retorting, âMaybe youâd rather have us go to the police!â

âThe police?â Sykes cleared his throat uncomfortably and finally stood up. âOh, very well. Wait here. Iâll check our files.â

He strode to an adjoining office and returned a few minutes later. âSorry, I canât help you. None of our personnel owns the car.â

Frank and Joe exchanged glances and Frank said, âThanks for your trouble.â

They walked out of the showroom, feeling Sykesâ eyes on their backs.

âThink he was keeping something back?â Joe muttered.

âIâd bet on it,â Frank said. âLetâs go take another look at that car.â

They rounded the corner and stopped short. The green sedan was gone!

âThat creep tricked us!â Joe blurted angrily. âIâll bet he had someone drive it away while he was pretending to check license numbers!â

Frank scowled. âMaybe the car will come back, once they think weâre gone. Letâs stake out the place and see what happens.â

âGood idea!â

The boys drove off, past the showroom. Frank kept going until they were sure no one was tailing them. Then he circled around and parked on a side street near Izmir Motors.

âI noticed a diner right near where the green sedan was standing,â Frank said to Joe. âHow about you going in there and keeping watch? Iâll take that drugstore right across from the showroom.â

âRoger!â

The morning dragged by. The boys met each other from time to time to exchange reports, and switched positions occasionally. All day long they kept up their dogged watch. The showroom remained open in the evening.

At last their vigilance paid off. Shortly before nine oâclock both boys noticed the green sedan they were watching for cruise slowly around the block. In the dusk it was difficult to make out the driverâs face.

Frank and Joe hastily got their convertible. As they drove back toward the showroom, they saw the green sedan suddenly speed away.

âHe must have spotted us!â Joe exclaimed.

Frank gunned in pursuit and kept the car in view. The driver wove his way through the mid-town traffic. Near the outskirts of Ocean City, the Torpedo increased speed and lengthened the distance between the two cars. Frank and Joe saw by its taillights that it had turned up a side road.

By this time, darkness had fallen. Frank had switched off their headlights as they left the trafficked streets behind, so as not to be seen in the sedanâs rear-view mirror.

The turnoff taken by the Torpedo was an unpaved road, with only a few widely separated street lights. One side of the road was wooded. On the other could be glimpsed the skeleton frames of several new houses under construction.

âWhereâd he go?â Joe said, straining his eyes in the darkness. âHas he given us the slip?â

Frank toed the accelerator. âMay as well turn on the lights,â he muttered.

As the yellow head beams illumined the road, both boys gasped. Just ahead was an open excavation!

âLook out!â Joe yelled.

Frank tried to brake and swerve but there was no time. The convertible plunged downward, its front wheels landing with a jolt as the body banged against the frame! Shaken, the Hardys climbed out onto the road.

Frank groaned. âWhat a mess! Itâll take a tow truck toââ

Both boys whirled suddenly at the sound of rushing footsteps. Two stocking-masked figures had darted from behind the trees fringing the road! Up-raised arms swung hard, and Frank and Joe sank to the ground, unconscious!

CHAPTER IX

A Cruise in the Sea Spook

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WHEN Joe opened his eyes he found himself looking up at the night sky. It took him a moment to collect his wits. Then he realized he was lying in the road and struggled upright.

âSufferinâ snakes!â he muttered to himself. âHow long have I been out? ... Oooh!â His head throbbed from the blow he had received.

A faint moan nearby drew his attention.

âFrank!â Joe sprang to his feet and hurried to his brotherâs assistance. âAre you okay?â

âSure, IâI guess so.... Whew! Iâm still seeing stars, though.â

Joe gave Frank a hand while he got up. Ruefully the brothers took stock of their position. Their car was nose down in the huge pothole.

âBoy, are we ever a couple of bird brains!â Frank said in disgust. âTake a look.â

He pointed to several overturned wooden barriers beside the road. Evidently they had been used to block off the excavation. Nearby lay lanterns and warning flaresâall extinguished.

âThe whole setup was arranged beforehandâand that green sedan led us right into the trap,â Joe said.

âWhich means someone must have spotted us during the day when we were staked out at Izmir Motors,â Frank speculated.

âRight. And it could have been Sykes himself.â

The Torpedo sedan, the boys reasoned, had pulled off the road and among the trees before reaching the excavation. Then the thugs had waited for the Hardyâs car to appear, hoping it would plunge into the hole.

âWhat do you suppose they were after?â Joe asked his brother.

âI can guess,â Frank said. âThe glass eye.â

âLucky we left it home.â

Frank tried their convertibleâs two-way radio and found it undamaged. He contacted the Ocean City police operator. A prowl car arrived, followed soon after by a tow truck from an all-night garage. The convertible was hauled out of the excavation and examined. Its front wheels had been jarred out of alignment and the frame needed straightening, so the Hardys had to return to Bayport by bus.

It was after midnight when they walked into their house. Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had already gone to bed. Frank found a note in his motherâs handwriting on the telephone pad.

âHey, look at this, Joe!â

It said: Bill Braxton tried to reach you twice this evening.

âWonder whatâs up,â Joe said.

âItâs probably too late to get him now. Weâll have to wait until morning.â

Next day, before breakfast, Frank called Braxtonâs boathouse.

âBoy, Iâm glad you called early!â Bill said. âHowâd you two like to take a cruise to Long Point with me on the Sea Spook?â

âSounds terrific!â Frank said. Then he asked, âBy the way, Bill, have you heard from a man named Zachary Mudge?â

âI sure did, and he told me heâd talked to you fellows. Thatâs what this cruise is all about.â

Braxton explained that Mr. Mudge was interested in forming a partnership to put the young mechanicâs hydrofoil design into production. The craft would be built by one of Mudgeâs present companiesâthe Neptune Boatworks at Long Point. First, however, he wanted Braxton to take the boat there to be looked over and tried out by Neptuneâs chief engineer.

âThereâs to be a conference at one oâclock and a trial run at threeâso we ought to shove off pronto. Iâd like to get there by noon and have time to grab some lunch.â Braxton added, âThereâs a swell beach at Long Point. You two could have a swim while Iâm at the boatworks.â

An idea popped into Frankâs mind. âSwell, Bill âcount us in!â

Frank hurried to the table, where he and Joe excitedly discussed the cruise over breakfast. âLook!â Frank proposed. âWe could hop a train at Long Point and be in New York City in less than an hour. That would give us a chance to talk to that art dealer about the Jeweled Siva and still get back in time for the trial run.â

âKeen idea!â Joe agreed.

Mrs. Hardy had no objection to the trip, but Aunt Gertrude expressed grave doubts about the seaworthiness of Braxtonâs âcontraption.â âAnd whatâs all this about the Jeweled Siva?â she inquired, giving the boys a piercing stare.

âThe Jeweled Siva is a valuable little idol from India. It was stolen,â Frank explained. âDadâs going to take the case and weâre doing some preliminary legwork for him.â

âThe idol has a curse on it, Aunt Gertrude!â Joe said. He proceeded to give her a blood-chilling version of the story the boys had heard from Mrs. Lunberry.

âHumph,â said Miss Hardy. âIf you think I believe one word of that nonsense about a curse, youâre mistaken.â But the boys could tell she was disturbed when she almost poured maple syrup into her coffee.

âWhat Joe told you is true, Aunty,â Frank said, straight-faced but with a twinkle. âWhen we were at Mrs. Lunberryâs a faceless figure peered in the window.â

Mrs. Hardy became worried and begged the boys not to have anything more to do with the case. After much wheedling and reassurance, however, she was persuaded that they should continue.

âWhew!â Joe breathed as the boys started off for the boathouse. âNext time I start teasing Aunt Gertrude with any chills-and-thrills stuff remind me to keep my big mouth shut!â

âDitto!â Frank said, grinning.

The Sea Spook was fueled and checked by the time they reached the bay. Soon it was scudding out of the harborârising on its hydrofoils as it picked up speed.

âIs the deal with Mr. Mudge all set?â Joe asked the Spookâs skipper.

âWell, not quite. The slide-rule boys at the boatworks are going to look over my blueprints with a fine-tooth comb. Then the chief engineer will probably give this job a real workout on Long Point Sound.â Braxton added with a confident smile, âBut I think I can convince him.â

The sun beat down hotly out of a cloudless sky and the Atlantic was running in calm swells as the Sea Spook tooled along the coast at thirty knots. Frank and Joe enjoyed the cruise immensely.

It was not yet noon when the craft docked at Long Point. The Hardys hurried off to catch their train. By ten minutes to one it was pulling into New York City. They taxied through skyscrapered canyons to Fontanaâs art shop in Lower Manhattan. A sign in the window said:

OBJETS DâART
Federico Fontana

Inside, the store was filled with paintings, pieces of sculpture, and tapestries. A clerk directed the boys to Mr. Fontana, a tall, distinguished-looking man with graying dark hair and beard.

âOf course I have heard of the famous detective, Fenton Hardy!â he said, shaking hands with Frank and Joe. âAnd I am most happy to hear that he will be taking the case.â

âWill you tell us about the theft, please?â Frank asked.

Fontana related that the shopâs burglar alarm had been cunningly disconnected by the thief or thieves, who had jimmied the back door.

Joe remarked, âWhoever did it must have cased this place pretty thoroughly beforehand.â

âExactly. No doubt he was one of the many people who came into my salon to browse around during the past few weeks.â

âBut you didnât notice anyone who struck you as suspicious?â Frank asked.

Fontana frowned and stroked his beard. âI recall one dark-skinned man. He wore a turban and appeared to be an East Indian. He asked many questions and fingered the Siva as if he hated to put it down. But unfortunatelyââFontana threw out his hands in despairââI have no idea who he was.â

âNothing was taken except the Siva?â

âNothing at all. A policeman passing by on his beat thought he saw a glimmer of light in the shop and tried the door. He went inside, but found the place dark and empty.â

âDo you think the thieves could sell the Siva anywhere?â Joe asked.

âDefinitely,â Fontana replied. âThere are many collectors who would buy such an exquisite object with no questions asked. The gems alone would bring ten thousand dollars.â

Frank suddenly took out the glass eye. âHave you ever seen anything like this, sir?â

âBut how intriguing!â The art dealer examined the eye with keen interest. âNo, I have never seen such an object before. It is a most beautiful piece of craftsmanshipâlike the fine quality of Murano glass. Would you care to sell it?â

âIâm afraid not,â Frank replied. âHave you any idea where it may have been made?â

Fontana shrugged, but suggested that it might have come from Venice, Italy. He asked the boys where they had obtained it. Frank said merely that they had found it and politely evaded any further questions. He and Joe thanked the art dealer and prepared to leave the shop.

As Joe was opening the door, he stopped short with a gasp. âFrank! Look!â he hissed.

A blind man with dark glasses and a tray of pencils was standing just across the street!

âThatâs Zatta, all right!â Frank exclaimed. âLetâs go talk to him!â

The boys waited for a break in traffic and darted across. The blind man hastily walked away, tapping with his white cane. Joe plucked his sleeve.

âGet away from me!â Zatta snarled under his breath. âGo on! Beat it! ... Iâll get in touch with you later!â

Joe looked at his brother. Frank gave a puzzled shrug and the two boys dropped back among the other pedestrians. Frank flagged a taxi and told the driver, âPenn Station.â

On the way, they continued to puzzle over the blind manâs reaction. âZatta sounded scared to death,â Joe remarked. âI wonder if he was on the level about getting in touch with us.â

âWeâll just have to wait and see,â Frank replied. âMaybe heâs afraid of having talked too much already.â

The brothers arrived at Long Point in plenty of time for the trial run. Bill Braxton, Frank, Joe, and the engineer Kurt Rummel started off in the Sea Spook on the dot of three. Boaters gaped as the hydrofoil streaked across the Sound.

Rummel seemed much impressed. âIf she can perform anything like this in heavy weather, you really have something here, Braxton!â he said.

Bill put the craft through a series of tight maneuvers. Plumes of spray flew in the air as the Spook pirouetted about gracefully. Suddenly she refused to come out of a turn.

âWhatâs wrong?â Rummel asked with a frown.

âI donât know,â Braxton muttered anxiously. âThe rudder must be jammed!â

He dashed out of the cabin toward the fantail. Frank went aft with him to help. Braxton bent over the rail to peer down at the rudder linkage. At that instant the craft lurched and swung sharply to port! As it heeled over, Frank and Braxton were hurled into the water!

Terror chilled Joe. His brother and Bill Braxton might be mangled by the propeller or the foils!

CHAPTER X

Dangerous Dobermans

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THE Sea Spook was spinning around Frank and Bill Braxton in a tight circleâcompletely out of control!

âStop the engine!â Joe yelled to Rummel, and made his way out onto the tilting afterdeck.

The engineer flung an angry retort over his shoulder. He had already closed the throttle and was probing at the steering controls, hoping to get some response to the helm.

Joe could see the two figures floundering in the water. Flying spray from the Spook was blinding and half-drowning them. Joe was slipping and teetering on the wet deck, but he managed to unhook a life ring from the rail and toss it into the water.

The craft had so much way on from the high speed that it took the Spook some time to slow. Gradually her hull settled into the water. In a few moments the Spook came to a dead stop.

Frank and Bill Braxton, apparently unhurt, stroked their way over to the hydrofoil, blinking water out of their eyes. Joe and Rummel hauled them aboard.

âWhat went wrong, Bill?â Frank asked as they dried off with towels from the storage locker.

The young mechanic shook his head gloomily. âI donât know yet, except that the steering system failed. The rudder must have broken and slapped over to one side.â

Kurt Rummel refrained from making any comment, but his face showed professional disapproval. A harbor patrol launch had observed their difficulties and was speeding out to their aid.

âGive us a towline!â Bill called over.

The Sea Spook was towed to the dry dock of the Neptune Boatworks. Here, Bill and the engineer gave the craft a thorough inspection.

âWell, thereâs the answer,â Bill said angrily. âA sheared rudder pintle. It doesnât look to me like an accident, either!â

Rummel looked skeptical. âYour hydrofoil design is new enough to be revolutionary, Braxton. Those high-speed turns may put more stress on the steering than you realize. I think this calls for a whole new study of your design.â

A new pintle was installed and the Sea Spook started home to Barmet Bay. Braxton was downcast over the outcome of the test.

âYou really think it was sabotage?â Joe asked.

âSure. But I canât prove it,â Braxton replied.

âWhen was it done?â Frank asked. âIt was docked in plain sight during your conference at the boatworks, wasnât it? There probably were people gawking at it every minute of the time.â

âThe dirty work could have been done right in my own boathouse,â Braxton said bitterly. âThe pintle was probably sawed partway through, but it took a few hours of operation to break off.â

âAny idea who might have done it?â Frank asked.

Braxton shook his head. âNot a clueâunless it was someone who doesnât want the Sea Spook to go into production.â

Frank and Joe exchanged thoughtful glances. âA figure in hiding!â Joe declared, and Frank added, âWho must be found!â

Nevertheless, both boys were wondering if the sabotage might have been committed for a different purposeâto injure them! Had someone guessedâor overheardâthat the Hardys would go along on the Spookâs next cruise, and had this person tried to cause an accident at sea?

Frank and Joe arrived home in the evening and learned that Chief Collig had telephoned. Frank called back but was unable to reach him at headquarters until the next morning. The chief reported that he had had word from the Ocean City police on the green Torpedo sedan.

âThat license number you gave was registered in the name of Malcolm Izmir, the owner of Izmir Motors,â Collig informed Frank. âBut the car had already been reported stolen.â

âWhen did that happenâthe theft, I mean?â

âThe police werenât sure. Izmirâs butler reported the theft the same evening he found the car missing. But he said it hadnât been used for a couple of days, so it might have been taken from Izmirâs garage a day or two earlier.â

Frank was disappointed. This left the question still unanswered as to who had been driving the green sedan on Wednesday during their trip upriver to Mrs. Lunberryâs.

âAnother thing,â Collig said. âWe called the hotels and found that kid, Fred Hare. Heâs staying with his parents at the Summerfield.â

âDoes his story check out?â Frank asked.

âIt seems to. That crack about knowing more than he told you was just bragging. His father promised to give him a good talking to.â

Frank grinned and thanked the chief. When Frank discussed the news with Joe, however, neither was satisfied with the story that Izmirâs car had been stolen.

âSomehow it sounds phony,â Frank said. âEspecially the butlerâs not being sure when the car was taken!â

âIt strikes me the same way,â Frank agreed. âI vote we do some more checking when we go to Ocean City to get our car.â

Frank called the repair garage and was told that their convertible was ready for pickup. Meanwhile, Joe had had a sudden idea.

âWeâve been passing up an easy lead on this case!â he exclaimed.

âWhatâs that?â Frank queried.

âChecking the calls Lambert made from his motel. The manager said all calls passed through the central switchboard, remember?â

Joe promptly leafed through the telephone directory and dialed the number of the Bayview Motel. His hunch paid off.

âSure, we keep a record of all outgoing phone calls,â the manager said. âThe time and the number go right on the guestâs bill after the desk clerk gets his party for him.â

âWill you please look up and see if Lambert placed any calls while he was staying there?â

âEasy. Hold the phone.â There was silence, then the managerâs voice returned to the line. âWell, according to his bill, he made three callsâall to the same number.â

Joe copied it down, thanked the motel manager, and hung up.

âThat looks like an Ocean City listing,â Frank remarked as he read the number. âHmm. I wonder ...â

Frank dialed Information and asked for the number of Izmir Motors in Ocean City. It checked with the number on the pad!

âNow weâre getting some place!â Joe exclaimed. âLetâs hop over to Ocean City right away!â

The boys caught a bus which dropped them not far from the repair garage. They got their car and drove to Izmir Motors.

This time, the Hardys walked straight through the showroom to Sykesâ office. His face seemed to turn a shade paler as he caught sight of the brothers. He gave them a smile, took off his glasses, and began polishing them nervously.

âCome in, boys! ... Please sit down.â

Frank and Joe were struck by his change in manner.

âI suppose youâve heard what happened to us the other night,â Frank said coolly.

âWhy, yesâyes, I did. The police informed me. A terrible thing! It upset me very much.â

âWhy didnât you tell us that was your bossâs car when we gave you the license number?â Joe demanded.

Sykes looked embarrassed. âBelieve me, I didnât know. Our office only keeps a record of the licenses of salesmenâs cars and demonstratorsâand Mr. Izmir wasnât here at the time.â

âYou sure werenât very cooperative.â

âTo tell the truth, Iâd had a call about you two fellows,â Sykes said sheepishly.

âWhat sort of a call?â Frank asked.

âAn anonymous phone tip the previous afternoonâWednesday, that is. It was a manâs voice. He warned me that two young fellows might drop in, trying to trace a license number. He said you were really a pair of gypsâshakedown artists. You were just setting things up to make a fake accident claim against a car owned by someone connected with Izmir Motors.â

Joe gave the sales manager a scornful look. âYou didnât even try to get his name?â

Sykes shrugged. âHe hung up before I could ask. But I was still on my guard when you two walked in. Naturally I wasnât going to go out of my way to help you.â

âWell, maybe you can help us now,â Frank said. âHave you ever heard of a man named Lambertâor Spotty Lemuel?â

The sales manager shook his head. âNo, I donât believe so.â

âHereâs a picture of him.â Frank held out a photograph, borrowed from Mr. Hardyâs files.

Sykes looked at it and again shook his head. âNever saw him in my life. Why?â

âBecause heâs mixed up in the case weâre working on,â Frank said, âand we have proof that he called Izmir Motors three times recently.â

Sykes seemed startled and offered to check the firmâs file of customers and prospects. But he soon came back and reported that his clerks could find no record of either name.

âWeâd better speak to Mr. Izmir,â Frank said.

The savage guard dogs raced toward them!

Sykes gulped. âUhâIâm afraid thatâs impossible. Heâs not here.â

Joe started to ask where they could get in touch with him, but Frank quickly interrupted and said they would call back later. When they got outside, Frank explained, âI figured it might be better if Sykes didnât know our next move. He might tip off Izmir weâre coming.â

âQuick thinking,â Joe approved. âMaybe we can catch the boss man when heâs not expecting us.â

The boys checked Malcolm Izmirâs name in a phone directory and drove to his home address. This proved to be a palatial walled estate in the hills overlooking Ocean City. Joe jabbed the gate bell repeatedly, but no one answered.

âYou game to go over the top?â he asked Frank.

Frank sized up the situation warily. âOkay. At least we can find out if heâs home.â

The boys shinned directly over the gate.

âGood thing we didnât try climbing the wall,â Joe muttered, pointing to a cheval-de-frise of broken glass strewn along the top.

Dropping down inside, they walked toward the house, which could be glimpsed beyond the trees. Suddenly the Hardys were chilled by ferocious snarls. They whirled, then froze in terror. Four sleek, fierce-eyed Doberman pinscher guard dogs were racing toward them!

âTheyâre killers!â Frank cried out.

CHAPTER XI

A Midnight Deal

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THE Hardys looked around wildly. There was no chance of getting back to the gateâthe dogs were already cutting off their line of escape.

âThat tree!â Frank yelled, pointing to a nearby copper beech with low-hanging branches.

The boys sprinted madly. Each grabbed a limb and swung himself off the ground.

The Dobermans came on like demons. Although lean and long-legged, they were powerful, deep-chested brutes. The dogs hurled themselves at the lower branches, baying and straining every muscle to reach their prey.

âSufferinâ catfish!â Joe quaked. âThose babies mean business!â

âIf we fell out of this tree,â Frank agreed uneasily, âweâd be hamburger in two minutes!â

âJust donât let go, thatâs all,â Joe advised.

âGreat. But what do we do for food and water?â

Both boys were perspiring as they stared around for signs of help.

âAh! Thank goodness! Here comes someone!â Joe said.

A manâevidently a servant, wearing a house-boyâs white jacketâwas striding toward them. He was carrying a braided whip which Frank and Joe assumed was to use on the dogs in case they got out of hand.

âHeel!â he called sharply.

The Dobermans stopped barking and slunk close to his side. Then he glared up at the boys.

âWhatâre you two doing up that tree?â

âBoy, thereâs a foolish question if I ever heard one!â Joe muttered. Out loud he retorted, âWhat does it look like?â

âGet down out of there and beat it before I call the cops!â the houseman ordered.

âWait a minuteâweâre not burglars,â Frank said. âWe rang the bell at the gate but no one answered, so we had to climb over. We came here to see Mr. Izmirâon important business.â

The servant studied the boys suspiciously. âThatâs out of the question,â he said. âMr. Izmir can see no one. He has suffered a nervous breakdown. Heâs living in complete seclusion under a doctorâs care.â

Frank thought fast. âWhat we have to see Mr. Izmir about is very important,â he said. âIt has to do with a glass eye.â

The servantâs eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. He wet his lips slowly, then said in a more respectful voice, âYour names, please?â

âFrank and Joe Hardy.â

âIâll inquire inside. Wait right there.â

He turned and walked toward the house, leaving the dogs behind. The four Dobermans sat watching the boys in eager silence, tongues lolling.

âWait right here, he says,â Joe echoed resentfully. âWhat does he think weâre going to doâclimb down and play tag again with those four-legged meat grinders?â

In a few minutes the servant returned. âMr. Izmir will see you,â he announced. Turning to the dogs, he said simply, âGuard!â

Frank and Joe climbed down warily, keeping an eye on the Dobermans. The servant accompanied the boys to the house and led them inside to a richly furnished drawing room. There was a white, thick-piled carpet on the floor and modernistic paintings on the walls.

A man who was pacing back and forth restlessly turned abruptly to face the boys. He was of medium height, with a thick neck and bulging froglike eyes.

âMr. Izmir?â

âYes.â He gave them each a quick handshake and waved them to a sofa. âSit down, boys!â

Frank and Joe obeyed while mentally sizing up their host. They both thought Malcolm Izmir looked healthy enough, although he seemed rather tense and jumpy.

âI understand you fellows want to see me about aâa glass eye?â

âThatâs right, sir,â Frank said. âAlso about a man named Lambertâor Lemuel.â

Izmirâs hooded eyes blinked. âLambert? Lemuel? ... Whoâs he? Does he have something to do with thisâerâglass eye?â

âWeâre not sure. We think the eye may belong to him.â Frank told briefly how he and Joe had found the eye aboard the Sea Spook and what had happened later when they tried to trace Lambert through the Bayview Motel.

âThatâs interesting. Very interesting,â the auto dealer commented. âBut what makes you think I might know anything about this fellow?â

âWe know he called Izmir Motors from his motel three times,â Joe said. âBut your sales manager knows nothing about him and says heâs not a customer or a prospect.â

âStrange.â Izmir frowned. âI canât imagine what his business with us would beâunless he knows someone who works for me. Iâll have Sykes check into it. Do you have this glass eye with you?â

Frank shook his head. âNo, sir. We left it back home for safekeeping. You see, the thieves who stole your car waylaid us the other nightâand we think they were after the eye.â

The Hardys watched Izmirâs reaction closely. Again his reptilian eyes blinked. He seemed disappointed. âToo bad,â he muttered. âI was hoping it might give us a clueâin fact, I had hoped you boys might even be able to help me.â

Frank and Joe looked at each other.

âHow do you mean, sir?â Frank asked.

âNo doubt you were wondering about my watchdogs,â Izmir replied, âand the fact that no one answered your ring at the gate. Well, itâs because Iâve been receiving threats lately.â

âWhat sort of threats?â Joe asked.

âMessages threatening my life. They come unsignedâexcept for a drawing of a horrible-looking eye.â Izmir licked his lips. âThatâs why I agreed to see you at once when I heard youâd mentioned a glass eye. I thought there might be some connection.â

The Hardys were startled.

âOur dadâs a private detective,â Frank said. âHeâs going to look into all this as soon as he winds up another case. Weâll certainly let you know if we find out anything, Mr. Izmir.â

The auto dealer nodded. âI appreciate that. But I wonât be here after tomorrow.â

âYouâre going away?â Joe asked.

âYes, on a long cruise.â Izmir stood up and began pacing about restlessly. âThese threats have left my nerves all shot. I canât eat or sleep. So my doctor has advised a complete rest and change of scene. Iâm sailing from New York Monday on the ocean liner Cristobal.â

The Hardys thanked him for his time, and the houseman escorted them back to the gate.

âWhat do you make of Malcolm Izmir?â Joe asked his brother as they drove away.

âHe must be scared of something, all right,â Frank mused, âor else he wouldnât be holed up with those dogs guarding the place. Also, how did that car thief get past them? Anyhow, Iâd like to know more about Izmir. Maybe Chief Collig can help us.â

As soon as they reached Bayport, the boys drove to police headquarters. They told the chief what had happened at Ocean City and asked him if he knew Malcolm Izmir.

âIâve heard of him,â Collig replied. âHeâs one of the biggest businessmen in Ocean Cityâand quite a community leader. Has all sorts of projects. Izmir Motors is just one.â

Joe shot his brother a puzzled glance. âHe doesnât sound like the kind of person who would be mixed up in anything crooked.â

Collig chuckled. âNot likely. Iâll check on him, though, with Ocean City police.â

Frank and Joe had a postponed picnic supper with Iola and Callie and it was close to midnight when they reached home. The hall telephone was ringing. Frank answered it as Joe waited.

âYouâre one of the Hardys?â a muffled voice asked.

âYesâFrank Hardy. Whoâs speaking, please?â

âNever mind that. You know a peddler named Zatta? Heâs a stoolie for your father.â

Frank was instantly alert. He signaled Joe to listen in. âWhat about Zatta?â

âIâm offering you Hardys a chance to save his lifeâif you promise not to call in the cops.â

âWhat do you mean âsave his lifeâ?â Frank said.

There was momentâs silence. Then another voice, which Frank recognized as the one-eyed peddlerâs, came on the line.

âThese guys are holding me prisoner!â Zatta croaked fearfully. âYouâve gotta help me! Theyâll kill me if you donât! Do what they ask youâplease!â

Zattaâs voice was choked off suddenly, as if he has been yanked away from the phone. The muffled voice returned. âOkay. You heard him. Weâre offering you his life for that glass eye.â

Frank tried to stall for time, but the voice cut him short. âYes or no? Is it a deal?â

âWhat are the terms?â Frank asked.

The voice instructed the Hardys to drive to a certain spot atop Lookout Hill, leave their car, and walk down to a meeting spot on the open hillside. The transfer would then be arranged.

Frank looked at his brother. Joe nodded. âOkay, we accept,â Frank said.

âRememberâno double cross! You bring in the cops and Zattaâs a dead pigeon! Be there in fifteen minutesâafter that, itâll be too late.â

Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had awakened and asked what the message was. After a family conference it was decided that the boys would call Sam Radley, a trusted operative of their fatherâs. He agreed to approach the hillside cautiously from the opposite direction and be ready to cover them in case of trouble.

Frank went upstairs for the glass eye, then the brothers hurried outside to their convertible and drove to Lookout Hill. They parked at the appointed spot near a narrow turnoff which led steeply downward to Shore Road, bordering Barmet Bay.

Frank and Joe left the car and made their way cautiously through a screen of trees. A dark figure on the hillside waved his arms. Hearts thumping, the Hardys walked toward him.

The figure had glowing eyes!

CHAPTER XII

Doom Ride!

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As THE Hardys came close enough to make out the figure, they saw the reason for the glowing eyes. The man was wearing spectacles with bulging phosphorescent eyeballs. His head was shrouded in a stocking mask.

âSomeone from the Goggler gang!â Joe hissed.

In the midnight silence the boysâ footsteps crunched loudly in the grassy underbrush. Far below them, moonlight glinted on the waters of the bay.

âOkay. Stop right there!â the man ordered.

Frank and Joe obeyed. Both thought the masked manâs voice sounded faintly familiar. They wondered if he might be Spotty Lemuel, but neither could be sure.

âDid you bring the glass eye?â

âWe brought it,â Frank said, âbut weâre not handing it over till we have Zatta.â

The man turned and shone a flashlight down the hillside. He flicked the beam on and off twice.

The Hardys watched tensely. They saw an answering glow from Shore Road.

The masked man removed a pair of binoculars which were slung around his neck. He handed them to Frank and pointed toward the light. Frank raised the glasses to his eyes, then gasped.

âWhat is it?â Joe whispered.

âZatta! They have him tied up down there at the foot of the drive!â

Frank passed the binoculars to Joe, who peered through them. The light on Shore Road was evidently coming from a bullâs-eye lantern. It was aimed to illuminate the captive peddler. Zatta was lying bound and gagged.

âIt looks as if heâs unconscious!â Joe muttered. âHis eyes are closed!â

âDonât worryâheâs alive,â the masked man said.

âHeâd better be,â Frank said. âYouâll get the glass eye when we have him in the car and weâre sure heâs all right. Not before.â

âAnd you two had better not try pulling any fast ones,â the masked man retorted. âWait right here till I get down the hill. Then drive your car there. You can load Zatta aboard and hand over the glass eye. After that, clear out and donât look back. Get me?â

Frank nodded. âCheck.â

The gangster strode off into the darkness, picking his way down the incline.

âI wonder if Sam got here,â Joe whispered.

âI sure hope so,â Frank replied. âGoggle Eyes could be pulling us right into a trap!â He added, âWeâd better go through with it, though, for Zattaâs sake. He must have stuck his neck out, giving Dad that tip.â

Crickets chirped in the stillness. The eerie call of a night bird sounded somewhere overhead. Presently the light on Shore Road went out.

âThat must be the signal,â Frank murmured. âLetâs go!â

The boys hurried back to their convertible and climbed in. The engine roared to life. Frank swung out from the curb, then turned right into the long, steep drive leading to Shore Road. Beyond was nothing but a gleam of water as the cliff sheered abruptly into the bay.

The car headlights revealed Zattaâs motionless figure still lying across the foot of the drive. The masked man and whoever had come with him were nowhere in sight.

Joe glanced over at the grassy hillside. In the distance his eye caught a darting figure.

âSam Radley!â Joe guessed.

Frank toed the brake pedal as he turned to look. The pedal caught for an instantâthen sank to the floorboard without slowing the car!

Horrified, Frank pumped the pedal. No response! He yanked the hand brake and it gave easily without the slightest effect!

âJoe! Somethingâs happened to our brakes!â

The convertible was gathering speedâhurtling straight down toward the helpless peddler!

âYouâll go right over him!â Joe gasped.

âAnd off the cliff!â

The boys were paralyzed with fear. With no way to slow the car, it would be impossible to negotiate a turn onto Shore Road.

Frank shifted into low gear. The car bucked and lost a little speed. Noticing that the narrow drive was high-banked on either side, Frank swung right, scraping the convertibleâs side against the grassy slope.

Zatta lay less than fifty feet ahead!

As the bank flattened, Frank spun the wheel hard right. The car leaped from the drive onto the grass, bumping and jolting over the uneven ground. It shot across the corner of the hillside, slowing bit by bit. Then it slewed out across Shore Road.

Frank kept it parallel to the pavement, but suddenly there was a hard jolt as the left rear wheel went over the edge of the cliff. With a shudder, the convertible came to a dead haltâits body quivering on its springs!

The two boys sat still, white-faced and gasping. Then Frank slumped over the wheel.

âWhew!â he breathed. âI thought sure weâd had it!â

âWe would have,â Joe said, âif you hadnât downshifted and grazed that bank! Man, that was fast thinking!â

Frank shook his head dazedly. âI wouldnât even have known the brakes were gone if you hadnât called out about Sam!â

A streak of light shot up from the hillside, exploding into a starburst of red fire!

âItâs Sam firing a Very pistol!â Joe cried out.

Gingerly the boys crawled out of the car, fearful of dislodging it from its poised position on the edge of the cliff. Another spray of light burst overhead revealing the road and the hillside with daytime brilliance. Three figures could be seen, far down the road past the foot of the drive, sprinting toward a parked car. They leaped in and sped away.

Sam Radley came running toward the boys. The muscular, sandy-haired detectiveâs face was taut with worry. âYou two all right?â he exclaimed.

âShaken up but okay,â Frank said. âWhat about that masked guy and his pals? Can we go after them?â

Sam shook his head âMy carâs a quarter of a mile backâI didnât dare park closer. By the time we could get to it, we wouldnât stand a chance of catching them. Better call the police!â

Joe hastily radioed an alarm. Then he hurried to join his brother and Sam who had gone to untie Zatta. The one-eyed peddler was unconscious but bore no visible marks of injury.

âMaybe he fainted,â Frank said.

âItâs more than that,â Sam murmured. âLooks to me as if heâs been drugged.â

The operative went off to get his car and brought it to the spot. They lifted Zatta into the back seat, then sped to the Bayport General Hospital.

While the unconscious man was being examined, the three sat tensely in the waiting room.

âWe really walked into a neat setup,â Frank said. âOne of those two guys with the masked man was standing by Zatta with the lantern. The other must have been hiding up on the hill, waiting to sabotage our brakes.â

âRight,â Joe agreed. âThat screen of trees gave him perfect cover, once we went off to talk to his partner.â

While they waited, the boys gave Sam Radley a complete account of the events leading up to the nightâs excitement. Sam asked, âDo you have the glass eye with you?â

âRight here.â Frank took the eye out of his pocket and handed it over.

Radley examined it closely. âHmm. And you have no idea why Lemuelâor whoeverâs behind all thisâis so eager to get it back?â

Frank shook his head thoughtfully. âThe thingâs fairly light. It could be hollow. Iâve been wondering if somethingâs hidden inside.â

Radley held the glass eye close to his ear and shook it. âNothing rattles. Of course that doesnât prove much. It could be wadded in.â

âTrouble is, thereâs no way to unscrew the eye or pry it apart,â Joe remarked. âThe only chance to find out would be to break the glass.â

Conversation stopped as a white-coated intern came into the waiting room to report on Zattaâs condition. âHe was definitely drugged,â the medic informed Sam and the Hardys. âThereâs a puncture mark from a hypodermic needle on his right arm. Otherwise heâs in good shape, so I think weâll let him sleep it off.â

Radley agreed to stand guard in Zattaâs room. He told the boys he knew of another operative with whom he could take turns in shifts.

Frank and Joe left the hospital and found a twenty-four-hour service station open a block away. Luckily it had a tow truck available. The boys rode with the mechanic to Shore Road and had him tow their convertible to his garage. The boys walked home.

âThatâs funny,â Joe muttered as he tried to turn his key in the side door.

âWhatâs funny?â Frank asked.

âThe lock has been jimmied!â he exclaimed.

The Hardys stared at each other in alarm.

âWhoever did it may still be here!â Frank whispered.

Joe gave his brother a startled look, then hastily pushed the door open and snapped on the light.

The boys began a cautious search of the house, switching on the lights in each room as they went along. The first floor was empty. Tensely they mounted the stairs.

When they came to Aunt Gertrudeâs room, Frank gave a gasp. âSheâs gone!â

They dashed to their parentsâ room. Mrs. Hardy, too, had apparently left the house! The brothersâ room was also emptyâno figure in hiding. Last, they tried their fatherâs study.

âOh, great!â Frank groaned. âDadâs safe has been cracked!â

CHAPTER XIII

Airport Vigil

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MR. HARDYâs safe door had been blown open. The door hung lopsided and the contents lay strewn about. Frank and Joe rushed to examine the situation.

âAnything missing?â Joe asked.

âDoesnât seem to be,â Frank replied.

Joe said worriedly, âI wish we knew what happened to Mom and Aunt Gertrude. You donât suppose theyâwere kidnapped?â

âNo,â Frank said. âMy hunch is they were lured away by some phony messageâto give the safecracker a clear field. If they donât come back soon, though, weâd better phone an alarm. Now weâd better check Dadâs list of secret papers.â

The brothers got this from Mr. Hardyâs desk, and when they had gathered up the scattered documents, took inventory. âTheyâre all here,â said Frank in relief. Suddenly he exclaimed, âWait! Dad stowed some cash in the safe when he left town, but I sure donât see it now!â

âThe safecracker probably took it,â Joe said, âbut Iâll bet thatâs not what he came for.â

Frank agreed. âTen to one he was after the glass eye.â

Joe hurried to their garage laboratory and returned, bringing their fingerprint kit. He and Frank dusted the safe carefully but found no traces of prints.

âIt has been wiped clean,â Joe said in disgust.

Just then they heard a car pull up outside the house. Frank dashed to the window.

âItâs a taxi,â he reported. âMother and Aunt Gertrude!â

The boys, vastly relieved, went down to meet them.

âOh! Thank goodness youâre safe!â Mrs. Hardy exclaimed, as first she, then Aunt Gertrude gave Frank and Joe a hug.

Frank said, âWe were worried about you.â

âWe received a phone call from a man at about twelve-thirty that you boys had had a car accident over in Riverville,â Mrs. Hardy explained. âI knew that wasnât where you planned to go and we were frightened out of our wits.â

She said that after taking a taxi to Riverville, she and Aunt Gertrude had been unable to find any trace of the boys. Finally, after checking by telephone with the Bayport police, the women had learned about the Shore Road incident and had returned home at once.

Upon hearing of the blown-out safe, the boysâ mother and aunt were greatly upset. Frank telephoned headquarters and gave a full report. It was almost three A.M. when the weary family at last retired for the rest of the night.

âJoe, itâs a cinch what happened here at the house and that business on Lookout Hill were all part of the same plan,â Frank remarked thoughtfully as the brothers undressed for bed.

âSure. The timing proves that,â Joe agreed.

Frank frowned as he went on, âLemuel, or the Goggler gang, was out to get rid of us tonight and also seek revenge on Zatta. But I still donât see how the glass eye figures.â

âWhat do you mean?â

âWell, if theyâre really after the glass eye, they must have sent the safecracker for it in case we hadnât brought the eye along.â

Joe stretched out on the bed and clasped his hands under his head. âSo?â

âSo it doesnât make sense. For all they knew, we had the glass eye with us. And if weâd gone over the cliff, the glass eye wouldâve wound up at the bottom of Barmet Bay.â

âHey, thatâs right!â Joe sat up. âThen maybe itâs not the eye theyâre after!â

Frank took the glass eye out of his trouser pocket and studied it again. âThat wouldnât explain the attack on us at the empty house,â he reasoned.

âOkay!â Joe exclaimed. âSo maybe it is the glass eye theyâre concerned withâbut not because itâs valuable.â

âThen why so much trouble to get hold of it?â

âBecause there may be something about it that would incriminate themâevidence that would put the gang behind bars! That way, theyâd be just as happy to have it sunk in the bay!â

Frank gave his brother a startled glance. âJoe, you may have hit the answer!â He held the glass eye up to the light. âIf there is something inside,â he speculated, âthe opening may have been covered up with the iris. Then the whole thing was glazed over smoothly.â

Joe switched off the light and settled back. âWhen Dad gets home, maybe heâll agree to breaking the eye open.â

âRight. In the meantime, Iâll keep it under my pillow at night until the safe is repaired.â

Exhausted by their strenuous activity, the Hardys slept late Sunday morning and awoke just in time for church. After that, Frank and Joe went to the service station. Their car was ready. They were told that both the hydraulic brake lines and the hand brake cable had been cut.

As they reached home, Mrs. Hardy came out to tell them their father was radioing from St. Louis.

âWeâll be right there,â Frank said, and dashed inside.

Fenton Hardy listened with keen and worried interest as his sons related everything that had happened since he had left Bayport. âBe on guard at all times, boys,â he advised.

The private investigator told Frank and Joe that Ace Pampton, the swindler whom he was after, might be doubling back to Bayport.

âAn airline clerk says a man answering Pamptonâs description bought a ticket to Bayport via New York,â Mr. Hardy explained. âHe took off on the noon flight. I hate to leave here in case itâs a false alarm. So Iâd like you boys to cover the airport and keep watch.â

âSure thing, Dad,â said Frank. âWhat does he look like?â

âMedium heightâquite baldâand heâs been growing a brown beard as disguise. He was wearing a light-blue summer suit and no hat.â

âShould be easy to spot,â Joe put in. âWhat time is he due in Bayport?â

âThree-ten if he makes the connection in New York,â Mr. Hardy replied. âIf he doesnât show up, stick around and watch for the next flight.â

âRoger!â Frank acknowledged.

The brothers set off for the Bayport airfield minutes later and arrived at 2:57. Presently a loud-speaker blared:

âFlight 401 from New York is now arriving at Gate 12.â

Frank and Joe joined a stream of people hurrying out to the apron to watch the plane discharge its passengers. Suddenly Frank spotted a burly, mash-nosed figure in a chauffeurâs uniform.

âHey, Joe,â he muttered, âthatâs Rip Sinder from the health farm!â

âHe must be here to meet a new guest,â Joe whispered.

The apelike ex-pug saw them looking at him. He nodded and casually scratched his jaw with an odd gesture, using the forefinger and little finger of his clenched hand.

The Hardys nodded in return and shifted their gaze. The next instant Joe gasped. âFrank! Thereâs that guy who held up the Bijou!â he exclaimed.

The swarthy, hook-nosed man had been standing just inside the doorway to the terminal building. Apparently he had spotted the Hardys, for he turned and quickly strode away. Meanwhile, the disembarking passengers were already coming down the planeâs ramp.

âGo after him, Joe!â Frank said. âIâll keep watch for Pampton!â

Joe darted into the building. The holdup man was disappearing into the crowd. Joe sidestepped and elbowed his way through the jostling throng. But he made little progress. In a moment his quarry was lost from sight.

âGangway, please!â A skycap was pushing a hand truck loaded with baggage directly across Joeâs path. The boy groaned.

In desperation Joe yelled, âStop, thief! Stop that man!â

People sprang up from benches to gape in all directions and the crowd began to mill even more excitedly. By the time airport guards made their way to the scene, the whole terminal was in wild confusion.

A thorough search was made, but the darkcomplexioned man had vanished. Joe rejoined his brother to report failure. Meanwhile, Frank had seen no sign of Pampton. As they walked up and down outside the terminal building, they saw the health-farm chauffeur, Rip Sinder, drive off. His station wagon was empty.

âLooks as though his man didnât arrive either,â Joe remarked glumly.

Two more flights were due from New York that afternoonâone at five-thirty and another at seven-fifteen. The Hardys waited for both. But no one resembling Ace Pampton arrived on either flight.

âGreat. This is what I call a well-spent afternoon,â Joe grumbled as they drove off.

âLetâs stop at the hospital,â Frank proposed. âZatta should be conscious by now.â

Joe agreed, eager to learn whatever information the peddler might be able to provide.

The brothers had a quick supper in town, then went on to the Bayport General Hospital. They took the elevator from the lobby to the fourth floor. Zatta was in Room 410.

The Hardys stopped outside with puzzled frowns. A crudely drawn sign had been taped to the closed door. It showed a hand with the fore and little fingers raised, middle fingers clenched over the thumb.

âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Joe said.

Suddenly Frankâs eyes widened. âThatâs the same gesture Rip Sinder made at the airport!â

CHAPTER XIV

Sinister Flower Gift

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âWHAT gesture?â Joe said to his brother.

âDonât you remember when Sinder nodded to us, the way he scratched his jawâwith two fingers?â

Joeâs eyes kindled thoughtfully. âThatâs right -I do remember now! It could be just a coincidence, though.â

âMaybe,â Frank said. âLetâs find out who put this sign upâand why.â

The boys opened the door and went into the room. Sam Radley was watching the doorway warily, but at sight of the Hardys he relaxed and grinned.

âHi, Sam!â Frank greeted him. âDid you find someone to spell you on guard?â

âYes, an operative named Vickersâheâs worked for your dad before,â Radley replied. âI just came on again at four.â

Zatta sat propped up in bed, with a black patch over one eye instead of his usual dark glasses. He had been playing checkers with Sam, and the board lay on the bed beside him. He seemed tense and fearful, and his one good eye stared at Frank and Joe with feverish intensity.

âHi, Mr. Zatta!â Joe said cheerfully. âFeeling better?â

âNaah! I feel terrible!â the peddler croaked. âIf I get out oâ this alive, itâll be a miracle!â

Frank shot a questioning glance at Radley. âWhat about that sign on the door?â

The operative indicated Zatta with a slight jerk of his head. âHe wanted it upâdrew it himself. Then he raised a rumpus till the nurse agreed to stick it on the door.â

âBut why?â Joe said.

Radley shrugged. âHe wouldnât tell me. Said heâd talk to you fellows or your dadâno one else.â

The Hardys turned toward the peddler. The talk about the sign seemed to have stirred up his fears. Zattaâs good eye darted anxiously from one to another of the trio.

âDo you feel like talking to us now, Mr. Zatta?â Frank asked gently.

âSure, Iâll talk. Iâll tell you everything,â the peddler said in a shaky voice. âCome closer so I donât have to speak so loud.... Yeah, thatâs better.... Now, about that sign on the doorâthe hand with the two fingers stickinâ outââ

Someone rapped on the door. Zatta broke off with a fearful jerk that sent the checkerboard and checkers clattering to the floor.

Radley strode to the door and opened itâonly a crack at first, then wide enough for a nurse to enter. She came into the room holding a large circular bundle wrapped in floristâs paper. âFor you,â she said, handing it to Zatta. Surprised, the peddler tore off the paper, disclosing a wreath of white lilies. Their heavy perfume filled the air with an almost sickly fragrance.

âLilies!â Zatta screamed. âThis-this looks like a funeral piece! Whereâd it come from? Who sent it?â He shoved the wreath at the nurse.

She took the wreath with a shocked look. âWell, I-I donât know,â she faltered. âThe floristâs deliveryman brought them up to our station. Thereâs an enclosure card here addressed to you, Mr. Zatta.â

She detached a small white envelope from the ribbon on the wreath and handed it to the patient. With trembling fingers he opened it and plucked out the card.

Zatta took one quick look at the card, then let out a hoarse screech. His gaunt frame began to quiver, as if with a sudden chill.

âWhat is it?â Frank exclaimed. âWhatâs wrong?â He took the card from Zattaâs shaking hand. Joe and Radley pressed close to see it.

The card bore the drawing of an eye. It had a catlike oval pupil with zigzag spark lines!

âWhat does it mean?â Joe gasped. All three looked at Zatta.

âIâm not talkinâ!â he whined. âIâm not sayinâ another word, see? They almost got me once, but I ainât stickinâ my neck out again!â

âWho are they?â Frank asked. Seeing the peddlerâs look of stubborn panic, he pleaded, âYou must tell us. How can we find the people who sent this and turn them over to the police if you wonât help us?â

But Zatta shrank back in terror, huddling among the bedclothes. âI told you Iâm not talkinâ! So stop askinâ me!â His unpatched eye rolled wildly. âDonât let anyone in here! Lock the windows and lock the door and keep âem locked!â

Seeing the patient working himself into a frenzy, the nurse hastily called a doctor. Zatta was given sedation and the medic advised the Hardys to break off the interview. Frank and Joe reluctantly went back to their car, leaving Sam Radley on guard.

âWhat a break! Just when he was going to tell us what that sign meant!â Joe grumbled.

âItâs pretty clear what the eye means,â Frank said ruefully. âIt must be a warning from the same gang that captured him beforeâprobably the Gogglers.â

Joe agreed and added, âThose funeral lilies were warning enough, but the eye really sent Zatta up in smoke. That reminds meâthe eye drawn under Mrs. Lunberryâs window must have been meant as a warning, too, for her not to talk any more to us.â

Frank nodded. âIt was bound to scare her, even if she didnât know what it meant. For that matter, the guy was probably trying to scare us, too.â

As Frank slid behind the wheel of their convertible, he went on, âThereâs one thing we can check out right now, Joe.â

âYou mean, who sent the flowers?â

âRight. The card said Barmet Bay Floral Shop.â

The two boys drove to the shop, which was near the hospital and remained open on Sundays. They arrived just as the owner was about to close for the evening. Frank explained who the boys were and mentioned the wreath of lilies.

âWeâd like to know who sent it.â

The shop owner shook his head. âIâm afraid I canât help you, boysâI donât know myself.â

âHow come?â Joe queried.

âThe order was stuck under the door while I was at lunch.â

âNo name or return address on it?â Frank said.

âNo. None on the envelope and none inside. Just a twenty-dollar bill and a printed note saying to send a wreath of lilies to Mr. Henry Zatta at the Bayport General Hospital.â The florist scratched his head thoughtfully and added, âOh, yes. There was something else on the note, tooâa funny-looking drawing of an eye. The note asked me to copy that on a gift card and enclose it with the wreath.â

âDo you still have the note and the envelope around somewhere?â Joe asked eagerly. âWeâd like to see them, please.â

âSorry. They got burned up in the incinerator less than ten minutes ago when I cleaned up.â

Frank and Joe thanked the shop owner and went back to their car. They were completely disgusted.

âThere goes another good lead,â Joe said.

As soon as the Hardys arrived home, they hurried to the basement and warmed up their short-wave radio. Frank sent out a code call and soon made contact with their father, who always carried a small but powerful pocket transceiver with him when traveling. Frank reported the hospital incident and also the fact that no one resembling Ace Pampton had arrived at the airport.

Fenton Hardy was surprised and disappointed. âI canât understand it,â he said. âSince I talked to you this afternoon, Iâve picked up other clues which convinced me the man who bought the airline ticket here was Pampton. Of course he may have stopped over in New York. The last lap of his flight may have been a red herring to throw us off his trail.â

âOr he may have used the stopover time in New York to disguise himself, Dad,â Frank suggested.

âSure,â Joe put in. âHe could have gone into the washroom at the airport terminal and changed to different clothesâor maybe even changed his facial appearance in some way.â

âThatâs a thought,â the investigator agreed. âThe name he used in buying the ticket was BrownâOtto Brown. I should have told you before. Better call the airport and find out if he was on any of those incoming flights from New York.â

âRight. Weâll check and let you know, Dad,â Frank promised.

Joe hurried upstairs to make the telephone call and returned a few minutes later, looking glum. âPampton fooled us, all right,â he reported. âThe airline clerk said Otto Brown landed on the three-ten flight.â

Mr. Hardy received the news without losing his good humor. âJust one of those setbacks a detective has to expect, boys,â he said. âIâll explore his trail here for another day or so. I may turn up a clue to what heâs after in Bayport. Keep your eyes open for him.â

Next morning Frank and Joe set out for the airport again with the faint hope of tracing Pamptonâs trail from the terminal. On the way, they stopped off at Bayport Police Headquarters to find out if Chief Collig had anything to report on Malcolm Izmir.

âYes, I received a written report from the Ocean City chief about half an hour ago. Then I talked to him on the phone. As I told you, Izmir is a respected businessman and quite active in community affairs. But there was one odd discrepancy I noticed.â

âWhatâs that?â Frank asked.

âYou said he told you he had received a number of threatening messages. If so, he must have clammed up about them to the policeâthey knew nothing of any such threats.â Collig paused to pull an envelope from his drawer. âHowever, a prowler was caught several days ago, trying to break into his house. Hereâs a mug shot of him the police sent over.â

Collig held out the photograph of a dark-haired, hook-nosed man. Frank and Joe were thunderstruck.

Frank cried out, âThatâs the Bijou holdup man!â

CHAPTER XV

The Brass Crescent

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COLLIG looked hard at Frank. âAre you certain this is the theater thief?â he asked the Hardys.

âPositive,â Frank replied. âWe spotted the man at the airport yesterday. Joe chased him, but he got away. We thought the airport guards would report it.â

âItâs possible they did,â the chief replied. âI havenât gone over all this morningâs reports.â

Joe noticed that the name on the photograph was Nick Cordoza. âIf he was caught trying to break into Izmirâs pace, how come the police didnât hold Cordoza? Joe asked.

âIzmir refused to press charges, so they had to let him go,â Chief Collig replied. âCordoza has a recordâhe served time for armed robberyâbut he wasnât wanted for anything else when they picked him up at Ocean City. However, weâll put out a general alarm for him on the Bijou job.â

As the boys came out of headquarters, Frank remarked. âThat makes two things about Izmir that need explaining.â

âName them,â Joe said.

âFirst, why didnât he report those threatening letters to the police?â

âMaybe he never got any,â Joe theorized. âHe may have been lying to us.â

âBut we know heâs frightened,â Frank pointed out. âWhy else would he have those savage Dobermans? Which brings up the second question,â he went on. âWhy did Izmir let Cordoza go?â

âMaybe he was afraid of gang revenge,â Joe said. âRemember, Cordoza wore a Goggler disguise on the movie holdup.â

âCould be,â Frank said doubtfully. âBut if Izmirâs already in fear of his life, what has he got to lose by putting Cordoza behind bars?â

Just then a horn tooted across the street.

âThereâs Tony Prito,â Joe said.

A smart-looking white panel truck made a U-turn during a break in traffic and pulled up behind the Hardysâ car.

Tony stuck his head out, grinning proudly. âHow do you like our new panel job?â

âA real beauty!â Frank said as the Hardys looked it over. âWhen did you get it?â

âSaturday. Sheâs not even broken in yet.â

âWhatâre you doing with that brass crescent over the grille?â Joe asked. âYou had that on your old panel truck, didnât you?â

Tony chuckled. âSureâwe always mount it on one of our trucks. Dad brought it over from Italy with him as a keepsake. He used it as a hood ornament on the first car he owned.â

âWhatâs it supposed to be?â Frank put in.

âItâs a corno. That meansâwell, I guess youâd call it an amulet.â

âAn amulet?â Joe echoed. âYou mean, like a lucky piece?â

âThatâs right. Itâs for warding off the malocchioâ the evil eye.â

In spite of themselves, Joe and Frank were startled by Tonyâs remark. Both were reminded instantly of the âblindâ peddlerâs warning: âWatch out for bad eye!â

Tony continued, âThere are people called jettatori, see? That means âthrowersââtheyâre the ones who have the evil eye. Sometimes they know it and sometimes they donât. But everyone else knows it, or at least the word soon gets around.â

âHow come?â Frank asked.

âBecause these jettatori put the double whammy on everyone they look at. For instance, you let a jettatore look crooked at you and the next thing you know, you break a leg or come down with measles or flunk your exams!â

The Hardys stared at their friend and shook their heads. Tony burst out laughing.

âLook! Iâm not saying I believe it, pals. But a lot of people over in the old country still do-especially around Naples. If they meet a jettatore, they make a quick sign to foil the whammyâlike, say, the mano cornuta.â

Tony held out his hand with the fore and little fingers extended and middle fingers clenched over his thumb. Frank and Joe gaped.

âHey, relax, you fellows!â Tony exclaimed. âI donât really believe you two have the evil eye. Of course Joe does look a bitââ

âWhat did you call that sign?â Frank broke in.

âThe mano cornuta,â Tony said, making it again. âIt means the âhorned hand.â Why?â

âJumpinâ goldfish!â Joe gasped. âThatâs the sign Zatta made for his hospital-room door!â

As Tony gave him a baffled look, Joe hastily told him about the one-eyed peddler.

âYou mean Zatta is really trying to keep off the evil eye?â Tony inquired.

âHeâs trying to keep off something, but it may not be the same kind of evil eye you were telling us about,â Frank said. âIâll bet this explains what happened at the airport yesterday!â

âHow do you mean?â asked Joe.

âYou remember that gesture Rip Sinder made, scratching his jaw?â

âYou mean when Sinder spotted us he made that âkeep awayâ sign to warn Nick Cordoza!â

âCould be,â Frank said, âbut I was thinking of Ace Pampton. Sinder came to meet somebody on that three-ten flight and yet we saw him drive away with his station wagon empty.â

âYou mean he came to meet Pampton?â

âYes. Cordoza was inside the terminal and could see us before we saw himâhe didnât really need a warning to make him scram. But Pampton was coming off the plane and would have to walk right past us. So Rip made the âkeep awayâ sign to warn Pampton not to approach him. He didnât want us to see the two of them together.â

Joe was excited. âThat adds up. Pampton walks into the airport building, and Sinder drives off, as if the person he came to meet never arrived.â

âCut out the double-talk, you detectives,â Tony pleaded. âWhatâs this all about?â

The Hardys told how they had gone to the airport the day before to keep a watch for the swindler their father was hunting.

âIf youâre right, Frank, that explains why Pampton came back to Bayport,â Joe said. âHe was planning to check in at Doc Graftonâs Farmâand hide out until the heatâs off.â

Tony whistled. âChet will sure have a shock when he hears this!â

âThereâs a way we may be able to find out quickly,â Frank said.

âHow?â Joe asked.

âPampton probably took a taxi out to the health farm.â

âSo we can check the cab companies!â Joe exclaimed. âSwell idea, Frank!â

âIf it works,â said Frank, âweâll have your info to thank, Tony.â

Their pal grinned. âYou two âprivate Evil Eyesâ go to it! I have to pick up a set of blueprints from an architect.â

He gunned the truckâs motor, made a U-turn, and sped off down the street.

The Hardys hurried to a phone booth in a nearby drugstore and called each of the three taxi-cab companies which operated in Bayport. Joe suggested a soda while the dispatchers were checking their driversâ log sheets from the day before. Then Frank called each company again.

On the third call, to the Eagle Cab Service, the dispatcher said:

âYeah, one of our drivers picked up a fare at the airport at three-fifteen Sunday and drove him out to Doc Graftonâs Health Farm.â

âWho was the driver?â Frank asked. âCould I get in touch with him?â

âSure, heâs out at the airport right now, in fact. A little man named Mike Doyle. Cab twenty-two. Iâll tell him to wait for you.â

âThanks a lot!â

Frank and Joe drove quickly to the airport. They soon found the driver.

âThe health farm ... yesterday afternoon ... lemme see now.â Mike Doyle shoved back his cap and scratched his head. âOh, sure. I remember now. A red-haired gent, soft-spoken. Wore big horn-rimmed glasses.â

Frank snapped his fingers. âI remember him, Joe! I saw him get off the plane.â Turning back to the driver, he said, âClean-shaven fellow, wasnât he?â

Mike nodded. âThatâs right. Whatâs he done?â

âIf itâs the man weâre after, heâs wanted for swindling,â Frank replied.

âWow!â Mike exclaimed. âGlad I could help.â

The two boys sped home excitedly.

âPampton must have shaved off his beard at the New York air terminal and put on a red wig and glasses,â Joe reasoned.

Frank gave a tense nod. âAnd if Rip Sinder knew Pampton was dodging the law, the health farm may be a regular hideout for criminals!â

Reaching their house, the boys hurried down to the basement and tried calling their father by radio. Luckily he was in his hotel room and responded at once.

Frank informed him of what they had learned, then said, âDad, Joe and I have a plan we think you should try!â

CHAPTER XVI

The Walking Mummy

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FENTON HARDY was eager to hear the boysâ plan. âIf itâs as good as some of the other stunts you two have dreamed up for cracking a case,â he told Frank, âI might give it a whirl.â

âWell, here goes,â Frank began. âIf Doc Grafton is running a criminalsâ hideout on the side, you sure canât walk right in and arrest Pampton.â

âProbably not,â Mr. Hardy agreed. âThey may have a clever warning system in case of a raid, and no doubt some foolproof hiding places on the grounds. In fact, Grafton would be crazy not to, if your theoryâs correct.â

âThen it might help if you could case the layout from the inside first. Right, Dad?â

âNo doubt about it. What do you suggest?â

Frank said, âBy checking into the health farm yourselfâsay, posing as a tired businessman from St. Louis.â

Fenton Hardy was instantly taken with the scheme. To avoid suspicion that he might be a detective on Pamptonâs trail, Mr. Hardy decided that he would first fly to Cleveland.

âIâll make the arrangements from there over the phone, then hop a plane to Bayport and check in at the health farm under a disguise. Iâll call myselfâhmmâletâs say, Foster Harlow.â

Frank said, âTry to keep in touch with us by radio. Weâll tell Chet to be on the lookout, in case you need any help there at the farm.â

The talk with their father made both boys eager for another look at Doc Graftonâs health resort. Frank also hatched an idea for gleaning further information on Malcolm Izmir.

âRemember what Bill Braxton was telling us about Zachary Mudge on the way to Long Point?â he remarked to Joe.

âYou mean about Mr. Mudge being a big wheeler-dealer in the financial world?â

âRight. With his contacts, he could probably find out plenty about Izmir.â

Joe gave a puzzled nod. âMaybe so, but what makes you think heâd tell us? Businessmen are pretty closemouthed about that sort of thing.â

âUsually, but I think I know how we can get Mr. Mudge to help us.â As Frank explained his plan, Joe grinned approval.

As soon as lunch was over, the brothers drove to the health farm. Frank told the gatekeeper who they were and asked if they might see Mr. Zachary Mudge. âItâs about a boat he was thinking of buying, called the Sea Spook,â Frank said.

The gatekeeper relayed their message over the telephone. After a few minutes he received Mudgeâs reply and turned back to the boys.

âOkay. Mr. Mudge says heâll be waiting for you on the terrace. Go straight up the drive.â

On their way up, the Hardys saw Chet heaving a medicine ball back and forth to several guests on the lawn. The men looked cool and relaxed in shorts and summer shirts, but Chet was red-faced and puffing.

Joe grinned as they waved to their chum. âLooks as though poor Chet is getting more of a workout than the patients,â he murmured.

Zachary Mudge was pacing with his cane on the stone-flagged terrace, a large cigar clenched between his teeth.

âFinally got here, did you?â He shook hands briskly with the boys. âTook you long enough to get up that hill. Couldâve made it twice as fast myself.â

âI guess we havenât your energy, sir,â Frank said with a smile.

Mudge grunted, then followed Joeâs gaze toward two men standing near the front door of the building. One was Rip Sinder. The other was a small, foxy-faced man wearing a large diamond ring. They had been watching the Hardys, but as they saw Mudge looking at them, the smaller man broke into a gold-toothed smile and waved.

âWhoâs that man?â Joe asked.

âThat weaselly little twerp? Heâs Doc Grafton, the quack who runs this vegetable farm.â Mr. Mudge sneered. âNosy, too. Letâs take a stroll.â

The trio walked out across the lawn.

âNow then, whatâs all this about the Sea Spook?â Mudge asked. âThe engineer who checked her out says she broke down on the test.â

âThatâs partly what we came to tell you about,â said Frank. âBraxton believes she was sabotaged and we think he may be right.â

âYâ think so? My man Rummel doubts it.â

âWell, we canât prove it,â Frank admitted. âBut donât forget, Braxton was attacked at his boathouse and knocked unconscious. There may be no connection, butâwell, something mysterious is going on.â

Mudge paused and peered at Frank from under bushy eyebrows. âWhatâre you suggesting, son?â

Frank shrugged. âYou remember us mentioning a Mr. Lambert who was interested in the Spook?â

âAre you saying he was behind the sabotage?â

âWe donât know,â Frank said. âWeâve been doing some investigating, though, and the trail seems to lead to a wealthy businessman over in Ocean City. His name is Izmir.â

âMalcolm Izmir?â

âThatâs right,â said Joe. âDo you know him?â

âIâve heard the name.â The old manâs eyes kindled with interest as if he sensed a hint of financial skulduggery. Suddenly Mr. Mudge was right in his element. âLet me get this straight, boysâdo you think Izmir could have had the Spook sabotaged to keep me from investing money in Braxtonâs design?â

Again Frank shrugged. âWe didnât say that, sir.â

But the financier had already made up his mind âexactly as the Hardys had hoped.

âSo Izmir thinks he can put one over on meâZack Mudge, does he?â The old man cackled and thumped his cane on the ground. âWell, weâll see about that. You leave it to me, sonnies. In twenty-four hours Iâll know all there is to know about Malcolm Izmir, including what he eats for breakfast!â

The Hardys escorted Mr. Mudge back to the terrace, then said good-by. A smile was twitching at Joeâs lips as the brothers started down the drive. He muttered to Frank:

âIâll bet Mr. Mudge is a whirlwind when he goes into action! You sure revved him up with that line you gave him!â

âI didnât say anything that wasnât true,â Frank replied. âFor all we know, there may be some connection between Spotty Lemuel and Izmir.â

âGuess weâd better post Chet on the latest,â said Joe.

The medicine-ball session was over and Chet was now leading his group of guests in a series of push-ups.

âEleven-uh ... twelve-uh ... Ummh-thirteen -uh ...â The last came out in an agonized grunt as Chet, beet-red, barely hoisted himself off the ground.

Joe chuckled. âWeâd better rescue Chet before he folds up.â

He and Frank caught their palâs attention and he quickly struggled to his feet. âThatâs f-f-fine, gentlemen,â he panted. âYouâre doing great. I hate to interrupt these exercises, but I have to see what these two fellows want. Just keep going, please, or take a short rest period.â

Chet trotted gratefully over to join the Hardys.

âLooks as if we came just in time,â Frank said.

âBoy, youâre not kidding!â Chet mopped his forehead. âWhew! Iâm not sure I like this job as well as I thought I would! Handball, water polo, body-building, and now this! And the lunch they feed you wouldnât keep a flea alive. Boy, am I ever sick of cottage cheese and lettuce!â

âYouâll be down to a mere two-hundred-pound shadow by the time summerâs over,â Joe said.

Joe chuckled, âWeâd better rescue Chet before he folds up.â

âLay off, Joe,â Frank said with a smile. âAssistant Morton is really earning his salary.â He lowered his voice and added, âListen, Chet, did you see a red-haired man check in here yesterday?â

The stout boy shook his head. âI wasnât here Sunday. Why?â

Joe hastily told their chum about Ace Pampton and their suspicion that the health farm might secretly be a hideout for wanted criminals. Chetâs face was a picture of consternation.

âGood grief!â he gulped. âDonât tell me Iâve got myself mixed up with a nest of crooks! Iâm going to quit right now!â

When he learned, however, of the role Mr. Hardy was to play, Chet promised to stick it out and keep his eyes open for the fugitive swindler, as well as to be on the lookout for the detective.

As the two young sleuths drove back to town, Joe remarked, âDo you remember Mrs. Lunberry saying she had seen something like that chalked eye before?â

Frank nodded as he steered the car. âShe thought it might have been somewhere in connection with her husbandâs work. Why?â

âWell, Iâve been thinking about what Tony told us, and the âhorned handâ picture Zatta put up. Do you suppose that drawing of an eye could represent the evil eye?â

âMaybe. Letâs check with Mrs. Lunberry.â

The boys drove to their boathouse, took out the Sleuth, and headed up the Willow River to Brockton. Mrs. Lunberry was happy to see them and listened eagerly to Frankâs report of their visit to Fontanaâs art shop.

âThat really isnât why we came, though,â Frank said. âWeâd like to know if youâve ever heard of a superstition about the evil eye.â

âYes, indeed,â Mrs. Lunberry replied. âThatâs a very oldââ Suddenly she broke off in surprise. âOf course! Thatâs what that eye chalked under my window reminded me of!â

She explained that when on digging expeditions with her husband she had often seen similar eyes. âThey were carved in mud-brick walls or inlaid in mosaic on ancient ruins.â

âYou mean people would carve evil eyes on their own houses?â Joe asked, puzzled.

The elderly woman smiled. âItâs hard to explain, but Clarence told me once that itâs a very common kind of superstitious thinking. The idea is that a harmless form of the thing youâre afraid of can help to ward off the real thing.â

The boys instantly thought of Zatta and the drawing on the hospital door. Aloud Joe asked, âIs there any chance the evil eye could be connected with the curse on the Jeweled Siva?â

âIâm sure it must be,â she said. âSuperstitions about the evil eye have existed in many parts of the world, probably including India.â

Mention of the curse seemed to upset Mrs. Lunberry, so Frank changed the subject and asked the woman how she had happened to make arrangements with Fontana to sell the precious idol.

âI wrote to several dealers before making up my mind,â Mrs. Lunberry replied. âIn the meantime, I was keeping the Siva in a safe-deposit box at the bank. Then one day Mr. Fontana came all the way to Brockton to see me, and I decided to let him handle the sale.â

âDid he bring references?â Frank asked. âOr persuade you that he could sell it for the highest price?â

âNothing like that, Iâm afraid.â The boys asked for a description, which fit the man they had seen in New York. Mrs. Lunberry smiled. âHe seemed like such a nice man. Why, he even took me for a ride in his brand-new car. Heâd bought it that very day in Ocean City.â

âNot a new Torpedo?â Joe asked sharply.

âWhy, yesâI believe that was the make.â

The boys were startled but said nothing, about this new development until they were aboard the Sleuth, heading downriver.

âThis proves to me that Malcolm Izmir, or someone at Izmir Motors, is mixed up in the theft of the Jeweled Siva,â Joe declared.

âAnd maybe Fontana himself,â Frank speculated.

That evening Chet Morton stopped at the Hardysâ house in his jalopy and honked his horn urgently. Frank and Joe rushed outside.

âWhatâs up?â Frank asked.

âPlenty!â The stout youthâs eyes were wide with fear. âI j-just saw a walking mummy!â

CHAPTER XVII

Secret Signals

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âA WALKING mummy?â Joe echoed. Then he grinned. âSeems to me I recall we were going to be kidnapped once. Whatâs the joke this time?â

âItâs no joke!â Chet retorted indignantly. âI tell you I saw a walking mummylâ

âOkay, okay. Where?â Frank asked.

âAt the health farm, thatâs where. It was all on account of you guys, too.â

âHow come?â Joe said.

Chet explained that he had had no luck in finding out if a new guest had checked in at the health resort on Sunday, nor had he seen anyone answering Ace Pamptonâs description. And so he had purposely hung around on the job until long after his usual quitting time.

âI figured I might be able to do some snooping while dinner was being served,â Chet went on. âThere was one particular building I wanted to get a look at.â

âWhich one?â Frank put in.

âI donât think you fellows have seen it. An old, two-story frame building, set back among the trees on the north side of the grounds.â

âWhatâs special about it?â Joe asked.

âThe place is always kept locked. Iâve seen only one other person at the farm besides Doc Grafton and Rip Sinder ever go in thereâin fact, today Doc told me it was off limits.â

Frank and Joe looked at each other with rising excitement.

âWell, go on! What happened?â Joe urged as Chet paused to munch a candy bar.

âFor Peteâs sake, donât rush me!â Chet retorted. âIâm half starved. I havenât even had dinner yet.â

He went on, âAnyhow, I thought Iâd try to peek inside, so I sneaked up through the trees. And then all a sudden thisâthis mummy walked past the window!â Chetâs face turned paler at the recollection. âTheâthe head was all wound around with bandages!â

The stout boy shuddered and his voice shook with fear. Joe tried to reassure him. âEasy, Chet! Youâve been seeing too many horror movies, like âThe Creature from the Tombâ!â

âThis was worse than any movie!â

âWhoâs the other person allowed into the building?â Frank asked Chet.

âSome old man named Dr. Vardar. Heâs the health-farm physician.â

Joe chuckled. âChet, I think youâve been working too hard out there.â

âOkay. Donât believe me.â The stout boy gunned his engine. âCount me out of this case!â he exclaimed. âYou two can investigate that creepy joint alone next time!â

âCome on, Chet,â Frank said soothingly. âWe appreciate your help. You canât back out now. Dad might arrive at the farm any time.â

Somewhat mollified, Chet consented, and a moment later the yellow jalopy roared off.

Frank and Joe gazed after it. Both were mystified at Chetâs story. âIâd like to have a look at that âmummyâ myself,â said Joe.

âMe too. But weâd better wait until we hear from Dad.â

Shortly before ten oâclock that evening a loud buzz from the basement announced an incoming call over the Hardysâ short-wave. Frank and Joe hurried down to receive it.

âFenton calling Elm Street!â a low voice crackled from the speaker.

âElm Street to Fenton,â Joe responded over the microphone. âWe read you. Come in, please.â

âHi, fellows!â said Mr. Hardy. âJust wanted to let you know that I arrived safely.â

âYouâre at the farm now?â Frank put in.

âRight. I flew in on the eight-forty-five plane from Cleveland, got picked up by the chauffeur, and checked in under the name I gave you. This is the first chance Iâve had to get in touch. Iâm calling from my room.â

The boys quickly reported Chetâs story.

âGood lead. Iâll follow it up.â Mr. Hardyâs voice dropped to a whisper. âI think someoneâs coming. Over for now!â

Late that night Frank awoke from a sound sleep. He lay drowsily for a few moments, wondering what had aroused him. Suddenly he became aware of a muffled clicking sound.

âWhereâs that coming from?â Frank wondered.

He sat bolt upright in bed. The clicking sounds seemed to fade out. Puzzled, Frank lay back on his pillow. At once the clicks became louder!

âUnder my pillow!â Frank realized.

He pulled it aside and the clicks became still louder and clearer. Something on the bed glittered in the moonlight streaming in. The glass eye! Frank snatched it up with a stifled cry and held it to his ear.

The clicks were coming from the glass eye!

âJoe! Wake up!â he exclaimed, switching on his table lamp.

His brother raised up sleepily from his bed across the room. Joe blinked in the sudden glare. âWh-whatâs up?â he muttered.

âSignals are coming over this glass eye!â Frank whispered. âThere must be a miniature receiver inside! Sounds like Morse code!â

As Joe came dashing across the room, Frank held out the eye so his brother could hear it. In a moment the signals ceased.

âDid you get anything?â Joe asked.

âNumbers and lettersâbut they didnât make any sense to me, offhand,â Frank replied.

âMaybe thereâll be more!â Joe hastily got pencil and paper from his desk.

The signals began again. The transmission seemed slow and amateurish, and Joe copied down the message easily. It read:

12PM 4112N 7059W 13K 080 1227

As the glass eye fell silent, the Hardys stared at the numbers and letters in puzzlement.

âGet anything out of it?â Joe asked.

âNot much,â Frank admitted. âThe âtwelve PMâ must stand for a timeâtwelve oâclock midnight. The rest looks like some sort of secret code.â

Abruptly the glass eye resumed its ticking. Joe again copied down the Morse signals and found that the same set of numbers and letters were being repeated. While the boys were excitedly discussing the mysterious message, another transmission began with the same contents.

âFrank, that âNâ and âWâ could stand for âNorthâ and âWest,ââ Joe mused. âMaybe a position.â

âRight! In latitude and longitude!â Frank exclaimed. âThat would be forty-one degrees, twelve minutes north latitude and seventy degrees, fifty-nine minutes west longitude.â

âLetâs see where that is.â Joe bounced up from his chair and strode to a map of the world which the boys had tacked to one wall. His finger traced out the nearest parallel and meridian. âWell, what do you know! Itâs in the Atlantic Oceanâabout halfway between Montauk on Long Island and Nantucket Island, Massachusetts.â

âIn that case, it must be a shipâs position,â Frank reasoned. âBut what about the last part?â

The Hardys stayed up for another hour, puzzling over the message, but could deduce nothing further. The radio signals being picked up by the glass-eye receiver had long since stopped when the two young sleuths finally went back to bed. It was two oâclock.

Early the next morning Chief Collig telephoned the Hardy home. âI have a follow-up on Izmir that may interest you fellows,â he said when Joe answered. âLast night two more men tried to break into Izmirâs estate. His watchdogs trapped them and both were caught.â

âWho are they?â Joe asked eagerly.

âTheir names are Kane and Yaddo. Theyâre both dangerous hoods with police records.â

âWhatâs their story?â

âThey have none. Neither one will talk.â

âDoes Izmir know them?â Joe inquired.

âThe Ocean City police couldnât tell me that,â Collig replied. âIt was some servant on the estate who turned them in. Yesterday morning Izmir left for New York to go on a European vacation cruise.â

âThatâs rightâIâd forgotten,â Joe replied. He frowned for a moment, then added, âJust for the record, are you sure he did leave?â

The police chief chuckled. âI thought you might ask me that, so I called the shipping line in New York and checked. Izmir definitely sailed on the Cristobal yesterday afternoon.â

âOkay. Thanks a lot for letting us know.â

Joe relayed the information to his brother as the two boys sat down to breakfast. The morning newscast was just coming on over the Hardysâ portable television set. The family grew silent at the announcerâs first words.

âA late bulletin states that a prominent East Coast businessman has been lost at sea. The ocean liner on which he had embarked Monday on a Scandinavian cruise, the Cristobal, reported by radio that Mr. Malcolm Izmir of Ocean City was missing this morning. His cabin had not been slept in, and he is presumed to have fallen or jumped overboard sometime during the night.â

CHAPTER XVIII

News of a Racket

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FRANK and Joe were stunned by the news flash on Izmirâs disappearance. As they looked at each other in amazement, Frankâs eyes suddenly kindled with suspicion.

âLost at sea!â he exclaimed to his brother. âAre you thinking the same thing I am?â

âProbably. This could have something to do with that message we picked up on the glass eye last night!â

âMessage? Glass eye?â Aunt Gertrude darted an inquisitive glance at the boys. âWhatâs all this nonsense?â

âThe glass eye started talking last night, Aunty,â Frank explained with a wink at his mother.

Miss Hardyâs voice was barbed with suspicion. âAre you trying to scare me, young man?â

âNo. Itâs on the level. That glass eye must have a miniature radio receiver inside it. Last night Joe and I heard it picking up signals in Morseââ

The telephone jangled in the hallway. Joe bounded up from the table to answer it.

âAre you one of the Hardy boys?â someone asked in a croaking voice.

âYes, sir. Joe Hardy. Is this Mr. Mudge?â

âCertainly, Iâm Mudge! Zachary Mudge. Who do I sound like?â

âWell, nobody, sir. That is, I meanââ

âNever mind nattering at me!â Mudge rapped out. âI have news for you two. On Izmir.â

âMalcolm Izmir?â Joe was startled.

âYes, Malcolm Izmir.â The elderly man added in a burst of exasperation, âDo you know of any other Izmir weâve been talking about?â

Joe grinned. âNo, sir. Itâs just that Iââ

âThen stop talking so much. You think I have nothing better to do than waste my time answering tomfool questions?â Mr. Mudge seemed to pause for breath and then rattled on, âNow, listen. If you and your brother want to hear what I have to say, youâd better get up here right away. Understand? ... Canât talk over these phones at the vegetable farm. Probably ears flapping all over the line.â

âRight, sir,â Joe said. âWeâll drive right over.â

The Hardy boys hastily finished their bacon and eggs under a barrage of questions from their mother and Aunt Gertrude, then backed their convertible out of the garage and took off.

âWonder if Doc Batesâ office would be open yet,â Frank remarked as they sped down Elm Street.

âSure, I guess soâitâs after nine,â Joe said with a glance at his wristwatch. âHeâd see us, even if it wasnât. But why?â

âIâve been wondering if he might be able to tell us anything about that Dr. Vardar who Chet mentioned last night.â

âGood idea,â Joe agreed. âLetâs stop off and ask him.â

Dr. Bates, the Hardysâ family physician, had his office at home, a rambling stone house a few blocks from Elm Street. The boys found the office entrance open, and the secretary-nurse allowed them to see the doctor at once. Frank explained why they had come.

âHmm. Dr. Vardar.â The physician frowned thoughtfully. âSeems to me Iâve heard the name, and yet heâs not a member of our local medical society. I can look him up in the medical directory and inquire about him later on today.â

âThatâll be fine, Doctor,â Frank said. âThanks a lot.â

The Hardys drove on to the health farm. After stopping at the gatehouse, they were told to walk on up to the main building. Zachary Mudge was pacing the terrace with his cane.

âHalf an hour it took you,â the elderly financier complained. âIâd still be grubbing for small change if I moved as slowly as you young whippersnappers move these days.â

âSorry, sir,â Frank said, deciding it would be better not to mention their stop at Dr. Batesâ office. âWeâre eager to hear what youâve learned about Malcolm Izmir.â

Mudge shot a glance over his shoulder at Rip Sinder, who appeared to be watering some potted plants on the terrace. âThereâs ape man over there, dying for an earful. Got so he follows me around like a confounded lap dog. Probably hoping for a tip on the stock market.â Mr. Mudge broke into a pleased cackle. âI gave him a bum steer on Consolidated Steel yesterday, just for kicks. Anyhow, letâs move on.â

They strolled off across the lawn toward the tennis courts, where several guests were lobbing balls back and forth.

âHad a call from New York this morning, just before I phoned you,â Zachary Mudge began. âMy man there gave me the whole picture on Izmir.â

âHe has quite a financial empire, doesnât he?â Frank asked.

âHe did have,â Mudge said. âGot his finger in a dozen or more pies. His different companies and enterprises are all linked together under a setup called the Izmir Syndicate. But hereâs the rubâthe whole structureâs about to tumble down around his ears.â

âYou mean heâs gone broke?â Joe asked in surprise.

âI donât know if heâs gone broke, but the Izmir Syndicate certainly has,â Mudge replied. âMy agent says itâs near bankruptcy. Apparently Izmirâs been defrauding his investors and rigging the books for the past year or so. Now the governmentâs on his trail and heâs likely to wind up behind bars.â

The elderly financier rubbed his hands gleefully. âIf Izmir was interested in the Sea Spook, more than likely he was hoping to float a new company and raise a packet of money on the strength of Braxtonâs hydrofoil design. But just let him try it now! Iâll soon cut him down to size!â

âYou wonât have to, sir,â Frank said. âIzmir was lost at sea last night from an ocean liner.â

Mudge stopped short and stared at the boys as Frank told him about the news flash. âWell, well, well. Canât say Iâm surprised. Man gets in his position, I dare say jumping overboard seems like the best solution.â

The Hardys considered this gruesome thought as they walked back toward the terrace with Zachary Mudge. The boys noted a tall man in swim trunks with a towel draped around his neck, striding across the lawn. Apparently he was returning from a swim in the outdoor pooL He was gray-haired, wore glasses, and had rather prominent teeth.

Joe looked at him casually and caught a wink. Then he did a quick double-take and exchanged a startled glance with Frank.

âDid you see who that swimmer was?â Joe asked his brother later, as they started down the drive.

Frank nodded. âDadâor rather, Foster Harlow. Pretty neat disguise! Those phony teeth and the dyed hair changed his appearance completely.â

Joe suggested that they stop off at the Bayport General Hospital and check on Zatta. Sam Radley opened the door of the peddlerâs room in answer to their knock.

âYou two got here at just the right time,â Sam muttered as they entered. âIâve been working on Zatta. I think heâs about ready to talk.â

The one-eyed man regarded the Hardys fearfully as they advanced toward his bed.

âHow about it, Mr. Zatta?â Frank said. âDonât you think it would make sense to tell us what you know? I promise you the police will give you complete protection from the men who tried to kill you. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner those thugs can be put behind bars.â

The peddler gulped and ran his tongue nervously over his lips. âAll right,â he rasped. âI sure canât stay holed up here for the rest of my life.â His eyes darted over his three listeners. âYou guys ever heard oâ the Goggler gang?â

The Hardys and Sam Radley nodded.

âThe Goggler gang is what the newspapers call âem,â Zatta went on. âGuys in the rackets call âem the Evil Eyes or the Bad Eyes.â

âHow come?â Joe asked.

Zatta shrugged. âWho knows? Maybe on account oâ them eyeballs and glasses they wear when they pull a job. Anyhow, that name ainât no joke âtheyâre bad medicine. Every other mob on the East Coast is scared to death of âem.â

âWhat about that horned hand you stuck up on the door?â Frank put in.

Zatta flushed. âThatâs a âlay offâ sign they use. Theyâre in the protection racket, too, see? Every merchant who buys protection from âem has a sign like that showinâ somewhere in his shop. And there ainât a hood dumb enough to touch a place when he sees that hand âcause he knows the Bad Eyes would carve him up in a hurry if he tried muscling in. I figured if I stuck one of âem signs up on my door, theyâd think I was keepinâ my mouth shut and leave me alone.â

âWhoâs the head of the mob?â Radley demanded.

âNobody knows. I donât even think the Bad Eyes themselves know who their boss is. All I heard is they work for some really hush-hush setup called the Eye Syndicate.â

âOkay. Now how about that card you gave us for Dad?â Frank inquired.

âItâs like this,â the peddler explained. âI been hearinâ rumors that something big was about to pop with the Bad Eyes. I donât know whether itâs a job theyâre planninâ to pull or trouble in the gang or what. Anyhow, I spotted one oâ the Bad Eyes right here in Bayport.â

Joe tried a random shot. âSpotty Lemuel?â

âThatâs right.â Zatta looked at the two boys in astonishment. âI didnât know you kids were wise. When I saw Spotty, I figured the tip might be worth something to your old man. I tried to phone him and got no answer. Then I heard some kids talkinâ about you two beinâ in that high school game, so I went lookinâ for you at the ball field.â

Later, Zatta went on, he had heard a remark passed in a dive frequented by gangsters and hoodlums that the Bad Eyes were mixed up in a job involving Fontanaâs art shop. So he had decided to keep watch on the place in the hope of picking up a further lead.

âBut someone must have spotted you two talkinâ to me,â the peddler ended, âbecause that night two hoods cornered me and took me for a ride. You know what happened after that.â

Leaving Sam Radley on guard, Frank and Joe went down to the hospital lobby and telephoned Collig. The chief promised to send a squad car to the hospital at once and to keep the peddler in protective custody until the case was cleared up.

As the brothers walked out to their car, Frank remarked, âIâll bet the man who spotted us talking to Zatta was Fontana himself.â

Joe nodded. âAnd try this for size. What if the Eye Syndicate is the same as the Izmir Syndicate? The word âeyeâ standing for the letter âIâ in Izmir -get it?â

âI get it,â Frank said excitedly. âJoe, I believe youâve hit the nail right on the head. What say we take the Sleuth out on the bay and talk this over? Maybe we can come up with a few more answers if we think it all out!â

âSwell idea!â

The two boys drove to the harbor. As they walked toward the boat dock, Bill Braxton hailed them excitedly.

âJust the guys Iâm looking for!â he exclaimed.

âWhatâs up?â Joe inquired.

âI have a new mystery for you two to solve!â

CHAPTER XIX

The Figure at the Window

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âA NEW mystery?â Frank said wryly. âWe have our hands full now! But letâs hear it!â

âSomeone took the Sea Spook out of her shed last night,â Braxton informed the boys.

âYou mean she was stolen?â Joe asked, wide-eyed.

âWell, letâs say borrowed. Thatâs the funny part of it. Sheâs back in her berth right now. But Iâm sure she was taken out during the night.â

âHow come?â Frank said.

âFor one thing, the lock on the waterside door was busted. For another, the bilge is full of sea waterâand she was dry as a bone when I left here yesterday.â

Intrigued, the two boys eagerly accompanied Bill Braxton to his boathouse. Here they boarded the hydrofoil. Its afterdeck was still wet. Bill also showed them a tin dish from the locker.

âThis was on the chart bench,â he explained. âSomeone used it as an ash tray. You can still see the stain. The person probably emptied it over the side and gave it a quick wipe-off, but I found a stray butt that fell on the deck.â

âIf the bilge is full,â Frank said thoughtfully, âyour boat must have shipped a lot of water. Would she do that on the bay?â

Braxton shook his head. âNot a chance. It was calm as a millpond last night. The only way that could happen would be in a fairly heavy swell-maybe along the coast somewhere.â

âDid you check with the Coast Guard?â Joe suggested.

Braxton snapped his fingers. âThatâs a thought.â He climbed out onto the catwalk, strode to his desk, and picked up the telephone. After calling the Barmet Bay Coast Guard Station, he hung up and turned back to the Hardys. âWell, that cinches it. Their lookout saw the Spook sail out of the bay around ten oâclock last night. The watch that came on at midnight is off duty now, so theyâre not sure when my boat returned.â

Frank and Joe exchanged excited glances.

âHow about the fuel tanks?â Joe asked.

âI think theyâre down a bit, but Iâm not positive what the level was when I left,â Braxton replied. âThat wouldnât tell us much about the range, anyhow. Whoever took the Spook could have filled her tanks and burned it all up before he brought her back.â

âHave you a chart of the coast around Nantucket?â Frank asked. âIâd like to see it.â

âSure.â Bill Braxton climbed back aboard and led the way into the cabin. He removed a chart from a drawer and spread it out on the bench.

Frank fingered a spot about midway between Montauk and Nantucket. âWould your tanks have enough capacity to get the Spook there and back?â

Bill nodded. âSure. Easy.â

âHow long would the run takeâsay at top speed?â Frank inquired.

âThree hours each way. Maybe lessâsay two and a half if I really opened her up and didnât run into any heavy seas. Why?â

âJoe and I have the same wild hunch, I think.â Frank told about the news report that Malcolm Izmir had been lost overboard from the Cristobal, and also about the mysterious radio signals he and Joe had picked up over the glass-eye receiver. âIzmirâs loss overboard at sea could have been faked to get him out of a financial jam,â Frank reasoned. âSomeone could have taken your hydrofoil, picked Izmir up near the Cristobal, and brought him back to shore.â

âAnd the âsomeoneâ could have been Lemuel,â Joe added. âThat would explain why he pretended to be interested in buying the Spook and then never showed up again. All he really wanted was for you to take him out on the bay and show him how to operate this job.â

Bill Braxton was stunned. âCould be, all right,â he said slowly. âBut to pull a trick like that, Izmir would need the cooperation of the master and crew of the Cristobal, wouldnât he? Thatâs pretty hard to swallow.â

Frank was not so sure of this. âWould you, by any chance, know who owns the Cristobal?â

Braxton shook his head.

âNever mind,â Frank said. âWeâd better notify the police, anyhow, and see if they can lift any fingerprints off the Spook.â

All three climbed off the hydrofoil and Frank telephoned Chief Collig. He reported the overnight theft of the Sea Spook and obtained the name of the company the chief had called to inquire about Izmirâs sailing.

âThanks, Chief.â Frank hung up and turned back to the others. âHeâs sending a detective right over. Joe, letâs blast off for home. I have an idea Iâd like to follow up.â

Driving back to Elm Street, Frank explained, âThe Cristobal is owned by the Trans-Ocean Line. Dad handled a case for them once, rounding up a gang of card sharks, remember? I think they should be willing to help us.â

As soon as they arrived home, Frank made a telephone call to the office of the Trans-Ocean Line in New York. After listening to his story, an executive of the company assured him that Captain Rowley, the master of Cristobal, had a long, spotless record of service. He could be considered above suspicion. The executive promised, however, to call the liner by radiotelephone and arrange a short-wave interview between the Hardys and the captain. Within an hour, the boys made contact.

âWhen was Izmir last seen, sir?â Frank asked him.

âSoon after midnight last night,â Captain Rowley replied. âHe came up on the bridge and chatted with the officer on watch.â

âWhat about?â

âOh, the usual things passengers talk about. He asked the shipâs position and course, what the weather outlook was, and so on.â

Frank glanced excitedly at Joe. âWhat was the shipâs position, sir?â

âHold on a moment.â A short while later Rowleyâs voice came back on. âOur midnight fix put us at forty-one degrees, twelve minutes north latitude and seventy degrees, fifty-nine minutes west longitude.â

Joe had a sudden inspiration. âCould you give us your course and speed at that time, sir?â he put in eagerly.

âAccording to the log, our course was 080, speed thirteen knots.â

âIs there any indication that Izmir went back to his cabin after that?â Frank asked.

âApparently not, since his bed wasnât slept in, although we donât know,â Rowley replied. âHe may have fallen over the rail or jumped right after leaving the bridge.â

The Hardys thanked the captain and signed off.

âIâd say thatâs it, Joe!â Frank exclaimed. âThe midnight position was the same as the one we picked up over the glass eye!â

âAnd the next two groups in the message tell the shipâs speed and course,â Joe pointed out.

Frank went on breathlessly, âAnd the last numbersâtwelve twenty-sevenâcould be the time Izmir went over the side. Knowing the Cristobalâs course and speed, Lemuel could plot the exact spot where Izmir jumped.â

âRight. But did he stay afloat until the Spook arrived?â

âHe probably had a life jacket, or even an inflatable raft,â Frank guessed. âIt would be risky, all right, but not too risky if Izmir felt he was in a real jam and might wind up facing a long prison term.â

âSure,â Joe agreed. âHe and Spotty could easily have figured out beforehand, from the Cristobalâs sailing time, about where sheâd be around midnight. All Izmir had to do was radio his exact position and shine a flashlight every so often. The Spook could have picked him up in fifteen minutes.â

Just then Mrs. Hardy called to her sons that Dr. Bates was on the phone. Frank hurried from the basement to answer, with Joe close at his heels.

âIâve just found out about Dr. Vardar,â the medic reported. âHe was a prominent plastic surgeon in New York City up until two years ago. Then he became involved in some sort of scandal. I couldnât find out the details, but his license was revoked for malpractice.â

âThanks a lot, sir. That tells us all we need to know.â Frank hung up and turned excitedly to his brother, who had been listening in. âDid you get that? Vardar was a plastic surgeon!â

âNo wonder Chet thought he saw a mummy!â Joe replied. âVardar must have operated on someoneâs face and the patient was still wrapped in bandages.â

âDo you realize what that means?â Frank said. âDoc Graftonâs Health Farm isnât just a hideout for criminals on the runâitâs even a place where they can buy a new face. What a racket!â

Joeâs eyes narrowed. âThat malpractice bit just gave me an idea, Frank.â

âLike what?â

âRemember Tony said the Italian name for the evil eye is malocchio?â

âSo?â

âWell, mal must mean âbadâ or âevil.â And if you shorten Malcolm Izmirâs name to one syllable plus a letter, you get âMal I.â That could be where the gang got its nameâthe Evil Eyes!â

âWow! Weâre really hot today!â Frank said, socking his fist into his palm. âIâll bet anything the Sea Spook brought Izmir back to Bayport and heâs hiding out at the health farm right now, getting his face changed!â

âGreat, but all this is just theory,â Joe reminded his brother. âWe have no proof.â

âRight,â said Frank. âBut if Dad can get a peek inside that building Chet told us about, he may be able to wrap up the case. Letâs see if we can raise him on the radio!â

The boys hurried back downstairs and tried to contact their father by short-wave, but got no response. After lunch they tried again without success. They continued calling throughout the afternoon, but Mr. Hardy failed to answer. By dinnertime Frank and Joe were worried.

âLetâs find out if Chet knows anything,â Frank suggested.

He telephoned the Morton farm and hung up a few moments later with a shrug of disappointment. âChetâs mother says he doesnât finish work this evening till nine oâclock. I donât want to risk a phone call to him at the health farm.â

âListen. If we canât reach Dad by that time,â Joe said, âletâs go meet Chet and do a little scouting.â

âOkay with me.â

Soon after nine oâclock Chet came ambling through the arched gateway of the health farm. A slight honk drew his attention to the Hardysâ parked convertible. He trotted over.

âHi, fellows!â he exclaimed. âI thought Iola was coming to pick me up.â

âWe volunteered,â Frank said. âHop in.â

As the car drove off, the Hardys gave Chet a quick fill-in. âI think your dadâs okay,â he assured them. âI saw him. He gave me a wink. Otherwise, I wouldnât have known him.â

âWhat time was that?â Joe asked.

âAround five-thirty. Just before chow.â

âLetâs try him again,â Frank said hopefully.

He pulled over to the side of the road and Joe beamed out a call over their short-wave. This time Fenton Hardy responded. After hearing their story, he said, âGood work, boys. Iâve already got hold of a key to that building and Iâm going to try slipping in after lights-out at ten P.M. But it may be dangerous. Think you fellows could climb over the fence?â

âSure. What do you want us to do?â Joe said.

âKeep watch for a signalâjust in case I run into any trouble.â

âRoger!â

Chet was nervous but agreed to help. The boys waited until after ten oâclock, then parked the convertible on the north side of the wooded estate. Scaling the fence, they made their way silently among the trees toward the suspicious two-story frame building. The health farm lay shrouded in darkness. Other than faint gleams from a few shaded windows, most lights on the estate were out. Only the chirping of crickets broke the silence.

âSeen any sign of your dad?â Chet whispered as the three youths joined one another after circling the building.

âNot yet,â Frank murmured.

Suddenly they heard the noise of a violent scuffle inside the houseâthen a muffled cry! The boysâ hearts thudded. A light flashed on in an unshaded upper-story window.

âGood grief! What happened?â Joe exclaimed.

Fearing for his fatherâs safety, Frank darted closer to the building. Joe and Chet followed. All paused in the shadow of a dead, gnarled elm tree.

âIâm going to take a peek in the window!â Frank whispered. He scooped up a stone. âAlso try to find out with this whoâs up there. Give me a boost, Joe. Chet, you watch the door!â

Joe laced the fingers of his hands together for Frank to step on, then gave him a quick hoist. Frank grabbed a tree limb and swung himself upward. Meanwhile, Chet had crept to a position which gave him a clear view of the front door.

Frank hurled the stone at the lighted window. Crash! Chunks of glass from the broken pane tinkled to the ground. The next moment a figure stepped into sight at the sillâa thick-necked man wearing a dressing gown. He was partly silhou etted against the light, but Frank recognized him.

Malcolm Izmir!

At that instant the door of the house burst open! Two men came rushing out!

Chet hastily retreated, but stumbled over a rock and fell. Scrambling up, he fled toward the trees and shrubbery.

âGet him!â yelled one of the men.

Frank slid down the tree trunk and he and Joe dashed to their palâs aid. As the men whirled, the Hardys tackled them full force. But the man who had not spoken thrust the boys back with the force of a battering ram, then seized them in a crushing grasp. His partner now dealt the brothers several stunning blows.

âInside!â he snapped. âQuick!â Squirming and kicking, the Hardys were dragged into the building.

Their captors were Spotty Lemuel and Rip Sinder!

Lemuelâs lips twisted in a cruel sneer. âNow youâll get the same treatment your father gotâin our steam room!â

CHAPTER XX

Mystery Madhouse

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SINDER released Frank and Joe, but the ex-pug stood glaring at them watchfully, his huge hands clenching and unclenching.

âYou canât get away with this!â Joe panted. âOur friend will have the police here in two minutes!â

Lemuelâs eyes glittered in his pale face. âDonât kid yourself, junior! The fence around this joint is electrifiedâand Sinder turned on the juice as soon as we spotted you punks.â He gestured toward a wall switch. âYour buddy will sizzle the second he tries to climb out!â

Frank and Joe went white with fear at the thought. They were in the vestibule of a gloomy, high-ceilinged hallway which appeared to split the large, rambling house into two wings.

âOkay, upstairs, both of you!â Lemuel ordered. He gestured toward a steep staircase just beyond the vestibule. âAnd no funny business! Weâll be right behind you, every step of the way!â

The Hardys obeyed, but their minds were working at top speed. As they mounted the stairs, side by side, they could hear Sinder and Lemuel clumping behind them.

Suddenly Frank sagged, as if still stunned from the blows he had received. He seemed to miss his footing, and sprawled wildly against the steps.

âHey, on your feet, punk, before I crease your skull!â Lemuel snarled. The gangster prodded Frank with his foot.

Frank moved like lightning. His hands grabbed Lemuelâs upraised foot while the man was still off balance and jerked it high in the air! With a scream the man went flying down the staircase!

Sinder grunted with rage and tried to seize Frank, but Joe whirled and gave him a terrific kick on the shoulder. The thug toppled backward, wide-eyed with terror. He clawed vainly for the stair rail, but rolled, thumping and pounding, down the full flight.

âCome on, Joe!â urged Frank, springing to his feet.

The boys bounded to the top of the stairs. The upper hallway was dark and lined with doors. Frank and Joe ran through it, heading toward the rear of the building. Joe suddenly spotted a side passage on their right.

âThis way!â Joe hissed, tugging his brotherâs sleeve. As they turned, they could hear confused sounds coming from the stairwell.

The passage connected to another corridor. Frank sighted a flight of steps leading downward and steered his brother toward it. âWe must get back to that switch and turn off the electricity to the fence!â he whispered hoarsely.

The brothers plunged down the stairs to the first floor, then along a corridor that turned right and opened into the main hallway. It appeared empty and the Hardys raced along. They could hear pounding steps on the second floor, fading toward the rear.

âWhew! Letâs hope weâre not too late!â Joe breathed as they darted into the vestibule.

Frank flicked off the fence power switch.

âIf only we could find Dad!â Joe muttered. âThis place is like a maze!â

âMaybe Izmir will tell us!â Frank headed back to the stairs, with Joe at his heels, and ran lightly up the steps.

This time, instead of going straight through the second-floor hall, they turned toward the front of the house. A connecting corridor branched both ways. The Hardys followed it to the right.

Suddenly Frank grabbed Joeâs arm and pointed to a doorway at the comer of the hall. A thin line of light seeped out below the door.

âThatâs the room I saw from the tree,â Frank explained in a whisper. âIzmirâs in there!â

The boys crept closer. Frank put his hand gently on the knob and flung the door open.

Inside, Malcolm Izmir was standing at a bureau, putting a small jeweled ivory figure into a pouched money belt. He whirled and his jaw dropped in surprise.

Before he could cry out, Joe snatched a pillow from a bed near the door and flung it at him. Izmir ducked, but the pillow caught him in the face. In a split second the Hardys were on him like tigers!

Frank crooked an arm around the startled manâs neck and threw him heavily to the floor. Joe knelt on top of him, pinioning Izmir with knees and hands. Meanwhile, Frank poised a hard-knuckled fist directly over Izmirâs face. âOne yell out of you andââ he warned. âJust tell us where we can find the steam room.â

âSecond floor back,â Izmir croaked. âLast door to the leftâmain hallway!â

âTear up some sheets, Joe. Quickly!â Frank ordered. âWeâll tie him up!â

In a few minutes the fugitive lay bound and gagged. The boys hurried from the room, and dashed back to the main hallway. At the end, Frank opened the last door on the left. A glare of light dazzled their eyes.

âDr. Vardarâs operating room!â Joe exclaimed.

The white-gowned surgeon stood at an operating table on which a patient lay outstretched. Another man in white, evidently the doctorâs assistant, stood near the foot of the table. Both wore surgical masks. Above these, their eyes stared in complete astonishment at the Hardys.

Frank slammed the door before either man could make a move. âIzmir tricked us!â

The boys fled down the back stairs. They could hear running footsteps now in several parts of the house. âWe must find Dad!â Frank said grimly.

Desperately he and Joe dashed down a rear hallway. At the end of the corridor were a pair of swinging doors. The boys burst through them and stopped short with exclamations of horror.

A row of steam cabinets stood along one wall of the white-tiled room. From one cabinet protruded the head of a gray-haired man. It was drooping to one side. His eyes were closed and his red face was dripping with perspiration.

âDad!â Frank cried in a choked voice.

While Joe turned off the steam, Frank quickly opened the front of the cabinet and raised the top flaps so they could pull out the unconscious investigator. He had been thrust inside fully clothed, his arms tied behind him.

âLook at this lump on his head,â Joe said. âThey must have knocked him out first!â

The boys untied their fatherâs hands, then Frank got some cold water from a nearby basin and bathed the detectiveâs head. After the brothers had worked over him for a few minutes, Mr. Hardy began to regain consciousness. Soon he was able to talk and stand up. Frank and Joe briefed him quickly on all that had happened.

âThanks, boys,â the detective said tensely. âI couldnât have lasted much longer in there.â

âYou wonât last much longerâperiod!â a voice snarled. The three Hardys whirled in dismay as a group of men burst into the room.

At their head was a small, foxy-faced individual clutching a gun. With him were Lemuel, Sinder, and Dr. Vardarâs surgical assistant.

âBetter not try anything, Grafton,â said Fenton Hardy in a taut voice. âYour numberâs up. You wonât stand a chance of getting away.â

Doc Graftonâs face twisted into a gold-toothed smile. âDonât make me laugh, Hardy!â he jeered. But at this moment a siren wailed outside.

âThe cops!â gasped the surgical aide. âLetâs blow!â

âNot till I take care of these three rats!â Grafton snarled. He started toward the detective and his sons, but Lemuel grabbed his sleeve frantically.

âDonât be a sap! We donât want a stretch in prison!â

As Docâs gaze shifted for a moment to Lemuel, Fenton Hardy snatched up a wet towel and hurled it at Grafton. It caught the criminal in the face and chest, checking his advance.

Lemuel and the others were already dashing from the room. Before Grafton could regain his wits, two more towels caught him in the face. Joe brought him down with a flying tackle and Frank pinned his arms.

While the two boys quickly subdued Grafton, Mr. Hardy raced in pursuit of the other criminals. They were running out the front door when they blundered straight into the arms of Chief Collig and a trio of husky policemen!

In a few minutes the fight was over. Doc Grafton and his cohorts stood panting and handcuffed, facing the Hardys and the police.

âHow did you get here so fast?â Joe asked the burly chief.

âWell, for one thing, your father radioed us to stand by,â Collig replied.

âThat was right after I heard from you fellows,â Mr. Hardy explained. âI figured the case was about to blow wide open, and as soon as I had the evidence, it would be time for Chief Collig to take over.â He added that he had been seized by Lemuel and Sinder soon after entering the building. Upon close examination the men had recognized the detectiveâs features.

âThen we got a second call from Chet Morton to get here in a hurry,â Collig told the boys. âHe contacted us over your car radio.â The chief turned as Chet himself came bustling in through the front door. Frank and Joe pounced on him joyfully with bear hugs and handshakes.

âIâm glad youâre okay!â Frank exclaimed.

âChet, old buddy, youâre the greatest!â Joe told him.

âIâm glad you fellows realize it,â their chum said, his moonface splitting into a wide grin.

âIncidentally, we caught Nick Cordoza tonight and he talked plenty,â Collig went on. âSeems he was a member of the Goggler gangâor the Evil Eyes, as they call itâand Malcolm Izmir was the head. Izmir had also been acting as banker for the gangâs loot. But suddenly he told them it was time to break upâand then double-crossed them by paying them off in counterfeit money. No wonder they were trying to get him!â

Collig was astounded as the boys told him how Izmir had been picked up at sea by Lemuel and brought back to hide out at the health farm and have his face altered by Dr. Vardar.

âYou two were way ahead of us,â the chief commented wryly to the boys. âBut that was a great job of detection, Frank and Joe. And you helped a lot, Chet.â

A search was made of the building and half a dozen wanted criminals were taken into custody. All had been staying at the health farmâunknown to the regular guestsâand were in process of recovering from facial surgery. The patient whom Frank and Joe had seen on the operating table turned out to be Pampton.

A figurine found in Izmirâs money belt was indeed the Jeweled Siva. Also secreted, in other waterproof pouches, were diamonds and thousand-dollar bills.

Glumly the captured ringleader told his story. Lemuel, whose help he needed to stage his fake drowning at sea, was the only member of the gang not included in the double cross. Doc Grafton, Sinder, and the surgical aideâan ex-convict named Frosh who had worked as a prison orderly âknew all about the Evil Eyes and Izmirâs plan. He had promised them fat sums for their services.

âSome of the mob found out who I really was,â Izmir said, âand my business investments were about to collapse. Thatâs why I had to clear out. I figured I could start a new life with a new name and a new face.â

âAnd become a figure in hiding,â Frank remarked.

Izmir said that before sailing he had converted all his remaining funds into cash and diamonds. He had learned through Fontana about the Jeweled Siva being for sale and had concocted a scheme with the art dealer to get hold of it through a fake robbery.

âI paid Fontana with a new car,â Izmir went on, âand he was also going to keep the insurance payoff for the theft. He lied to Mrs. Lunberry that his insurance didnât cover it.â

All members of the gang possessed glass-eye receivers. Izmir had had them made in Japan as a means of signaling instructions to his men on criminal jobs. But Spotty Lemuel had dropped his glass eye aboard the Sea Spook and had returned to the boathouse to inquire about it.

âSo Spotty did overhear Bill Braxton talking to us on the phone and knocked him out,â Frank put in.

âYes.â Izmir went on to say that Lemuel had then guessed that the Hardy boys had become suspicious of him. Unable to find the eye after a frantic search, he realized it must be in the Hardysâ possession.

This had thrown Izmir into a panic. He feared the boys or their father might foil his scheme to jump off the Cristobal with an inflatable life raft by picking up his radio signals once overboard. Frantic efforts had been made to get back the glass eye before he sailedâfirst by luring the boys into the ambush at the vacant house, later by having Frosh, disguised as a meter reader, attempt to crack the Hardysâ safe. Finally he had tried the midnight summons to Lookout Hill.

Rip Sinder and Doc Grafton had assisted Lemuel at the Lookout Hill rendezvous while Frosh had decoyed Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude into leaving the house in order to blow open the safe.

After learning that one of the double-crossed gang members had held up the Bijou in a car stolen from Izmir Motors, Malcolm Izmir had come to keep watch on the policeâs activities near the crash scene. While there, he had spotted the Hardy boys, trailed them to Mrs. Lunberryâs home, and left the warning sign chalked under her window. Fontana had reported the Hardysâ attempt to talk to Zatta and this had led to the peddlerâs kidnapping.

Izmir guessed that the boys might trace the green sedan and had had a fake call made to his sales manager so that Sykes would get rid of them. Izmir himself had been in the automobile showroom that day and had spotted the boys approaching. He had left by a rear door, and later had had Lemuel and Sinder lure them into the road trap.

Hoping for a lighter sentence, Izmir willingly identified all members of the Evil Eye gang. Two of them were the men who had tried to break into his estate.

âWe should be able to round up the rest of them without too much trouble,â Collig said. âAnd that art dealer, Fontana, too.â

Mr. Hardy accompanied the police and their prisoners to headquarters. Frank and Joe, with Chet, drove off in their convertible. As they passed through the arched gateway, Joe remarked, âBoy, it sure was lucky we got the juice to the fence switched off in time!â

âJuice? What do you mean?â Chet queried.

When their stout friend learned of his narrow escape from the electrified fence, Chetâs face went white. âYou mean ... you mean ...â He gulped and slumped back on the seat.

âGood grief! Chetâs fainted!â Joe cried out.

Frank winked and said sadly, âToo bad Chet had to pass out. I was all set to buy him all the banana splits he could put away.â

Chetâs eyes opened and he sat up indignantly. âWell, for Peteâs sake, why didnât you say so?â he complained.

Joe grinned. âNo more rugged diets, eh pal?â

âYou said it! And no more getting mixed up in any dangerous Hardy cases!â

But this resolution of Chetâs was soon to be forgotten when Frank and Joe were confronted with THE SECRET WARNING.

âCome on!â Chet urged. âMy mouthâs dry as cotton. Letâs get over to the Hot Rocket!â