The Secret of the Caves (11 page)

JOE whistled. “A great idea, Frank. The girls can be our undercover agents.”

“Exactly,” Frank said. He turned to Chet. “Maybe you can convince Iola she should do this for Hardy and Sons.”

“I think she'd do it just for Joe,” Chet said, and guffawed.

“All right, all right,” Joe said, “let's go.” He called over his shoulder. “Find out about that cap, Frank!”

He and Chet hopped into the jalopy and drove away. Two hours later they pulled into the driveway of the Morton farmhouse.

Iola and Mary Todd hastened out to greet them. Mary, although happy to see the boys, had a wistful air. Joe realized she was disappointed that her brother had not been found, and wished he had good news for her.

When the four young people had gathered in the cool spacious living room, Joe asked Iola, “Will you get Callie Shaw to come right over?”

“I'll phone her now. Why?”

“Tell you later.”

While they waited for Callie, tall frosty glasses of lemonade were served by Iola, who grew more curious with each cool sip. Twenty minutes later Callie Shaw arrived. She was a good-looking blond girl whom Frank Hardy often dated.

“Hi, everybody,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Why the mysterious summons?”

“Yes, Joe Hardy,” Iola put in. “Don't keep us in suspense any longer.”

With a dramatic gesture Joe began. “We have something exceptional to ask you girls.”

“I know! You want us to go on a picnic at the caves,” Callie said hopefully.

Joe shook his head. “We want you and Iola to apply for waitress jobs at the Palais Paris.”

“So you can spy on what's going on there,” Chet burst in.

Dumfounded, the three girls listened raptly to the story of the boys' adventures.

“You mean you want us to help you on a detective case?” Iola said happily. “Oh, we'd love to!”

A determined look crossed Mary's pretty face. “If Callie and Iola are going to help you boys find my brother, I want to help, too.”

“But—but—” Chet started to protest.

“No buts about it,” Mary said emphatically. “All three of us girls will be detectives!”

Mary's enthusiasm amused Joe and Chet. But Callie and Iola were delighted to have her join them in applying for waitress jobs at the Palais Paris.

“We'll call ourselves the three musketeers!” Iola said proudly.

“Ugh!” said Chet. “I can just see you now dueling with steak knives.”

Iola gave her brother a withering look, then turned to Joe with a bright smile. “What do you want us to do when we get there? Shall we go under assumed names?”

“To answer your second question first,” said Joe. “You and Callie give your names, but I don't think Mary should use her last one—just in case these people have read about her brother's disappearance.”

“All right,” Mary said promptly. “I'll call myself Mary Temple.”

“Good,” Joe replied. “In answer to your first question, lola—if and when you get to be waitresses, just keep your ears and eyes open for anything suspicious going on at the Palais Paris.”

“And not too much giggling, either,” Chet said with a brotherly wave of his hand.

“Of course not, silly!” Iola retorted. “When do we start?”

“First thing tomorrow,” Joe said. “We'll meet here at eight o‘clock.”

“Meantime”—Iola's eyes twinkled—“we gals can practice balancing trays.”

Afterward, Joe rode to Bayport with Callie in her sports car. “I'll pick you up in the morning,” she said, pulling up at the Hardy home. “Bye now.”

Joe was disappointed to learn that his father was out of town. “Your dad won't be back until sometime tomorrow,” said Mrs. Hardy. “By the way, did you boys find a spinning wheel?”

“Well—er—yes,” Joe replied. “But it needs a little work. We'll fix it up, though, Mom.” He added apprehensively, “Aunt Gertrude hasn't arrived yet?”

“No, but I expect her any day.”

Joe quickly briefed his mother on their recent adventures, including the cap clue and the plan to return to Rockaway. “There's a phone at the general store in case you want to reach us,” he said. Joe had supper and retired early. Right after breakfast he took enough money from the brothers' safe to cover the balance on the spinning wheel and retrieve Frank's watch.

Promptly at eight o‘clock Joe and Callie arrived at the Morton farm, and the five young people set off in Chet's jalopy. Iola sat next to Joe as the teen-agers drove happily along the highway to Rockaway.

Frank and Biff met them at the campsite, somewhat surprised to see Mary Todd.

“I have news for you,” Frank said. “Old Man Tuttle doesn't sell those foreign caps.”

“I told you Wilson was nutty,” Joe commented.

It was then decided that Biff should drive the three girls to the restaurant. Frank explained, “The Palais Paris people already know Joe and me. They might get suspicious if we show up with you.”

“Well, I don't see why we girls can't drive alone,” said Iola. “We have our licenses with us.”

Although the Hardys knew that Callie and Iola were good drivers, they insisted that Biff go along as a precautionary measure.

“There may be a bunch of gangsters hiding out there,” Chet quipped. “And Biff can take care of
them,
eh pal?”

“One-handed!”

“And don't forget—you are
Mary Temple,”
Joe emphasized. The girls waved as Biff drove them away in Chet's car.

“Do you suppose they'll all get jobs?” Joe asked as he, Frank, and Chet watched the car disappear around a bend.

“Even if only one is hired,” Frank said, “we'll have an undercover agent on the spot.”

“She can always check on those phony antiques,” said Chet as he pulled up a stalk of grass and nipped it between his teeth. “So, what do we do now?”

The boys were strolling past Tuttle's General Store. Chet answered his own question. “I could go for some ice cream.”

“Okay.” Joe grinned. “It's hot and we'll have to wait, so why not fuel up, eh Chet?”

“We can ask Mr. Tuttle about Commander Wilson, too,” Frank suggested.

Chet treated to ice cream on a stick. In between bites, the boys queried the storekeeper.

“Mr. Tuttle,” Joe spoke up, “do you know anything about that ex-sailor hermit who lives at the caves? His name is Wilson.”

The mayor gave Joe a sideways look. “Hermit? Lives in a cave? Never saw the likes of such in my town, and never heard of a soul
livin'
down there.”

The trio said good-by and left. Chet said, “Let's go to the car. There's a good jazz program from Bayport.”

But as they approached the car, Mayor Tuttle raced out after them. “Hey, come back!” he called excitedly.

“Oh—oh, what now?” said Frank, turning.

The old man went on urgently. “The telephone,” he said. “Somebody's calling you—your father.”

Frank dashed back inside, followed by Joe and Chet. He ran to the public booth and picked up the receiver, “Dad, this is Frank. What's up?”

The reply creased a furrow between his eyes. “Leapin' lizards!” he exclaimed. “Okay, Dad. We'll get over there right away. Thanks for calling.”

Frank stepped out of the booth, and faced the other boys, who were bursting with curiosity.

“Tell us what happened,” Joe demanded.

“Remember that rundown on Cadmus Quill?” Frank said. “Well, Dad learned something else. Guess what—the Palais Paris is owned by a corporation, with Cadmus Quill listed as secretary!”

Joe let out a long whistle. “Then something fishy is going on around there,” he said. “The girls might be in danger! Let's go!”

Chet sprinted as fast as the Hardys and all three bolted into the car together. Joe spun the rear wheels in haste to get rolling!

In the meantime, Iola, Callie, and Mary were being ushered through the restaurant of the Palais Paris to the manager's office at the rear. In order to avoid being conspicuous. Biff Hooper had parked Chet's car at the far end of the lot. Biff himself crouched down out of sight on the floor of the back seat.

The girls were greeted by a suave-looking slender man with a small black mustache. “Made moiselles,” he said, rising from his desk, “do I understand that you wish to work as waitresses at the Palais Paris?” The manager spoke with a French accent. He added quickly, “Ah,
pardon
. I am Pierre Dumont.”

“Yes, Mr. Dumont,” Callie Shaw spoke up. “A friend of ours saw your sign. We would like to apply for jobs.”

“You speak French?”

“Oui,”
Iola replied. “We've studied it in high school.”

“Trés bien.”
Pierre Dumont nodded. “And you have had restaurant experience?” He turned his glance to Mary and asked quickly, “What is your name?”

“Mary Todd—Temple!” she said, flustered.

“Todd-Temple,” the manager said, lifting his eyebrows. “An English name, I presume.”

“Yes, yes,” Mary stammered.

Mr. Dumont murmured, “One moment, s‘il
vous plait.”
He pressed a buzzer. The girls stood nervously. A moment later the door opened and a muscular, brawny man entered.

“You wanted somethin', boss?”

Mr. Dumont drew the man aside and whispered.

“Got yuh, boss,” the man said, then hurried outside.

The manager once more turned his attention to the girls. “So sorry. Now—if you will leave your names with me,” he said, “I shall let you know. I have had several other applicants.”

He handed a pad across the table and the girls wrote their names, addresses, and phone numbers.

The three applicants thanked the restaurant manager and left his office. On the way through the restaurant, Callie, who was last, glimpsed three well-dressed men pushing open the swinging doors to the kitchen. Their voices floated back and Callie caught a few words in a foreign tongue. “That's not French,” she thought, surprised.

When the girls were outside, Mary whispered, “Oh, what a goose I am for giving my right name.”

“Don't worry,” Callie said.

“Do you think Mr. Dumont was suspicious of us at all?” Iola mused. “He kept looking at me sort of funny.”

“It's just your imagination because we're play ing detective,” Callie said.

The girls were nearly to the jalopy when Pierre Dumont hastened from the restaurant toward them. Iola whirled. “He's after us. Run!”

THE frightened girls raced toward the car, but their speed was outmatched by Pierre Dumont. He overtook them halfway across the parking lot.

“Wait!” he commanded. “Why are you running away?” He extended a purse toward them.

“Oh dear,” said Mary. “It's mine. I must have left it on your desk. Thank you.”

“I return it with pleasure, mademoiselle,” Dumont replied. With a slight bow, the manager walked away.

Callie sighed in relief, and the girls hastened toward Chet's car.

“Biff! We're here!” Iola said in a loud whisper.

No reply.

“What happened to our chauffeur?” Callie said, and opened the car door. She looked into the back seat and gasped.

“Biff! What happened!” Iola cried. “Come on, girls. Let's lift him up.” It took the combined strength of all three to heft big Biff onto the back seat.

“Thank goodness he's breathing!” declared Mary Todd, her hands trembling in fright.

While Callie chafed Biff's wrists, Iola patted his face gently until the youth opened his eyes.

“Ow, my head,” Biff said, wincing. He touched the welt and winced again.

“Someone gave you an awful whack,” said Iola. “Did you see who it was?”

“I didn't see anything but stars!” Biff commented wryly.

“There's something very odd going on around here,” Iola said with a determined set of her chin. “I'm going right back and talk with Mr. Dumont.”

“Wait a minute,” Callie said, putting a restraining hand on Iola's arm. “If Dumont is in on all this, as I think he is, it won't do us any good. Let's report to Frank and Joe, quick.”

“I think that would be better,” Biff said. “Boy, am I groggy!”

“I'll drive back,” Callie said. She hopped into the front seat while Mary and Iola remained in the back, on either side of Biff. Callie started the car, drove out of the parking lot, and soon was whipping along the highway toward Rockaway. She slowed down slightly for a right-hand curve. At the same instant a groundhog plodded into the road. Desperately Callie swerved toward the center of the road to avoid the creature. Just then another car sped toward them from the opposite direction.

Callie gripped the wheel and turned it hard. The cars passed with less than an inch to spare. With squealing brakes, both vehicles pulled over and stopped.

Frank, Joe, and Chet hopped out of the Hardys' car and ran over to the girls and Biff.

“Whew!” said Joe. “That was a close call.”

“I'm sorry,” Callie said. “I—I didn't want to hit that poor animal.”

“Forget it,” said Joe. “What's the matter with you, Biff?”

“I'm all right now,” the tall boy said, stepping out of the car with Iola and Mary. “Somebody conked me on the head. That's all!”