The Secret of the Old Mill (14 page)

The Hardys laughed in relief. “Our noisemaker and lamplighter!” Frank said as the boys entered the room. “The cat must have knocked over the lamp and clicked the switch.”

Although the room contained the gear mechanism and the shaft connected to the mill wheel, it was being used as a living area by the present tenants. There were two overstuffed chairs, a table, and a chest of drawers. On the floor, as if dropped in haste, lay a scattered newspaper.

“Let's search the rest of the mill before Markel and Docker get back,” Joe suggested. “Nothing suspicious here.”

The Hardys started with the top story of the old building. There they found what was once the grain storage room. Now it was filled with odds and ends of discarded furniture.

“I'm sure nothing's hidden here,” Frank said.

The other floors yielded no clues to what Docker and Markel's secret might be.

Frank was inclined to be discouraged. “Maybe our big hunch is all wet,” he muttered.

Joe refused to give up. “Let's investigate the cellar. Come on!”

The brothers went into the kitchen toward the basement stairway. Suddenly Joe gave a stifled yell. Something had brushed across his trouser legs. Frank swung his light around. The beam caught two round golden eyes staring up at them.

“The white cat!” Joe said sheepishly.

Chuckling, the Hardys continued down into the damp, cool cellar. It was long and narrow, with only two small windows.

Three walls were of natural stone and mortar. The fourth wall was lined with wooden shelves. Frank and Joe played their flashlights into every corner.

“Hm.” There was a note of disappointment in Joe's voice. “Wheelbarrow, shovels, picks—just ordinary equipment.”

Frank nodded. “Seems to be all, but where are the old bricks and lumber that Ken said were stored here?”

“I'm sure the stuff was never intended for Elekton,” Joe declared. “More likely the mill. But where? In a floor? We haven't seen any signs.”

Thoughtfully the boys walked over to inspect the shelves, which held an assortment of implements. Frank reached out to pick up a hammer.

To his amazement, he could not lift it. A further quick examination revealed that all the tools were glued to the shelves.

“Joe!” he exclaimed. “There's a special reason for this—and I think it's camouflage!”

“You mean these shelves are movable, and the tools are fastened so they won't fall off?”

“Yes. Also, I have a feeling this whole section is made of the old lumber from Pritos' yard.”

“And the bricks?” Joe asked, puzzled.

His brother's answer was terse. “Remember, this mill was used by settlers. In those days many places had hidden rooms in case of Indian attacks—”

“I get you!” Joe broke in. “Those bricks are in a secret room! The best place to build one in this mill would have been the cellar.”

“Right,” agreed Frank. “And the only thing unusual here is this shelf setup. I'll bet it's actually the entrance to the secret room.”

“All we have to do is find the opening mechanism,” Joe declared.

Using their flashlights, the boys went over every inch of the shelves. These were nailed to a backing of boards. The Hardys pulled and pushed, but nothing happened. Finally, on the bottom shelf near the wall, Frank discovered a knot in the wood. In desperation, he pressed his thumb hard against the knot.

There was the hum of a motor, and, as smoothly as though it were moving on greased rails, the middle section of shelves swung inward.

“The door to the secret room!” Frank exulted

“The door to the secret room!” Frank exulted.

Quickly the boys slipped inside the room and shone their flashlights around. The first thing they noticed was the flooring—recently laid bricks. Frank snapped on a light switch beside the entrance.

The boys blinked in the sudden glare of two high-watt bulbs suspended from the low ceiling. The next instant both spotted a small, hand-printing press.

“The counterfeiters' workshop!” they cried out.

On a wooden table at the rear of the room were a camera, etching tools, zinc plates, and a large pan with little compartments containing various colors of ink. At the edge of the table was a portable typewriter.

Frank picked up a piece of paper, rolled it into the machine, and typed a few lines. Pulling it out, he showed the paper to Joe.

“The machine used to type the warning note Dad got!” Joe exclaimed excitedly. “The counterfeiters must have thought he was on their trail.”

“And look here!” exclaimed Frank, his voice tense. A small pile of twenty-dollar bills lay among the equipment. “They're fakes,” he added, scrutinizing the bills. “They're the same as Chet's and Tony's.”

Joe made another startling discovery. In one corner stood a bow, with the string loosened and carefully wound around the handgrip. A quiver of three hunting arrows leaned against the wall nearby.

Excitedly Joe pulled one out. “The same type that was fired at the girls,” he observed. “This must belong to The Arrow!”

“Docker matches his description,” Frank pointed out. “He easily could have colored his hair gray.”

The Hardys were thrilled at the irrefutable evidence all around them. “Now we know why Markel and Docker rigged the mill wheel—to give a warning signal when they're working in this room!”

“Also, we have a good idea what was being sent to Peters in the envelopes—phony twenty-dollar bills!”

“Let's get Dad and Chief Collig here!” Joe urged, stuffing several of the counterfeits into a pocket.

As the boys turned to leave, the lights in the secret room went out. Frank and Joe froze. They realized the mill wheel had stopped turning.

“The signal!” Joe said grimly. “Someone is coming!”

CHAPTER XIX

THE HARDYS knew this was the signal for them to get out of the secret room—and fast! As they hurried into the cellar, the lights came on again. With hearts beating faster, they started for the stairway. But before the boys reached it, they heard the mill door being unlocked, then heavy footsteps pounded overhead.

“Docker!” a man's voice called. “Markel! Where are you!”

The Hardys listened tensely, hoping for a chance to escape unseen. When they heard the man cross the ground floor and go upstairs, Joe whispered, “Let's make a break for it!”

The boys dashed to the steps. They could see a crack of light beneath the closed door to the kitchen. Suddenly the light vanished, and the rumble of the mill wheel ceased.

The Hardys stopped in their tracks. “Somebody else is coming!” Frank muttered. “Probably Docker and Markel. We're trapped!”

Again the brothers heard the mill door open. Two men were talking loudly and angrily. Then came the sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs to the first floor.

“Peters!” The boys recognized Docker's voice. “Where in blazes were you?”

Frank and Joe nudged each other. Victor Peters was in league with the gatehouse men!

“What do you mean? I told you I'd meet you here at eleven,” snarled Peters.

“You must be nuts!” retorted Markel. “You called here an hour ago and said there was trouble and to meet you at the Parker Building.”

Peters' tone grew menacing. “Something's fishy. I didn't phone. You know I'd use the two-way radio. What's the matter with you guys, anyway?”

“Listen!” Markel snapped.
“Somebody
called here and said he was you. The voice did sound sort of fuzzy, but I didn't have a chance to ask questions—he hung up on me. I thought maybe your radio had conked out.”

The Hardys, crouched on the cellar stairs, could feel the increasing tension in the room above. Docker growled, “Something funny is going on. Whoever phoned must be on to us, or suspect enough to want to get in here and snoop around.”

“The Feds! We'll have to scram!” said Markel, with more than a trace of fear in his voice. “Come on! Let's get moving!”

“Not so fast, Markel!” Docker barked. “We're not ditching the stuff we've made. We'll have a look around first—starting with the cellar.”

The men strode into the kitchen. Below, Frank grabbed Joe. “No choice now. Into the secret room!”

Quickly the brothers ran back into the workshop. Frank pulled the door behind him and slid the heavy bolt into place.

Tensely the brothers pressed against the door as the three men came downstairs into the basement. Frank and Joe could hear them moving around, searching for signs of an intruder.

“I'd better check the rest of the mill,” Docker said brusquely. “You two get the plates and the greenbacks. Go out through the tunnel, and I'll meet you at the other end. We'll wait there for Blum to pay us off, then vamoose.”

“We're in a fix, all right,” Joe said under his breath. “What tunnel are they talking about?”

“And who's Blum?” Frank wondered.

The boys heard the hum of the motor that opened the secret door. But the bolt held it shut.

“The mechanism won't work!” Markel rasped.

“Maybe it's just stuck,” said Peters.

The men began pounding on the wood.

“What's going on?” Docker demanded as he returned.

“We can't budge this tricky door you dreamed up,” Peters complained.

“There's nothing wrong with the door, you blockheads!” Docker shouted. “Somebody's in the room! Break down the door!”

In half a minute his order was followed by several sharp blows.

“Oh, great!” Joe groaned. “They're using axes!”

“We won't have long to figure a way out,” Frank said wryly.

“Way out!” Joe scoffed. “There isn't any!”

Frank's mind raced. “Hey! They said something about leaving through a tunnel! It must be in here.”

Frantically the Hardys searched for another exit from the secret room. They crawled on the floor, and pried up one brick after another looking for a ring that might open a trap door.

“Nothing!” Joe said desperately.

All the while the men in the cellar kept battering away at the door. “Good thing that old lumber is such hard wood,” Frank thought. “But they'll break through any minute.”

“Look!” Joe pointed. “Under the bench!”

Frank noticed a shovel lying beneath the worktable. The boys pushed it aside, and saw that the wall behind the table was partially covered with loose dirt. On a hunch Frank grabbed the shovel and dug into the dirt.

“This dirt might have been put here to hide the entrance to the tunnel!” he gasped.

“It better be!” His brother clawed frantically at the dirt.

At the same moment there was a loud splintering noise. The Hardys looked around. A large crack had appeared in the bolted door.

One of the men outside yelled, “A couple more blows and we'll be in.”

Frank dug furiously. Suddenly his shovel opened up a small hole in the crumbly dirt. Joe scooped away with his hands. Finally there was a space big enough for the boys to squeeze through. Without hesitation, Frank wriggled in, then Joe.

From behind them came a tremendous crash and the sound of ripping wood. Markel's voice shouted, “Into the tunnel! After 'em!”

The Hardys heard no more as they pushed ahead on hands and knees into the damp darkness of an earthen passageway.

Joe was about to call out to his brother when he became aware that someone was crawling behind him. “No room here for a knockdown fight,” he thought, wondering if the pursuer were armed.

The young detective scrambled on as fast as he could in the narrow, twisting tunnel. He managed to catch up to Frank, and with a push warned him to go at top speed.

“Somebody's after us!” Joe hissed. “If only we can outdistance him!”

The underground route was a tortuous, harrowing one. The Hardys frequently scraped knees and shoulders against sharp stones in the tunnel floor and walls. They had held onto their flashlights, but did not dare turn them on.

“This passageway is endless!” Frank thought. The close, clammy atmosphere made it increasingly difficult for him and his brother to breathe.

Joe thought uneasily, “What if we hit a blind alley and are stuck in here?”

The boys longed to stop and catch their breath, but they could hear the sounds of pursuit growing nearer, and forced themselves onward faster than ever.

Frank wondered if Chet and Tony had seen the men enter the mill and had gone for help.

“We'll need it,” he thought grimly.