The Secret of the Old Mill (5 page)

“It's an odd coincidence,” Frank remarked, when the boys were back in the car. “We've come across two Belgian bikes in two days.”

When they reached the Traylor store in Bridgeport, the young detectives learned they had just missed a customer who had purchased a pedal for a Belgian bike.

“Who was he?” Frank inquired.

“I don't know.”

“What did he look like?” Joe asked.

The proprietor's brow wrinkled. “Sorry. I was too busy to pay much attention, so I can't tell you much. As far as I can remember, he was a tall boy, maybe about fourteen.”

The three friends knew this vague description was almost useless. There probably were hundreds of boys living in the surrounding area who fitted that description.

As the boys reached the street, Joe said determinedly, “We're not giving up!”

“Hey!” Chet reminded his friends. “It's almost time to pick up the girls.”

Within an hour the five young people were turning off the highway onto a side road paralleling Elekton's east fence. A little farther on Chet made a right turn and followed the dirt road that led to the rear entrance of the plant.

“Any luck sleuthing?” Pretty, brown-eyed Callie Shaw asked the Hardys.

“What makes you think we were sleuthing?”

“Oh, I can tell!” Callie said, her eyes twinkling. “You two always have that detective gleam in your eyes when you're mixed up in a mystery!”

“They certainly have!” Iola agreed, laughing.

When they reached a grove bordering Willow River, which was to their left, Chet pulled over. “I'll park here.”

The girls had decided they would like to see the changes which had been made in the old mill. As the group approached Elekton's gatehouse, they were amazed at the transformation.

No longer did the mill look shabby and neglected. The three-story structure had been completely repainted and the weeds and overgrowth of years cleared away. The grounds and shrubbery of the whole area were neatly trimmed.

“Look!” said Frank. “There's the mill wheel!”

As the Hardys and their friends watched the huge wheel turning, they felt for a moment that they were living in olden days. Water which poured from a pond over a high stone dam on the south side and through an elevated millrace caused the wheel to revolve.

“Oh!” Callie exclaimed admiringly as she spotted a little bridge over the stream from the falls. “It looks just like a painting!”

About three hundred yards from the north side of the mill was the closed rear gate to Elekton's ultramodern plant.

“Some contrast between the old and the new!” Joe remarked as they left the dirt road and walked up the front path to the gatehouse.

Suddenly the door opened and a dark-haired, muscular man in uniform came out to meet them. “What can I do for you?” he asked. “I'm the gate guard here.”

“I'd like to apply for a summer job at Elekton,” Chet told him.

“Have you an appointment?”

“No,” replied Chet. “I guess I should have phoned first.”

The guard agreed. “You would've saved yourself time and trouble,” he said. “I'm sure there aren't any openings, especially for temporary help.”

“Well, couldn't I go in and leave an application with the personnel manager?” Chet asked.

The guard shrugged. “Tell you what—I'll phone the personnel office instead,” he offered, and went back into the mill.

While they waited, the five looked around. At the south side of the mill grounds, a slender, graying man who wore overalls was clipping the low hedges.

“Look, Callie,” said Iola, pointing toward a spot near the hedges. “Isn't that quaint? An old flour barrel with ivy growing out of it!”

“Charming.” Callie smiled.

The girls and boys started over toward the mill for a closer inspection. At that same moment the guard came to the door. “Just as I told you,” he called out to Chet. “No openings! Sorry!”

“Too bad, Chet,” Joe said sympathetically. “Well, at least you can keep on relaxing.”

Despite his disappointment, Chet grinned. “Right now I'm starved. ”Let's go down to the river and have our picnic.”

He thanked the guard, and the young people started to walk away. Suddenly Frank stopped and looked back at the mill. Propped against the south wall was a bicycle. Quickly he ran over to examine it. “This looks like a Belgian model,” Frank thought. “Sure is,” he told himself. “The same type Ken Blake has.”

On impulse Frank pulled the pedal from his pocket and compared it to those on the bike. They matched exactly. Frank noticed that one of the pedals looked much less worn than the other. “As if it had been replaced recently,” he reflected, wondering excitedly if someone had used this bicycle to deliver the warning note.

“And could this bike be Ken's?” the young detective asked himself.

He inspected the front-wheel spokes. None was twisted, but several had slight dents. “They could've been straightened out easily,” Frank reasoned, “and the paint scratches on the fender touched up.”

He felt his heart beat faster as he waved his companions to join him. When Frank pointed out the clues to his brother, Joe agreed immediately.

“It could be the bicycle which was used to deliver the message—”

Joe was interrupted by a strange voice behind them. “Pardon me, but why are you so interested in that bike?”

Frank quickly slipped the pedal into his pocket as the group swung around to face the speaker. He was the man who had been clipping the hedges.

“Because just yesterday we met a boy, Ken Blake, who was riding a bike of the same model. We don't often see this Belgian make around.”

For a moment the man looked surprised, then smiled. “Of course! Ken works here—does odd jobs for us around the mill. You must be the boys he met yesterday when he was delivering some copy to the printer.”

“Yes,” Frank replied. “When we asked Ken about his job he was very secretive.”

“Well,” the maintenance man said, “he has to be! This plant is doing top-secret work. All of us have been impressed with the necessity of not talking about Elekton at all.”

“Is Ken around?” Joe asked nonchalantly. “We'd like to say hello.”

“I'm afraid not,” was the reply. “We sent him by bus this afternoon to do an errand. He won't be back until later.” The man excused himself and resumed his clipping.

“We'd better eat.” Iola giggled. “My poor brother is suffering.”

“I sure am!” Chet rolled his eyes. Laughing, the picnickers started away.

Joe, who was in the rear, happened to glance up at the front of the mill. He was startled to catch a glimpse of a face at one of the second-story windows. He stopped in his tracks.

“Ken Blake!” Joe said to himself.

As the young sleuth stared, mystified, the face disappeared from the window.

CHAPTER VI

PUZZLED, Joe continued looking up at the window of the old mill.

“What's the matter?” Iola asked him. “Did you see a ghost?”

In a low whisper Joe explained about the face which had disappeared. “I'm sure it was Ken Blake I saw at that window!”

The others followed his gaze. “No one's there now,” Iola said. “Of course the glass in all the windows is old and wavy. The sunlight on them could cause an illusion.”

Chet agreed. “How could Ken be here if he was sent on an errand?”

Joe stood for a minute, deep in thought. “I can't figure it out, but I'm sure that it was no illusion. Come on, Frank. Let's go check.”

While the others walked down the hill, the Hardys strode up to the maintenance man, who was still trimming hedges.

“Are you sure Ken went into town?” Joe asked. “Just now I thought I saw him looking out a second-floor window.”

“You couldn't have. You must have been dreaming.” The man gave a jovial laugh.

Joe was still not convinced. Impulsively he asked, “Does Ken ever run any errands for you at night?”

“No,” the man answered readily. “He leaves his bike here and walks home when we close at five-thirty.”

“Does anyone else have access to the bike after that?” Frank queried.

“It's kept in an open storage area under the rear of the mill and could be taken from there easily.”

Although obviously curious, the man did not ask the Hardys the reason for their questions. He looked at his watch.

“Excuse me, boys, I'm late for lunch.” He turned and hurried into the mill.

As the brothers hastened to catch up with Chet and the girls, Frank said, “Another thing which makes me wonder if that bicycle is connected with the warning is the description of the boy who bought the pedal.
He
could be Ken Blake.”

“I agree,” Joe said. “I'd sure like to question Ken.”

“We'll come back another time,” Frank proposed.

The group picked up the picnic hamper from the Queen and strolled down a narrow path through the woods leading to Willow River.

“Here's a good spot.” Callie pointed to a shaded level area along the bank. “We haven't been in this section before.”

Soon everyone was enjoying the delicious lunch the girls had prepared: chicken sandwiches, potato salad, chocolate cake, and lemonade. While they were eating, the girls were the targets of good-natured kidding.

“Boy!” Joe exclaimed as he finished his piece of cake. “This is almost as good as my mother and Aunt Gertrude make.”

“That's
a compliment!” Chet said emphatically.

Callie's eyes twinkled. “I know it is. Joe's mother and aunt are the best cooks ever!”

Iola sniffed. “I don't know about this compliment stuff. There's something on your mind, Joe Hardy!”

Joe grinned. “How are you on apple pie and cream puffs and—?”

“Oh, stop it!” Iola commanded. “Otherwise, you won't get a second piece of cake!”

“I give up.” Joe handed over his paper plate.

After lunch everyone but Chet was ready to relax in the sun. Normally he was the first one to suggest a period of rest, even a nap, but now his new project was uppermost in his mind.

“Let's start to collect the specimens for my microscope,” he urged his friends.

The Hardys groaned good-naturedly at Chet's enthusiasm, but readily agreed.

“We'll need some exercise to work off that meal.” Frank grinned.

The girls packed the food wrappings in the hamper. Then, single file, the group walked downstream, paying careful attention to the rocks and vegetation. Chet picked up several rocks and leaves, but discarded them as being too common.

“Are you looking for something from the Stone Age?” Joe quipped. “Maybe a prehistoric fossil?”

“Wouldn't you be surprised if I found one?” Chet retorted.

They followed a bend in the river and came to a small cove with a rocky, shelving beach. Here the willow trees did not grow so thickly. The shoreline curved gently around to the right before it came to a halt in a sandy strip along the riverbank.

“What a nice spot,” said Callie. “We'll have to come here again and wear our swim suits.”

“Look!” cried Iola. “What's that?”

She pointed to a dark opening beneath a rocky ledge which bordered the beach.

“A cave!” exclaimed Joe and Frank together.

Intrigued, the five hurried along the beach for a closer look. Eagerly the Hardys and Chet peered inside the entrance. The interior was damp, and the cave's walls were covered with green growth.

“Hey! This looks like a tunnel!”

“This'll be a perfect spot to look for specimens,” Chet said. “Let's go in!”

The boys entered the cave. The girls, however, decided to stay outside.

“Too spooky—and crowded!” Callie declared. “Iola and I will sun ourselves while you boys explore.”

The Hardys and Chet could just about stand up in the low-ceilinged cave. Frank turned on his pocket flashlight and pointed to an unusual yellow-green fungus on the right side of the cave. “Here's a good sample of lichens, Chet.”

Soon the boys were busy scraping various lichens off the rocks. Gradually they moved deeper into the cave. Frank halted in front of a pile of rocks at the rear.

“There ought to be some interesting specimens behind these stones,” he said. “They look loose enough to move.”

Together, the three boys rolled some of the rocks to one side. To their great surprise, the stones had concealed another dark hole.