The Sinister Signpost (14 page)

Swerving sharply, Frank turned onto the trail. After they had traveled a short distance, he switched off the engine and lights. A moment later their pursuers raced past and continued down the road.

“Your maneuver worked!” Joe said with a grin.

“We're not out of this yet,” Frank warned. “Barto and his men are sure to figure out what happened. We'll get back on the road and drive in the opposite direction.”

He restarted the engine and rolled only a few feet when he brought the vehicle to a stop.

“What's wrong?” Joe queried.

“I'm afraid we have a flat!”

The boys climbed out of the car and were dismayed to see that the left front tire had been punctured by a sharp rock.

“What a time to have this happen!” Joe muttered.

At that instant they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching in the distance.

“It must be Barto and the others!” Joe concluded.

“Quick! Let's hide!”

“Where?”

Frank glanced around. “We'll climb a tree. That one over there should be the easiest. Get going! I'll follow you!”

Soon the Hardys were pulling themselves up through the branches, high above the ground. A thick mass of leaves provided excellent cover. There was one small clear spot which permitted them to view the road.

“We made it just in time,” Joe said. “There's the pickup truck. Barto and his men are turning in here!”

The boys' pulses quickened as they watched the truck come to a halt immediately behind their car.

“I told you those kids must've turned in here after we didn't see them on the road ahead!” Dodson declared. “Good trick. Lucky I remembered our passing this trail.”

“But where are they?” Barto growled. He examined the damaged tire. “I see they have a flat. Why didn't they try to fix it?”

“Probably heard us coming and ran off,” Dodson replied. “Just the same, let's take a look around.”

Frank and Joe were almost afraid to breathe as they watched their pursuers take out flashlights and search the area. At one point, a beam of light was directed toward the place in which the boys were hiding.

“That was close,” Frank thought as the beam was finally turned downward.

“We'd better not waste any more time here!” Barto shouted. “Those snoopers may be on their way to call the police!”

“They've ruined everything,” Dodson snarled. “We'll have to forget about using the signpost on Alden's car during the race. Let's pick it up and get out of here.”

One of the men walked to the rear of the Hardys' car with a sharp-pointed tool. He proceeded to punch several holes into the fuel tank. Gasoline began to stream from it. “That'll stop 'em from usin' this in case they come back.”

Barto and his henchmen climbed into the truck and drove off. The Hardys waited a few minutes before leaving their hiding place.

“Here we are in the middle of nowhere without transportation,” Joe said angrily.

“Won't help to complain about it.” Frank sighed. “Must be five or six miles to the nearest telephone. Let's start walking.”

They began trekking along the road. It had been daylight for more than an hour when they saw a sedan approaching.

“Oh-oh,” Joe remarked. “I hope none of Barto's men are in it.”

As the car came to a stop, the boys were elated to see Alden behind the wheel and their father seated beside him.

“Am I glad to see you two!” Mr. Hardy called out. “I became worried when I didn't hear from you. I decided to look for you and asked Mr. Alden to come along.” He peered at his sons curiously. “Why are you walking? Where's your car?”

The boys climbed into the rear seat of Alden's car and told the men what had happened. Then they drove to the spot where they had seen the signpost.

“This is where it was,” Frank announced, pointing to a small hole on the shoulder of the road.

“The gang made certain that they didn't leave any clues behind,” Mr. Hardy observed.

“You boys have saved my experimental car from being wrecked,” Alden interjected.

“You must be tired,” Mr. Hardy said to his sons.

“I insist you come to my home for breakfast and a few hours' sleep,” Alden added.

The young detectives readily agreed. They rested until midafternoon, then returned to Alden's office. They had been there only a few minutes when the phone rang. Alden picked up the receiver. He turned pale as he listened to what his caller had to say.

“What's the matter?” Mr. Hardy asked after his client hung up.

“That—that was Barto's brother Vilno!” Alden stammered. “He has Roger! He said unless I give him my experimental motor, he'll harm my son. He's calling again in two hours for my answer.”

THE Hardys were shocked by the news.

Alden was almost at the point of collapse. “If Vilno and his gang want my motor that badly, I'll give it to them.”

The three detectives were angry. Mr. Hardy exclaimed, “I'd like to get my hands on those scoundrels! They'll stop at nothing!”

“If only we had a lead to where their hideout is,” Joe put in.

Frank frowned. “Maybe the lead is right in our files at home.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked.

“Maybe the letters we found in Barto's apartment do contain a code after all,” Frank answered.

Mr. Hardy nodded. “Why don't you boys go back to Bayport and work on that angle?” He handed them a set of keys. “Take my car. It's in the plant's parking lot. I'll stay here and be on hand when Vilno calls back.”

“Meanwhile,” Alden told the boys, “I'll send one of my tow trucks to pick up your car.”

Frank and Joe hurried home, took Barto's letters from the file, then went to their crime lab to study them.

After an hour had passed, Joe sighed. “We're no closer to discovering a key than we were the last time we examined the letters.”

“Looks hopeless,” Frank agreed. “But let's keep at it a bit longer.”

Shrugging, Joe turned his attention to the sheets of carbon paper found in Barto's apartment. He scrutinized them carefully and thought they looked a bit different from the usual carbon paper. Suspicious, Joe sandwiched a sheet between two sheets of white paper, picked up a pencil, and began scribbling on the upper one.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. “This is odd! The carbon doesn't produce a copy except in a few isolated spots.”

Frank jumped to his feet. “Joe! You may have discovered the key to the code!”

“I hope so. Fortunately our typewriter has pica type like Barto's machine. I'll type an exact copy of the first of his letters,” Joe said. “If our hunch is correct ...” His words trailed off as he inserted two clean sheets into the typewriter. Then he began tapping out the words.

When Joe finished typing the letter, he pulled out the sheets and quickly examined the carbon copy.

“That's it! We've broken the code!” he exclaimed. “Trick carbon paper!”

Joe showed Frank the copy. “Notice that the carbon has transferred only certain words and portions of words onto the copy sheet. First we have the word ‘hard.' Next, the ‘y' and ‘s' from the word ‘boys.' ”

“Spelling out ‘Hardys'!” Frank declared.

“And the next word is ‘sons,' and so on.”

The boys observed that the complete message read:

Tingling with excitement, Frank handed his brother the second of Barto's letters and the other sheet of carbon paper. “Quick! Make a copy of this!”

Joe repeated the procedure. The carbon copy revealed the following message:

“It must be the location of the gang's hideout !” Frank exclaimed.

He rushed to the telephone and dialed Alden's private office number. There was no answer.

“It's after office hours,” Joe said. “Mr. Alden's secretary must have left. Why don't you try the company's main number?”

Following his brother's suggestion, Frank finally got a response from the plant's chief watchman. “Sorry, I can't help you,” the man told Frank. “Me and my men just came on duty. I haven't seen Mr. Alden or anyone else.”

Next, Frank tried the executive's home. Again there was no answer.

“I wonder where Dad and Mr. Alden are,” Frank muttered.

“Maybe they went to meet Vilno.”

“Dad would have called us. I don't like this.”

“If they're delivering the experimental motor to Vilno, he and his gang may try to make a getaway after they have it. Let's go to their hideout.”

“Okay!” Frank agreed. “But since Mother and Aunt Gertrude won't get home from the theater till late I'll ask Chet to stand by the phone here. He can tell Dad where we are if he should call.”

Twenty minutes later Chet's ancient yellow car rumbled to a stop in front of the Hardy home. The boys noticed that their friend had his jet-propelled bicycle lashed to the rear bumper.

“I'm taking my bike to a secret spot early tomorrow morning,” Chet announced. “It's ready for the supreme test.”

“Lots of luck,” Frank said. “I hope the job we're asking you to do isn't going to interfere with your plans.”

“Not at all,” the chubby youth replied grandly. “What is it you want me to tell your father if he calls?”

Frank handed him the message they had decoded revealing the location of the gang's hideout.

“I'd rather be going with you,” Chet muttered, “instead of having to sit at the telephone.”

“We wish you could too,” Joe assured him. “But your job is an important one. We'll check with you later.”

It was already dusk when the Hardys drove off. Forty miles to the north of Clayton, Joe pointed to a dimly lighted building in the distance. “I think I've spotted the mansion! It's behind those trees over to the right.”

Frank brought the car to a stop near the foot of a long wooded driveway. He and his brother continued on foot. The house was situated quite a distance from the main road.

“I don't see anybody or signs of activity,” Joe whispered as they neared the building.

“Just the same, be careful. If this is Vilno's hideout, he's sure to have one or more guards posted.”

The boys crept forward toward the front of the house, keeping in the darkness of the trees. Suddenly Joe grabbed his brother's arm. “Look!” he whispered. “There's a man up ahead, seated on that big rock. He's armed!”

“It's a guard all right, Joe. He's Tadlow, one of the men we saw with Barto and Dodson at the sinister signpost!”

“Then we're at the right place. Let's nab him.”

“Okay.”

The Hardys stalked their quarry. When they were within arm's reach of the man, he jumped to his feet and whirled around to face them.

Quick as a flash Joe leaped and caught the man squarely on the jaw with a right uppercut. He tumbled to the ground, unconscious. Nearby lay his rifle, which Frank flung into a clump of brush.

The boys dragged the man to a slim tree, put his arms around the trunk, and tied his wrists together with a belt. The placing of a handkerchief gag completed the job.

Moving cautiously, the boys continued toward the mansion. They kept a sharp lookout for other guards, but there were none. When the Hardys reached their goal, they detected a humming sound.

“What do you think that is?” Joe hissed.

“Offhand, I'd say it's some kind of machine,” Frank answered. “Seems to be coming from the basement.”

The boys started to creep around the outside of the mansion. Soon they discovered a metal air vent in the foundation. Frank peered through it in amazement.

“See anything?” Joe asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes. Looks like a physics or electronics laboratory.”

Joe crouched just as three men came into Frank's view. They were Vilno, Barto, and Dodson. The boys pressed their ears against the vent in an effort to hear what the men were saying.