The Secret of the Caves
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - Telescope Hill Trouble
CHAPTER II - Over the Fence
CHAPTER III - Bouncy Quill
CHAPTER IV - A Hazing Trick
CHAPTER V - Counterattack
CHAPTER VI - The Toppled Tower
CHAPTER VII - The Palais Paris
CHAPTER VIII - The Old Man’s Warning
CHAPTER IX - The Cavern
CHAPTER X - A Terrifying Loss
CHAPTER XI - No Trespassing!
CHAPTER XII - Undercover Work
CHAPTER XIII - A Straight-Line Clue
CHAPTER XIV - Startling News
CHAPTER XV - A Growing Suspicion
CHAPTER XVI - Deadly Clicking
CHAPTER XVII - A Bold Warning
CHAPTER XVIII - Searchlight
CHAPTER XIX - A Raft of Trouble
CHAPTER XX - Loyal Pals
THE SECRET OF THE CAVES
Triggered by the disappearance of a brilliant young professor, this mystery takes the Hardy boys first to Kenworthy College, where they find a puzzling message on an examination paper. But then their pal Chet Morton, with his new metal detector, and buddy Biff Hooper, turn up a clue that sends the young detectives on an exciting search in another direction—to the Honeycomb Caves, on the seacoast. A hot-tempered hermit who considers the caves his private domain complicates this seacoast mystery and challenges every sleuthing skill Frank and Joe possess.
The case that their famous detective father is working on—suspected sabotage at the new radar station near the Hardys’ home town of Bayport—further complicates the mystery, which grows more baffling with every chapter.
After many dangerous encounters, including a nearly disastrous patrol on the stormy ocean, Frank and Joe discover a powerful searchlight in one of the craggy caverns along the seacoast. In the brilliant white glare of the searchlight, the startling secret of the caves is dramatically revealed.
Chet let out a bloodcurdling cry
Copyright © 1992, 1964, 1957, 1929 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 BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
eISBN : 978-1-101-07622-4
2008 Printing
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CHAPTER I
Telescope Hill Trouble
“DON’T kid me, fellows,” chubby Chet Morton said, moving his metal detector about the Hardys’ front lawn. “You can find all kinds of swell things on the beaches with this gadget.”
“Like what?” blond-haired Joe asked, winking at his brother Frank.
“Lost jewelry, money, gold-plated pens—”
Chet was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, broad-shouldered youth.
“Hi, Biff!” Frank called out. “Chet’s trying to find a treasure.”
Biff Hooper examined the new device and raised his eyebrows. “I know just where you can use this, Chet. You might find a lot of valuable stuff.”
“Where?”
“At the Honeycomb Caves. My grandfather told me a freighter was sunk off the point during a hurricane. Lots of stuff was washed up.”
“Just what I told you,” Chet said with a supercilious glance at the Hardy brothers.
Frank, eighteen, and Joe, a year younger, looked skeptically at their enthusiastic friends.
“There are a lot of important things to be found!” Chet burbled. “How about the four of us going on a trip together?”
“To the Honeycomb Caves?” Joe asked.
“Sure. Why not? It’s only fifty miles down the coast. Good swimming and fishing there, too.”
“I’ll explore the caves for hidden jewels,” Joe said dryly, “while you and Biff pick up a million dollars’ worth of rusty nails.”
“It’s a deal,” Biff said, laughing. “Let me try that gimmick, Chet.”
The stout boy removed the earphones from his head and handed Biff the long, thin tube with a metal disk at the end.
“When you hear a loud clicking,” Chet said, “you know that something metallic is under the ground.”
His face intent, big Biff moved about the grass with the detector. Suddenly a voice from inside the house called, “Frank! Joe!”
“Okay, Dad, we’re coming,” Joe answered. He leaped up the front steps three at a time, with Frank at his heels.
Inside, Mr. Hardy, a tall athletic man, motioned his sons into his study.
Fenton Hardy’s reputation as a sleuth was worldwide. A former crack New York City police officer, he had moved to Bayport to become a private detective. Now his sons seemed destined to follow in their father’s footsteps.
“What’s cooking, Dad?” Frank asked as the two boys sank into comfortable seats.
“Another mystery?” queried Joe.
Mr. Hardy flashed a smile, then became serious and opened a dossier before him on the desk. “I’ve got important news,” he said.
“About what, Dad?” Joe asked.
“Telescope Hill.”
“Where the U. S. is erecting the Coastal Radar Station?” asked Frank.
“Exactly.”
“What’s going on there?” Joe asked.
“Trouble. That’s all I know so far,” Mr. Hardy replied. He told his sons that he had been deputized by the U. S. Government to aid in security at the gigantic installation designed to protect the coast of North America.
“To hunt out spies?” Joe asked.
“More likely saboteurs. There have been some strange, unexplained accidents at the site.”
“Attack from within?” Frank queried.
“Yes. Perhaps a guard. That’s my guess. So I’m going to reorganize the guard security system and nip any trouble in the bud. I thought you boys might like to help.”
“Sure, Dad!” Frank said. “Will we need disguises or anything?”
“Not exactly.”
“But,” Joe began, “Chet wants us to—”
“That can wait,” Frank interrupted impatiently. “Can’t you see, Joe, we might be heading into a dilly of a mystery?”
Just then the quiet of the balmy June afternoon was shattered by a wild shriek in front of the Hardys’ home. Frank and Joe jumped up, startled.
“Good grief, something’s happened!” Frank exclaimed.
Both boys dashed out of the house, followed by Mr. Hardy. Chet was jumping up and down on the front lawn, while Biff, looking excited, made the metal disk hover above a spot on the lawn.
“He’s found a treasure!” Chet cried out. “This thing’s clicking like fury. We’ve really got something, Frank!”
Several cars passing the Hardy home slowed down as the drivers watched Chet’s antics. Then a huge trailer truck, carrying a load of construction steel, came to a halt while the driver honked for the cars to move on.
“More material for the radar installation,” Frank thought as the long vehicle rumbled out of sight down the street.
“Look, it’s right about here,” Biff said. He took off his earphones and marked an X on the grass.
“He’s found a treasure!” Chet cried out
“Do you expect us to dig up this fine lawn to satisfy your tomfoolery?” Joe said in mock seriousness.
“We just can’t let it lie there,” Chet protested. “Suppose it’s an old coin worth hundreds and hundreds of dollars.”
Now Mr. Hardy was interested. With a wink he said, “Okay, boys, dig it up. Let’s see what good detectives Chet and Biff are.�
��
Chet ran to the garage and returned with a shovel. With it he carefully cut the turf, placed it to one side, and probed the dirt with the point of his shovel. He hit something hard and metallic.
“What did I tell you?” Chet beamed. “This detector is the greatest. Oh boy, are we going to have fun at Honeycomb Caves!” He dug up a shovelful of dirt, which he deposited beside the hole.
From the soil fell the metallic object. The Hardys recognized it as a tiny toy fire engine, rusted and corroded.
As the others crowded about, Joe picked up the toy and wiped off the crumbling earth which clung to the wheels. “Thanks, Chet,” he said gravely, “I lost this fire engine seven years ago when I was ten.”
“You were probably trying to hide it from me,” said Frank, and laughed.
“Well,” said Biff, “we’ve found Chet’s Number One treasure. What’s next? A ship’s compass at Honeycomb Caves?”
Chuckling, Mr. Hardy excused himself, while the boys chatted about the trip.
“I’m afraid we can’t go, fellows,” Joe said.
“Not at this time, anyhow,” Frank chimed in. “We have to work on a case with Dad.”
“Say, what is going on?” Biff demanded.
“We can’t tell,” Frank replied. “It’s confidential.”
“Whatever it is,” Chet said, “count me out of any dangerous stuff.” Their stout friend bemoaned the fact that every time they were about to have fun, some sort of detective work had to come up.
Chet already had been involved in some deep mysteries which the Hardy boys had solved. But in each case, although reluctant at first, their staunch friend had joined in the sleuthing as an invaluable ally.
“When can you come with us?” asked Biff, evidently as eager as Chet to explore around Honeycomb Caves.
“That depends,” said Frank, “on—” His eyes were suddenly diverted by someone walking up the street.
The other three boys turned to see an attractive girl, about their age, hurrying along the sidewalk. She had wavy jet-black hair, flashing brown eyes, and a gait that told the world she was in a hurry.
“A new neighbor?” Biff whispered, grinning.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Joe said.
The girl, heels clicking, hastened to the Hardys’ front walk. There she stopped suddenly, turned toward the boys, and took a few steps forward.
Chet gave a low whistle and rolled his eyes. The girl, although she had a pretty face, wore a sad, worried look. “I would like to speak to the detective,” she said nervously.
Joe’s face brightened. “My brother Frank and I are detectives,” he replied. “May we help you?”
“Don’t mock me,” said the girl, and her lower lip quivered.
Frank and Joe were taken aback. But they were even more nonplused when their caller suddenly burst into tears!
CHAPTER II
Over the Fence
“HEY, wait a minute!” Joe blurted. “Don’t cry!” But tears continued to course down the girl’s face.
As the boys looked on in embarrassed silence, Mrs. Hardy hurried out of the door, followed by her husband.
“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Laura Hardy, a slim, good-looking woman. She hastened to the girl and put an arm about her shoulder. “Come inside, dear. Perhaps we can help you.”
Frank whispered to Chet and Biff, “Wait here until we find what this is all about.”
Mrs. Hardy sat on the living-room sofa beside the young caller. The girl dried her eyes and announced that her name was Mary Todd. She sobbed once more and said, “My father was a friend of yours, Mr. Hardy.”
“Oh, yes. George Todd of the Redding Machine Company. A fine man. I haven’t seen him for years.”
“Well, Dad passed away, and Mother, too,” the girl said.
The Hardys all expressed sympathy. Then Mary explained, “That’s not why I’m crying, though. It’s about my brother.”
Mr. Hardy leaned forward in his chair and said, “His name is Morgan, isn’t it? As I recall, a very bright boy. A little older than my sons.”
Bravely fighting back tears, Mary told the Hardys that her brother, Morgan Thomas Todd, an instructor of foreign affairs at Kenworthy College, had disappeared.
“And I want you to find him, Mr. Hardy,” Mary said pleadingly. “The police are working on the case, but have discovered no leads.”
The girl explained that she was a freshman at Kenworthy College, which had just ended the spring semester. Her plan had been to spend the summer with relatives on the West Coast, but since her brother had disappeared several days before, she had canceled her trip and come to Bayport.
“I just don’t know what to do, Mr. Hardy,” she said. “Please help me.”
Frank and Joe looked at their father. What would his decision be? He thought for a moment before speaking. “As I recall, your brother spent some time studying political methods in a foreign country.”
“Yes, he did,” Mary said, and mentioned the nation, which was unfriendly to the United States. She added that while he was there, Morgan Todd had suffered a fall and injured his head. “He seemed all right when he came back, but now I’m afraid he’s lost his memory and just wandered away from the college.”
“You mean as the result of his fall?” Mrs. Hardy asked.
“Yes. Sort of a delayed reaction.”
“Fenton, I hope you take the case,” Mrs. Hardy said earnestly.
The detective now gave Mary a reassuring smile. “Of course I will.” He turned to Frank and Joe. “You know I have already accepted an important case, but if you boys pitch in, I can also undertake the search for Morgan.”
“Dad, you know we will!” Joe said eagerly.
Mary Todd’s face brightened. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she said. “Boys, please forgive me for being such a crybaby.”
“That’s all right,” Joe replied, a little embarrassed.
“Sure,” Frank put in. “I don’t blame you. Maybe we acted a little too smart. Have you a picture of your brother?” he added.
Mary took a snapshot from her purse and gave it to Frank. “Just don’t lose it,” she said, smiling. Then she rose to bid them good-by. “I’ll be staying at the Bayport Hotel,” she said.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Mrs. Hardy answered it and an attractive dark-haired girl walked in. She was Iola Morton, Chet’s sister, who was a schoolmate of the Hardys and a particular favorite of Joe’s.
“Hello, Iola,” Joe said, reddening slightly.
Then Frank said, “Iola, this is Mary Todd.”
The two girls smiled and exchanged greetings. Then Iola said, “Joe, what did you and Frank do to my poor brother? He’s simply crushed that you two won’t go treasure hunting at Honeycomb Caves.”
“You can guess what the reason is,” Frank said.
Iola giggled. “A mystery?”
Frank and Joe, after a nod of approval from their father, told her about Mary Todd’s problem.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Iola said kindly. Her eyes sparkled. “I have an idea! Suppose you stay at our home until Mr. Hardy and the boys find your brother.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”
“You don’t know my mother,” Iola said. “She’ll insist that you stay. I hope you don’t mind being a little ways out in the country. We live on a farm.”
“I’d really love it,” Mary said. “You’re all so wonderful to me.”
The two girls left the house together. Frank and Joe followed and quickly briefed Chet and Biff on the missing instructor.
“Another mystery! That settles it!” Chet exclaimed. He turned to the Hardys and said gravely, “Gentlemen, the Hooper-Morton treasure expedition will be forced to take off without you.”
“Come on, Chet,” Iola ordered. “Get that old jalopy of yours running, destination Bayport Hotel.”
“What for?” her brother asked, putting his metal detector in the back of the car.
When Iola told about their new gue
st, Chet opened the door gallantly with a bow. “The two of you can squeeze into the front seat with me,” he said, then gave Biff a big wink and murmured, “Some guys have all the luck.”
“That’s you, pal.” Biff laughed.
At the dinner table that evening Frank and Joe discussed with their father what steps to take first in both mysteries. The brothers, it was decided, would leave the next day for Kenworthy College, in upper New York State. It was located in a town of the same name, about a six-hour drive away.
“And now getting back to my case at the radar site,” Mr. Hardy said, “I’ll show you around the place tonight.”
“Great!” Joe exclaimed eagerly.
Ever since the brothers had been old enough to engage in sleuthing, there had been a great camaraderie among the Hardy “menfolk,” as Laura Hardy referred to them. Frank and Joe had first demonstrated their detective ability in an adventure known as The Tower Treasure. Their most recent challenge was The Shore Road Mystery. By now, crime detection had become the boys’ chief avocation.
The three left the house and Frank backed the boys’ car down the driveway. The vehicle was old but well kept by the brothers, who preferred it to their father’s late-model sedan.
Frank drove five miles north of town to an elevated spot overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and directly below, Barmet Bay.
From the road, they could see Bayport hugging the coast with its many docks stretching like dark fingers into the bay. Frank drove for half a mile farther. Now the road was bordered by a high steel-mesh fence. Presently he stopped in front of a gate guarded by two uniformed men. Mr. Hardy got out and showed his badge, then introduced his sons to the guards. “I’d like to show the boys around,” he said.
“Okay, Mr. Hardy,” one of the guards replied, saluting.
The three Hardys tramped along a wooded lane which snaked upward to the top of Telescope HilL
“Little did the old pioneers know that their telescope lookout would be used for this giant radar,” Frank said as they approached the summit.
Here the trees had been felled, and the area was covered with heavy construction equipment and piles of steel framework. Already, the radar tower had risen more than a hundred feet into the air, its girders sticking up weirdly into the evening sky.