“Must be a spur line,” Joe said, “which isn’t used any more.”
“A great way to give a guy gray hair at a tender age,” Frank remarked.
“It wasn’t funny,” Joe said, between clenched teeth.
“I’ll say not,” his brother agreed. “I’d like to find the nut who planned this trick!”
“If I see him first, I’ll take care of that joker,” Joe said.
After walking along the tracks some distance, the boys came to the highway. There they flagged a friendly trucker, who readily agreed to drive them to their motel.
Jouncing up and down in the cab beside the driver, the Hardys continued to speculate.
“You suppose what happened to us was just a crazy mix-up?” Joe asked in low tones. “Why should those fellows pick on us?”
Frank frowned. “I have a hunch the whole thing was intended to scare us away from Kenworthy before we could find a good clue.”
“Then you think Todd could have been kidnapped?”
“Let’s not rule out that possibility,” Frank said.
As the truck approached the Palm Court grounds, Joe suddenly chuckled. “If Chet and Biff wanted excitement—they should’ve been with us tonight. Honeycomb Caves must be pretty tame compared with the Kenworthy capers.”
Frank grinned widely. “Chet would’ve lost ten pounds from fright.”
The truck swung over and stopped. The Hardys hopped out, thanking the trucker for the lift.
“Sure thing, fellows. So long.”
The brothers made a beeline for the office.
“Now to question Baldy,” Frank said. He stabbed the buzzer beside the door repeatedly until a light shone inside. The manager, sleepy-eyed and holding up his trousers with one hand, opened the door. He was not in a good mood.
“What do you mean waking me up at this hour?” he asked crossly. “If you’re going to check out, wait till morning, for Pete’s sake.”
“Somebody else checked us out,” Frank said. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
Alarmed by the boys’ determination, the manager let them in. There the Hardys learned that the instigator of the room switch was a member of a local fraternity at Kenworthy College.
“I thought these college kids were just going to have some fun with you,” the man said.
“The police might give it a different label,” Frank replied grimly. “Now what’s this fellow’s name and where does he live?”
After the man had jotted down the information, Frank and Joe drove directly to the Delta Sigma fraternity house. Dawn lay like a pink halo on the eastern horizon, but the Hardys’ thoughts were anything but heavenly as they rapped on the fraternity-house door. No one answered. Joe rang the bell while Frank continued banging.
Finally a young fellow in pajamas opened up and yawned in Frank’s face. “Whatever it is, we don’t want any,” he said, then started to close the door.
Frank reached for his shoulder and whirled him about. “This isn’t any joke,” he said. “We’re looking for Jack Hale.”
“Oh, the president,” the youth said, stifling another yawn. “I can’t wake him up—he’s special.”
“I’ll say he is,” Joe declared.
“But you fellows don’t understand.” The college boy regarded the Hardys earnestly with his pale-blue eyes. “We don’t wake the fraternity president until eight o‘clock. He doesn’t have his first class until nine.”
“He’s going to have a lesson right now,” Frank said sternly. “Get him up!”
The youth shrugged, and padded off in bare feet to the second floor. Listening below, the boys heard shouts and angry words, preceding the appearance of a thick-set youth several years older than the Hardys. In red-and-white striped pajamas he thumped down the stairs. When he saw Frank and Joe, he stopped with a startled expression.
“Isn’t it kind of early—” Jack Hale started to say.
“Not for a punch in the jaw,” Joe declared hotly, and stepped forward with fists cocked.
“Wait a minute, Joe,” Frank said. “Let’s get some questions answered before you start swinging.” He walked over to Hale, who backed away nervously. “I’ll put it on the line,” Frank said. “What’s the idea of leaving us on the railroad track? And why did you switch our motel room?”
“Wait a minute, fellows! Hold it!” Hale said. “We thought you’d guess it was just a little pretesting job. Anyway, why are you working up such a head of steam—”
“Yes, why?” the blue-eyed youth put in.
Hale continued, “You two were never in any real danger. We had a lookout posted to keep an eye on you in case you needed help. Say, you are going to be Delta Sigma pledges, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” said Joe, his biceps still flexed.
“So you were hazing us?” asked Frank. “Who told you to do that?”
Jack Hale looked embarrassed. He cast a fleeting glance up the stairs and seemed relieved when several other Delta Sigma boys moved quietly down behind him.
“I can’t tell you who it is,” Hale said.
The blue-eyed youth nodded vigorously. “We’re honor bound not to reveal his identity.”
“We thought you were going to be Delta Sigma pledges,” Jack said. “Honest we did.”
“Well, then you ought to let prospective pledges in on it, too,” Frank said. He turned away. “Come on, Joe. Let’s get out of here. We have work to do.”
Looking somewhat the worse for wear after their strenuous night, the Hardys nonetheless planned another bit of sleuthing before returning to their cottage for sleep.
“Let’s examine Todd’s room before Quill gets up,” Frank suggested.
Joe readily agreed. “At six A.M. Quill’s probably still asleep.” Joe reached into his pocket. “I have the key to Todd’s apartment.”
The Hardys encountered a few milk-delivery trucks and one newspaper boy as they made their way to Shelly Row. Joe inserted the key quietly and turned it in the lock. The boys entered. Frank pressed his ear against the apartment wall. Silence.
“He’s still in the arms of Morpheus,” Frank whispered.
“Okay,” Joe said. “Let’s look around.”
Enough daylight filtered through the two front windows to allow the boys to examine the apartment carefully. While Joe concentrated on objects of furniture, Frank looked through notes and textbooks lying about. But the boys could find no evidence of where Morgan Todd might have gone.
“I guess the police search was pretty thorough, after all,” Joe commented. “What are you looking at, Frank?”
His brother held one of the mimeographed examination sheets in his hand and was scrutinizing it. Joe watched Frank as he scanned sentence after sentence on the white paper. Then a strange expression came over his face. Joe had seen it before when Frank was on the trail of a clue.
“You found something?” Joe asked excitedly.
“I’ll say I have!” Frank declared, sucking in his breath. “Wow! Look at this!”
CHAPTER V
Counterattack
JOE glanced over his brother’s shoulder. “All I see is an exam paper—the fill-in type.”
“Yes,” Frank replied. “But there’s a clue right under your nose.”
“I don’t get it, Frank. You must have super vision.”
“Look. Read this first question, Joe.”
“ ‘Russia’s present political system was founded by—.’ ”
“I don’t care about the answer,” Frank said. “Now read the second question.”
‘“Only——men from California have been named to the Supreme Court.’”
Joe frowned. “It’s still a riddle to me.”
Enjoying the game he was playing, Frank asked, “How many questions are there?”
“Eight.”
“And the first letter of the first word in each question spells what?”
Joe’s eyes quickly roved down the side of the exam sheet. “R-O-C-K-A-W-A-Y.” He whistled. �
��The name of a town!”
“That’s it—Rockaway,” Frank said. “Todd did leave a clue. And I don’t think the police found it, either.”
“Good for you,” Joe said, slapping his brother on the back. “I guess I’m too bushed for any deep brainwork.”
“We’ll have breakfast and sack out,” Frank said. “Then we’ll go to the post office and find out from their guidebook how many Rockaways there are in the U. S.”
“There’s probably at least twenty-five,” Joe said with a sigh. “By the time we check on them, Morgan Todd could be in Timbuktu.” He yawned deeply, then placed his ear to the apartment wall.
“Hear anything?” asked Frank.
“Bouncy Quill is up,” Joe said. “Let’s get out of here before he discovers us. He’d be sure to ask a lot of questions.”
Because the campus cafeteria was not yet open, Frank and Joe stopped at an all-night diner on the outskirts of town. After eating a hearty breakfast, they returned to their cottage.
“Oh boy, now for a peaceful sleep,” Joe said. He kicked off his shoes and flung himself on top of the bedspread.
Too exhausted to undress, Frank did the same. The boys slept soundly for several hours.
Frank awakened first and thought he was having a nightmare. A pillow was pressed hard over his face and a powerful hand pinned his shoulder to the mattress.
Trying to cry out, Frank kicked wildly and flung the intruder away from the bed. Someone hit the opposite wall with a thud and crashed to the floor. The noise aroused Joe who sprang up, wild-eyed, and looked around the room.
“Jumpin’ catfish!” Joe glared at the stunned figure on the floor. “Biff Hooper, what’re you doing here?”
Biff aroused himself and shook his head. “Got to clear the cobwebs,” he said. “I was only fooling, Frank. You jumped me like a wounded panther.”
Frank laughed. “You got off easy, boy.”
At that moment Chet sauntered through the doorway, munching noisily on potato chips. He dipped into a huge cellophane bag and pressed another handful into his mouth. Still munching, he asked, “What’s all the racket?”
“Biff making a grand entrance,” Frank said wryly. “Sit down, fellows. We’ll tell you our latest news. How about some chips, Chet?”
The stout lad proffered the crinkly bag, and the Hardys helped themselves. As they ate, they briefed Biff and Chet on their findings at Kenworthy College and their harrowing experience of the previous night.
“Wowie!” Biff exclaimed. “You Hardys sure stir things up!”
“And now,” Joe said, “we have to find out how many Rockaways there are in the U. S. A.”
“I can tell you one,” Chet said. “It’s near Honeycomb Caves.”
“I never heard of it,” Frank said in surprise.
“Neither did I,” said Chet. “It’s a dinky place.”
Biff explained that they had driven down the coast early that morning and stopped at a small gas station a couple of miles north of Rockaway. “We asked the attendant how to get to Honeycomb Caves,” he went on, “and he warned us not to go.”
“Why?” Frank asked.
“He said awful things might happen to us if we did.”
“Something very strange is going on there,” added Chet with a great air of knowledge. “It sounded like a real mystery so we thought maybe you’d like to take time out and look into it.”
“I knew you’d try to snag us into going to those caves,” said Frank, chuckling.
Chet flung out his arms dramatically. “After all, Biff and I thought sure you would’ve found Morgan Todd by this time!”
“Jumpin’ catfish!” Joe exclaimed. “Biff Hooper, what’re you doing here?”
“It’s not going to be so easy,” Frank said. With a wink at his brother, he added, “But thanks for thinking about us. Come on, Joe! Our first stop’s the post office.” He glanced down at his disheveled clothes and grinned. “I mean, after the shower.”
Fifteen minutes later both boys were in fresh clothes and Joe said, “Okay, let’s go.”
He was about to step out the door when he suddenly closed it and motioned to the others. “I think we’re in for a fight, fellows, so get ready.”
“What’s the matter?” Frank asked and looked out the window.
Across the broad lawns of the Palm Court Motel strode four youths. In the lead was Jack Hale!
“Delta Sigmas,” Joe said tersely. “Maybe the ones who made trouble for us last night. If they think it’s four against two, they’re mistaken.”
“Right!” said Biff, who liked nothing more than playing tackle on the Bayport High football team.
“Okay,” said Frank. “You and Chet hide in the closet.” Then, opening the door, he politely invited the four fraternity men to enter.
“Hi,” Jack said with a half-smile. “We have a little surprise for you.”
But before he could utter another word, the closet door was flung open. Biff bolted across the room, putting a rolling block on two of the collegians. Chet pounced on the third. Only Jack remained standing. His face bore a pained expression.
“We don’t want to fight!” he said.
“Then what did you barge in on us for?” Joe demanded.
Biff dragged two of the students to their feet, and Frank said, “Okay, let’s smoke the peace pipe. What’s up, Jack?”
Embarrassed, the fraternity president said that he had come to offer Frank and Joe invitations to join Delta Sigma should they decide to attend Kenworthy College.
“You’re the kind we like,” he said. “Plenty of sand!”
“Thanks for the invite,” Joe said coolly. “We’ll keep it in mind if you tell us who put you up to that low-down trick last night.”
Jack looked at the floor and the Hardys could see that he was torn between loyalty to the unknown perpetrator and regard for them.
“Really, I can’t tell,” he said finally. “You wouldn’t want me to rat on a pal.”
“No hard feelings,” said Frank, though he thought the youth was foolish to protect such a person. Then he introduced Biff and Chet.
“Wow!” said one of the college boys. “We could use you two on the Kenworthy football team.”
With that, the Delta Sigmas left.
Frank drove the Bayporters to the post office, located beside the town hall. A helpful clerk passed the postal directory over the counter and Frank thumbed through its pages.
“Hey, look at this,” he said. “There are only three Rockaways—one in Oregon, one in New Jersey, and the other on the coast down from Bayport.”
“It’s a cinch we won’t go to Oregon or New Jersey first,” Chet said. “You fellows will investigate the closest one or I miss my bet.”
“O genius of a treasure hunter!” declaimed Joe as he placed the right palm of his hand on his forehead and bowed low. “We, your humble servants, salaam!”
The others guffawed at the sudden look of embarrassment that swept over Chet’s face as he cast his eyes quickly around the post office to see if anybody was watching. Seeing no one, Chet joined in the laughter.
Frank handed back the directory to the grinning clerk and thanked him. The boys, still laughing, trooped out of the post office.
“Well, our next destination—Rockaway!” Frank said. He added thoughtfully, “You know, this isn’t a bad move. We’ll leave here as if we’ve been stymied on our investigation.”
“That’s right,” Joe said. “So if anyone has been tracking us, they’ll think we’ve given up.” As an afterthought he added, “We ought to thank Cadmus Quill and the dean before we leave.”
“Let me go, too. Maybe I won’t see the inside of a college again,” Chet quipped.
The four drove to the campus, parked, and entered the administration building.
Dean Eastland, as before, was courteous to his callers. After thanking Frank and Joe for their interest in the case, he promised to relay any new information to them.
“By the way, Dean Eas
tland,” Frank said, “would you send us the roster of Delta Sigma fraternity?”
“Of course,” the dean replied, and jotted down their Bayport address.
As the boys walked into the hallway they met Cadmus QuilL
“We’re going back to Bayport,” Frank told him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find your friend Todd.”
“Anyhow,” said Joe, “thanks for your help, Mr. Quill.”
“Not at all,” replied the instructor as he shook hands with the two boys. “I’m sure there’s no need to worry. I feel strongly that he’s in Europe—probably already married.”
“It’s possible,” Frank said. “Well, perhaps we’ll see you again.”
“Come on, fellows,” Biff said as they left the building. “If I hang around this college campus any longer I’ll be as smart as you are.”
“I’m itching for Honeycomb Caves,” Chet ban tered. “I feel in the need for some ready doubloons.”
As the boys hastened back to the Hardy car, Frank had the feeling that Cadmus Quill had followed them out of the building. When he slid behind the wheel he glanced into his rear-view mirror.
There stood Quill on the steps, gazing at them intently. Then he turned back to the door.
Suddenly, above the sound of the starting motor, Chet let out an Indian war whoop and yelled, “On to Rockawayl”
Frank, with his eyes still on the rear-view mirror, saw Quill stiffen and spin around.
CHAPTER VI
The Toppled Tower
CADMUS QUILL stood on the steps and stared at the boys with a startled look on his round face.
“That remark hit home!” Frank thought. He got out of the car, and ran up to Quill before he had a chance to retreat. “You seem interested in Rockaway,” Frank said bluntly, hoping to catch him off guard. “Do you know somebody there?”
Quill smiled. “I thought for a moment,” he replied casually, “that your friend had said Far Rockaway, in New York. I have an uncle who lives there.”
Frank was momentarily at a loss about how to pursue his line of questioning. This gave Quill time to turn on his heel. He strode off, saying, “I have a lecture to prepare. Good luck to you!”
Frank returned to the car, and as the boys drove back to the motel, he discussed with them Quill’s peculiar actions.
The Secret of the Caves Page 3
