The Mystery of Cabin Island

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The boys went into the house and found Mr. and Mrs. Hardy in the living room. After greeting their parents, Frank said, “I’m afraid Joe and I have a confession. We’ve made some vacation plans without consulting you.”

  “I guess we got excited and forgot,” Joe admitted. “But it all happened this afternoon.”

  Tall, muscular Fenton Hardy, his eyes twinkling, winked at his slender, attractive wife. “Laura, do you have the same hunch I do?”

  Mrs. Hardy smiled ruefully. “Another mystery. Am I right, boys?”

  “Yes. But we don’t know what kind yet,” Frank replied.

  The brothers took turns telling of Mr. Jefferson’s offer. When they had finished, Mr. Hardy said, “I think the trip is a reward you deserve.”

  “Then it’s okay, Dad—Mother?” Joe asked.

  “All right. But I do hope there won’t be any danger.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Frank assured her.

  “Well,” Mrs. Hardy said, “I’ll have to make a trip to the market for your food supplies.”

  “You’ll have to take a truck to bring home all that food!” exclaimed a tart voice from the doorway. The boys’ Aunt Gertrude entered the living room and added, “I know what it is to feed Chet Morton.” She sniffed. “I only hope all you boys won’t catch your death of cold!”

  Aunt Gertrude was Fenton Hardy’s unmarried sister, a tall, angular woman who often made long visits with the family. She liked to affect strictness, and it provoked her that she often found herself smiling when she had intended to be stern with her nephews.

  Underneath her peppery manner, Miss Hardy held a deep affection for the boys. She also was interested in their sleuthing, although always predicting dire results.

  Joe could not resist teasing her. “Now, Aunty, how about you coming along as our cook?”

  “Humph,” Miss Hardy mumbled, and hastened to the kitchen.

  Soon after supper Frank and Joe excused themselves and went upstairs to pack. “We may as well stow everything aboard the Sea Gull tomorrow except the food,” Frank said. “That should give us an early start Saturday.”

  The boys stuffed their clothes and gear into duffle bags. Next morning everything was placed in the trunk of the convertible.

  Shortly after lunch Frank and Joe drove to the Jefferson home, a large colonial dwelling on Shore Road. A housekeeper answered their knock, took their coats, and asked the visitors to be seated in the spacious front hall.

  “Mr. Jefferson is busy,” the woman said. “He will be with you shortly.”

  After the housekeeper had left, Joe exclaimed in a low voice, “Mother and Aunt Gertrude would sure go for this place! Look at that fancy carved table and gilded work. And those paintings on the walls! The whole house must be furnished in antiques.”

  “I think it is,” Frank told him. “I’ve heard that Mr. Jefferson has a large collection. In fact, he’s regarded as an expert on antiques.”

  Suddenly the boys stopped talking. Loud voices came from the living room adjoining the hall. The Hardys exchanged quizzical glances.

  “Wonder what’s going on?” Joe muttered.

  “Trouble, from the sound of it,” Frank replied.

  The speakers seemed to be growing angrier with every sentence. Soon their words were clearly audible.

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Jefferson, why you won’t sell. You’ll regret this!”

  “Cabin Island is not for sale, and that is final, Mr. Hanleigh. Now, please leave my home!”

  The first voice snapped back, “You haven’t heard the last from me!”

  Startled, the Hardys stood up. At the same instant a large man stomped into the hall. Frank and Joe were nearly elbowed aside by the angry caller as he strode toward his coat, which was lying on a chair.

  The boys nudged each other in excitement. It was the belligerent young man who had chased them off Cabin Island!

  As he shrugged violently into his coat, his eyes fell on Frank and Joe. “You two again!” he shouted, glaring at the boys. “Keep out of my way!”

  Then he flung open the door and was gone.

  CHAPTER III

  Missing Grandson

  “GOOD afternoon, boys.” An elderly man, tall and thin, with shining white hair, stepped into the hall. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, and also to subject you to Mr. Hanleigh’s bad manners.”

  “Oh, we don’t mind,” Frank said, shaking hands, and added, “I’d like to introduce my brother Joe.”

  “How do you do, Joe? Boys, I overheard what Mr. Hanleigh said to you a moment ago. Whatever did he mean?”

  “After you offered us your cabin,” Frank explained, “Joe and I were eager to look at Cabin Island, so we went over. Mr. Hanleigh was there and ordered us to leave.”

  Mr Jefferson’s smile disappeared and deeper wrinkles formed in his face. He said somberly, “Come in and sit down in the living room. We’ll talk more about this.”

  Frank and Joe followed their host into a large room, richly furnished with antiques. Heavy, wine-red draperies muted the afternoon sunlight, and a miniature crystal chandelier sparkled at either side of a marble fireplace.

  Mr. Jefferson motioned the Hardys to be seated in velour-upholstered chairs and went on, “If that fellow Hanleigh shows up while you are staying on the island, you’re to chase him off at once!”

  “Then you didn’t know Mr. Hanleigh was on your island?” Frank asked.

  “No, indeed,” Mr. Jefferson replied vehemently. “Mr. Hanleigh lives some distance from Bayport. He has come here repeatedly, insisting that I sell Cabin Island to him, but I have refused. Unfortunately, the man is persistent.”

  “I imagine the island is fairly valuable,” Frank commented.

  “It is,” the elderly man admitted. “But it is not worth as much as the price Hanleigh offers. Besides, the place means more to me than money. My wife and I spent many happy vacations in that cabin with our orphaned grandson, Johnny —my son’s boy. And now—” He sighed. “Mrs. Jefferson has passed away.”

  “We’re very sorry,” said Joe, then added, “It’s really great of you to invite us to vacation on Cabin Island.”

  “Not at all,” the old man assured him. “I can’t thank you sufficiently for saving my automobile from those thieves. You boys have a great deal of courage.”

  The Hardys looked embarrassed, and Frank replied, “We enjoyed the case. Joe and I seem to thrive on excitement.”

  Mr. Jefferson’s smile changed to an expression of disapproval. “I’m surprised your parents permit you to pursue criminals, however much you appear to—er—thrive on danger,” he declared. “I’d never allow my grandson to do such a thing, although he, too, is fascinated by mysterious crimes.”

  The elderly man’s sudden criticism made the Hardys a little uncomfortable. Frank changed the subject and said quickly, “I’d like to hear more about Cabin Island, Mr. Jefferson. We weren’t there long enough to see much.”

  Their host relaxed as he spoke of his property. “The cabin itself is well built and cozy, as long as there are logs on the fire. You’ll find a good supply of wood in the shed at the back of the cabin. Use all you need.”

  “I suppose we cook with wood?” Joe inquired.

  “Oh, yes!” Mr. Jefferson declared with gusto. “The kitchen is warm as toast when the old cookstove is fired up! My wife and I talked of modernizing, but we liked things the way they were, and decided not to. Incidentally, you’ll find all the cooking utensils you’ll need.”

  “That’s good,” Frank said. He hesitated before adding, “Mr. Jefferson, may we invite two of our friends to join us?”

  “All the better,” the old man said with enthusiasm. “The place is large enough. It has two bedrooms, each with a pair of cots. By the way, how did you fellows get to the island?”

  “We have an iceboat,” Joe explained.

  Mr. Jefferson frowned. “Iceboats are too risky for youngsters. My Johnny always wanted one, but of course I refused him. Prudence i
s what young people lack. If my Johnny had learned prudence, things wouldn’t be as they are now.”

  Frank and Joe exchanged quick glances, sensing that the mystery was about to be revealed.

  The old man sighed and passed his hands over his eyes. In a low voice he added, “My Johnny has disappeared!”

  The Hardys were both shocked and sympathetic. “That’s terrible!” Joe exclaimed, then asked, “How old is Johnny?”

  “Fifteen, but he’s a big boy. You’d take him for older.”

  “How long has your grandson been missing?” Frank questioned.

  “When I returned from Europe recently,” Mr. Jefferson replied, “my housekeeper reported that Johnny had left school two weeks before.”

  “Was he living away from home?” Joe inquired.

  “Yes. I’ve always sent him to boarding school, thinking he’d be safe and in good company. At first I expected that Johnny would return to school, but the headmaster has not heard a word from him.”

  “Have you, Mr. Jefferson?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, recently I received a letter from Johnny, saying that he was on a secret mission. The letter was postmarked Dallas, Texas, but the detectives I retain found no clues to him there.”

  “Have you any idea what he meant by a secret mission?” Frank queried.

  “Not the slightest.”

  “Have you reported Johnny’s disappearance to the police?” Joe asked.

  “Only the harbor police. My detectives advised me to give the matter as little publicity as possible. And of course I am positive there has been no criminal act. That’s why I felt this mystery would be feasible for you boys to work on. There are no dangerous individuals involved.”

  “Mr. Jefferson, you surely don’t want us to delay the search for Johnny,” Frank said. “We’ll postpone our vacation on Cabin Island.”

  “No, I suggest that you go to Cabin Island because I have a strong feeling it may take a boy to find a boy. Johnny loved the place, and knows every nook and cranny of it well.”

  Joe nodded. “Sounds like a good spot to start.”

  Frank asked, “The detectives you mentioned —do they work for you all the time?”

  “Yes, I have engaged these two private investigators for quite a while, but for a different reason. They are searching for a priceless collection of antique medals which were stolen from my wall safe two years ago.”

  “Athletic medals?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, no. These were commemorative medals from many lands, made by the world’s finest craftsmen. They had been presented by kings and potentates to those who had served with greatness in war and peace.”

  “An odd hobby,” Frank commented.

  “And expensive. That’s why I’m still continuing the search privately. The police have all but given up.”

  Upon further questioning by Frank and Joe, Mr. Jefferson revealed that his collection comprised twelve medals, kept in a handsome rosewood box. “And when you open it, what a dazzling sight!” the man went on. “Some are set with gems, which sparkle in the burnished metal. And apart from their great beauty, what stories behind each of those medals!” He sighed deeply.

  Joe asked, “Could they have been fenced somewhere—sold to a disreputable coin dealer?”

  “I think not,” came the reply. “My collection was so famous, any dealer would recognize the pieces.” He added that all the important dealers knew about the theft.

  The Hardys were more fascinated than ever. “Did anything else unusual happen at the time your medals were taken, Mr. Jefferson?” Frank asked.

  “Amazing. How did you guess? As a matter of fact, something odd did occur then. One of my servants, the houseman—John Paul Sparewell—dropped out of sight and nothing has been heard of him since.”

  “Quite a coincidence,” Joe said. “You think Sparewell may be the thief?”

  “I don’t like to suspect anyone without proof,” Mr. Jefferson replied. “But at this point, the detectives and I feel that he probably is. Indeed, it’s a most baffling crime. However, you boys aren’t to concern yourselves with it.”

  “But there may be some connection between the missing medals and your grandson’s disappearance,” Frank suggested.

  “The only connection is Johnny’s silly notions,” Mr. Jefferson asserted. “I suppose it was because he heard the detectives discussing the theft of the medals so often at the house here. The boy began to think he could solve the mystery, and started seeing clues everywhere. Ridiculous.”

  “Then Johnny may be working on the case right now!” Joe exclaimed. “Perhaps that’s his secret mission.”

  “You could be right.” Mr. Jefferson looked despondent. “And who knows what harm may come to him! Johnny can be stubborn. When he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t give up easily.”

  The old man sighed wearily and the Hardys felt that further questions might be unwise.

  “We must get back now,” Frank announced. “Thanks again for your invitation, Mr. Jefferson.”

  Their host smiled wanly, crossed the room, and opened the drawer of a small, ornate table. From it he took a key which he handed to Frank. “Have a fine vacation, all of you!”

  “We’ll do our best to find Johnny,” Joe added, “and let you know of our progress.”

  They all shook hands, then the boys retrieved their overcoats and said good-by.

  As the brothers drove away from the Jefferson home, Joe turned to Frank, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “A big assignment!” he declared.

  “Just the kind we like!” Frank grinned. “One thing I have a hunch about—Johnny is not in Texas! At least, not now. If he doesn’t want to be found, he’d never let on where he really is.”

  “You’re probably right,” Joe conceded. “Wow! I wish it were the day after Christmas!”

  Frank drove silently for a few minutes, seemingly intent on threading his way through the pre-holiday traffic. But Joe guessed from his brother’s expression that the mystery was in Frank’s thoughts.

  “Give you a penny for ‘em,” Joe said with a grin.

  Frank smiled. “I’ve been thinking about Mr. Jefferson’s idea that there are no dangerous individuals involved in this case. I don’t agree.”

  “Why not?”

  “Joe, two years ago a man disappeared, probably because of those medals. Now a boy who was interested in them is gone. Then Hanleigh turns up, trying to force Mr. Jefferson to sell the island.”

  “I see what you mean. Sounds like the old case is still plenty hot.”

  Frank nodded. “And with a priceless treasure at stake, we’d better watch out for danger.”

  CHAPTER IV

  A Christmas Visitor

  As the Hardys drove on toward the bay area, they continued to discuss the missing boy.

  “Mr. Jefferson appears to be very strict with his grandson,” Joe observed. “I’m not surprised that Johnny wanted to go off and prove he’s old enough to be on his own.”

  Frank frowned. “Could be. But he’s also old enough to realize fully the grief he’s causing his grandfather.”

  Upon reaching their boathouse, Frank parked behind a green sedan which the Hardys recognized as belonging to the Hoopers. Biff and Chet hopped out to greet their pals.

  Joe and Biff unlocked both car trunks, and they all looked over the gear each had brought. “It’ll take some engineering to stow all this on the Sea Gull,” Joe said with a groan.

  “And don’t forget, we have to leave some space for food,” Chet reminded him.

  Biff scratched his head. “It’s all necessary, including my snowshoes. Chet has his, too.”

  “You’re lucky,” Frank replied. “Ours gave out last winter and we haven’t had the money to get new ones.”

  The four boys hauled their gear into the boathouse. The streamlined hull of the Sea Gull had been designed with plenty of space for cargo. Nevertheless, they repacked it three times before they found places for everything. When they had finished, there rem
ained only a few niches for boxes of food.

  “That took at least an hour!” Biff exclaimed. “We’d better get going.”

  Joe locked the boathouse. The friends wished one another a Merry Christmas, and Frank called out, “See you Saturday!”

  At dinner Frank and Joe told their family about Mr. Jefferson’s mysteries. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude expressed concern about Johnny and hoped the missing boy would be found soon.

  Frank and Joe went upstairs early in the evening to wrap their gifts before going to bed. In the morning the brothers awakened soon after the sun was up.

  “Merry Christmas!” Joe called.

  “Same to you!” Frank shouted as he leaped out of bed. The boys dressed and ran downstairs.

  “I can smell the turkey roasting already!” Joe exclaimed as he reached the bottom step.

  Aunt Gertrude bustled out of the kitchen and scolded cheerfully, “I should hope you do! That gobbler weighs thirty pounds! Now, I’ve made pancakes and sausage, and I want you both to eat properly before the confusion begins. Oh, Merry Christmas!”

  The boys ate the tasty breakfast with zest.

  Mrs. Hardy looked at her sons. “Mr. Jefferson was so kind to make your outing possible,” she mused, “it’s sad to think of him being alone on Christmas. Why don’t we invite him to join us at dinner?”

  Joe grinned and said, “Mother, that’s a great idea!”

  “I’ll phone him!” Frank hurried off to make the call.

  He returned shortly to announce that Mr. Jefferson had accepted the invitation. “I said Joe and I would pick him up on our way back from church.”

  “Now for our presents!” Joe urged impatiently.

  The Hardys went into the living room where the lights and ornaments shone brilliantly on the tall balsam. The boys were thrilled to discover that their mother had bought each of them a pair of snowshoes. Mr. Hardy gave his sons a self-developing camera.

  The brothers were overjoyed. “It’s terrific! But what’s this?” Joe asked, holding up an object that resembled a gunstock.