He ordered the boys out of the line of fire, in case the smugglers should attempt to retaliate. They obeyed, and though from their shelter the three could not see the speedboat, they listened intently to what was going on.
The Henley plowed ahead and presently the boys heard a shot whistle through the air.
“Stop your engine!” Brown commanded. A second later he added, “Drop those guns!”
The smugglers evidently did both, for Skipper Brown said to the boys, “You fellows can come forward now.”
The three scrambled to his side. Biff was just in time to see one of the two captured men half turn and slyly run his hand into the large pocket of his sports jacket. Biff expected him to pull out a gun and was about to warn Brown when the smuggler withdrew his hand and dropped something into the water.
“The rare drugs!” Biff thought.
Instantly he began peeling off his clothes, and when the others asked him what he was doing this for, he merely said, “Got an underwater job to do.”
Biff was over the side in a flash and swimming with strong, long strokes to the speedboat. He went beyond it and around to the far side.
In the meantime, Petty Officer Brown had ordered the smugglers to put their hands over their heads. As the Henley came alongside, two of the enlisted coastguardmen jumped across and slipped handcuffs on them. Brown instructed one of the enlisted men to take their prisoners back to Coast Guard headquarters in the smugglers’ boat.
“You got nothin’ on us! You ain’t got no right to arrest us!” one of the captured men cried out.
At that moment Biff Hooper’s head appeared over the side of the speedboat and a moment later he clambered aboard. He called out, “You’ve got plenty on these men! Here’s the evidence!”
He held up a waterproof bag, tightly sealed. It was transparent and the printing on the contents was easily read. “I happen to know that what’s in here is a rare drug,” Biff added. “I heard our doctor mention it just a few days ago.”
This announcement took the bravado out of the smugglers. The two men insisted they were only engaged to pilot the speedboat and deliver the drugs. But they would not give the name of the person who had hired them, nor the spot to which they were supposed to go.
“We know both the answers already,” Petty Officer Brown told the smugglers. Then he said to his wheelsman, “Head for the house on the cliff! They may need a little more help over there.”
Biff was hauled aboard, and as he put his clothes back on, the Henley shot through the water. He whispered to his pals, “We’ll see some more excitement, maybe.”
Some time before this, Chet and Tony had reached the area where the secret tunnel was. The patrol boat which had been following them turned on its great searchlight to pick out the exact spot.
“Look!” Chet cried out.
A speedboat with two men in it had just entered the choppy, rocky waters in front of the tunnel.
“Halt!” Skipper Bertram of the Alice ordered.
The man at the wheel obeyed the command and turned off his motor. But instead of surrendering, he shouted to his companion, “Dive, Sneffen!”
Quick as a flash the two smugglers disappeared into the water on the far side of their boat. When they did not reappear, Chet called:
“I’ll bet they’re swimming underwater to the tunnel. Aren’t we going after them?”
“We sure are,” Petty Officer Bertram replied. “Tony, can you find the channel which leads to that tunnel?”
“I think so,” Tony answered, eying the smugglers’ speedboat which now, unattended, had been thrown violently by the waves onto some rocks.
“Then we’ll come on board your boat,” the chief petty officer stated. He left two of his own men aboard the Alice to guard it and to be ready for any other smugglers who might be arriving at the hide-out.
The rest of the crew, including Bertram himself, climbed aboard the Napoli, and Tony started through the narrow passage between the rocks leading to the tunnel. One of the enlisted men in the prow of the boat operated a portable searchlight. Everyone kept looking for the swimmers, as they went through the tunnel, but did not see them. When the Napoli reached the pond, the man swung his light around the circular shore line.
“There they are!” Chet cried out.
The two smugglers, dripping wet, had just opened the secret door into the cliff. They darted through and the door closed behind them.
Tony pulled his boat to the ledge in front of the door, turned off the engine, and jumped ashore with the others. To their surprise the door was not locked.
“I’ll go first,” Bertram announced.
“But be careful!” Chet begged. “There may be a man with a gun on the other side!”
The officer ordered everyone to stand back as he pulled the door open. He beamed the searchlight inside. No one was in sight!
“Come on, men!” the skipper said excitedly.
The group quickly went along the route the Hardys had discovered earlier. When they reached the corridor and saw the three doors, Tony suggested that they look inside to see if the Hardys were prisoners. One by one each room was examined but found to be empty.
The searchers hurried on down the corridor and up the stairway which led to the woodshed of the Pollitt place. They pushed the trap door but it did not open. Their light revealed no hidden springs or catches.
“The two smugglers that got away from us may have sounded an alarm,” Bertram said. “They probably set something heavy on top of this trap door to delay us.”
“Then we’ll heave it off!” Chet declared.
He and Tony, with two of the enlisted men, put their shoulders to the trap door and heaved with all their might. At last it raised a little, then fell back into place.
“It isn’t nailed shut from the other side at any rate,” Bertram said. “Give it another shove!”
The four beneath it tried once more. Now they all could hear something sliding sideways.
“All together now!” Chet said, puffing. “One, two, three!”
The heave that followed did the trick. A heavy object above toppled with a crash, and the trap door opened. As before, Chief Petty Officer Bertram insisted upon being the first one out. There was not a sound from the grounds nor the house and not a light in evidence. He told the others to come up but cautioned:
“This may be an ambush. Watch your step and if anything starts to pop, you two boys go back down through the trap door.”
Suddenly there was a sound of cars turning into the lane leading to the Pollitt place. The vehicles’ lights were so bright that Bertram said, “I believe it’s the police!”
A few moments later the cars reached the rear of the old house and state troopers piled out. Chief Petty Officer Bertram hurried forward to introduce himself to Captain Ryder of the State Police. The two held a whispered conversation. From what the boys overheard, they figured that the troopers planned to raid the house.
Just as the men seemed to have reached a decision, everyone was amazed to see a man appear at the rear window of the second-floor hall. He held a gun in his right hand, but with his left he gestured for attention.
“My name’s Snattman,” he announced with a theatrical wave of his hand. “Before you storm this place, I want to talk to you! I know you’ve been looking for me and my men a long time. But I’m not going to let you take me without some people on your side getting killed first!” He paused dramatically.
“Come to the point, Snattman,” Captain Ryder called up to him. He, too, had a gun poised for action should this become necessary.
“I mean,” the smuggler cried out, “that I got three hostages in this house—Fenton Hardy and his two sons!”
Chet and Tony jumped. The boys had found their father, only to become captives themselves. And now the three were to be used as hostages!
“What’s the rest?” Captain Ryder asked acidly.
“This: If you’ll let me and my men go, we’ll clear out of here. One will stay behind long enou
gh to tell you where the Hardys are.” Snattman now set his jaw. “But if you come in and try to take us, it’ll be curtains for the Hardys!”
Chet’s and Tony’s hearts sank. What was going to be the result of this nightmarish dilemma?
In the meantime Frank, Joe, and their father, for the past hour, had despaired of escaping before Snattman might carry out his sinister threat. After the smuggler left the attic, they had heard hammering and suspected the smugglers were nailing bars across the door. The Hardys tiptoed to the foot of the stairway, only to find their fears confirmed.
“If those bars are made of wood,” Frank whispered, “maybe we can cut through them with our knives without too much noise.”
“We’ll try,” his father agreed. “Joe, take that knife I got from Malloy.”
As Detective Hardy sat on the steps, leaning weakly against the wall, his two sons got to work. They managed to maneuver the knives through the crack near the knob. Finding the top of the heavy crossbars, the boys began to cut and hack noiselessly. Frank’s knife was already dull and it was not long before Joe’s became so. This greatly hampered their progress.
Half an hour later the boys’ arms were aching so badly that Frank and Joe wondered how they could continue. But the thought that their lives were at stake drove them on. They would rest for two or three minutes, then continue their efforts. Finally Joe finished cutting through one bar and started on the second of the three they had found. Ten minutes later Frank managed to cut through his.
“Now we can take turns,” he told his brother.
Working this way, with rest periods in between, the boys found the task less arduous.
“We’re almost free!” Joe finally said hopefully.
Just then, the Hardys heard cars coming into the driveway. They were sure that the police had arrived because of the illumination flooding the place even to the crack under the attic door.
It was less than a minute later that they heard the cars come to a stop outside and then Snattman’s voice bargaining for his own life in exchange for his hostages!
“Let’s break this door down and take our chances,” Frank whispered hoarsely.
“No!” his father said. “Snattman and his men would certainly shoot us!”
At this instant Frank gave a low cry of glee. His knife had just hacked through the last wooden bar. Turning the knob, he opened the door and the three Hardys stole silently from their prison.
From the bedroom doorway they peered out to where Snattman was still trying to bargain with the police. No one else was around. The boys and their father looked at one another, telegraphing a common thought.
They would rush the king of the smugglers and overpower him!
CHAPTER XX
The Smuggler’s Request
As THE three Hardys crept forward, hoping to overpower Snattman before he saw them, they heard a voice outside the house say, “You’ll never get away with this, Snattman! You may as well give up without any shooting!”
“I’ll never give up!”
“The house is surrounded with troopers and Coast Guard men!”
“What do I care?” Snattman shouted, waving his arms out the window. “I got three hostages here, and I’ve got one of the Coast Guard.”
“He’s in the house too?”
Snattman laughed. “Trying to catch me, eh? Well, I’m not going to answer that question.”
There was silence outside the house. This seemed to worry the man. He cried out, “It won’t do you any good to talk things over! I got you where I want you and—”
Like three stalking panthers Frank, Joe, and their father pounced upon the unwary smuggler. Mr. Hardy knocked the man’s gun from his hand. It flew out the window and thudded to the ground below. The boys pinned his arms back and buckled in his knees.
From below came a whoop of joy. “The Hardys have captured Snattmanl” The voice was Chet Morton’s.
“My men will never let you in herel” the victim screamed. He snarled, twisted, and turned in his captors’ grip.
Mr. Hardy, fearful that Snattman would shout to order his men upstairs, clamped a hand over the smuggler’s mouth. By this time there was terrific confusion inside and outside the Pollitt place. State troopers and the Coast Guard men had burst into both the front and rear doors.
Others guarded the sides of the house to prevent any escape from the windows. A few shots were fired, but soon the smuggling gang gave up without fighting further. The capture of their leader and the sudden attack had unnerved them.
The Hardys waited upstairs with their prisoner. In a few moments Chet and Tony appeared and behind them, to the utter astonishment of Frank and Joe, were Biff, Phil, and Jerry.
Stories were quickly exchanged and Mr. Hardy praised Frank’s and Joe’s chums for their efforts. All this time Snattman glowered maliciously.
In a few moments chief petty officers Bertram and Brown appeared in the second-floor hall with Captain Ryder. Immediately the state trooper fastened handcuffs onto the prisoner. He was about to take him away when Frank spoke up:
“There’s someone else involved in this smuggling who hasn’t been captured yet.”
“You mean the man who got away from here in the truck?” Officer Ryder asked. “We’ve set up a roadblock for him and expect to capture him any minute.”
Frank shook his head. “Ali Singh, the crewman on the Marco Polo, has a friend who owns a small cargo ship. Right now, it’s lying somewhere offshore. Snattman was thinking of putting my dad, Joe, and me on it and arranging things so that we never got home again.”
The king of the smugglers, who had been silent for several minutes, now cried out, “You’re crazy! There’s not a word of truth in it! There isn’t any boat offshore!”
The others ignored the man. As soon as he stopped yelling, Joe took up the story. “I have a hunch you’ll find that your Coast Guard man is a prisoner on that cargo ship. The name of the captain is Foster.”
“You mean our man Ayres is on that ship?” Petty Officer Brown asked unbelievingly.
“We don’t know anyone named Ayres,” Frank began. He stopped short and looked at his brother. They nodded significantly at each other, then Frank asked, “Does Ayres go under the name of Jones?”
“He might, if he were cornered. You see, he’s sort of a counterspy for the Coast Guard. He pretended to join the smugglers and we haven’t heard from him since Saturday.”
“I found out about him,” Snattman bragged. “That name Jones didn’t fool us. I saw him make a sneak trip to your patrol boat.”
Frank and Joe decided this was the scene they had seen through the telescope. They told about their rescue of “Jones” after a hand grenade had nearly killed him. They also gave an account of how his kidnapers had come to the Kane farmhouse, bound up the farmer and his wife, and taken “Jones.”
Skipper Brown said he would send a patrol boat out to investigate the waters in the area and try to find Captain Foster’s ship.
“We’ll wait here for you,” Captain Ryder stated. “This case seems to be one for both our branches of service. Two kidnapings on land and a theft from the Marco Polo, as well as an undeclared vessel offshore.”
While he was gone, the Hardys attempted to question Snattman. He refused to admit any guilt in connection with smuggling operations or the shipment of stolen goods from one state to another. Frank decided to talk to him along different lines, hoping that the smuggler would inadvertently confess something he did not intend to.
“I heard you inherited this house from your uncle, Mr. Pollitt,” Frank began.
“That’s right. What’s it to you?”
Frank was unruffled. “I was curious about the tunnel and the stairways and the cave,” he said pleasantly. “Did your uncle build them?”
Snattman dropped his sullen attitude. “No, he didn’t,” the smuggler answered. “My uncle found them all by accident. He started digging through his cellar wall to enlarge the place, and broke right through to that cor
ridor.”
“I see,” said Frank. “Have you any idea who did build it?”
Snattman said that his uncle had come to the conclusion that the tunnel and pond had been discovered by pirates long, long ago. They apparently had decided it would be an ideal hide-out and had built the steps all the way to the top of the ground.
“Of course the woodshed wasn’t there then,” Snattman explained. “At least not the one that’s here now. The trap door was, though, but there was a tumble-down building over it.”
“How about the corridor? Was it the same size when your uncle found it?”
“Yes,” the smuggler answered. “My uncle figured that was living quarters for the pirates when they weren’t on their ship.”
“Pretty fascinating story,” Tony Prito spoke up.
Several seconds of silence followed. Snattman’s eyes darted from one boy to another. Finally they fastened on Frank Hardy and he said:
“Now that I’m going to prison, the eyepieces to your telescope, and your motorcycle tools, won’t do me any good. You’ll find them in a drawer in the kitchen.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Frank.
There was another short silence. Then the smuggler went on, his head down and his eyes almost closed, “Mr. Hardy, I envy you. And I—I never thought I’d be making this kind of a confession. You know almost everything about what I’ve been doing. I’ll tell the whole story later. Since they’re going to find that Coast Guard officer, Ayres, on Foster’s ship there’s no use in my holding out any longer.
“I said I envy you, Mr. Hardy. It’s because you brought up two such fine boys and they got swell friends. Me—I wasn’t so lucky. My father died when I was little. I was pretty headstrong and my mother couldn’t manage me. I began to make the wrong kind of friends and after that—you know how it is.
“My uncle, who owned this place, might have helped me, but he was mean and selfish and never gave us any money. The most he would do was invite my mother and me here once in a while for a short visit. I hated him because he made my mother work very hard around the house all the time we were here. It wasn’t any vacation for her.
The House on the Cliff Page 11
