The Tower Treasure

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Well, tell us!” Frank urged.

  Joe explained that every once in a while he and Frank went down to Rocco’s fruit store to act as clerks while the owner went home to supper. He stayed open evenings until nine.

  “Rocco’s is only a block from Smuff’s house. Smuff knows Frank and I go there, so he wouldn’t be surprised to see us in the neighborhood. I suggest that the bunch of us meet casually down near the store and one boy after another stop Smuff to talk. Maybe we can even get him into the shop. You know Smuff loves to eat.”

  “You can’t hate him for that,” Chet spoke up. “I’ll be glad to invite him in and buy him an apple for his trip.”

  “A fifteen-minute delay for Smuff is all we need,” Frank said.

  “I think it’s a swell idea,” Biff spoke up. “And I’m sure Mr. Rocco will co-operate.”

  “Who’s going to persuade him?” Phil asked.

  “That’s Frank and Joe’s department,” Jerry replied.

  Rocco was a hard-working man who had come from Italy only a few years ago. He was a simple, genial person and had great admiration for the Hardy boys.

  The whole group made their way toward the fruit store, but only the Hardys went inside. The others spread out to watch for Smuff, who was expected to leave his house soon. Each boy went over his part in the plan.

  When Frank and Joe walked into the fruit store, they found the dark-eyed Rocco sorting oranges. “Buona sera,” he said. “Good evening. How you like my fix the place?”

  “Looks swell,” Frank answered. “New bins. Better lights.” Then he added, “How does your neighbor Smuff like it?”

  Rocco threw up his hands in a gesture of disgust. “Oh, that man! He make me mad. He say I charge too much. He tell me I ought to go back to old country.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to him,” Joe advised. “Say, Mr. Rocco,” he went on, “you look tired. Why don’t you go home for an hour or so and let Frank and me take over here?”

  “You think I look tired? That worry my wife. Then Rosa say I must close up early.” Rocco sighed. “You very kind boys. I do what you say. Come back six-thirty.”

  As Rocco removed his apron, he said, “I fix trash in yard to burn. You do that?”

  “Glad to.”

  Rocco showed them a wire incinerator in the yard, then left the store. Five minutes later there was a whistle from the street. A signal from Jerry! Frank and Joe went to the front door to watch. Smuff was just backing his car out of the driveway. As prearranged, Phil hurried over and stopped him.

  The detective and the boy apparently got into an argument, but it did not last long enough to satisfy Frank and Joe. The conversation took less than two minutes, then Smuff backed around into the street.

  “Hey, Frank,” said Joe, “I have an idea. Go light that trash. Make it a roaring fire!”

  Without further explanation he dashed into the street, but Frank figured out what was in his brother’s mind. He dashed through the store and into the yard. Quickly he lighted the papers in the incinerator in several places. The rubbish blazed lustily.

  Joe was intently watching the scene down the street. Smuff was now being “interviewed” by Biff, and Chet came forward to urge Smuff to take some fruit with him on his trip. The detective hesitated, then shook his head and started off in his car.

  Only five of the necessary fifteen-minute delay had elapsed! Joe hesitated no longer. Running down the street, he held up one hand for the oncoming car to stop.

  “Come quick, Smuff!” he called out. “There’s a fire back of Rocco’s!”

  “Well, you put it out. I’m in a hurry!” the detective told the boy tartly.

  “You mean you’d let all of Bayport burn down just because you’re in a hurry?” Joe pretended to scoff.

  Smuff winced, but still did not move. Joe said, starting back to the store, “Well, Frank and I will have to take care of it alone.”

  “Where’s the fire?” Smuff cried out

  This brought the detective to action. He realized he might be missing a chance to become a hero! In a flash he drove his car down the street and parked in front of the fruit store.

  “Where’s the fire?” Smuff cried out, nearly bumping into Frank who was dashing from the front door of Rocco’s.

  “The fire—is—back there—in the yard.” Frank pretended to pant. “You go look and see if we ought to turn in an alarm.”

  Smuff dashed inside the store and hurried to the yard. By this time the Hardys’ friends had gathered in Rocco’s fruit store. They asked excitedly what was going on.

  “Frank! Joe!” yelled Smuff from the rear of the store. “Where’s Rocco? Where’s a pail? Where’s some water?”

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Confession

  “Rocco’s not around,” Joe replied to Smuff. “There’s water in the sink—in the back. Shall I call the fire department?”

  “No, I can manage this,” Smuff declared. “But where’s a pail?”

  Frank dashed into the back room and found a pail under the sink. He filled it with water and handed the pail to Smuff, who hurried to the yard. He doused the incinerator flames which hissed and crackled, then died.

  “Some people have no sense,” Smuff commented. “The idea of anyone starting a fire, then going off and leaving it! I’ll bet that was Rocco’s work! As for you boys—you had to call me. Didn’t have the savvy to put out a simple fire.”

  “Good thing you were around,” Frank observed, suppressing a smile.

  “I’ll say it was,” Smuff agreed. “And Chief Collig is sure goin’ to hear about this.”

  “Oh, please don’t tell him about us,” Joe spoke up, half closing his eyes so Smuff could not see the twinkle in them.

  “I didn’t mean that. Oscar Smuff is no squealer. I mean Collig is goin’ to hear what I did.” The detective chuckled. “One more notch in my gun, as the cowboys say.”

  Suddenly Smuff sobered and looked at his wrist watch. “Oh, no!” he cried out. “Ten minutes to six! I can’t make my plane!”

  “That’s a shame,” Frank said consolingly. “But cheer up, Smuff, there’s a seven-o’clock plane for Albany. I wish you luck in your interview.”

  Smuff stormed out of the fruit store and disappeared with his car. The Hardys and their friends burst into roars of laughter which did not stop until a woman customer came into the shop. All the boys but Frank and Joe left.

  Rocco returned at six-thirty, pleased that so much fruit had been sold during his absence. “You better salesman than Rocco.” He grinned widely.

  The Hardys went home, well-satisfied with their day’s work. The six-o’clock plane had left without Smuff. Their father could make his trip to the hospital without the annoying detective’s interference.

  Fenton Hardy did not return home until the next afternoon. When the boys came from school they found him in high spirits.

  “Solved the mystery?” Joe asked eagerly.

  “Practically. First of all, Jackley is dead.”

  “Did he confess?”

  “You’re not very sympathetic toward the poor fellow, Joe. Yes, he confessed. Fortunately, Oscar Smuff didn’t show up while Jackley was talking.”

  Frank and Joe glanced at each other and their father smiled quietly. “I have an idea,” he said, “that you two sleuths know more about this Smuff business than you would care to tell. Well, anyhow, the Albany police and I had a clear field. I saw Jackley before he died and questioned him about the Tower robbery.”

  “Did he admit everything?”

  “Jackley said he came to Bayport with the intention of robbery. He stole a car, smashed it up, and took Chet’s. Then he went to rob the ticket office. When he failed in that he decided to hang around town for a few days. He hit upon Tower Mansion as his next effort. Jackley entered the library with gloves on, opened the safe, and took out the jewelry and securities.”

  “What did he do with the loot?”

  “That’s what I’m coming to. It was not until
Jackley knew he was at the point of death that he did confess to the Tower affair. Then he said, ‘Yes, I took the stuff—but I didn’t dare try selling any of it right away, so I hid it. You can get all the stuff back easily. It’s in the old tower—’

  “That was all he said. Jackley lost consciousness then and never regained it.”

  “When did Smuff get there?” Joe asked eagerly.

  “Not until after Jackley had gone into a coma,” Mr. Hardy replied. “We both sat by his bed, hoping the man would awaken, but he died within an hour. Just where Jackley hid the loot in the old tower, he was never able to say.”

  “Does Smuff know what Jackley said?”

  “No.”

  “If the loot’s hidden in the old Applegate tower, we’ll find it in no time!” Frank exclaimed.

  “Tower Mansion has two towers—the old and the new,” Joe reminded him.

  “We’ll search the old tower first.”

  “The story seems likely enough,” Mr. Hardy remarked. “Jackley would gain nothing by lying about it on his deathbed. He probably became panicky after he committed the robbery and hid in the old tower until he was able to get away safely. No doubt he decided to hide the stuff there and take a chance on coming back for it some time after the affair had blown over.”

  Joe nodded. “That was why Jackley couldn’t be traced through the jewels and the bonds. They were never disposed of—they’ve been lying in the old tower all this time!”

  “I tried to get him to tell me in just what part of the tower the loot was hidden,” Mr. Hardy continued, “but he died before he could say any more.”

  “Too bad,” said Frank. “But it shouldn’t be hard to find the loot, now that we have a general idea where it is. Probably Jackley didn’t hide it very carefully. Since the old tower has been unoccupied for a long time, the stuff would be safe there from snoopers.”

  Joe jumped up from his chair. “I think we ought to get busy and go search the old tower right away. Oh, boy! Maybe we can hand old Mr. Applegate his jewels and bonds this afternoon and clear Mr. Robinson! Let’s go!”

  “I’ll leave it to you boys to make the search,” said Mr. Hardy with a smile. “Then you can have the satisfaction of turning over the stolen property to Mr. Applegate. I guess you can get along without me in this case from now on.”

  “We wouldn’t have got very far if it hadn’t been for you,” Frank declared.

  “And I wouldn’t have got very far if it hadn’t been for you, so we’re even.” Mr. Hardy’s smile broadened. “Well, good luck to you.”

  As the boys started from the study, Frank said, “Thanks, Dad. I only hope the Applegates don’t throw us out when we ask to be allowed to look around inside the old tower.”

  “Just tell them,” his father advised, “that you have a pretty good clue to where the bonds and jewels are hidden and they’ll let you search.”

  Joe grinned. “Frank, we’ll have that thousand-dollar reward before the day is over!”

  The brothers raced from the house, confident that they were about to solve the Tower Treasure mystery.

  CHAPTER XV

  The Tower Search

  WHEN the Hardy boys reached Tower Mansion at four o’clock the door was opened by Hurd Applegate himself. The tall, stooped gentleman peered at them through his thick-lensed glasses. In one hand he held a sheet of stamps.

  “Yes?” he said, seemingly annoyed at being disturbed.

  “You remember us, don’t you?” Frank asked politely. “We’re Mr. Hardy’s sons.”

  “Fenton Hardy, the detective? Oh, yes. Well, what do you want?”

  “We’d like to look through the old tower, if you don’t mind. We have a clue about the robbery.”

  “What kind of clue?”

  “We have evidence that leads us to believe the jewels and bonds were hidden by the thief in the old tower.”

  “Oh! You have evidence, have you?” The elderly man peered at the boys closely. “It’s that rascal Robinson, I’ll warrant, who gave it to you. He hid the stuff, and now he’s suggesting where you might find it, just to clear himself.”

  Frank and Joe had not considered the affair in this light, and they gazed at Mr. Applegate in consternation. At last Joe spoke up.

  “Mr. Robinson has nothing to do with this,” he said. “The real thief was found. He said the loot was hidden in the old tower. If you will just let us take a look around, we’ll find it for you.”

  “Who was the real thief?”

  “We’d rather not tell you, sir, until we find the stolen property, then we’ll reveal the whole story.”

  Mr. Applegate took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. He stared at the boys suspiciously for a few moments. Then he called out:

  “Adelia!”

  From the dim interior of the hallway a high feminine voice answered.

  “What do you want?”

  “Come here a minute.”

  There was a rustle of skirts, and Adelia Applegate appeared. A faded blond woman of thin features, she was dressed in a fashion of fifteen years before, in which every color of the spectrum fought for supremacy.

  “What’s the matter?” she demanded. “I can’t sit down to do a bit of sewing without you interrupting me, Hurd.”

  “These boys want to look through the old tower.”

  “What for? Up to some mischief?”

  Frank and Joe feared she would not give her consent. Frank said quietly, “We’re doing some work for our dad, the detective Fenton Hardy.”

  “They think they can find the bonds and jewels in the tower,” Hurd Applegate explained.

  “Oh, they do, do they?” the woman said icily. “And what would the bonds and jewels be doing in the old tower?”

  “We have evidence that they were hidden there after the robbery,” Frank told her.

  Miss Applegate viewed the boys with obvious suspicion. “As if any thief would be silly enough to hide them right in the house he robbed!” she said in a tone of finality.

  “We’re just trying to help you,” Joe put in courteously.

  “Go ahead, then,” said Miss Applegate with a sigh. “But even if you tear the old tower to pieces, you won’t find anything. It’s all foolishness.”

  Frank and Joe followed Hurd Applegate through the gloomy halls and corridors that led toward the old tower. He said he was inclined to share his sister’s opinion that the boys’ search would be in vain.

  “We’ll make a try at it, anyway, Mr. Applegate,” Frank said.

  “Don’t ask me to help you. I’ve got a bad knee. Anyway, I just received some new stamps this afternoon. You interrupted me when I was sorting them. I must get back to my work.”

  The man reached a corridor that was heavily covered with dust. It apparently had not been in use for a long time and was bare and unfurnished. At the end was a heavy door. It was unlocked, and when Mr. Applegate opened it, the boys saw a square room. Almost in the center of it rose a flight of wooden stairs with a heavily ornamented balustrade. The stairway twisted and turned to the roof, five floors above. Opening from each floor was a room.

  “There you are,” Mr. Applegate announced. “Search all you want to. But you won’t find anything—of that I’m certain.”

  With this parting remark he turned and hobbled back along the corridor, the sheet of stamps still in his gnarled hand.

  The Hardy boys looked at each other. “Not very encouraging, is he?” Joe remarked.

  “He doesn’t deserve to get his stuff back,” Frank declared flatly, then shrugged. “Let’s get up into the tower and start the search.”

  Frank and Joe first examined the dusty stairs carefully for footprints, but none were to be seen.

  “That seems queer,” Frank remarked. “If Jackley was here recently you’d think his footprints would still show. Judging by this dust, there hasn’t been anyone in the tower for at least a year.”

  “Perhaps the dust collects more quickly than we think,” Joe countered. “O
r the wind may get in here and blow it around.”

  An inspection of the first floor of the old tower revealed that there was no place where the loot could have been hidden except under the stairs. But they found nothing there.

  The boys ascended to the next floor, and entered the room to the left of the stair well. It was as drab and bare as the one they had just left. Here again the dust lay thick and the murky windows were almost obscured with cobwebs. There was an atmosphere of age and decay about the entire place, as if it had been abandoned for years.

  “Nothing here,” said Frank after a quick glance around. “On we go.”

  They made their way up to the next floor. After searching this room and under the stairway, they had to admit defeat.

  The floor above was a duplicate of the first and second. It was bare and cheerless, deep in dust. There was not the slightest sign of a hiding place, or any indication that another human being had been in the tower for a long time.

  “Doesn’t look very promising, Joe. Still, Jackley may have gone right to the top of the tower.”

  The search continued without success until the boys reached the roof. Here a trap door which swung inward led to the top of the tower. Frank unlatched it and pulled on the door. It did not budge.

  “I’ll help you,” Joe offered.

  Together the brothers yanked on the stubborn trap door of the old tower. Suddenly it gave way completely, causing both boys to lose their balance. Frank fell backward down the stairway.

  Joe, with a cry, toppled over the railing into space!

  Frank grabbed a spindle of the balustrade and kept himself from sliding farther down the steps. He had seen Joe’s plunge and expected the next moment to hear a sickening thud on the floor five stories below.

  “Joel” he murmured as he pulled himself upright. “Oh, Joel”

  To Frank’s amazement, he heard no thud and now looked over the balustrade. His brother was not lying unconscious at the bottom of the tower. Instead, he was clinging to two spindles of the stairway on the floor below.

  Frank, heaving a tremendous sigh of relief, ran down and helped pull Joe to the safety of the steps. Both boys sat down to catch their breaths and recover from their falls.