The Secret Of The Old Mill thb-3

by Franklin W. Dixon

  the mill.

  The brothers explained where the Queen was parked, in case trouble should arise and their

  friends had to go for help.

  Frank and Joe approached the mill cautiously. It was dark now, but they did not use flashlights.

  Though confident that the gatehouse was deserted, they did not wish to take any chances. As

  they neared the building the Hardys could see that the shutters were tightly closed. Over the

  sound of the wind in the trees came the rumble of the turning mill wheel.

  The Hardys headed for the door. They had just mounted the steps when the rumbling sound of

  the wheel ceased.

  In the silence both boys looked around, perplexed. 'I thought it had been fixed," Joe whispered.

  "Seemed okay the other day."

  "Yes. But last time we were here at night the wheel stopped when we were about this distance away from it," Frank observed.

  Thoughtfully the boys stepped back from the mill entrance to a point where they could see the

  wheel.

  They stood peering at it through the darkness. Suddenly, with a dull rumble, it started to turn again!

  Mystified, the Hardys advanced toward the gatehouse and stopped at the entrance. In a short

  while the wheel stopped.

  "Hm!" Joe murmured. "Just like one of those electric-eye doors."

  "Exactly!" Frank exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I'll bet the wheel's not broken-it's been rigged up as a warning signal to be used at night!

  When someone approaches the mill, the path of the invisible beam is broken and the wheel

  stops. The lack of noise is enough for anyone inside to notice, and also, the lights would go out because the generator is powered by the wheel."

  The Hardys went on a quick search for the origin of the light beam. Frank was first to discover that it was camouflaged in the flour-barrel ivy planter. Beneath a thin covering of earth, and barely concealed, were the heavy batteries, wired in parallel, which produced the current

  necessary to operate the light source for the electric eye.

  The stopping and starting of the wheel was further explained when Frank found, screened by a

  bushy shrub, a small post with a tiny glass mirror fastened on its side.

  "That's the complete secret of the signal!" he exclaimed. "This is one of the mirrors a photo-electric cell system would use. With several of these hidden mirrors, they've made a light-ring around the mill so an intruder from any side would break the beam. The barrel that contains

  the battery power also contains the eye that completes the circuit."

  "I'll bet Markel and Docker rigged this up," Joe said excitedly. "Which means there must be something in the mill they want very badly to keep secret! We must find a way inside!"

  The Hardys did not pull the wires off the battery connection, since they might have need of the warning system. Quietly and quickly the brothers made a circuit of the mill, trying doors and

  first-floor windows, in hopes of finding one unlocked. But none was.

  "We can't break in," Joe muttered. Both boys were aware that time was precious-the men might return shortly. The young sleuths made another circle of the mill. This time they paused to stare at the huge wheel, which was turning once more.

  "Look!" Joe whispered tensely, pointing to an open window-shaped space above the wheel.

  "It's our only chance to get inside," Frank stated. "We'll try climbing up."

  The Hardys realized it would not be easy to reach the opening. Had there been a walkway on

  top of the wheel, as there was in many mills, climbing it would have been relatively simple. The brothers came to a quick decision: to maneuver one of the paddles on the wheel until it was

  directly below the ledge of the open space, then stop the motion. During the short interval

  which took place between the stop and start of the wheel, they hoped to climb by way of the

  paddles to the top and gain entrance to the mill.

  Joe ran back through the beam, breaking it, while Frank clambered over a pile of rocks across

  the water to the wheel. It rumbled to a stop, one paddle aligned with the open space above. By the time Joe returned, Frank had started to climb up, pulling himself from paddle to paddle by means of the metal side struts. Joe followed close behind.

  The boys knew they were taking a chance in their ascent up the wet, slippery, mossy wheel.

  They were sure there must be a timing-delay switch somewhere in the electric-eye circuit.

  Could they beat it, or would they be tossed off into the dark rushing water?

  "I believe I can get to the top paddle and reach the opening before the timer starts the wheel turning again. But can Joe?" Frank thought. "Hurry!" he cried out to his brother.

  Doggedly the two continued upward. Suddenly Joe's hand slipped on a slimy patch of moss. He

  almost lost his grip, but managed to cling desperately to the edge of the paddle above his head, both feet dangling in mid-air.

  "Frank!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

  His brother threw his weight to the right. Holding tight with his left hand to a strut, he reached down and grasped Joe's wrist. With an aerialist's grip, Joe locked his fingers on Frank's wrist, and let go with his other hand.

  Frank swung him out away from the wheel. As Joe swung himself back, he managed to regain

  his footing and get a firm hold on the paddle supports.

  "Whew!" said Joe. "Thanks!"

  The boys resumed the climb, spurred by the thought that the sluice gate would reopen any

  second and start the wheel revolving.

  Frank finally reached the top paddle. Stretching his arms upward, he barely reached the sill of the opening. The old wood was rough and splintering, but felt strong enough to hold his weight.

  "Here goes!" he thought, and sprang away from the paddle.

  At the same moment, with a creaking rumble, the wheel started to move!

  *The Hidden Room**">CHAPTER XVIII

  The Hidden Room

  WHILE Frank clung grimly to the sill, Joe, below him, knew he must act fast to avoid missing the chance to get off, and perhaps being crushed beneath the turning wheel. He leaped upward

  with all his might.

  Joe's fingers barely grasped the ledge, but he managed to hang onto the rough surface beside

  his brother.

  Then together they pulled themselves up and over the sill through the open space.

  In another moment they were standing inside the second floor of the building. Rickety boards

  creaked under their weight. Still not wishing to risk the use of flashlights, the Hardys peered around in the darkness.

  "I think we're in the original grinding room," Frank whispered as he discerned the outlines of two huge stone cylinders in the middle of the room.

  "You're right," said Joe. "There's the old grain hopper." He pointed to a chute leading down to the grinding stones.

  Though many years had passed since the mill had been used to produce flour, the harsh, dry

  odor of grain still lingered in the air. In two of the corners were cots and a set of crude shelves for clothes.

  Suddenly the boys* hearts jumped. A loud clattering noise came from directly below. Then,

  through a wide crack in the floor, shone a yellow shaft of light!

  "Someone else must be here!" Joe whispered.

  The Hardys stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for another sound. Who was in

  the suddenly lighted room?

  The suspense was unbearable. Finally the brothers tiptoed over and peered through the wide

  crack.

  Straightening up, Frank observed, "Can't see anyone. We'd better go investigate."

  Fearful of stumbling in the inky darkness, the boys now turned on their flashlights, but shielded them with their hands. Cautiously they found their way to a door. It opened into
a short

  passageway which led down a narrow flight of steps.

  Soon Frank and Joe were in another small hall. Ahead was a partially opened door, with light

  streaming from it.

  Every nerve taut, the young sleuths advanced. Frank edged up to the door and looked in.

  "Well?" Joe hissed. To his utter astonishment Frank gave a low chuckle, and motioned him forward.

  "For Pete's sake!" Joe grinned.

  Inside, perched on a chipped grindstone, was a huge, white cat. Its tail twitched indignantly. An overturned lamp lay on a table.

  The Hardys laughed in relief. "Our noisemaker and lamplighter!" Frank said as the boys entered the room. "The cat must have knocked over the lamp and clicked the switch."

  Although the room contained the gear mechanism and the shaft connected to the mill wheel, it

  was being used as a living area by the present tenants. There were two overstuffed chairs, a

  table, and a chest of drawers. On the floor, as if dropped in haste, lay a scattered newspaper.

  "Let's search the rest of the mill before Markel and Docker get back," Joe suggested. "Nothing suspicious here."

  The Hardys started with the top story of the old building. There they found what was once the

  grain storage room. Now it was filled with odds and ends of discarded furniture.

  "I'm sure nothing's hidden here," Frank said.

  The other floors yielded no clues to what Docker and Markel's secret might be.

  Frank was inclined to be discouraged. "Maybe our big hunch is all wet," he muttered.

  Joe refused to give up. "Let's investigate the cellar. Come on!"

  The brothers went into the kitchen toward the basement stairway. Suddenly Joe gave a stifled

  yell.

  Something had brushed across his trouser legs. Frank swung his light around. The beam caught

  two round golden eyes staring up at them.

  "The white cat!" Joe said sheepishly.

  Chuckling, the Hardys continued down into the damp, cool cellar. It was long and narrow, with

  only two small windows.

  Three walls were of natural stone and mortar. The fourth wall was lined with wooden shelves.

  Frank and Joe played their flashlights into every corner.

  "Hm." There was a note of disappointment in Joe's voice. "Wheelbarrow, shovels, picks-just ordinary equipment."

  Frank nodded. "Seems to be all, but where are the old bricks and lumber that Ken said were stored here?"

  "I'm sure the stuff was never intended for Elekton," Joe declared. "More likely the mill. But where? In a floor? We haven't seen any signs."

  Thoughtfully the boys walked over to inspect the shelves, which held an assortment of

  implements. Frank reached out to pick up a hammer.

  To his amazement, he could not lift it. A further quick examination revealed that all the tools were glued to the shelves.

  "Joel" he exclaimed. "There's a special reason for this-and I think it's camouflage!"

  "You mean these shelves are movable, and the tools are fastened so they won't fall off?"

  "Yes. Also, I have a feeling this whole section is made of the old lumber from Pritos' yard."

  "And the bricks?" Joe asked, puzzled.

  His brother's answer was terse. "Remember, this mill was used by settlers. In those days many places had hidden rooms in case of Indian attacks-"

  "I get you!" Joe broke in. "Those bricks are in a secret room! The best place to build one in this mill would have been the cellar."

  "Right," agreed Frank. "And the only thing unusual here is this shelf setup. I'll bet it's actually the entrance to the secret room."

  "All we have to do is find the opening mechanism," Joe declared.

  Using their flashlights, the boys went over every inch of the shelves. These were nailed to a

  backing of boards. The Hardys pulled and pushed, but nothing happened. Finally, on the bottom

  shelf near the wall, Frank discovered a knot in the wood. In desperation, he pressed his thumb hard against the knot.

  There was the hum of a motor, and, as smoothly as though it were moving on greased rails, the

  middle section of shelves swung inward.

  "The door to the secret room!" Frank exulted.

  Quickly the boys slipped inside the room and shone their flashlights around. The first thing they noticed was the flooring-recently laid bricks. Frank snapped on a light switch beside the

  entrance.

  The boys blinked in the sudden glare of two high-watt bulbs suspended from the low ceiling.

  The next instant both spotted a small, handprinting press.

  "The counterfeiters' workshop!" they cried out On a wooden table at the rear of the room were a camera, etching tools, zinc plates, and a large pan with little compartments containing various colors of ink. At the edge of the table was a portable typewriter.

  Frank picked up a piece of paper, rolled it into the machine, and typed a few lines. Pulling it out, he showed the paper to Joe.

  "The machine used to type the warning note Dad got!" Joe exclaimed excitedly. "The counterfeiters must have thought he was on their trail."

  "And look here!" exclaimed Frank, his voice tense. A small pile of twenty-dollar bills lay among the equipment. "They're fakes," he added, scrutinizing the bills. "They're the same as Chet's and Tony's."

  Joe made another startling discovery. In one corner stood a bow, with the string loosened and

  carefully wound around the handgrip. A quiver of three hunting arrows leaned against the wall

  nearby.

  Excitedly Joe pulled one out. "The same type that was fired at the girls," he observed. "This must belong to The Arrow!"

  "Docker matches his description," Frank pointed out. "He easily could have colored his hair gray."

  The Hardys were thrilled at the irrefutable evidence all around them, "Now we know why

  Markel and Docker rigged the mill wheel-to give a warning signal when they're working in this

  room!"

  "Also, we have a good idea what was being sent to Peters in the envelopes-phony twenty-dollar bills!"

  "Let's get Dad and Chief Collig here!" Joe urged, stuffing several of the counterfeits into a pocket.

  As the boys turned to leave, the lights in the secret room went out. Frank and Joe froze. They realized the mill wheel had stopped turning.

  "The signal!" Joe said grimly. "Someone is coming!"

  CHAPTER XIX

  Underground Chase

  THE HARDYS knew this was the signal for them to get out of the secret room-and fasti As they

  hurried into the cellar, the lights came on again. With hearts beating faster, they started for the stairway. But before the boys reached it, they heard the mill door being unlocked, then heavy

  footsteps pounded overhead.

  "Docker!" a man's voice called. "Markel! Where are you!"

  The Hardys listened tensely, hoping for a chance to escape unseen. When they heard the man

  cross the ground floor and go upstairs, Joe whispered, "Let's make a break for it!"

  The boys dashed to the steps. They could see a crack of light beneath the closed door to the

  kitchen.

  Suddenly the light vanished, and the rumble of the mill wheel ceased.

  The Hardys stopped in their tracks. "Somebody else is coming!" Frank muttered. "Probably Docker and Markel. We're trapped!"

  Again the brothers heard the mill door open. Two men were talking loudly and angrily. Then

  came the sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs to the first floor.

  "Peters!" The boys recognized Docker's voice. "Where in blazes were you?"

  Frank and Joe nudged each other. Victor Peters was in league with the gatehouse men!

  "What do you mean? I told you I'd meet you here at eleven," snarled Peters.

  "You must be nuts!" retorted Markel. "You called here an hour ag
o and said there was trouble and to meet you at the Parker Building."

  Peters' tone grew menacing. "Something's fishy. I didn't phone. You know I'd use the two-way radio.

  What's the matter with you guys, anyway?"

  "Listen!" Markel snapped. "Somebody called here and said he was you. The voice did sound sort of fuzzy, but I didn't have a chance to ask questions-he hung up on me. I thought maybe

  your radio had conked out."

  The Hardys, crouched on the cellar stairs, could feel the increasing tension in the room above.

  Docker growled, "Something funny is going on. Whoever phoned must be on to us, or suspect enough to want to get in here and snoop around."

  "The Feds! We'll have to scram!" said Markel, with more than a trace of fear in his voice. "Come on!

  Let's get moving!"

  "Not so fast, Markel!" Docker barked. "We're not ditching the stuff we've made. We'll have a look around first-starting with the cellar."

  The men strode into the kitchen. Below, Frank grabbed Joe. "No choice now. Into the secret room!"

  Quickly the brothers ran back into the workshop. Frank pulled the door behind him and slid the heavy bolt into place.

  Tensely the brothers pressed against the door as the three men came downstairs into the

  basement.

  Frank and Joe could hear them moving around, searching for signs of an intruder.

  "I'd better check the rest of the mill," Docker said brusquely. "You two get the plates and the greenbacks. Go out through the tunnel, and I'll meet you at the other end. Well wait there for Blum to pay us off, then vamoose."

  "We're in a fix, all right," Joe said under his breath. "What tunnel are they talking about?"

  "And who's Blum?" Frank wondered.

  The boys heard the hum of the motor that opened the secret door. But the bolt held it shut.

  "The mechanism won't work!" Markel rasped.

  "Maybe it's just stuck," said Peters.

  The men began pounding on the wood.

  "What's going on?" Docker demanded as he returned.

  "We can't budge this tricky door you dreamed up," Peters complained.

  "There's nothing wrong with the door, you blockheads!" Docker shouted. "Somebody's in the room!

  Break down the door!"

  In half a minute his order was followed by several sharp blows.