CHAPTER II

The Three-cornered Scar

joe braced himself in front of the door and swung the axe.

Thud!

The door quivered under the blow. Joe swung again. But the wood was tough and the lock was stout.

The flames had broken through the roof in a dozen places now, and the upper part of the barn was a roaring mass of flame. Black smoke swirled toward the boy as he attacked the locked door.

Joe heard the sharp blast of a car horn and the squeal of brakes. Frank was back. He leaped out and ran toward his brother.

"I phoned the fire company from that house down the road," he cried. "But they won't get here in time to do any good. What are you doing?"

"Help me . . . break down . . . this door!" Joe

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The Three-cornered Scar 11

.gasped as he swung the axe. "Aunt Gertrude's carton ... is ... inside the barn!"

Frank needed no further explanation. He caught sight of a stout length of scantling propped against the side of the barn a few yards away. "Here's a battering ram I Better than an axe!''

Holding the wood firmly, they drove it against the door with all their strength. At the very first impact the boards splintered. They drew back and rammed the door again. This time the lock snapped and the door fell in with a crash. Dense clouds of black smoke poured through the opening.

As Joe looked into the burning building, he knew he must act quickly to retrieve the valuable carton. "Stand by," he said to Frank. "I'm going in."

"Take it easy," warned Frank. "Stay close to the floor."

Joe nodded. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he held it in his lungs. His eyes closed, he crept across the barn floor toward the carton. : His judgment of distance and position proved correct. In a few seconds his groping fingers encountered the box. He grabbed the twine with which it was tied and began dragging the box backward toward the door. But he felt as if his lungs 'Would burst!

Frank, jittery, was ready to go to his assistance if necessary. Hearing a crackling sound overhead, he

1

12 The Phantom Freighter

looked up and saw a blazing rafter which had almost burned through. The next moment one of its supports gave way. Amid a shower of sparks and embers it crashed below. The flaming rafter sagged.

Joe was still a good ten feet from the door. The weakened rafter hung directly overhead!

Frank plunged into the smoke, groping his way until he found Joe's outstretched hand. The rafter crackled. There was a hissing sound, then crack!

Frank tugged, dragging Joe across the doorsill, just as the beam crashed. There was an explosion of sparks and a sheet of flame inside the barn. The boys had not escaped a moment too soon!

Joe's eyebrows were singed, and his skin parched from the heat. As he drew in deep breaths of the fresh air he grinned weakly at his brother.

"Thanks," he gasped, placing a grateful hand on Frank's shoulder. "Well, we saved the carton anyway!"

By this time help was arriving. Cars were driving into the yard. A siren wailed as a fire truck raced down Springdale Avenue.

The barn, however, was doomed. The firemen turned their efforts to saving the house, which was threatened by flying sparks.

When the owner of the place and his wife drove into the yard half an hour later, their home was safe but nothing was left of the barn but a blackened foundation and a heap of smoking ashes. Learning

The Three-cornered Scar 13

that the Hardy boys had given the alarm, they came over to thank them.

"It was lucky you boys happened to be driving along and saw the smoke," the man said.

"We didn't just happen to be driving along," Frank told him. "As a matter of fact we were coming to make an exchange of cartons. We brought yours. Ours was delivered here by mistake, and we rescued it from the barn, Mr. Johnson."

"Johnson? My name's not Johnson. It's Phillips. No one named Johnson lives here."

The Hardys stared incredulously. Joe rushed to the carton and brought it over.

"Do you mean to say you went into the burning barn after that box!" Mr. Phillips exclaimed. "There's nothing in it but old newspapers. I was keeping them for the junkman."

Joe and Frank were flabbergasted. To think they had taken such a risk for a lot of old newspapers! They had not saved Aunt Gertrude's carton of irreplaceable family papers and other articles after all!

Disgusted, they took the other carton from the back of their car and showed it to Mr. Phillips. When the man examined it, he shook his head in bewilderment.

"It doesn't belong here," he insisted.

Just then an express-company truck drove into the yard. The driver got out and came over to them. He knew the boys.

1.4 The Phantom Freighter

"Your aunt called up the office a while ago about a carton," he said to the Hardys, "so I thought I'd better drive out and check up on it. I delivered one to your house and one to this place. Fellow here named Johnson signed for it. Maybe . . ."

"What!" Mr. Phillips interrupted. "My wife and I have been away several days and the house has been locked up!"

"Maybe so," returned the driver. "But I delivered a carton here this morning. There was a man standing on the porch when I got here. He signed for the carton." The driver took out his book and flipped the pages. "Here's his name."

The boys studied the scrawled signature of James Johnson.

"Something strange about this," said Frank. "Do you mind if I copy the signature?" Using a piece of plain paper and a carbon from the back of the driver's book he made a tracing.

"What did the man look like?" Joe asked.

"He was about forty," replied the driver. "Kind of beady eyes, with a low forehead. Had a scar high up on his right cheek. A three-cornered scar, like a triangle."

Mr. Phillips looked grim. "I'd like to meet him and find out what he was doing here. I'll bet he set my barn on fire!"

Joe spoke up. "If Johnson got the wrong carton, maybe he'll go to the express office to pick up the

The Three-cornered Scar 15

right one. Suppose we ask the police to question ·him if he does."

"Good idea," agreed Phillips.

"Well, I don't want any more trouble," said the driver. "There's enough already." Turning to the Hardys, he added, "I'll take this carton along, and hope I won't lose my job over the mix-up."

As Frank and Joe drove toward Bayport they discussed the affair of the two cartons from various angles. What had happened to Aunt Gertrude's box of papers? Had the man with the scar taken it away? Or had it been destroyed in the fire? In any case, Frank thought the man with the scar had not given his real name, and that he would never show up at the express office to claim his property.

"I wonder how Aunt Gertrude will take the news," grinned Joe.

"I hate to tell her," said Frank. "She made it plain that she didn't want anyone to see the contents of the box. Maybe," he dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper, "maybe she had some secret love letters."

As they passed through the downtown section of Bayport, Joe suggested that since it was past lunch-time that they have a bite to eat and then call on Mr. McClintock. Frank telephoned home, asking that the strawberry shortcake be saved until later, but refrained from mentioning the carton.

"I hope Mr. McClintock is back," said Joe when

16 The Phantom Freighter

the boys entered the Bayport Hotel half an hour later.

The clerk nodded to them as they approached the desk. "Just in time," he said. "Mr. McClintock returned a little while ago. He's waiting for you."

Mr. McClintock was a tall man, past middle age, and a little stoop-shouldered. He had sharp, fidgety eyes and a nervous habit of snapping his fingers when he talked. He greeted the brothers affably enough and asked them to sit down. His manner was businesslike rather than friendly.

"So you're the Hardy boys, eh?" he said in a dry, high-pitched voice. "I've heard interesting things about you. Now, I'm a plain man and never beat around the bush so I'll come right to the point. My doctor has advised me that I need a complete change in my way of living. Says I brood too much."

With that Mr. McClintock bounded from his chair and started pacing back and forth. His face was grim. Suddenly he stopped short and continued bitterly:

"The doctor would brood, too, if his lifework had been- Well, that's beside the point. He thinks maybe my health would improve if I were around young people. He's got some newfangled notion about a fresh start in life or some such thing -hmm. Anyway, here's my proposition:

"I want to go on a trip. A long trip. I'd like you

The Three-cornered Scar \ 7

boys to go with me. But you must plan it and make all the arrangements."

After a moment of astonished silence, Joe gasped, "You-want-us-to-go?"

"Exactly. You're what the doctor ordered. After I see how clever you are at planning a trip, I may even give you a mystery to solve. I'll see."

Frank and Joe glanced at each other. Their eyes asked the same question. Did he have a mystery to solve? Or was he just trying to interest the boys in going with him on a trip, the lure being a mystery!

"Where do you wish to go, Mr. McClintock?" asked Frank.

"How should I know?" rasped McClintock. "That's up to you."

"But you say you want to go on a long trip . . ."

"Exactly. And I don't care where. I just want to go on a trip. I want company, and I don't want to have all the trouble of making the arrangements."

"But what kind of trip do you like best, sir?" inquired Joe. "A motor trip, a hike, a sea voyage? Do you think your health could stand a trip?"

"Do I look that sick?" demanded McClintock. "Does a man have to be an invalid before he's entitled to take a trip?" He glanced narrowly at the two boys. "You look mighty doubtful about it. Don't make up your minds right away. Go home and think about it. If you say what you're thinking

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right now, you'll say I'm a crazy man and you don't want to have anything to do with me.

"Well, I'm not crazy and I'm not really sick- just need a change," he went on. "After you think it over, maybe you'll decide to accept my proposition. I'm not asking you to do it for nothing, mind. I'll pay all expenses and when the trip is over you'll be paid. Money, if you like. Or something else."

"For example?" suggested Frank.

Mr. McClintock shook his head. "I'm not saying. But I'm a man of my word and I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

The Hardy boys did not know what to make of McClintock's extraordinary proposition. They were convinced that the man was perfectly sane, although undoubtedly eccentric.

"We'll be glad to think it over, Mr. McClintock," said Frank. "It isn't the sort of thing we can decide right off. You say we'll be paid for our services. How much would it be worth to you?"

"You name your figure," replied McClintock shrewdly. "If it's too high, I'll say so. If it's too low, I won't say a word."

"And if we preferred this other reward instead of money?"

McClintock chuckled. "That's a secret. I promise you, though, it's more valuable than money."