CHAPTER III

Suspicion

"Ir won't be easy to plan a trip unless we know how you want to travel," said Joe. "How about a motor trip?"

McClintock scowled and shook his head. "I said that I'd leave the arrangements to you boys," he grunted, "but I should have told you I don't like cars. A motor trip is out. Too bumpy and dirty."

"A train trip, then?" suggested Frank.

McClintock wrinkled his nose. "I can't sleep on trains."

"How about a plane?" Joe ventured.

"They go too fast. Get you there too soon. I want a long trip."

"Ocean liner?" Frank said.

"No, sir! Too many people. I'd have to dress up. Too fancy. That's not the sort of trip I mean at all."

The boys gave up. Plainly, Mr. McClintock was not going to be easy to please!

19

20 The Phantom Freighter

"The fact of the matter is," he said, "I know the kind of trip I don't like. You've named all of them. But I don't know what kind of trip I do like. That's your job. Figure something out and when you hit on one that looks interesting I'll tell you."

The Hardys got up.

"We'll think about it, Mr. McClintock," said Frank. "As ;soon as we've decided, we'll let you know."

"Take your time. Come back in a day or so. I don't like people who make snap decisions."

Frank and Joe left the eccentric Mr. McClintock and went downstairs.

"For a man who just wants a trip and doesn't care where he goes, he seems mighty particular," remarked Frank as they left the hotel. "I'm stumped. Trains are out, planes are out, cars are out ..."

"And he doesn't look as if a hiking trip would appeal to him either. We forgot bicycles," Joe said jokingly. "Look! Here comes Chet!"

Down the street trudged their friend, stout, round-faced and apple-cheeked Chet Morton. Usually Chet was the picture of irresponsible bliss but today he looked different. His brows were knit in a frown, and when he greeted the Hardy boys his voice sounded gloomy.

"H'ya, fellows," he mumbled.

"Going fishing?" asked Joe, indicating a case the stout boy was carrying under his arm.

Suspicion 21

"No," said Chet. "But maybe you'd like to. If so, you'll need a rod. I can sell you one cheap. A very fine fly rod. Genuine bamboo. I bought it for my father."

"Didn't he like it?"

Chet shook his head, "I'm in trouble," he confessed. "This is a custom-made rod. I was so sure my father would like it that I paid for it out of my own money. Thirty-five dollars."

Frank whistled. "How did you ever save thirty-five dollars?"

"To tell you the truth I had only twenty dollars. The other fifteen I borrowed from the money Dad gave me to buy some seed. I was sure he wouldn't mind, because the rod was a real bargain."

"But he did mind?" asked Joe.

"Mind!" said Chet mournfully. "He says I've got to earn fifteen dollars to pay him back."

"Use the rod to catch fish. Then sell the fish," suggested Joe, suppressing a grin. '

Chet looked at him sourly. "Fifteen dollars worth of fish? Nothing doing. I may be able to make some money selling flies. That's what I figure on doing." He brightened a bit at the thought.

"Flies? Where could you sell flies?" asked Frank.

"I don't mean houseflies. Artificial flies, for fishing. I sent away for a book that tells how to tie 'em. How about coming up to the house and helping me?"

22 The Phantom Freighter

The Hardys recognized this as just one more of Chet's impractical schemes for making money. He was always embarking on some kind of venture, the most recent one having been in the field of taxidermy. Each time, Frank and Joe were enlisted to help, and usually found themselves doing most of the work, for Chet shunned work of all kinds.

"Too busy to tie flies," replied Frank promptly. "A man just made us a proposition and we have to do some thinking about it." He told Chet about their interview with Mr. McClintock.

Chet listened with interest. "Golly, he even hinted at a mystery!" An impish grin came into his eyes. "Funny though, with your reputation as super detectives, he didn't tell you about it right away. What do you suppose it is?"

"Haven't the least idea," Joe replied.

"He hinted at something about his lifework," said Frank. "I guess he had trouble in business or lost a lot of money."

"Right now he seems less interested in solving the mystery he spoke of than in going on the trip," Joe added.

"Why not suggest a fishing trip!" Chet exclaimed. "I'll bet he'd go for that. No trains, no planes, no cars, no ocean liners. Just a nice lazy fishing trip."

"Sounds like a pretty fair idea," remarked Joe. "Mr. McClintock might like the plan, at that."

Suspicion 23

"Good!" said Chet. "You can sell him this fishing ·god. After all, he'll need equipment. You go and talk to him right away."

But the Hardys were not to be lured into Chet's little sales scheme that easily.

"We'll think about it," Frank promised. "If Mr. McClintock wants to go on a fishing trip; if he really needs any equipment; if he wants to pay thirty-five dollars for a rod; and if your rod is worth that much, we'll ask him to talk to you."

"Sounds like a lot of ifs," grumbled Chet. "I'll probably have the rod sold by then." He sauntered off. "See you later."

The Hardys were about to get into their car and drive home when Frank remembered that Mrs. Hardy had asked him to buy some socks and handkerchiefs for their father. There was a clothing store near the hotel so the boys went inside.

A customer was standing at the counter when they entered. He was a rough-looking fellow of about forty, with beady eyes and a low brow. But the most significant detail about him was a scar high on his right cheek.

The man, after glancing at them, turned back to the counter and examined some belts the clerk had brought out. Frank and Joe retired to the back of the store for a whispered conference.

"This fellow fits the expressman's description of

24 The Phantom Freighter

the man who called himself Johnson," said Frank.

"Sure does," agreed Joe. "There's a phone booth in the drugstore next door. I'll call the expressman and ask him to come over. If the man leaves, you follow him."

Joe slipped out of the store. Frank idled about, pretending to be interested in some sports jackets. The customer was evidently in no hurry. He purchased a belt, then looked at neckties. He was about to buy a purple one with yellow dots when Joe returned.

"Expressman is out," he told his brother quietly.

Frank walked up to the counter, and tried to maneuver himself into a position where he could get a better look at the man's face. Noticing some neckties which the customer had discarded, Frank asked pleasantly:

"Have you finished with these?"

"Yeah," grunted the man rudely.

But as Frank glanced at his face, the boy's heart began to pound. The scar on the man's cheek was triangular in shape!

Suddenly the suspect turned and saw Frank staring at him. The boy quickly averted his eyes, but the fellow glared angrily at him, picked up his change, and thrust his purchase into the pocket of his jacket. He strode hurriedly out the door without looking back.

Suspicion 25

"That will teach you not to be inquisitive," the clerk said laughingly to Frank. "Say, where're you going? I thought you wanted to buy something!"

Frank and Joe were already at the door. "We'll be back," called Frank.

The man by this time was nearly half a block away, walking rapidly. Frank and Joe jumped into their car and followed him. The man turned right at the end of the block.

"He's going down toward the harbor," said Joe.

"So are we," said Frank, stepping on the gas.