CHAPTER X

Missing Letters

"Ir was smart of you to ask if Captain Harkness noticed the name of the phantom freighter," said Fenton Hardy when his sons related the strange story. "It gives us a clue to work on, at any rate."

He went to a bookshelf. Taking down a thick volume, he thumbed through the pages.

"Registry of shipping," he explained, scanning a column. "If there is such a ship as the Falcon it should be listed here-and it's not."

"Not registered?" asked Frank.

Mr. Hardy shook his head. "No ship of that name is listed."

"Isn't there a chance this phantom freighter is registered under another name?" asked Frank.

"Possibly. But I wonder if the whole thing wasn't some hallucination of Captain Harkness."

When the boys left their father's study, they en-

84

Missing Letters 85

countered Aunt Gertrude, who began to fuss and fume because the carton containing her valuable papers had not been recovered.

"Seems to me you should have found them by this time," she grumbled. "With three detectives in the family, a little thing like that shouldn't be much of a problem."

"We've been working on it, Aunty," Joe defended them, though he had to admit their leads had come to little.

"I don't think you looked very hard," she declared. "The carton was probably in that barn all the time. Did you look through the rubbish after the fire?"

"There didn't seem to be much point in grubbing through the ruins," Frank said. "Any papers would have been burnt to ashes."

"Military medals wouldn't burn to ashes," returned Aunt Gertrude. "There were a couple of old ones among those papers. I'd like to know what happened to that carton one way or the other."

Frank and Joe got into their car and drove out to the Phillips house. They obtained permission to search the ruins of the barn, and for the next hour they poked through the blackened ashes. They were about to give up the hunt as hopeless when Joe picked up a small object near the front foundation.

"Looks like a penny with a hole in it," he said,

86 The Phantom Freighter

cleaning off the metal and holding it to the light. Two words were now legible. "Good luck!" he read.

"I've seen medals like that in the stores down at the docks," remarked Frank. "Some of the sailors wear them."

They asked Mrs. Phillips if she knew anything about it, but she was sure it did not belong to them. Joe telephoned Aunt Gertrude, who said the medal had not been among her possessions.

Frank put the medal in his pocket, saying to Joe as they started for town, "It must have belonged to our friend with the scar. One more bit of evidence that he has something to do with ships or shipping."

"If the medal means anything, he won't have the good luck now. We will," Joe said, grinning.

On their way back into Bayport a car overtook them and pulled up alongside. Chet Morton was at the wheel, with Biff Hooper beside him.

"Looking for you," cried Chet. "We want you to go out in the Sleuth. Got something to show you."

The Hardys followed, wondering what was up. When they reached the boathouse they learned that Chet wanted to go fishing.

"Not just for the sake of fishing, mind you," he declared hastily. "It's a scientific experiment for our trip. I've invented a new fish lure. If it works I'll make a fortune. Look!"

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From a cardboard box he produced a weird gadget made of tin and strips of aluminum, barbed with fearsome-looking hooks.

"I can't imagine any fish going for that," said Frank. "What is it?"

"What is it?" demanded Chet, offended and hurt. "Don't you recognize it?"

"A fish might recognize it, but I don't. Looks like a toy airplane that got run over by a truck."

"Toy airplane!" scoffed Chet. "It's a herring. A mechanical herring. Commercial fishermen won't have to use real herring for bait any more. One of rny mechanical herrings will last a lifetime. I'll sell so many I'll make fifteen dollars in no time. Come on, let's see how it works."

The four boys climbed into the Sleuth. In a few minutes the trim little craft was headed for the ocean. About a quarter of a mile from Bayport Chet attached his mechanical herring to a stout trace and a length of heavy line. Then he doused it with an evil-smelling fluid from a bottle.

Joe sniffed. "Wow! What do I smell?" he cried.

Biff Hooper took a deep breath, choked and gagged. "There won't be a fish left within five miles of us when they get a whiff of that. What is it?" he asked.

"Herring oil," Chet explained. "A mechanical herring should smell like a herring, shouldn't it?"

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There was no answer to that, although Joe pointed out that he had read somewhere that fish have no sense of smell.

"Of course fish smell," returned Chet.

"They do when they've been left out in the sun too long," muttered Biff.

"This boat will certainly smell if you don't hurry up and dump that gadget overboard," said Frank.

Chet carefully lowered the offending object into the water and payed out the line. Frank throttled down the engine to trolling speed, and they cruised out into the bay.

"The whole secret of this lure," Chet began to explain, only to break off and yell, "I've got a bite!"

The others stared at him incredulously. They could not believe that any fish would be hungry or stupid enough to come within yards of Chet's contraption.

But Chet was hauling in the line, whooping gleefully. When he finally landed a small sea bass with a shout of triumph, Frank merely said:

"Well, now I've seen everything. If that smelly gadget can catch fish we can soak the anchor with herring oil and catch whales."

"I knew it would work," declared Chet smugly. "Just wait until I put that mechanical herring on the market. I'll sell thousands. I'll pay all my debts. I'll-"

"Look!" cried Joe suddenly.

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His attention had been caught by a fast motorboat running offshore. It was speeding crazily, as if out of control. As the boys watched they saw two men in the craft who were engaged in a violent struggle.

Frank snatched up a pair of binoculars. Through the glasses he saw that the men were apparently battling for possession of a big cardboard carton. One of them stumbled back with the box in his arms. As the other leaped toward him he raised it high in the air and hurled it overboard.

His opponent sprang on him, knocking him down with a savage blow to the jaw. He then lurched to the wheel of the motorboat, swung the craft away from the rocky shore and steered for the open water at the exit to the bay.

"It might be Aunt Gertrude's carton," Frank thought excitedly.

He would have gone after the men, but they had too much of a start. Instead, he headed for the spot where the carton was bobbing up and down in the water. It had no marks of identification, and when the boys examined the carton they found it contained nothing but compressed raw wool.

"Why were those two fellows fighting over a box of wool?" asked Biff, puzzled.

"It's too much for me," Chet remarked. "Let's go out into deeper water again. I'd like to try out my mechanical herring."

The Hardy boys decided, however, that the gadget

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had been tested sufficiently. They were eager to take the carton of wool home and examine it care> fully for possible clues. Both Frank and Joe recalled that the James Johnson carton which had come to their house by mistake had contained raw wool! They were sure there was a link between that one and the water-soaked carton now in their boat.

Arriving at their garage, Frank went over every inch of the outside of the box, while Joe looked for a sharp knife with which to slit it.

"Not a mark on this," Frank reported.

The carton was opened and every bit of the compressed wool pulled apart. There was no trace of anything secreted in the fluffy mass.

"Only one more place to look," said Frank, and carefully examined the inside walls of the carton. "Nothing here," he added. "But I still think those two men had something to do with the mystery. Wish we'd followed them."

"So do I."

The boys put the wool back into the carton and went to the house. There they found that the mystery had taken a new and unexpected turn. Aunt Gertrude met them in the kitchen, a grim look on her face.

"My papers!" she exclaimed in excitement. "Some of them have turned up. Your father just

Missing Letters 91

had a letter about them, and wants you to take care of it. Read this!"

Her nephews read the letter, which had been postmarked Hopkinsville, several miles away, and mailed the previous day:

dear mr. hardy:

I am a dealer in autographs and historical documents. Recently, there came into my hands a number of letters in which you may be interested. They ·were written in 1812 by Admiral Hardy, one of your ancestors. If you would like to consider purchasing these letters, please get in touch with me.

Yours very truly, daniel }. eaton.

The boys gazed at their aunt in astonishment.

"Where did he come across the letters?" exclaimed Frank.

"That's what I'm wondering!" declared Aunt Gertrude. "Because those very letters were in my lost carton. The man has the impudence to try to sell us our own property!"