CHAPTER XV

The Missing Tickets

the search for Frank was long and wearing. The early morning mist was heavy, and it was difficult to see the homes back of the shore line of the Willow River. The Sleuth roared back and forth on the river near the two-mile mark. Joe was discouraged when they found no bungalow. He decided the telephone call had been a trick.

There was only one dock where they could land. They found it belonged to a picnic ground. Once Joe waded ashore when they saw a cottage, but it had no porch and there was no sign of Frank.

It was not until the mist rose and they were over three miles from the mouth of the Willow River that they saw a dark figure sprawled on the porch of a deserted cabin.

"Frank!" cried Joe.

He pulled up to a makeshift, half-rotted pier and

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jumped out. His brother was bound hand and foot, and tightly blindfolded, but unharmed. As Joe and Biff cut loose the ropes and whipped off the blindfold, they hurled dozens of questions at him. Frank slowly rubbed his aching limbs and got up. He looked directly at Chet.

"I'm starving," he said. "Do you happen to have any food with you?"

Joe and Biff stared blankly at each other, but Chet beamed happily. He fished an apple and a sandwich from his pocket.

"I sure have. You fellows are always kidding me because I don't believe in going very far without supplies, but this time they came in handy!" he gloated.

As the motorboat sped back down the river and across the bay, Frank ate the food and told the story of his strange adventure. When he reached the point where he had been hauled out of the hold of the Wasp and taken to the cabin, Joe exclaimed in excitement:

"Why, then, you've practically solved the case. You'll be able to identify these men-"

Frank shook his head. "I didn't really see any of them. I was so blinded by the sudden light after being in that dark hold, I closed my eyes. Then a blindfold was clapped over them. A man gave an order, then someone said, 'Shut up!' and after that

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no one spoke. I couldn't identify any of the men except one. He wasn't anybody we've talked to before.

"I don't know where I was. They moved me from the Wasp to another boat. We cruised around for a while until I was finally lifted out and put in a row-boat.

"The man who took me up the river was kinder than the others. He was supposed to get rid of me and leave no clues, but I guess he was afraid. When he left me at the cottage he merely said:

" 'Let this be a lesson to you, young fellow, to mind your own business. Any more snooping and you won't get off so easy!' "

Chet gulped. "If I were you fellows I think I'd forget about this mystery."

But the Hardy boys had received similar threats on other occasions and had no intention of dropping the case.

"It gives us all the more reason for nabbing a bunch of crooks!" Frank declared.

"We'll check in at the house, and after we've had a little sleep let's go down and have a talk with the man who's in jail," suggested Joe. "I'm sure he's the 'Hank' you heard mentioned, Frank. He probably knows all about the Wasp."

Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude wept with joy when Frank and Joe stumbled wearily into the

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house. Aunt Gertrude bustled about the kitchen, preparing breakfast and occasionally dabbing tears of relief from her eyes. To tell the truth, she had given up Frank for dead. Now, with the weight of worry removed, she scolded him roundly for running such risks, then kissed the back of his neck and insisted that he "eat hearty."

After breakfast Mrs. Hardy packed both boys off to bed, saying she would tell Chief Collig of Frank's safe return. The brothers slept soundly until almost noon. When they appeared, refreshed and ready to take up their work, their mother said Mr. McClin-tock had telephoned.

"I didn't want to disturb you so I told him you'd call him later," she said.

"I guess he wants to know if we had any luck getting freighter reservations," Frank suggested. "I'll call the agent in Southport and see if the tickets are ready."

But when Frank spoke to him, the boy received a distinct shock. "Tickets? You got your tickets," declared the agent.

"Not yet," answered Frank.

"That man you sent over picked them up early this morning and paid for them. Said you boys told him to call for them."

"We didn't send anyone," said Frank. "Did he give you his name?"

"No, he didn't, I can't understand this."

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"Describe him, please."

"In his thirties, I'd say. Dark hair. Not too well-dressed. Naturally, when he said you had sent him, I had no reason to think he was lying, and didn't pay much attention to his looks."

Frank groaned. Then he said grimly, "The tickets have been stolen!"

The agent was greatly disturbed. He believed the boys and assumed some blame for what had happened, but said that he was powerless to do anything about it.

"When the man shows up on the sailing date, we can get an explanation," he offered.

"I can't wait that long," said Frank. "Why don't you just issue us new tickets?"

The agent could not do this. Furthermore, he said he knew of no other passage on a freighter for a long time to come. Nonplused, Frank put down the telephone.

"There's no doubt but that somebody or bodies is bent on seeing that we don't make that freighter voyage," he said to his brother.

"I would have made it hot for that agent in South-port," Joe burst out angrily.

"He's not to blame, I'm sure," said Frank. "Say, maybe McClintock is the reason for all this. Someone may be trying to keep him from making the trip."

"Then let's go and talk to him!" Joe cried.

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"Go ahead. If he tells you anything worth while, let me know," said Collig.

A guard showed the boys to the cells. The man with the scar was lying on his bunk, sullenly reading a newspaper. He did not move as the boys approached his door.

"Good morning, Hank," said Frank quietly.

The prisoner looked up, startled. "How do you know my-" Then he checked himself. His expression became wary. "You've made a mistake, fellow," he growled. "My name's not Hank."

"That's what the boys on the Wasp call you, anyhow," said Frank coolly.

The man's eyes flickered. "The Wasp?" he cried. Then calmly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Say, how about those numbers?" asked Joe, hoping to catch the prisoner off guard on this one, too.

"Which numbers?"

"A23, 151, C2."

The prisoner swung himself off the bunk and strode toward the door of the cell. "Now look," he said thickly. "About those numbers. You can't-"

"We can't what?" asked Frank sharply as Hank hesitated.

The man stared at the boys distrustfully. "I don't know anything about any numbers. Go away and leave me alone." He turned his back to them and returned to the bunk.

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The boys made several attempts to get him to talk but the prisoner stubbornly refused to say another word. Finally they left him. But of two things they were sure. The man's name really was Hank, and he knew something about the mysterious numbers.

When Frank and Joe reached home, they found that their father had returned. Fenton Hardy had already been told about Frank's adventure on the Wasp, and now listened with interest as his sons told about their call on the man in jail.

"He recognized the numbers, all right," Frank said. "At first we thought he was going to talk about them. Then he seemed to change his mind."

"Tell me about these numbers," said Fenton Hardy eagerly.

Frank mentioned the crumpled scrap found in Mrs. Armstrong's home, the paper in the prisoner's pocket, and the boxes in the hold of the Wasp, all of which contained the same numbers.

"So the prisoner wouldn't talk?" Mr. Hardy said resolutely. "Well, never mind. I believe I can solve that part of the mystery without his help."