The Flickering Torch Mystery Part 10

"We may be out all night, but no more than that. You can catch up on your sleep tomorrow."

The fat boy groaned. "I want to catch up on my sleep right now. I was up at eight o'clock this morning. Practically the crack of dawn. I'm tired."

"Come on. I may need you. Joe and I are working on a case."

Chet protested, but finally disappeared inta the house to notify his parents. He came back, stuffing cookies into his pockets.

"If I had any sense," he mumbled as they left in the car, "I'd stay home and go to bed. No good will come of this."

Nevertheless, he listened with great interest as Frank told of the suspicions of Joe and himself regarding the figure with the flickering torciu 106 "Gee whiz, I don't mind helping you fellows," the fat hoy said, "but when you go marching right into danger------"

"Who said there was going to be any danger?"

"Huh, you can't tell me otherwise," insisted Chet. "Any man who would take the trouble to disguise himself by wearing a robe so n.o.body can see his face or his regular clothes, and waves a torch signal------"

Frank laughed. '' You 're right, the man may be dangerous. But tonight we're only going to watch him."

1' You 're wrong again,'' disagreed Chet. '' If Mr. Hood-and-Torch shows up at all, you'll be right after him, and you'll be dragging me along. I know I shouldn't have come. Say, is there any reason why those guys picked out torches? They could use flashlights to signal with."

"It's my opinion they think people won't notice the flaming torches," replied Frank. "Dad says these thieves are stealing from construction jobs of State or Federal projects. Most construction jobs use smudge pots, and the yellowish light and smoke are very much like that from a torch."

Frank drove to the boathouse on the bay, where the Hardy boys kept the Sleuth, Sleuth, their their trim, fast motorboat which they had bought with the reward money they had earned in solving one of their first mysteries. In a few 107 minutes they were chugging out into the water, with Frank at the steering wheel and Chet lounging comfortably among the cushions. He took a cookie from his pocket and eyed it specu-latively.

"If I'm out late, I may wish I had this bite to eat later on. But on the other hand-" He put it into his mouth. "On the other hand," he repeated, "I have to keep up my strength."

Darkness had fallen by the time the Sleuth, Sleuth, towing a light sixteen-foot canoe, towing a light sixteen-foot canoe, approached the cliffs that towered above the waters of the bay. Far behind, the boys could see the twinkling lights of Bayport. Overhead the night mail plane droned on its way north, its navigation lights gleaming.

"This is a good setting for the capture of a spook," said Chet. "What are you looking for?"

Frank was watching the sh.o.r.e line and the cliffs rising dimly against the night sky.

"I'm trying to find the place where that figure was. It wasn't on the Bayport side and yet it wasn't right on the coast-ah! I think it was along here somewhere. There's a little cove just beyond this place."

He swung the wheel. The Sleuth Sleuth chugged slowly in toward sh.o.r.e. Frank steered the chugged slowly in toward sh.o.r.e. Frank steered the craft carefully into the sheltered spot. He looked back. The jetting ma.s.ses of rock hid the lights of Bayport.

"If our man was signaling to someone down 108 here, he picked a good point. The signal couldn't have been seen out in the main bay.

This is the only place from which it could have been seen at all."

"You and Joe saw it."

"We were on land. Anyone on the water would have missed it, unless he came into this little cove."

Frank switched off the engine. The motorboat drifted silently. There was a rattle, aa he cast anchor in about twenty feet of water.

"What do we do now?" Chet wanted to know, "Wait."

"For what?"

"I'm hoping that fellow comes back to signal again."

"I'm not," quavered Chet nervously. "I don't mind a thief in regular clothes. But a spooky-looking one with a hooded robe and a flickering torch-ugh!''

There was no sound but the lapping of waves against the base of the cliffs. It was a dark night, and cloudy, with neither stars nor moon. Chet groaned.

"And I could have been at home having a nice sleep. I don't know why I let myself into these things."

They waited. Time pa.s.sed slowly. Although Frank kept his eyes fixed constantly on the cliff tops, there was no light, no sound of movement.

Suddenly they heard the faint creak of oars.

109 Frank strained his eyes, peering into the gloom.

There was a splash. Then, from out of the darkness, a small boat loomed up beside the Sleuth so unexpectedly that the boys' hearts jumped. so unexpectedly that the boys' hearts jumped.

"All right, you," growled a man's voice. "Move on out of this cove. And make it quick!"

CHAPTER XIII.

FLICKERING TORCHES.

"You two get out of here!" rasped the voice in the darkness of Barmet Bay. "It's a dangerous place!"

"Y-yas, sir," said Chet hastily. "We're g-going. Eight away, sir. Hurry up, Frank St-start the engine."

But Frank was in no hurry to leave. "Why s it dangerous?" he asked.

"Get moving!" ordered another man in the boat. "Don't ask questions."

"G-g-gosh, Frank, don't argue argue with them," stammered Chet, "1-let's leave." with them," stammered Chet, "1-let's leave."

"There'll be trouble for you if you don't," 6 aid the first man angrily.

"Are you from the Police Department?" Frank asked, trying to distinguish who was in the other boat.

The strangers were not answering questions. They repeated their order. Their voices had a threatening tone.

"Oh, all right," said Frank. "I guess we'd better go back to Bayport. Pull up the anchor,"

he ordered Chet.

The stout boy whipped the anchor up into the boat in such frantic haste he almost tumbled no 111 overboard. Frank started the engine. The Sleuth Sleuth chugged away slowly. The Hardy boy chugged away slowly. The Hardy boy swung the wheel around and headed for the bay.

"And don't come back!" shouted one of the men from the darkness.

The motorboat gathered speed. Chet heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the welcome lights of Bayport in the distance.

"Oh, boy! Am I glad to get away from there!"

"I hope we don't run into that pair next time," said Frank.

"Next time!'' yelped Chet. 'There isn't going to be any next time!'' time!'' yelped Chet. 'There isn't going to be any next time!''

'' Sure there is. And pretty soon, too. We 're going back."

Frank swung the steering wheel. He knew every foot of the Barmet Bay sh.o.r.e line. Even in the dark he could find his way into the little cove toward which he was now returning. Chet protested. Enough was enough, he said. He could not believe his chum was in earnest about going back.

"You heard what they said," he reminded Frank. "They said it was dangerous there. And they ought to know, if they're police."

"If they were, they would have told us," declared Frank.

"I guess you're right."

"Do you want me to leave you on sh.o.r.e?" asked Frank.

"I should say not," replied Chet firmly.

112 "I'm in this to the hitter end. I wasn't really frightened," he insisted. "Maybe I was for a few seconds, but then I thought it might be a good idea to pretend to those men I was."

"Chet Morton, you surprise me more every time I see you," grinned Frank. "But you're a swell friend, just the same."

In the shelter of an inlet of the bay, he cast anchor again, untied the tow rope of the canoe, and drew the light craft alongside the Sleuth. Sleuth.

"Get in, Chet."

The canoe wobbled perilously under the boy's weight. He sat down gingerly and picked up a paddle. Frank followed, climbing into the stern. They steered the craft along the base of the cliffs, heading back toward the cove. When they reached it, Frank whispered to paddle slowly. The canoe slipped forward without a sound.

The cliffs loomed black and menacing above. The little cove was darkly sinister ahead.

The boys heard voices. There was a sup~ pressed gasp from Chet, and a "Sh" from Frank. They rested their paddles across the gunwales and listened.

Two men were talking in low voices, somewhere in the gloom ahead. Their words were spoken so quietly that the two youths could not distinguish what they were.

Frank dipped his paddle quietly into the water and thrust the canoe forward a little. The voices were silent now.

113 Suddenly Frank and Chet saw a bright flicker of light. It flared up clear and yellow in the blackness-the light of a match.

As it burned, the forms of two men were re-vealed. But not their faces. For like the figure the Hardy boys had seen on the cliffs, these men wore hooded cloaks.

The boys watched intently. Chet trembled slightly. The lighted match was lowered, apparently toward something one of the men was holding. The flame sputtered, then leaped up brightly as the object caught fire. Now a more brilliant flame shone in the night, clearly revealing the two sinister hooded figures in the boat.

It was a flame from a torch! One of the men raised it high in the air and waved it.

Almost instantly a flickering light broke out from the darkness of the cliffs above. It was a torch held high by another hooded man. He swung the flaming ma.s.s abruptly.

"The flickering torch!" whispered Chet in awe.

In the deep silence the whisper was louder than the fat boy had intended it to be. One of the hooded figures in the boat turned quickly.

"What's that?" he asked gruffly.

Chet's paddle dropped from his nerveless fingers, sliding sideways. As he tried to catch it, one end hit the bottom of the canoe.

The noise echoed from the wall of the cliff. Frank knew they would be caught if they should 114 stay there any longer. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his own paddle, drove it vigorously into the water, and deftly swung the canoe around.

It slipped quickly along in the heavy shadows at the base of the cliff. Frank glanced back. The torch in the boat had been lowered. In its light he saw the two hooded figures turned in the boys' direction. Then, evidently satisfied that they had been mistaken or that the noise they had heard had been created by a falling rock, the men raised the signal again.

The boys looked toward the cliff top. In the glow of the torch they saw another person creeping toward the hooded figure. A slimmer, slighter form-the figure of a youth.

"Joe!"

The startled exclamation broke from Frank's lips.

He had hardly uttered it, before the hooded man turned. Suddenly the boy was enveloped in the folds of the heavy garment, gripped tightly in that sinister grasp. Then the torch was extinguished.

At the same moment the flickering light in the boat waved once and was extinguished.

Black darkness had fallen again on the cove and the cliff.

' Chet!'' whispered Frank, horrified. '' Did you see that?"

"D-did I s-see it?" stammered Chet. "Will I ever forget it?"

115 "We must do something," said Frank desperately. "That was Joe. I'm sure of it."

"We can't can't do anything! We're down here, and he's way up there. And those men will get do anything! We're down here, and he's way up there. And those men will get us if we stay around here a minute longer."

Frank was almost frantic with anxiety. He blamed himself for exposing Joe to the danger on the cliff. He swung the canoe in toward the rocks.

"I'm going to climb up there! I must must do something to help Joe.'' do something to help Joe.''

"But you can't climb up those cliffs, Frank. You'd never make it. It would take hours trying. And if you did get up there, you wouldn't be able to do much for Joe anyway." Chet waa agitated at the very thought of such a perilous venture. "The best thing we can do is get back to Bayport right away and tell the police."

Frank thrust his paddle into the water. The canoe forged ahead toward the open bay.

"I'm going back to Bayport all right," he said, "but not to the police."

Fenton Hardy would never consider calling on the police to help him. He cooperated with them whenever necessary, but to ask their aid on one of his own cases was, to him, an admission of defeat. The Hardy boys, when helping him, tried to follow the same policy.

"I have to be sure we do need the authorities," Frank explained. "I'm going to get in touch with Dad immediately."

116 Frank was now firmly convinced that he and Joe had stumbled on some element of the very case upon which their father was working-the mystery of the flickering torch! That he was dealing with desperate men the boy had no doubt. Fenton Hardy would have to know about this affair-and quickly.