The Mystery Of Cabin Island Part 9

"I don't believe Sparewell was the one who dropped this notebook," Joe reasoned. "He'd have frozen to death over here." The boy, frowned in perplexity as he turned to the last page. All four stared at it in astonishment.

"What kind of lingo is that?" Biff gulped.

The letters at the bottom of the page were HJOSW SHRJWN HLSEWPA RPAO A, EWO WSWP APPO LSUL.

"A coded message!" Frank exclaimed.

CHAPTER XII.

An Ice-yacht Clue "IT's a coded message, all right!" Joe declared as the four boys continued to stare at the mysterious letters in the tattered notebook.

"How will we ever figure it out?" Chet asked.

"There are several methods of deciphering," Frank replied. "Dad has told Joe and me something about it, and we've read a few of his books on cryptography."

"Can you make anything out of this message?" Biff asked.

"Not right off," Frank replied. "It's some kind of subst.i.tution system, at any rate."

"The first thing to look for is transposition," Joe explained. "All the letters of the actual text - what's really meant - may be present, but reversed or scambled."

"There must be countless possibilities," remarked Biff, "once you start putting one letter in place of another."

"Yes, which makes deciphering very difficult," Frank agreed. "But I remember several of the standard patterns. I'll use some of the blank pages in the notebook and try them."

Frank worked for more than half an hour, while the others looked on and made various combinations of the letters he jotted down.

"I'm stymied," Frank admitted finally.

Biff frowned. "How did Hanleigh get hold of this notebook? Does he know Sparewell?"

"Hanleigh might have swiped it," Joe said.

The Hardys pondered their next move. Joe suggested they take the ice-yacht model and the photo of the turbaned prowler to Mr Jefferson for possible identification.

"And on the way show Amos Grice the picture, too," Frank added.

A stop at the Hardy home also was included in the day's plans, in case the boys' father had any more information on the "alley" cat.

Chet heaved a huge sigh. "Which means Biff and I stand guard here."

Joe grinned. "How'd you guess?"

After a quick lunch the Hardys put on their parkas and boots. "I'm taking the camera along," Joe said. "It may come in handy again."

The Hardys climbed into the Seagull and headed for Surfside. At the dock, Joe tied up while Frank braked and slackened sail. Then they strode off to the general store.

Amos Grice, seated by the stove, slapped his knee when Frank and Joe walked in. "Glad to see you two. Thief steal your food again?"

"No, sir," Frank said. "We came to show you this." He handed the snapshot to Mr Grice. The storekeeper stared at it, then handed the picture back without comment.

"Mr Grice," Joe inquired, "is this the man who asked you about Mr Jefferson's medals?"

Amos Grice drew his lips into a thin, firm line.

"Yep. It's him. But there's some spooky business goin' on, and I don't want any part of it."

"Did this man say something to frighten you?" Joe persisted. "Did he threaten you?"

Mr Grice looked grim. "No. But I'm not mixin' in with any scary masqueraders."

The Hardys could see that the storekeeper would say no more on the subject. They thanked him and returned to the Seagull. A brisk wind sped them towards Bayport. They tied up outside their boathouse and drove home.

Mrs Hardy greeted her red-cheeked sons with big hugs, while Aunt Gertrude looked on apprehensively, as if trying to find something wrong with her nephews. Noting their excellent health, she turned her worries to their companions.

"Has something terrible happened to Chet or Biff?"

"No. Why, Aunty?" Joe asked.

"That sudden snowstorm. I was scared stiff for you boys. Some trees blew down over here."

Frank grinned. "We weathered it - howling banshee and all."

"A what?" Mrs Hardy asked, and her sons told of the whistling bottle.

"Well, I'm relieved to know that's all the trouble you ran into," Mrs Hardy said.

"Oh, there was more," Joe said. "By the way, where's Dad?"

"Out of town. But he left a message. It's in a sealed envelope on his desk."

Frank and Joe hastened to their father's study, found the envelope addressed to them, and tore it open.

Inside was a terse note telling them that fingerprints found by the police in Mr Jefferson's ransacked house were those of Hanleigh. They had been identified by the FBI in Washington, where the federal agency had a record of interstate frauds involving Hanleigh several years before. The local police were looking for him.

"Aha! A con man. We might have known," mumbled Joe.

The message went on to warn the boys again to be cautious and ended, "Just as in fishing through the ice, you have to be patient. I'm confident that you'll land this big one."

Frank and Joe were more excited about the case than ever. With a quick "goodbye" to their mother and Aunt Gertrude, they hastened into their car and drove directly to Mr Jefferson's place.

"Frank and Joe!" the elderly gentleman exclaimed when he answered the doorbell. "Nice to see you! Let me take your jackets - my housekeeper is still away. Come right in. I hope you are enjoying your trip."

"We're having a fine vacation," said Frank as they took seats. "We wanted to ask you about a few things." Frank handed over the snapshot. "Have you ever seen this fellow?"

Mr Jefferson stared at it in perplexity. "What in the world!" he exclaimed. "I've never seen any such individual! Did you take this photograph on Cabin Island?"

"Yes, sir," Joe replied, and explained about the camera with the telescopic lens. The Hardys also told how they had observed Hanleigh examining the fireplace, and of overhearing Ike and Tad's conversation in the boathouse.

"The police informed me it was he who broke into my house," Mr Jefferson said indignantly. "The rascal!

He should be punished."

The boys promised to do their utmost to apprehend him, and Frank told Mr Jefferson of finding the carved ice-yacht.

Their host's voice trembled with excitement. "Johnny used to make ice-yacht models!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, oh!" Joe said sheepishly. "Frank, I forgot to bring the model. It's still on the mantel."

"I must see it," Mr Jefferson said.

"Can you come to the island with us?" Frank asked.

"By all means!"

The three set off in the convertible for the boathouse. When he saw the Seagull, Mr Jefferson looked apprehensive. "I've never been in one of these contraptions. I understand they move rather swiftly."

"We'll put a rope seat belt on you and we'll be careful," Joe a.s.sured him. He gave the elderly gentleman a spare helmet and goggles from the boathouse, then helped him aboard.

After a few moments of uneasiness at the speed of the Seagull and the nearness of the ice which flew beneath them, Mr Jefferson appeared to relax and enjoy his ride. By the time they swept up to Cabin Island he was almost enthusiastic. "I never made better time in a motorboat!" He laughed.

When the three entered the cabin, Frank introduced Chet and Biff. Mr Jefferson took a long, slow look around the room, then spotted the carved vessel on the mantel. At once he hurried over to see it.

"Johnny made this!" he said with certainty, lifting the boat and running his fingers over its polished surface.

"I'm convinced he did this carving recently. It's by far his finest."

"Did Johnny teach himself woodworking?" Chet asked in admiration.

"Yes," Mr Jefferson replied proudly. "The boy became intrigued with ice-yachts when he was very small.

He used to spend hours watching them on the bay, and frequently went to the local boat shop to see how the crafts were made. Johnny would come home and carve until late at night."

Next, the Hardys showed Mr Jefferson the notebook containing the mysterious code and explained how they had found it. The man studied the book, shaking his head in amazement. "This is the first I've heard of Sparewell in two years!" he declared. "The cipher is a complete puzzle to me, but the book is exactly like him - methodical to the last detail."

"Why would Sparewell make a map of Cabin Island?" Frank queried.

"I can't imagine what interest he might have had in the island." With a sigh the old man pushed the book away. "I'm weary," he said. "I'd better return."

Once more the Hardys and Mr Jefferson set off in the Seagull towards Bayport.

Suddenly Joe shouted, "Look out!" Frank glanced about and saw another craft skimming straight for them. Its two occupants wore woollen face masks, giving them a grotesque appearance.

With swift teamwork the Hardys swung the Seagull out of the collision path.

"It's the Hawk!" Joe gasped.

Mr Jefferson gave a hoa.r.s.e cry. "Here they come again!"

As the other vessel swooped alongside, one of the men lifted a short stout log from his lap and hurled it at the speeding Seagull.

Thud! It was a square hit on the how. With a sickening swerve, the Seagull capsized. The temporary seat belts gave way. The Hardys and their pa.s.senger were flung across the ice!

CHAPTER XIII.

The Fleeing Ghost THE trio skidded across the gla.s.sy surface, with arms and legs flailing, until they came to a halt several yards from the overturned Seagull.

The Hardys had the breath knocked out of them but had suffered no injuries. Mr Jefferson, however, lay motionless. Greatly concerned, the boys jumped up and hurried to the elderly man's side.

"He's unconscious!" Frank said, and pointed to a swelling lump on Mr Jefferson's temple.

Joe ran to the Seagull and returned with a blanket, in which they quickly wrapped the man. Frank chafed his wrists until Mr Jefferson began to stir and moan. "We're going to crash!" he whispered.

"No, Mr Jefferson," Frank said in a rea.s.suring tone. "The ice-yacht turned over, but we're all safe."

Their pa.s.senger raised his head and looked around. "Will you help me up, boys?" he asked. "I'm sure I haven't broken anything."

Carefully the brothers a.s.sisted him to stand. "Take it easy," Joe cautioned. "You had a bad spill."

"I'm all right. Just a bit shaky."

"We'll get you back to the cabin where it's warm just as fast as we can," Frank promised. "You're in no shape for a run to Bayport." He and Joe righted the Seagull and saw with relief that the mast was not damaged.

"The runner plank's a little out of alignment," Frank noted.

"That won't delay us," Joe said. "The bow's sc.r.a.ped too, but there's nothing we can't fix."

Frank eyed the improvised seat belts which had torn loose. "They couldn't take the strain," he remarked.

The boys retied the ropes.

"That'll have to do for now," Joe said. "We were lucky this accident wasn't worse," he added as the boys helped Mr Jefferson into the c.o.c.kpit.

"I'd like to report those ruffians," the elderly man fumed, "but we couldn't see their faces."

Frank said grimly, "We know the owners of the boat. They covered up the name, but I'd recognize the Hawk anywhere."