The Sinister Signpost Part 2

"I guess I owe my life to you," he told Joe shakily. "It was a mighty brave thing for you to do. Not many fellows would have risked it."

"Forget it," grinned the younger Hardy.

"I wonder where Mr. Vilnofr went?" Frank remarked suddenly.

"You know him?" Ivan asked.

"I met him at a football game yesterday. Is he a friend of yours?"

Ivan looked somewhat embarra.s.sed.

"Well-er-yes," he answered very slowly. "That Then he stopped. It was plain that the jockey did not care to discuss the matter any further, for he edged away without saying anything more about Vilnoff.

During the next hour the Hardy boys watched the races and hung around the paddock, hoping to hear something that might give them a clue in the case of the missing T of notch. T of notch.

Although they heard the affair discussed freely, they learned nothing that might be of any value to them. Most of the track followers were positive that the horse had been stolen.

"It seems odd," remarked Frank, "that the van should have been going toward Spurtown on that t.i.t.

28 particular road. If it had come directly from Kentucky it would have reached Spurtown by the State Highway."

"I guess the driver lost his way."

"Perhaps he was misdirected purposely. I think it might pay us to have another look at the crossroads."

The boys got into their car and drove away from the track, heading toward the route on which they had driven into Seneca the previous afternoon. They had scarcely left Spurtown, however, when a horn sounded sharply behind them. Frank, who was at the wheel, was forced to pull over to permit a big, high-powered car to pa.s.s.

The huge automobile was travelling at an excessive rate of speed. As it hurtled by, taking so much of the road that Frank was forced into the ditch, they had a glimpse of a uniformed chauffeur in front and a crouching figure in the rear seat. The big car flashed past and went roaring on its way in a cloud of dust.

"Road-hog!" growled Frank.

"Some of those fellows think they own the earth!" Joe said angrily, as his brother tried to get their own auto back onto the road again.

Fortunately the ditch was shallow and there was no mud. The experience was nevertheless annoying, especially since they had given the other machine plenty of room in which to get by.

"Did you get a good look at that fellow in the back seat, Frank?"

"No, I was too busy trying to keep us from being sideswiped. What about him?"

29.

"I didn't get any more than a glimpse of him, but I have a pretty good notion we've seen him before."

"Where?"

"I may be wrong," said Joe, "but I think the man was Vilnoff."

Frank whistled.

"He seems in a terrific hurry, wherever he's going. Vilnoff must be worth plenty of money, if that's his car. He strikes me as a queer sort of individual."

The big automobile was soon out of sight, and by the time the boys reached the crossroads it was nowhere to be seen.

"We'll work on the theory that the horse van didn't turn toward Spurtown after all," said Frank. "It certainly didn't go on toward Seneca, and we know it couldn't possibly have turned back. So we'll just investigate this abandoned route straight ahead."

Slowly they drove down the side road, looking for tracks of the van. At length, in a sandy part, they discovered a tyre tread-mark evidently made by a heavy truck. They followed it, lost it, and picked it up again until it came to a narrow road that led off to the right. This was a mere trail, muddy in places. Evidently the van had turned in at this point.

Frank and Joe were growing excited. They had high hopes that they might discover the missing truck and horse hidden somewhere along this ojd road. It was difficult driving, for the trail was rutty and b.u.mpy. The car lurched and swung.

Finally the road petered out altogether. Although they could still make out a clearing ahead in the fading light, they saw that it was nothing but a trail. On a 30 tree nearby they spied a crudely scrawled sign-board which read: "ROAD AHEAD DANGEROUS. DO NOT Pa.s.s.".

The Hardy boys got out of their car.

"Let's walk a ways," suggested Joe.

"It's getting dark," Frank reminded him.

"How about flashlights?"

A search of the roadster revealed that there were none.

"I remember now," Joe said. "I put them on a shelf in the garage when I was was.h.i.+ng the car."

It was not yet quite dark, but the early autumn twilight was deepening rapidly. The Hardy boys proceeded down the swampy trail for about a quarter of a mile, when they were forced to halt. By that time it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

"I hate to give up," Frank declared. "It looks as if we've hit upon something that might be interesting. But I guess there's no use going any farther."

Reluctantly Joe agreed with him.

"We can come back again hi daylight and follow up the trail," he said.

They floundered through the darkness to their car, got it turned around, and drove back to the road. In a little while they were out on the main highway, bowling swiftly along the concrete pavement leading back to Bayport.

"Something mighty queer about that whole business," mused Frank. "If the van driver didn't intend going to Spurtown, why did he ask us the way?"

"Maybe he wanted to make sure he wouldn't take the Spurtown road."

3!.

"Yet Jockey Ivan says the fellow was absolutely dependable."

"He might have been held up and forced to go up the side trail."

"That's possible. We'll go back there and follow those tracks to the finish."

It was long after dark when they arrived home. They felt confident that Aunt Gertrude would have plenty to say about their tardiness.

"Bad enough for us to go to the horse-races without being late for dinner!" chuckled Joe as they put the car in the garage. "Shall we explain why we were delayed?"

"We'd better not," Frank decided. "We may be all wrong about those tracks. They may not be those of the van after all, and we'll only make ourselves look foolish. We'd better just keep mum until we know for certain."

They hurried around to the front entrance and were just ascending the steps to the veranda, when the door opened and their chum Chet Morton stepped out.

"h.e.l.lo, Chet!" cried Frank. "What's up?"

Their fat, good-humoured chum wagged his head solemnly.

"Sorry I can't stay, fellows. I.just dropped around to see if you were in. Gosh, I wouldn't be in your shoes for anything!"

"What's the matter?" they asked.

"It may not matter to you," said Chet, "but it might mean a lot to some folks. Of course you may be different."

"What are you driving at?" Frank demanded.

32 "You're wanted by the police, that's all," came the surprising reply.

Then, without volunteering any further information Chet hurried down the steps and disappeared in the darkness.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CLAY HAND.

dinner was an agonizing meal.

Aunt Gertrude, as they had predicted, had plenty to .say and was very curious to learn how much money the boys had lost by betting on the horse-races. Her nephews a.s.sured her that betting had been farthest from their thoughts, but the good lady merely sniffed dubiously.

"It's the truth," Frank declared, and then told the story of the runaway automobile.

He and Joe cast furtive glances at their father throughout the meal. Had Chet told him that they were wanted by the police?

Above all, why did the authorities want them? Was it on account or the adventure with the runaway car at the race-track that afternoon? Had the owner of the machine laid a charge against them?

"Chet was here," said Mr. Hardy finally, putting aside his table napkin.

"We-we met him," gulped Joe.

Frank had lost his appet.i.te completely. "I guess I don't care for any dessert," he said.

"Ate too many frankfurters at the race-track, I'll be bound," said Aunt Gertrude.

"You seem to be worrying about something," Mr. Hardy remarked blandly.

"Me? Oh, no, I have nothing to worry about," said Frank.

"I thought you might be fretting because Chet told you the police wanted you."

Joe and Frank exchanged glances.

"He told you?" muttered Joe in a faint voice.

Fenton Hardy began to laugh.

"I didn't want to spoil Chet's fun," he explained.

The two boys felt greatly relieved. So it was just one of their chum's practical jokes, after all!

"He'll be sorry for thatl" Joe declared vengcfully. "I was so worried I couldn't eat my dinner. Mother, I think I'll have some of that pudding after all."

"Whatever put it into his head to tell us we were wanted by the police?" Frank exclaimed.

"I did," Mr. Hardy answered. "As a matter of fact, you are are wanted by the police." wanted by the police."

Their spirits dropped to zero again.

"What? "gasped Frank.

"I, as a licensed private detective and a former member of the New York Police Department, want you both to go with me on a little errand tonight," laughed their father.

"That's being wanted by the police, isn't it?"

"Where to, Dad?" they asked eagerly.

"I want you to go to the home of a man named Vilnofif."

"Vilnoff!" Frank exclaimed. "Why, we know him. He's one of the men who was in the way of that car we told you about. Who is he, anyway?"

35.

"He's a wealthy foreigner who rented a furnished home in Bayport a few months ago. I have a little business to discuss with him tonight, so I thought perhaps you'd like to come along."

"Sure thing!" Joe said.

They reached Vilnofr's home shortly after eight o'clock. Fenton Hardy said nothing to the boys about his mission, and his business with the man was brief. He merely inquired about the foreigner's whereabouts the previous afternoon.

"Why, I was at de football game at Seneca, sir," Vilnoff answered promptly. "I sat by your son here."

"You didn't mention that, Frank," said his father.

"It is true," replied the lad. "He wanted me to explain some points about the plays."

"That's all I wanted to know, Mr. Vilnoff," replied Mr. Hardy. "Thank you very much."