The Shore Road Mystery Part 8

The broad-nosed, bald man wiped his sleeve across his face, drumming a cane on the fence. "What of it?" he drawled.

"We understand you worked for a Mr. Dodd-that is, when your name was Slagel."

The man's lips tightened. "It's none of your business what I do!"

"Maybe not," Frank said. "We just thought you might be able to give us a clue to where the Dodds might be." He noticed Slagel's expression change to a supercilious smile.

" 'Fraid I can't help you there," said Slagel, leaning back. "Besides, why should I bother spendin' my time here with car-thief bailers. Anyway, I'm doin' work for Birnham now."

"Like stealing cars?" Joe interjected.

Slagel's face flushed. He leaned down and swung the end off his cane. A long silver blade pointed at Joe's face!

"Beat it!" Slagel rasped viciously. "You're tres-pa.s.sin' on private property!"

More surprised than awed by the lethal sword, Joe looked at Frank. At his brother's signal, they walked back to their motorcycles. Slagel was still glaring lividly at them as they rode off in the direction of Bridgewater.

"At least we shook him up a bit." Frank smiled. "Even if we can't find out where he's staying, we know for sure he's in league with Birnham-and not just for farm work. That sword cane didn't look very innocent."

"But good for puncturing tires!" Joe added, remembering the flats reported on some cars near the stolen ones.

In Bridgewater the brothers stopped at a drugstore, had lunch, then purchased a town map which also had a list of the hotels in the immediate area. They were fewer in number than those in Bayport. The Hardys checked all but two in an hour. At this point, they entered one at the east end of town. The desk clerk immediately recognized Slagel's picture.

"Yes, he checked in today. Name of Wright. He just dropped his things off, then asked directions to the telegraph office."

Frank and Joe headed for the office a block away. Inside, a woman behind a typewriter affirmed the fact that a Slagel had sent a message out, though she was not permitted to divulge its contents.

As the boys walked away, Frank said, "Joe, sometimes when a person sends a telegram, he makes a draft of it first." He saw a wastebasket beneath a writing counter and hurried over. It took him only a second to find a torn piece of yellow paper with Slagel's name at the bottom. When he found the second half, the boys left the office excitedly. Outside, they pieced the halves together and read the message: MORE NERVE NOW. TRYING FOR 8-CYLINDER STOCK. TAKING CARE OF TWO.

FRIENDS. ATTEND TO THEM WHEN JOB DONE IN WEEK OR SO. EXPECT YOU FOR.

s.h.i.+PMENT TOMORROW.

The message was addressed to Carlton Melliman in New York City.

"Carlton Melliman-C. M.," Joe mused. "Frank I He must be our mysterious visitor who wouldn't give his name. And the '8-cylinder' business-that cinches Slagel's connection with the Sh.o.r.e Road gang!"

Frank nodded. "It fits. I wonder how Melliman figures in. 'Two friends' might refer to Mr. Dodd and Jack, which gives us only a week before-We're going to have to work fast!"

"If we only knew what this 's.h.i.+pment' is and where it's going," Joe murmured.

The Hardys stopped at an outside phone booth and Frank dialed his home. Mrs. Hardy answered. "I'm glad you called," she said. "Your father phoned a little while ago, and gave me a list of things for you boys to look up in his file-information to help him on his case. He's going to call back tonight at ten for your data."

"We're on our way," Frank a.s.sured her.

When they reached home, the brothers washed and changed, then started work. Among the items their father had requested were the first dates of manufacture of various foreign weapons and ammunition, as well as serial numbers for certain guns made abroad.

The job took most of the afternoon. The boys had almost finished when Frank exclaimed, "Joe!

Remember? The grenade and those machine-gun bullets were of foreign make."

"Sure enough! You think they have a connection with Dad's arms-smuggling case?"

"Possibly, since we're pretty sure they were used by thieves."

After supper Frank and Joe handed Mrs. Hardy the data they had compiled and asked her to relay it to their father. "We'll get back to our case now, Mother," Joe explained. "Please give Dad our regards."

The boys had decided to cycle along Pembroke Road. Seeing nothing suspicious, they returned to Sh.o.r.e Road. As they approached the intersection, the sun was setting. There was no traffic.

"Let's cruise south," Frank proposed.

"Right."

The young sleuths turned onto Sh.o.r.e Road, with Joe in the lead. Some distance along they had reached a section of the road with a sheer drop to the left and a steep rocky formation on their right, when Joe happened to glance back out to sea. He gave a start, then beckoned Frank to turn around. When they were facing north, Joe pointed toward a high shadowed rock cliff that dropped to the ocean.

A spidery figure was moving slowly up the rock face!

The boys rode forward to get a closer look. A turn in the road made them lose sight of the figure. When their view was un.o.bstructed, the spidery form had vanished. They watched the rock cliff a few minutes but saw nothing in the twilight.

"I'll bet that was the spider Scratch told us about," Joe declared.

"He looked half human, half spider," Frank remarked. "I'd sure like to know where he went. Well, let's go. It'll be dark soon."

Frank turned around and went ahead, increasing speed, and snapped on his head lamp. Presently he noticed a slight glitter over the center of the highway. As the reflection grew nearer, alarm coursed through his body.

Strung chest-high across the entire highway was a fine steel-wire net!

It was too late to stop. Frank ducked and closed his eyes, yelling as loudly as he could at the same time.

"Joe, look out!"

CHAPTER XI.

Guard on the Cliff FRANK swerved to safety an instant before his brother's motorcycle crashed into the glistening wire. Joe flew into the air, as his vehicle twisted and smashed into a tree to which the net was tied.

"Joe!" cried Frank, leaping off his cycle and running to the still form in the roadway. Joe lay unconscious, blood oozing from his head.

Both of Joe's legs were badly bruised, and Frank feared he might have suffered a concussion. Frantically Frank waved down an oncoming car. The driver offered to take Joe to Bayport Hospital. Frank followed on his motorcycle. Joe's motorcycle lay in a tangled heap of gray steel and chrome.

An hour later Frank, Mrs. Hardy, and Aunt Gertrude stood at Joe's bedside in the hospital. A physician watched Joe as he mumbled, moving his head slightly.

"He has had a nasty shock, but he should be coming out of it soon," he rea.s.sured the others before stepping quietly from the room. "Just see that Joe gets plenty of rest in the next few days."

After spending the night at the hospital, Joe was moved home. He had a slight limp and wore a large bandage on his head.

"How do you feel, partner?" Frank asked, as Joe rested on the living-room couch.

"A little weak." He grinned. "But still in one piece. Who put up that wire?"

"I wish I knew, Joe, but my guess is it was the work of the car thieves. They had the wire netting ready to string across the road."

"Was there another theft?" Joe asked.

"Yes. This time they copped one from the Ely estate during a dinner party."

"The Ely estate! Why, that place is walled in like a fortress!"

"Right. Those thieves are bold, all right. Joe, that barrier across the road reminds me of the nylon net Callie was trapped in underwater. I have a hunch one of the thieves is a skin diver."

Joe whistled, then grinned. "You don't think the thieves hide the stolen cars under water!"

Frank laughed. "It would be a good place! Maybe that spider-man owns an underwater garage!"

At that moment Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude came into the room, dressed to go shopping.

"Joe, promise me you'll rest," his mother said, her face much brighter than it had been the night before.

"Except for this limp," he said, smiling, "I feel as if I could run ten laps!"

"Don't you dare, Joe Hardy!" Aunt Gertrude scolded.

The two women had been gone half an hour when the boys heard the front door open and a familiar voice call, "h.e.l.lo! Where is Joe?"

"Dad!"

Fenton Hardy strode with concern into the living room, his face relaxing when he saw Joe sitting up. After shaking hands warmly with his sons, he asked, "You all right, Joe? Mother phoned me about your accident."

"I'm okay, Dad." Joe grinned.

The brothers briefed their father on what had happened to date in the mystery. When they mentioned liquid gas, the foreign grenade, and machine-gun bullets, he started to say something, then changed his mind.

"I have some hunches. If I'm right-" He stopped. "It's my opinion you're up against a highly professional operation. Promise me you'll be careful, for the Dodds' sake as well as yours."

"How about your own case, Dad?" Frank asked.

"I'll be doing some risky undercover work in the next day or so. Sorry I can't tell you about it now, but you can reach me at the usual New York address. Meanwhile, you boys use the family car. I understand your motorcycle, Joe, is a wreck."

Frank drove his father to the airport and came home for a light salad lunch. Mrs. Hardy apologized for the wilted lettuce. "Apparently a different farmer is supplying stores in town since the Dodds'

disappearance."

Later, Joe persuaded his mother to let the boys go out in the Sleuth, promising he would be quiet. At the Prito boathouse they noticed that Tony's boat was not in dock.

"If we can find Tony, he may have some leads on that strange fisherman in the black boat," Frank said, and drove on to the Hardy boathouse.

"I'll take the wheel," Joe volunteered. "That won't hurt my legs."

The Sleuth's powerful engine droned smoothly as they cruised south to Willow Beach. Then they turned back across Barmet Bay and north.

Just past Beacon Point the boys caught sight of the Napoli. Waving to Tony, they drew alongside.

"Wow! What did Iola do to you?" Tony asked, looking at the bandage on Joe's head.

"Somebody handed me a line," Joe quipped, as Frank laughed. The Hardys told Tony of the accident.

He asked several questions but seemed eager to tell them something himself.

"Would you guys believe me if I told you I saw a-a huge spider-out here last night?"

Tony described a black form scampering into a crevice in a rock cliff farther up the coast.

Frank started. "We saw one too. Where exactly did you see the spider?"

Tony paused in thought. "On a cliff just south of that big seaside estate."

"The Ely estate!" Joe exclaimed excitedly. "Frank, it was on that same cliff that we saw the spider-man!"

The Hardys mentioned the theft which had taken place at the estate the previous night and wondered what relation the "spider" could have to it.

"That's not all," Tony continued. "I've been watching our fisherman friend-the one you told me about.

Apparently he does some of his fis.h.i.+ng at night. Sometimes he has one lamp on his boat, other times two.

He keeps on the move up and down the coast."

"Is he fis.h.i.+ng?" Frank asked.

"I guess so, or else trolling. I didn't want him to catch on that I was watching and kept the Napoli at some distance."

In the Sleuth the Hardys followed the Napoli north along the coast to the place where Tony had seen the "spider." The ocean washed at the foot of a high rock cliff, atop which the Ely estate could be seen. The boys glided beneath an overhanging ledge.

"It'd take a skilled climber to scale that and steal a car," Frank remarked, training his field gla.s.ses up the sheer wall.

Joe, meanwhile, noticed a gossamer-like pattern in the water. "Look, fellows!"

The three boys stared at the ghostly, weblike rope floating in the waves. With a pole, Frank pulled it aboard.

"It's rope netting, probably for climbing!" Frank exclaimed. "I have a hunch our spider-man is an accomplished climber-"

"And car thief!" Joe finished. "He could easily -at dusk-look like a spider."

"But still," Tony put in, "that can't account for the daylight thefts. Anybody swimming in or climbing a precipice like this would be seen."