The House on the Cliff

CHAPTER XIII

A Startling Discovery

FRANK AND JOE tried to crowd themselves into the smallest space possible as the men came nearer

to their hiding place. The electric light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling cast such a strong

illumination over the cave that the boys felt certain they would be discovered.

The boxes were placed a small distance apart, and only the fact that folds of silk hung down over the

open spaces between the boxes prevented the boys from being seen immediately. However, through a

crack in one of the crates, the Hardys could just make out two husky-looking figures.

"Here's some o' that Japanese silk," the boys heard one of the men say. "I'd better take a bolt of that up

too. Burke said he could place some more of it."

Instantly the same thought ran through both the brothers' minds. If the man picked up the silk, they would

surely be found!

"Don't be crazy!" the other man objected. "You know you won't get any credit for pushin' a sale. Why

break your arm luggin' all that stuff upstairs?"

"Well," the first man explained in a whining tone, "I thought maybe we could get rid of some more of this

swag and make ourselves a little extra dough."

"Naw," his companion snarled. "I can tell you ain't been with this gang long. You never get any thanks

around here for thinkin'. If Burke don't take the extra stuff, the boss'll make you bring it all the way down

again."

"Maybe you're right."

"Sure I'm right! My idea for the rest of us in this gang is to do just what Snattman tells us to and no

more."

"You got somethin' there, Bud. Okay. We'll just take up the package of drugs and leave the rest."

To the boys' relief the men turned away and went over to the other side of the room. Frank and Joe did

not dare peer out, but they could hear the sound of boxes being shifted.

Then came the words, "All set. I've got the packages. Let's go!"

The switch was snapped and the cave was plunged into darkness. The Hardys began to breathe normally

again. The door to the corridor closed and faintly the boys could detect the men's footsteps as they

ascended the stairs at the end of it.

When they had died away completely, Frank switched on the flashlight. "Wow!" he said, giving a

tremendous sigh of relief. "That was a close call! I sure thought they had us."

"Me too," Joe agreed. "We wouldn't have had a chance with that pair. Looked like a couple of

wrestlers."

"Do we dare follow them?"

"You bet. I'd say we've solved the smuggling mystery, but we've still got to find out if they're holding

Dad," Joe said grimly.

"We'll have to watch our step even more carefully. We don't want to walk right into the whole ring of

smugglers," Frank reminded him.

"Right. I don't crave anything worse than what we've just gone through," said Joe. "I thought I'd die of

suspense while that pair was in here."

They crossed the room, opened the door, and started up the dark passageway. Presently they were

confronted by the flight of steps. Part way up there was a landing, then more steps with a door at the

top.

"I'll go first," Frank offered. "Stick close behind me. I think I'll keep the flash off."

"That's right," Joe agreed. "Snattman might have a guard at the top and there's no use advertising our

presence."

Step by step, the boys crept upward in the inky blackness. Then they found themselves on a crude

landing of planks. Carefully they felt their way along the side of the rock wall until they reached the next

flight of steps.

Here the brothers stopped again to listen. Silence.

"So far, so good," Frank whispered. "But somehow I don't like this whole thing. I have a feeling we're

walking into a trap."

"We can't quit now," Joe answered. "But I admit I'm scared."

Still groping in the dark, the boys climbed up and up until they were nearly winded.

"Where are we?" Joe panted. "I feel as if I've been climbing stairs for an hour!"

"Me too," Frank agreed. "The cliff doesn't look this high from the outside."

They rested a minute, then continued their journey. Groping around, they finally reached another door.

Frank hunted for the door handle. Finding it, he turned the knob ever so slightly to find out if the door

was locked.

"I can open it," Frank said in Joe's ear, "but we'd better wait a few minutes."

"Every second is vital if Dad's a prisoner," Joe objected.

Frank was about to accede to his brother's urging when both boys heard footsteps on the other side of

the door. A chill ran down their spines.

"Shall we run?" Joe said fearfully.

"It wouldn't do us any good. Listen!"

There came a queer shuffling sound and a sigh from somewhere beyond the door. That was all.

"Someone's in there," Frank breathed. Joe nodded in the darkness.

The boys did not know what to do. The gang might have posted a sentry. If there was only one, the

Hardys might be able to jump the man and disarm him. However, they probably could not do it without

making some noise and attracting the attention of the rest of the smugglers.

Frank and Joe gritted their teeth. They couldn't give up now!

As they were trying to decide how to proceed, the situation took an unexpected turn. A door slammed in

the distance. Then came the murmur of voices and the sound of advancing footsteps.

"This nonsense has gone far enough," a man said angrily. "He'll write that note at once, or I'll know the

reason why."

The boys started. The voice was that of the man who had ordered them to leave the pond during the

afternoon.

"That's right, chief!" another voice spoke up.

"Make him do as you say and get the heat off us until we've got all the loot moved."

"If he doesn't write it, he'll never get out of here alive," the first man promised coldly.

Instantly Frank and Joe thought of the note their mother had received. Was the man these smugglers

were talking about their father? Or was he someone else-maybe Jones, who was to be forced to obey

them or perhaps lose his life?

The speakers went a short distance beyond the door behind which Frank and Joe were standing. Then

they heard the click of a switch. A faint beam of yellow light shone beneath the door. The brothers

figured there was a corridor beyond and three or four men had entered a room opening from it.

"Well, I see you're still here," said the man who had been addressed as chief. "You'll find this an easier

place to get into than out of."

A weary voice answered him. The tones were low, so the boys pressed closer to the door. But try as

they might, they could not distinguish the words.

"You're a prisoner here and you'll stay here until you die unless you write that note."

Again the weary voice spoke, but the tones were still so indistinct that the boys could not hear the

answer.

"You won't write it, eh? We'll see what we can do to persuade you."

"Let him go hungry for a few days. That'll persuade him!" put in one of the other men. This brought a

hoarse laugh from his companions.

"You'll be hungry enough if you don't write that letter," the chief agreed. "Are you going to write it?"

"No," the boys barely heard the prisoner answer.

The chief said sourly, "You've got too much on us. We can't afford to let you go now. But if you write

that letter, we'll leave you some food, so that you won't starve. You'll break out eventually, but not in

time to do us any harm. Well, what do you say? Want some food?"

There was no reply from the prisoner.

"Give his arm a little twist," suggested one of the smugglers.

At this the Hardys' blood boiled with rage. Their first impulse was to fling open the door and rush to the

aid of the person who was being tormented. But they realized they were helpless against so many men.

Their only hope lay in the arrival of the Coast Guard men, but they might come too late!

"Chief, shall I give this guy the works?" one of the smugglers asked.

"No," the leader answered quickly. "None of that rough stuff. We'll do it the easy way-starvation. I'm

giving him one more chance. He can write that note now or we'll leave him here to starve when we make

our getaway."

Still there was no reply.

To Frank's and Joe's ears came a scraping sound as if a chair was being moved forward.

"You won't talk, eh?" The leader's voice grew ugly.

There was a pause of a few seconds, then suddenly he shouted, "Write that note, Hardy, or you'll be

sorry-as sure as my name's Snattman!"