The House on the Cliff

CHAPTER XV

Dire Threats

SNATTMAN, once he had recovered from his first consternation and surprise at finding the Hardy boys

in the underground room, was in high good humor. He turned to his men.

"Just in time," he gloated, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "If we hadn't come here when we did,

they'd have all escaped!"

The Hardy boys were silent, sick with despair. They had been sure they were going to succeed in

rescuing their father and now the three of them were prisoners of the smuggling gang.

"What are we goin' to do with these guys?" asked one of the men.

The voice sounded familiar to the boys and they looked up. They were not surprised to see that the man

was the red-haired one they had met at the

Pollitt place when Frank had discovered his father's cap.

"Do with them?" Snattman mused. "That's a problem. We've got three on our hands now instead of one.

Best thing is to leave them all here and lock the door."

"And put gags in their traps," suggested a burly companion.

Red objected. "As long as the Hardys are around here, they're dangerous. They almost got away this

time."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"We ought to do what I wanted to do with the old man in the first place," Red declared doggedly.

"You mean get rid of them?" Snattman asked thoughtfully.

"Sure. All of them!"

"Well-" Snattman gazed at Mr. Hardy with a sinister look.

"I should think you have enough on your conscience already, Snattman!" the detective exclaimed. "I don't

expect you to let me go," he added bitterly. "But release my boys. They haven't done anything but try to

rescue their father. You'd do the same thing yourself."

"Oh yeah?" Snattman sneered. "Don't bother yourself about my conscience. Nobody-but nobody ever

stands in my way.

"As to letting these boys go, what kind of a fool do you take me for?" Snattman shouted. "If you three

are such buddies, you ought to enjoy starving together."

The smuggler laughed uproariously at what he considered a very funny remark.

Frank's and Joe's minds were racing with ideas. One thing stood out clearly. Snattman had said the

Hardys almost escaped. This meant that no one was guarding the secret entrance!

"If we can only hold out a while," they thought, "the Coast Guard will arrive. There'll be nobody to stop

them from coming up here."

Then, suddenly, a shocking possibility occurred to the boys. Suppose the Coast Guard could not find the

camouflaged door opening from the pond!

During the conversation four of the smugglers had been whispering among themselves in the corridor.

One of them now stepped into the room and faced Snattman.

"I'd like a word with you, chief," he began.

"What is it now?" The smuggler's voice was surly.

"It's about what's to be done with the Hardys, now that we've got 'em," the man said hesitantly. "It's your

business what you do to people who make it tough for you when you're on your own. But not in our

gang. We're in this for our take

out of the smugglin', and we won't stand for too much rough stuff."

"That's right!" one of the other men spoke up.

"Is that so?" Snattman's upper lip curled. "You guys are gettin' awful righteous all of a sudden, aren't you?

Look out or I'll dump the lot of you!"

"Oh, no, you won't," replied the first man who had addressed him. "We're partners in this deal and we're

goin' to have our full share of what comes in. We ain't riskin' our lives for love, you know."

"We've got another idea about what to do with these three prisoners," a third smuggler spoke up. "I think

it's a good one."

"What is it?" Snattman asked impatiently.

"We've been talkin' about Ali Singh."

Frank and Joe started and listened intently.

"What about him?" Snattman prodded his assistant.

"Turn the prisoners over to him. He's got a friend named Foster who's captain of a boat sailin' to the Far

East tonight. Put the Hardys on board that ship," the first smuggler urged.

Snattman looked thoughtful. The idea seemed to catch his fancy.

"Not bad," he muttered. "I hadn't thought of Ali Singh. Yes, he'd take care of them. They'd never get

back here." He smiled grimly.

"From what he told me about that friend of his, the captain'd probably dump the Hardys overboard

before they got very far out," the man went on smugly. "Seems like he don't feed passengers if he can get

rid of 'em!"

"All the better. We wouldn't be responsible."

"Leave them to AH Singh." Red chuckled evilly. "He'll attend to them."

Snattman walked over to the cot and looked down at Mr. Hardy. "It's too bad your boys had to come

barging in here," he said. "Now the three of you will have to take a little ocean voyage." He laughed.

"You'll never get to the Coast Guard to tell your story."

The detective was silent. He knew further attempts at persuasion would be useless.

"Well," said Snattman, "haven't you anything to say?"

"Nothing. Do as you wish with me. But let the boys go."

"We'll stick with you, Dad," said Frank quickly.

"Of course!" Joe added.

"You sure will," Snattman declared. "I'm not going to let one of you have the chance of getting back to

Bayport with your story."

The ringleader of the smugglers stood in the center of the room for a while, contemplating his captives

with a bitter smile. Then he turned suddenly on his heel.

"Well, they're safe enough," he told Red. "We have that business with Burke to take care of. Come on,

men, load Burke's truck. If any policemen come along and find it in the lane we'll be done for."

"How about them?" asked Red, motioning to the Hardys. "Shouldn't they be guarded?"

"They're tied up tight." Snattman gave a short laugh. "But I guess we'd better leave one guard, anyway.

Malloy, you stay here and keep watch."

Malloy, a surly, truculent fellow in overalls and a ragged sweater, nodded and sat down on a box near

the door. This arrangement seemed to satisfy Snattman. After warning Malloy not to fall asleep on the

job and to see to it that the prisoners did not escape, he left the room. He was followed by Red and the

other smugglers.

A heavy silence fell over the room after the departure of the men. Malloy crouched gloomily on the box,

gazing blankly at the floor. The butt of a revolver projected from his hip pocket.

Frank strained against the ropes that bound him to the chair. But the smugglers had done their task well.

He could scarcely budge.

"We'll never get out of this," he told himself ruefully.

Joe was usually optimistic but this time his spirits failed him. "We're in a tough spot," he thought. "It looks

as if we'll all be on that ship by morning."

To lighten their spirits the Hardys began to talk, hoping against hope to distract the guard and perhaps

overpower him.

"Shut up, you guys!" Malloy growled. "Quit your talking or I'll make it hot for you!" He tapped his

revolver suggestively.

After that, a melancholy silence fell among the prisoners. All were downhearted. It looked as if their fate

truly were sealed.