The House on the Cliff

CHAPTER V

Pretzel Pete

"Just a minute!" Mrs. Hardy said to her sons. "How about supper?"

"We can eat when we come back from our interview with Jones," Joe answered. "Mother, he may

decide to leave the farmhouse any time."

Despairingly Mrs. Hardy returned to her husband. "What do you think, Fenton?"

The detective gave his wife an understanding smile, then turned to Frank and Joe. "Didn't you say Jones

was in pretty bad shape?"

"Yes, Dad," Frank replied.

"Then I doubt very much that he'll try to leave the Kanes' home before the time he set-tomorrow

morning. I'm sure that it'll be safe for us to eat Mother's good supper and still see our man in time."

Joe subsided, and to make his mother feel better, said with a smile, "Guess I let this mystery go to my

brain for a minute. As a matter of fact, I have an empty space inside of me big enough to eat two

suppers!"

Mrs. Hardy tweaked an ear of her energetic son, just as she had frequently done ever since he was a

small boy. He smiled at her affectionately, then asked what he could do to help with supper.

"Well, suppose you fill the water glasses and get milk for you and Frank," Mrs. Hardy said, as she and

Joe went downstairs together.

At the table, as often happened at meals in the Hardy home, the conversation revolved around the

mystery. Frank asked his father if he had made any progress on his part in the case concerning the

smugglers.

"Very little," the detective replied. "Snattman is a slippery individual. He covers his tracks well. I did find

this out, though. The law firm which is handling old Mr. Pollitt's affairs has had no luck in locating the

nephew to whom the property was left."

"Mr. Kane said he'd heard Mr. Pollitt call his nephew a no-good," Frank put in.

"That's just the point," Mr. Hardy said. "The lawyers learned from the police that he's a hoodlum and is

wanted for burglary."

Frank whistled. "That puts the nephew in a bad spot, doesn't it? If he shows up to claim the property,

he'll be nabbed as a criminal."

"Exactly," Mr. Hardy answered.

"What will become of the property?" Joe queried.

His father said he thought the executors might let the house remain vacant or they might possibly rent it.

"They could do this on a month-to-month basis. This would give added income to the estate."

"Which wouldn't do the nephew much good if he were in jail," Mrs. Hardy put in.

"That would depend on how long his sentence was," her husband said. "He may not be a dangerous

criminal. He may just have fallen into bad company and unwittingly become an accessory in some holdup

or burglary."

"In that case," Frank remarked, "he may realize that he wouldn't have to stay in prison long. He may

appear to claim the property, take his punishment, and then lead a normal, law-abiding life out at his

uncle's place."

"Well, I sincerely hope so," Mr. Hardy replied. "The trouble is, so often when a young man joins a group

of hoodlums or racketeers, he's blackmailed for the rest of his life, even though he tries to go straight."

The detective smiled. "The best way to avoid such a situation is never to get into it!"

At this moment the phone rang and Frank went to answer it. "It's for you, Dad!" he called, coming back

to the table.'

Mr. Hardy spent nearly fifteen minutes in conversation with the caller. In the meantime, the boys and

Mrs. Hardy finished their supper. Then, while Mr. Hardy ate his dessert, he told his family a little about

the information he had just received on the phone.

"More drugs have disappeared," he said tersely. "I'm positive now that Snattman is behind all this."

"Were the drugs stolen around here?" Frank asked.

"We don't know," his father answered. "A pharmaceutical house in the Midwest was expecting a

shipment of rare drugs from India. When the package arrived, only half the order was there. It was

evident that someone had cleverly opened the package, removed part of the shipment, and replaced the

wrapping so neatly that neither the customs officials nor the post office was aware that the package had

been tampered with."

"How were the drugs sent to this country?" Joe queried.

"They came by ship."

"To which port?"

"New York. But the ship did stop at Bayport."

"How long ago was this?"

"Nearly two months ago. It seems that the pharmaceutical house wasn't ready to use the drugs until now,

so hadn't opened the package."

"Then," said Joe, "the drugs could have been removed right on the premises, and have had nothing to do

with smugglers."

"You're right," Mr. Hardy agreed. "Each time drugs are reported missing, there's a new angle to the case.

Although I'm convinced Snattman is back of it, how to prove this is really a stickler."

Mr. Hardy went on to say that the tip he had received about 'Snattman being in the Bayport area had

been a very reliable one. He smiled. "I'll tell you all a little secret. I have a very good Mend down on the

waterfront. He picks up many kinds of information for me. His name is Pretzel Pete."

"Pretzel Pete!" Frank and Joe cried out. "What a name!"

"That's his nickname along the waterfront," Mr. Hardy told them. He laughed. "During the past few years

I've munched on so many of the pretzels he sells, I think I'm his best customer."

By this time the boys' father had finished his dessert, and he suggested they leave at once for the Kane

farmhouse. He brought his black sedan from the garage and the boys hopped in. It did not take long to

cover the six miles to the place where Jones was spending the night.

"Why, the house is dark," Frank remarked, puzzled.

"Maybe everyone's asleep," Joe suggested.

"This early?" Frank protested.

Mr. Hardy continued on down the lane. There was no sign of anyone around the place. Frank remarked

that perhaps the farmer and his wife had gone out for the evening. "But I'm surprised that they would

leave Jones alone in his condition," he added.

"I'm quite sure they wouldn't," his father averred. "If they're asleep, I'm afraid we'll have to wake them."

He pulled up in front of the kitchen entrance. Frank was out of the car in an instant, the others followed.

He rapped on the door. There was no answer.

"Let's try the front door," Joe suggested. "Maybe that has a knocker on it."

The boys walked around to the ocean side of the house. Although they banged loudly with the brass

door knocker, there was still no response.

"The Kanes must have gone out," said Joe.

"But what about Jones? Surely he's here."

"And too weak to come to the door," Frank surmised. "But he could call out. I can't understand it."

The brothers returned to the back door and i reported to their father. Then, as Joe rapped several more

times without response, a sinking feeling came over the brothers.

"I guess Jones recovered fast and has gone," Joe said dejectedly. "We've goofed."

"Try the knob. The door may not be locked," Mr. Hardy ordered. From his tone the boys knew that he

shared their fears.

Frank turned the knob and the door swung open. Mr. Hardy felt around for a light switch on the wall.

"We'll go in," he murmured. "If Jones is here we'll talk to him."

By this time the detective had found the switch. As the kitchen became flooded with light, the boys

gasped, thunderstruck. On their previous visit they had been impressed by the neatness of the room.

Now the place looked as though an earthquake had shaken it.

Pots and pans were scattered about the floor. The table was overturned. A chair lay upside down in a

corner. Shattered bits of cups and saucers were strewn on the floor.

"What happened?" Frank exclaimed in bewilderment.

"There's been a fight-or a struggle of some kind," said Mr. Hardy. "Let's see what the rest of the house

looks like."

The boys opened the door to the adjoining living room. Frank snapped on the wall switch.

There a horrifying sight met the Hardys' eyes.

The farmer and his wife, bound and gagged, were tied to chairs in the middle of the room!

Swiftly Frank, Joe, and their father rushed over to Mr. and Mrs. Kane. They had been tied with strong

ropes and so well gagged that the couple had been unable to utter a sound. In a minute the Hardys had

loosened the bonds and removed the gags.

"Thank goodness!" Mrs. Kane exclaimed with a sigh of relief, stretching her arms.

Her husband, spluttering with rage, rose from his chair and hurled the ropes to one side. "Those

scoundrels!" he cried out.

Frank hastily introduced his father, then asked, "What happened?"

For several moments Mr. and Mrs. Kane were too upset to tell their story. But finally the farmer

staggered over to the window and pointed down the shore road.

"They went that way!" he roared. "Follow them!"

"Who?"

"Those thugs who tied us up! They took Jones!"