The House on the Cliff

CHAPTER XVI

Quick Work

IN DESPAIR the boys glanced over at their father on the cot. To their surprise they saw that he was

smiling.

Frank was about to ask him what he had found amusing about their predicament when his father shook

his head in warning. He looked over at the guard.

Malloy was not watching the prisoners. He sat staring at the floor. Occasionally his head would fall

forward, then he would jerk it back as he struggled to keep awake.

"Snattman sure made a poor selection when he chose Malloy as guard," the boys thought.

Several times the burly man straightened up, stretched his arms, and rubbed his eyes. But when he settled

down again, his head began to nod.

In the meantime, the boys noticed their father struggling with his bonds. To their amazement he did not

seem to be so tightly bound as they had thought. Both of them tried moving but could not budge an inch.

The boys exchanged glances, both realizing what had happened. "Dad resorted to an old trick!" Frank

told himself, and Joe was silently fuming, "Why didn't we think of it?"

Mr. Hardy had profited by his previous experience. When the smugglers had seized the detective and

tied him to the cot for the second time, he had used a device frequently employed by magicians and

professional "escape artists" who boast that they can release themselves from tightly tied ropes and strait

jackets.

The detective had expanded his chest and flexed his muscles. He had also kept his arms as far away from

his sides as he could without being noticed. In this way, when he relaxed, the ropes did not bind him as

securely as his captors intended.

"Oh, why were Frank and I so dumb!" Joe again chided himself.

Frank bit his lip in utter disgust at not having remembered the trick. "But then"-he eased his

conscience-"Dad didn't think of it the first time, either."

Mr. Hardy had discovered that the rope binding his right wrist to the cot had a slight slack in it. He began

trying to work the rope loose. This took a long time and the rough strands rubbed his wrist raw. But at

last he managed to slide his right hand free.

"Hurray!" Frank almost shouted. He glanced at the guard. Malloy appeared to be sound asleep. "Hope

he'll stay that way until we can escape," Frank wished fervently.

He and Joe watched their father in amazement, as they saw him grope for one of the knots. The detective

fumbled at it for a while. It was slow work with only his one hand free. But the boys knew from his

satisfied expression that the smugglers in their haste apparently had not tied the knots as firmly as they

should have.

At this instant the guard suddenly lifted his head, and Mr. Hardy quickly laid his free hand back on the

cot. He closed his eyes as if sleeping and his sons followed his example. But opening their lids a slit, they

watched the smuggler carefully.

The guard grunted. "They're okay," he mumbled. Once more he tried to stay awake but found it

impossible. Little by little his head sagged until his chin rested on his chest. Deep, regular breathing told

the prisoners he was asleep.

Mr. Hardy now began work again on the knot of the rope that kept his left arm bound to the cot. In a

matter of moments he succeeded in loosening it and the rope fell away from his arm.

After making sure the guard was still asleep, the detective sat up on the cot and struggled to release his

feet. This was an easier task. The smugglers had merely passed a rope around the cot to hold the

prisoner's feet. A few minutes' attention was all that was necessary for the boys' father to work his way

loose.

"Now he'll release us," Joe thought excitedly, "and we can escape from here!"

As Fenton Hardy tiptoed toward his sons, the board floor squeaked loudly. The guard muttered again, as

if dreaming, shook his head, then sat up.

"Oh, no!" Frank murmured, fearful of what would happen. He saw his father pick up a white rag

someone had dropped.

A look of intense amazement crossed Malloy's face. As he opened his mouth to yell for help, Fenton

Hardy leaped across the intervening space and flung himself on the smuggler.

"Keep quiet!" the detective ordered.

Malloy had time only to utter a muffled gasp before the detective clapped a hand over the guard's mouth,

jammed the rag in it, and toppled him to the floor. The two rolled over and over in a desperate, silent

struggle. The boys, helpless, looked on, their fears mounting. They knew their father had been weakened

by his imprisonment and hunger, and the guard was strong and muscular. Nevertheless, the detective had

the advantage of a surprise attack. Malloy had had no time to collect his wits.

Frank and Joe watched the battle in an agony of suspense. If only they could join the fight! Mr. Hardy

still had the advantage, for he could breathe better than his opponent. But suddenly Malloy managed to

raise himself to his knees. He reached for the revolver at his hip.

"Look out, Dad!" Frank hissed. "He's got his gun!"

Quick as a flash the detective landed a blow on the guard's jaw. Malloy blinked and raised both hands to

defend himself as he fell to the ground. Mr. Hardy darted forward and pulled the revolver out of the

man's side pocket.

"No funny business!" the detective told him in a low voice.

Without being told, Malloy raised his hands in the air. He sat helplessly on the floor, beaten.

"He's got a knife too, Dad," Joe said quietly. "Watch that."

"Thanks, Joe," his father replied. Then, motioning with the pistol, he said, "All right. Let's have the knife!"

Sullenly the guard removed the knife from its leather sheath at his belt and handed it to Mr. Hardy.

Frank and Joe wanted to shout with joy, but merely grinned at their father.

Still watching Malloy, the detective walked slowly backward until he reached Joe's side. Without taking

his eyes from the smuggler, he bent down and with the knife sliced at the ropes that bound his son.

Fortunately, the knife was sharp and the ropes soon were cut.

"Boy, that feels good, Dad. Thanks," Joe whispered.

He sprang from the chair, took the knife, and while his father watched Malloy, he cut Frank's bonds.

"Malloy," Mr. Hardy ordered, "come over here!"

He motioned toward the bed and indicated by gestures that the smuggler was to lie down on the cot.

Malloy shook his head vigorously, but was prodded over by Joe. The guard lay down on the cot.

The ropes which had held Mr. Hardy had not been cut. Quickly Frank and Joe trussed up Malloy just as

their father had been tied, making certain that the knots were tight. As a final precaution they pushed in

the gag which was slipping and with a piece of rope made it secure.

The whole procedure had taken scarcely five minutes. The Hardys were free!

"What now?" Frank asked his father out of earshot of Malloy. "Hide some place until the Coast Guard

gets here?" Quickly he told about Tony and Chet going to bring the officers to the smugglers' hide-out.

"But they should have been here by now," Joe whispered. "They probably haven't found the secret door.

Let's go down and show them."

This plan was agreed upon, but the three Hardys got no farther than the top of the first stairway when

they heard rough, arguing voices below them.

"They can't be Coast Guard men," said Mr. Hardy. "We'll listen a few seconds, then we'd better run in

the other direction. I know the way out to the grounds."

From below came an ugly, "You double-crosser, you! This loot belongs to the whole gang and don't you

forget it!"

"Listen," said the second voice. "I don't have to take orders from you. I thought we was pals. Now you

don't want to go through with the deal. Who's to know if we got ten packages or five from that friend o'

Ali Singh's?"

"Okay. And the stuff'll be easier to get rid of than those drugs. They're too hot for me. Snattman can burn

for kidnapin' if he wants to-I don't."

The voices had now become so loud that the Hardys did not dare wait another moment. "Come on!" the

boys' father urged.

He led the way back to the corridor and along it to the door at the end. Suddenly Frank and Joe noticed

him falter and were afraid he was going to faint. Joe recalled that his father had had no food except the

candy bar. Ramming his hands into his pockets, he brought out another bar and some pieces of pretzel.

Quickly he filled both his father's hands with them. Mr. Hardy ate them hungrily as his sons supported

him under his arms and assisted him to the door.

As Frank quietly opened it, and they saw a stairway beyond, the detective said, "These steps will bring

us up into a shed near the Pollitt house. There's a trap door. That's the way Snattman brought me down.

Got your lights? We haven't any time to lose." Mr. Hardy seemed stronger already. "I'll take the lead."

As they ascended, Frank and Joe wondered if they would come out in the shed where they had seen the

man named Klein picking up small logs.

When the detective reached the top of the stairs he ordered the lights out and pushed against the trap

door. He could not budge it.

"You try," he urged the boys. "And hurry! Those men we heard may discover Malloy."

"And then things will start popping!" Frank murmured.

The boys heaved their shoulders against the trap door. In a moment there came the rumble of rolling logs.

The door went up easily.

Frank peered out. No one seemed to be around.

He stepped up into the shed and the others followed.

The three stood in silence. The night was dark. The wind, blowing through the trees, made a moaning

sound. Before the Hardys rose the gloomy mass of the house on the cliff. No lights could be seen.

From the direction of the lane came dull, thudding sounds. The boys and their father assumed the

smugglers' truck was being loaded with the goods which were to be disposed of by the man named

Burke.

Suddenly the Hardys heard voices from the corridor they had just left. Quickly Frank closed the trap

door and Joe piled up the logs. Then, silently, the Hardys stole out into the yard.