The House on the Cliff

CHAPTER XVII

Hostages

LITHE as Indians the three Hardys hurried across the lawn and disappeared among the trees. They

headed for the road, a good distance away.

"I hope a bus comes along," Frank said to himself. "Then we can get to a phone and report-"

His thought was rudely interrupted as the boys and their father heard a sound that struck terror to their

hearts-the clatter of the logs tumbling off the trap door!

An instant later came a hoarse shout. "Chief! Red! The Hardys got away! Watch out for them!"

"He must be one of the men we heard coming up from the shore," Joe decided. "They must have found

Malloy trussed up!"

Instantly the place became alive with smugglers flashing their lights. Some of the men ran from the truck

toward the road, shouting. Others began to comb the woods. Another man emerged from the trap door.

He and his companion dashed to the ocean side of the house.

Two burly smugglers flung open the kitchen door and ran out. One shouted, "They ain't in the house!"

"And they're not down at the shore!" the other yelled. "I just talked to Klein on the phone down there."

"You guys better not let those Hardys get away!" Snattman's voice cut through the night. "It'll be the pen

for all of you!"

"Fenton Hardy's got a gun! He took Malloy's!" came a warning voice from the far side of the house. The

two men who had gone to the front now returned. "He never misses his mark!"

When the fracas had started, the detective had pulled his sons to the ground, told them to lie flat, face

down, and not to move. Now they could hear the pounding steps of the smugglers as they dashed among

the trees. The boys' hearts pounded wildly. It did not seem possible they could be missed!

Yet man after man ran within a few yards of the three prone figures and dashed on toward the road.

Presently Mr. Hardy raised his head and looked toward the Pollitt mansion.

"Boys," he said tensely, "we'll make a run for the kitchen door. The men won't expect us to go there."

The three arose. Swiftly and silently they crossed the dark lawn and slipped into the house. Apparently

no one had seen them.

"When Snattman doesn't find us outdoors," Joe whispered, "won't he look here to make sure?"

"Yes," Mr. Hardy replied. "But by that time I hope the Coast Guard and State Police will arrive."

"Joe and I found a hidden stairway to the attic," Frank spoke up. "Snattman won't think of looking in it.

Let's hide up there."

"You forget the ghost," Joe reminded his brother. "He knows we found that stairway."

"Nevertheless, Frank's suggestion is a good one," Mr. Hardy said. "Let's go to the attic. Were any

clothes hanging in the closet that might be used to conceal the door?"

"Yes, a man's bathrobe on a rod."

The Hardys did not dare use a light and had to make their way along by feeling walls, and the stair

banister, with Frank in the lead and Mr. Hardy between the boys. Reaching the second floor, Frank

looked out the rear window of the hall.

"The smugglers are coming back!" he remarked in a low voice. "The lights are heading this way!"

The Hardys doubled their speed, but it was still slow going, for they banged into chairs and a wardrobe

as Frank felt his way along the hall toward the bedroom where the hidden staircase was. Finally the trio

reached it. Just as Frank was about to open the door to the attic, a door on the first floor swung open

with a resounding bang. "Scatter and search every room!" Snattman's crisp voice rang out. "We're

trapped!" Joe groaned. "Maybe not," Frank said hopefully. "I have a hunch Klein was the ghost. It's

possible that he's the only one who knows about this stairway and he's down at the shore."

"We'll risk going up," Mr. Hardy decided. "But not a sound." He slid the bathrobe across the rod, so that

it would hide the door.

"The stairs creak," Joe informed him. Mr. Hardy told his sons to push down the treads slowly but firmly

with their hands and hold them there until they put one foot between them and then raised up to their full

weight.

"And lean forward, so you won't lose your balance," he warned.

Fearful that he could not accomplish this, Frank opened the door carefully and started up in the pitch

blackness. But the dread thought of capture made him use extreme caution and he reached the attic

without having made a sound.

After closing the door, Joe and his father quickly followed. The three moved noiselessly to a spot out of

sight of the stairway behind a large trunk.

They sat down and waited, not daring even to whisper. From downstairs they could hear running

footsteps, banging doors, and loud talk.

"Not here!"

"Not here!"

"Not here!"

The search seemed to come to an end, for the second-floor group had gathered right in the room where

the secret stairway was.

"This is it! The end! They're going to search up here!" Frank thought woefully.

His father reached over and grasped a hand of each of his sons in a reassuring grip. Someone yanked

open the closet door. The Hardys became tense. Would the robe over the entrance to the secret

stairway fool him?

"Empty!" the man announced and shut the door. The smugglers went downstairs.

There were fervent handshakes among the detective and his sons. Other than this they did not move a

muscle of their bodies, although they inwardly relaxed.

Now new worries assailed the Hardys. It was possible that Snattman and his gang, having been alerted,

would move out and disappear before the police or Coast Guard could get to the house on the cliff.

Frank's heart gave a jump. He suddenly realized that his father was hiding to protect his sons. Had he

been alone, the intrepid detective would have been downstairs battling to get the better of Snattman and

break up the smuggling ring.

"What a swell father he is!" Frank thought. Then another idea came to him. "Maybe being here isn't such

a bad plan after all. Dad might have been fatally shot if he'd been anywhere else on the property."

A moment later the Hardys again became aware of voices on the second floor. They recognized one as

Snattman's, the other as Klein's.

"Yeah, there's a secret stairway to the attic," Klein announced. "I found it when I was playin' ghost. And

them Hardy boys-they found it too. I'll bet my last take on those rare drugs we're gettin' tonight that the

dick and his sons are up in that attic!"

The Hardys' spirits sank. They were going to be captured again after all I

They heard the door at the foot of the stairway open. "Go up and look, Klein," ordered Snattman.

"Not me. Fenton Hardy has Malloy's gun."

"I said go up!"

"You can't make me," Klein objected in a whining tone. "I'd be a sure target 'cause I couldn't see him.

He'd be hiding and let me have it so quick I'd never know what hit me."

Despite the grave situation, Frank's and Joe's faces were creased in smiles, but they faded as Snattman

said, "I'll go myself. Give me that big light!"

Suddenly a brilliant beam was cast into the attic. It moved upward, accompanied by heavy footsteps.

"Hardy, if you want to live, say sol" Snattman said, an evil ring in his voice.

No answer from the detective.

"We've got you cornered this time!"

Mr. Hardy did not reply.

"Listen, Hardy!" Snattman shouted. "I know you're up there because you moved that bathrobe. I'll give

you just one minute to come down out of that attic!"

Still no answer and an interval of silence followed.

Then came Snattman's voice again. "This is your last chance, Hardy!"

Nearly a minute went by without a sign from the two enemy camps. Then Snattman moved up the stairs a

few more steps.

"Hardy, I have a proposition to make to you," he said presently. "I know you don't want to die and you

want those boys of yours to live too. Well, so do I want to live. So let's call it quits."

The detective maintained his silence and Snattman continued up the steps. "Give you my word I won't

shoot. And I know you never fire first unless you have to."

A moment later he appeared at the top of the stairs, empty-handed except for the light. In a moment he

spotted the Hardys with his high-powered flashlight.

"Here's the proposition-your lives in exchange for mine and my gang's."

"How do you mean?" Mr. Hardy asked coldly.

"I mean," the smuggler said, "that you are my hostages."

"Hostages!" Frank and Joe exclaimed together.

"Yes. If my men and I can get our stuff moved away before the police or the Coast Guard might happen

in here, then you can leave a little later."

"But if they do come?" Frank asked.

"Then I'll bargain with them," Snattman answered. "And I don't think they'll turn me down. They don't

know where you are, but I'll make them understand I mean business. If they take me, you three die!"

Frank and Joe gasped. The famous Fenton Hardy and his sons were to be used as a shield to protect a

ruthless gang of criminals I

The boys looked at their father in consternation. To their amazement he looked calm, but his mouth was

drawn in a tight line.

"It won't do you any good to shoot me, Hardy," the smuggler said. "Mallory said all the chambers

in that gat are empty but one. If the gang hears a shot, they'll be up here in a minute to finish you all off

properly."

The Hardys realized that if Snattman's remark about the gun were true, they were indeed at the mercy of

this cunning, scheming, conniving smuggler. He now started backing toward the stairway.

"I think I'm a pretty fair guy," he said with the trace of a satisfied smile.

"And one to be hated and feared!" Joe thought in a rage. "We've got to outwit this man somehow!" he

determined.

But at the moment the possibility of this looked hopeless.