While the Clock Ticked (15 page)

CHAPTER XX

T
HINKING
quickly, Chet shone his flashlight straight into the eyes of the gang leader as he advanced on the boys with the deadly pitchfork.

Blinded by the glare Jensen stopped.

“Let’s separate,” Frank whispered. “He can’t get all three of us at once!”

The brothers dropped their flashlights and rushed to opposite sides of the old barn. They wheeled and jumped the man from both directions.

Joe came in with a hard-driving tackle that caught Jensen just below the knees. As the man crumpled, Frank stepped in, snatched the murderous pitchfork, and threw it to one side.

Chet had stayed rooted to the spot, keeping his light trained on their would-be attacker. Now he rushed forward, flinging the flashlight away, to help subdue Jensen.

In the darkness a terrific struggle took place. The boys’ opponent seemed possessed of an iron strength. Just when they believed they had overpowered him, Jensen would yank loose, flailing his fists violently.

“Don’t let him get away!” shouted Frank.

Joe frantically groped in the darkness for the flashlight. He found it and flicked it on. The unexpected beam of light caught Arthur Jensen staggering up the ladder to the haymow. In an instant the boys had pounced on him.

“We’ll take no more chances,” Frank cried out, whipping off his belt.

Joe quickly unbuckled his also. As Chet held their prisoner in a viselike hold, the Hardys lashed the man’s hands firmly behind him with their belts before dragging him out.

The man was sputtering and threatening. “Keep still or we’ll gag you!” Frank warned.

Frank and Joe pocketed their flashlights, and the boys marched Jensen along the hidden road back to the house. The old Purdy place was still blazing with lights in the gray dawn. More police cars had arrived, and men were hurrying about in every direction. Chief Collig stood on the front porch directing search operations.

“Good news, Chief!” Frank greeted him as the boys came forward with Jensen.

Collig stared in pleased astonishment. Then he turned to Officer Tomlin, “Call in the men!”

A police whistle shrieked. Immediately the boys were surrounded by officers, two of whom handcuffed Arthur Jensen. The ringleader stood in sullen silence, his eyes burning with hate.

Fleece-lined storm coats were thrown around the chilled boys when the entire group entered the living room. There they saw Mr. Dalrymple looking thoughtfully upon the face of Amos Wandy, who was now sleeping peacefully.

The banker turned to the Hardys. “I thought I recognized Mr. Wandy. I remember him years ago as a brilliant inventor. He came to me once for money to finance an electrical invention of his. I was glad to lend it, knowing that the device would be beneficial to many people. To think he was forced to work on an instrument of destruction by this despicable person.”

Mr. Dalrymple gave Jensen a withering look. “But at least,” he added, “I’ll give Amos any monetary help he may need now, and he can work here any time he wishes, undisturbed!”

The Hardys were pleased to hear this. Joe then said, “We thought something had happened to
you
today, sir. That’s what brought us out here tonight.”

The banker explained that he had been called out of town on a business emergency early that morning and had no chance to notify his office. “I didn’t return until after midnight. When I learned about the Lakeside police having
searched my home and why, I contacted your aunt and Chief Collig right away.”

The banker addressed the handcuffed Jensen. “How did you—you thugs get into my house?”

“Simple.” The gang leader gave a short laugh. “We took wax impressions of the locks, and had keys made in town.”

“Yes. But how did you manage to leave threatening notes in my secret room?”

“As I told these snooping kids—find out yourself,” was the sullen answer.

Joe had a sudden idea. He drew from his pocket the coil of wire with the mechanism at one end, and examined them for a moment.

The others in the room crowded around. “So this is the invention Amos was keeping on the roof,” Frank said, “I wonder why.”

The device consisted of a pair of weatherproof batteries mounted side by side on a little platform about three inches long. The platform had wheels, and at one end a pair of little movable jaws.

“If I’m right,” Joe observed, “the jaws will open after so many revolutions of the wheels.”

He clicked a switch. With a little hum, the metal wheels turned. After a few seconds the jaws opened, and the wheels stopped. When the jaws closed together once more, the wheels turned again—but in the opposite direction!

“Clever,” Mr. Dalrymple said. “I think our
government’s intelligence department would be interested in this.”

“Very clever,” Joe replied, “and it’s also the method used for delivering those warning notes to your secret room!”

“What!” the banker cried.

Everyone listened intently as Joe explained his theory. “You see, the message was placed in the jaws. Then the whole contrivance was lowered by wire down the chimney. The gadget is small enough to fit through the bars. As soon as it reached the bottom of the fireplace, this platform rolled out into the room and deposited a note! Then it rolled back into the fireplace and was pulled up the chimney by Jensen, on the roof.”

Raymond Dalrymple’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “No wonder we couldn’t figure it out,” he declared. “Nobody but myself was entering my secret room!”

Frank wheeled on Jensen. “You convinced Mr. Wandy you wanted to try out his invention. Of course, he didn’t know for what purpose.”

The prisoner remained stubbornly silent. But Frank’s guess was backed up by Amos Wandy himself, who had awakened.

“Mr. Jensen told me he was conducting an experiment,” said the inventor. “What a fool I was!”

The captured thief gave a derisive snort. “
That’s
true.”

“Quiet!” thundered Collig. “You’ll have plenty of time to laugh where you’re going.” The chief signaled two patrolmen, who stepped up to lead Jensen away.

“Wait a moment!” Frank spoke up. “What about the jade? Jensen had it all when he got away from us.”

Chief Collig strode over to the gang leader. “Spill it. Where did you stash that jade?”

But no amount of prodding would elicit any reply from Jensen. Finally the chief, in disgust, ordered him to be taken off to jail.

“Looks as if another search operation’s in order,” Officer Callahan spoke up. “Shall I get the men started, Chief?”

“Right. Also, better douse that disconnected bomb.”

“Great jumping Irishmen!” Callahan exclaimed. “I’ll say. No use taking any chances!”

Immediately a respectful space was cleared around the formidable black box, and two men carried it outside. Frank, Chet, and Joe followed.

The three boys, although dog-tired, had already determined to conduct their own hunt for the precious jade.

“Where to start?” Chet inquired of his friends.

The Hardys scanned the grounds, still wet from the rain. The sun had risen and was starting to burn off the mist. Frank pointed to a bush area about five hundred yards from the mansion.

“That would’ve been a good spot for Jensen to hide and watch us get blown up,” the boy reasoned.

“Dandy,” Joe agreed. “Come on!”

The trio trudged through the wet grass and up the slope. They circled the bushes, and poked among the branches. But there were neither boxes nor a canvas sack. Disappointed, the searchers cast around for another likely place.

Joe’s eyes lingered on a huge old maple tree, with low, spreading limbs. “I think I’ll climb up,” he murmured.

Sprinting to the tree, he swung himself onto the lowest branch. Standing up, he could see the mansion clearly. He then reached out to a stout limb above him and ran his hands along it toward the trunk. His heart leaped as his fingers touched something that felt like canvas!

“Found it!” he shouted.

Frank and Chet dashed up and waited excitedly below. Joe shinned up the trunk. There, tucked in the forked space, was the sack and a pile of small boxes.

“Yippee!” Joe yelled triumphantly. Quickly he lowered the sack and the boxes to his brother and Chet, then jumped to the ground.

Joyfully the Hardys and Chet sped back to Chief Collig. One look at the boys and what they were carrying told him of their success.

“Congratulations!” he said warmly.

“Thanks, Chief,” Frank said modestly, then grinned. “We don’t like to disappoint clients.”

The recovered treasures were taken into police custody. Hurd Applegate’s collection and Captain Stroman’s jade piece proved to be intact. Their property would be returned to them the following day.

“Oh!” Frank clapped a hand to his head. “I forgot about our stranded car!”

Chief Collig promised to send a tow truck to pick it up. “You fellows had better get some sleep,” he advised.

“Swell idea.” Chet smothered a huge yawn. “Come on, you detectives!
My
jalopy still runs.”

It was seven o’clock that morning when the Hardys wearily entered their home. They had an affectionate reunion with Aunt Gertrude, who had been informed by telephone of their safety.

“Not a word more!” she ordered. “Off to bed! I’ll have a good meal ready when you wake up.”

Frank and Joe did not argue. They were too tired to be hungry. Soon they were deep in slumber.

The boys were jolted awake in what seemed only a short time by the telephone jangling insistently.

“Oh!” moaned Frank groggily. “Somebody answer the phone!”

But the ringing continued. Joe was still sound asleep. Finally Frank reached out his arm and
lifted the receiver of the extension on the night table. “Hello?”

“It will happen while the clock ticks,” came a low, menacing voice, “on the dot of six this evening. At the old Purdy place.”

“What?” cried Frank, instantly wide awake. “Who is this? Hello! Hello!” The caller had hung up.

“Joe!” he shouted, and shook his brother awake. “Sounds like trouble.”

Quickly he told of the sinister phone call. The boys glanced at their clock.

“Good night!” Frank exclaimed. “It’s five-fifteen! Almost suppertime!”

Hurriedly the two boys dressed and went downstairs. Aunt Gertrude was not around. They rushed outside to the garage.

“We’ll have to use Dad’s car,” said Joe.

Soon Fenton Hardy’s sedan was speeding out Willow River Road. The dashboard clock showed a few minutes before six.

Frank, at the wheel, turned sharply through the open gate and sped up the drive. The old house waited, silent as usual. They went up and tried the front door. To their surprise, it was open!

Cautiously the brothers tiptoed across the empty hall to the closed door of the living room. Frank and Joe paused.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
came the sound of the clock from within.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

They set their shoulders to the door and burst into the room.

Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!
Six o’clock!

“
Hooray for the Hardy boys!
” came a chorus of voices. “Three cheers for Frank and Joe!”

A crowd of familiar smiling faces confronted the utterly astounded young detectives.

“Aunt Gertrude!” Frank cried out, as his aunt came forward.

“Yes, we’re all here.” She beamed. “
I told
you there’d be a good meal waiting for you.”

She led the way to the dining room. The long table in the center of the room was fully set with glittering glass, china, and silver. Two huge, golden-brown turkeys rested upon oval platters at either end of the table.

At the head sat Raymond Dalrymple. At his right was a happy Amos Wandy. Also present were Chief Collig and Chet Morton, who was grinning from behind one of the turkeys, Hurd Applegate, Captain Stroman, and others of the Hardys’ best friends. Among them were Biff Hooper, Tony Prito, Phil Cohen, and Jerry Gilroy. Pretty Iola Morton and Callie Shaw smiled and waved to Frank and Joe.

Speechless with surprise, the brothers were escorted by Aunt Gertrude to chairs beside the girls, then Miss Hardy took her own place.

“All I can say,” Joe burst out, “is that this is the best ending to a mystery a fellow could want.”

Frank agreed. “There’s one more mystery.” He grinned. “Who telephoned us today?”

Both boys stared meaningfully at Chet. His suddenly reddening face gave them the answer, and everyone laughed.

“You’re not only showing promise as a detective,” Frank said with a chuckle, “but you’re not a bad actor, either, Chet!”

At this point Mr. Dalrymple, growing serious, stood up. First he read a telegram of congratulation to the boys from Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Then he said, “I’d like to extend my great appreciation, and that of many others, to the Hardy brothers for helping to rid not only my property, but this whole area, of the harbor thieves. Also, to Chet Morton for his assistance. And all done despite my bad memory about keys. The only one they had was the key they got from the thieves!”

“Hear! Hear!” Captain Stroman and Hurd Applegate led the loud applause.

Mr. Dalrymple continued, “I’d now like to introduce the new permanent resident of this house—Mr. Amos Wandy.”

Smiling, he turned to the inventor, who was almost overcome with emotion. Finally, in a trembling voice, Mr. Wandy said, “I can hardly believe my good fortune. A large part of it is due to my three young rescuers.”

Amid the excited chatter that ensued, Frank and Joe learned that the banker planned to outfit a regular laboratory for Mr. Wandy. Chief Collig then reported to the boys that Jensen had broken down and given a full confession.

“Was he the rascal who sent me that warning?” Aunt Gertrude demanded.

“Yes, Miss Hardy. But he won’t be sending any more threats for a long, long time.”

Iola Morton, her eyes dancing, said to the Hardys, “This is one party you won’t run out on!”

Callie giggled. “They can’t. There’s no more mystery.”

The boys laughed, and gazed up at the huge clock. Silently, they wondered when another case might come their way. Sooner than they expected, they were to find out, when Frank and Joe spotted strange
FOOTPRINTS UNDER THE WINDOW.