While the Clock Ticked (5 page)

Frank looked at Joe and shook his head. “Cleaned out,” he said softly. “We’d better not tell him till after the doctor comes.”

While they were waiting, the older boy called Chief Collig and reported what had happened.

“I think this second theft may be a cleverly planned part of the first one,” Frank told him. “The thief got Hurd Applegate to open the safe and bring out his jade figurines. Then when he
went back for the chess set the man fled, knowing Mr. Applegate would come after him. Once he was out of the house, it was easy for the thief’s confederate to move in and take the chess set and rifle the open safe.”

“Jade figurines!” the chief’s voice crackled. “Reminds me of the harbor thieves. They’ve switched to small valuables. Anything they can slip into a pocket, or hide under a coat. They’re still boarding the ships and getting into the warehouses. And this kind of loot is more precious than the bulky stuff.”

“Yet they get off the piers with it,” Frank put in.

“That’s what beats us!” declared the chief angrily. “We frisk every person leaving the docks, and still the stuff gets out.”

“But how can that be?” Frank asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know. We spotted their black car, so they stopped using it,” Chief Collig replied. “We’re still watching all roads. Yet the stealing is worse than ever!”

“Hm,” Frank considered. “This has been going on for months now, Chief. Has any of the loot turned up on the contraband market?”

“Nothing,” the chief replied. “Still too hot to peddle. They’re storing it some place.”

While Frank had been talking to the police chief, the doctor had arrived and Joe had explained the situation quietly.

As Frank hung up, the medical man told the boys, “Mr. Applegate will be all right after a few days’ rest. It’s been a shock, though. I’ll tell him about the rest of the missing jade tomorrow. No need for you to stay longer.”

The boys thanked the doctor and promised the sick man they would help him get his property back. When they walked out to their car, the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared.

“You know,” Frank said thoughtfully as he got behind the wheel, “Chief Collig says the harbor thieves are lifting small valuables now. There’s a slim chance there might be a connection between the jade thieves and the harbor gang. What do you say we go down to the docks and have a look around?”

Joe agreed readily, and Frank headed the car along Shore Road toward town.

“Seems queer, so many things going on around the Purdy mansion all at once,” Joe said. “First, Mr. Dalrymple’s mystery, and next Hurd Applegate traced the jade thief there. Maybe those two cases are connected.”

“Maybe all
three
mysteries are hooked up,” said Frank thoughtfully.

In a short time the boys arrived at the waterfront. At least half a dozen freighters were tied up at the long piers that extended like fingers into the waters of Barmet Bay. In front of one vessel huge piles of freight were stacked on the dock in
the glare of floodlights. The ship’s cranes were busily swinging more cargo onto the pier.

“Must be a rush job,” Frank commented as he parked the car.

The boys walked over to watch. There was a cool breeze from the sea and the tangy smell of salt water in the air.

Joe sniffed appreciatively. “Boy! Where are those harbor thieves? I’m ready for ‘em!”

“Yes, but are they ready for you?” Frank said with a chuckle.

“You know the one I’d like to get my hands on,” his brother added in high spirits. “The guy that almost ran us down yesterday!”

“Yes? What would you do to him?”

Joe considered his choice of punishment carefully. “Get him behind bars,” he declared.

As the boys started to walk out on one of the docks, they were stopped by a weary-looking, steamship company guard in a gray uniform.

“Okay, you fellows. Where d’you think you’re going?”

“We’re just looking,” Joe replied in a friendly tone.

“Well, you can’t look here,” the watchman said in a loud voice, which attracted a blue-shirted policeman nearby.

“Catch some of ‘em, Charlie?” he asked, coming over. It was Officer Callahan. “Oh, it’s the Hardy boys again. Let ‘em in, let ‘em in, Charlie!”

The boys thanked the policeman and started toward the black-hulled freighter. Frank and Joe watched the burly longshoremen moving some of its cargo away on hand trucks to the warehouses.

“The man who drove that limousine was husky,” Joe recalled. “He easily could have been a longshoreman.”

But Frank noticed that even these men were searched by Officer Callahan as they came off the pier. The boys boarded the freighter, and learned from the officers posted there that nothing had been missing that day.

Unhurriedly the Hardys moved from ship to ship. Police and company guards were on the alert everywhere. Frank and Joe walked back to the freighter from which merchandise was still being unloaded.

Several men on the deck were busy operating the huge cargo derrick. Suddenly, as the crane swung dockward with its load, a short, square-built man with a white sailor cap perched on his black, curly hair, leaped ten feet from the deck to the pier and dashed toward the warehouses.

“Hey!” cried the other men. “Stop!”

Instantly the whole area rang with the shrilling of police whistles. Frank noticed a suspicious bulge at the back of the man’s baggy trousers.

Luckily, he and Joe were near enough to give chase. At the same time, Callahan and the watchman named Charlie came dashing onto the pier.
All four piled into the fugitive at once! Everybody went down. Arms and legs thrashed. Callahan got up first, dragging the laborer, wild-eyed and breathless, to his feet.

“Now,” growled the officer. “Talk, you! Where is it?”

“Talk?” stammered the man in confusion.

“What’s that in your back pocket?” Frank demanded.

“Why were you running away?” Joe asked tersely.

With a look of intense discomfort and dismay on his face, the man reached gingerly behind him. As Frank, Joe, and the two policemen watched eagerly, he brought out a brown paper bag, sodden and squishy.

“I’d promised to call my wife long-distance at seven o’clock and had forgotten. I was having a late supper, so I just put the rest of the food in my back pocket,” he explained dolefully. “Three big, ripe pears. Sat down on it. Please, fellas, let me off. I’ve got to change my pants!”

In complete disgust Officer Callahan waved the man away. Frank and Joe, grinning at the ridiculousness of the scene, left the big commercial docks.

“Let’s take a spin in the
Sleuth,”
Frank proposed, referring to the brothers’ motorboat. “Maybe we can pick up a clue by cruising around the harbor.”

The boys pushed open the boathouse door, switched on the light, and looked with pride at their sleek craft. The
Sleuth
rocked gently on the water. The far door, opening on the bay, was down.

“Warm in here,” Joe complained. “Funny, the sun’s been gone for hours.” He jumped into the boat and called, “Get the key, will you, Frank?”

Joe, proud of the craft, put his hand affectionately on the big motor. Quick as a flash he withdrew it.

“Hot!” he exclaimed, amazed. “Frank, somebody was using the
Sleuth
not long ago!”

CHAPTER VII

Q
UICKLY
Joe unscrewed the gasoline cap and peered into the tank of the Hardys’ speedboat.

“Almost empty,” he reported.

“That’s not so strange,” Frank reminded him. “Chet or Biff or one of the other fellows might have taken the
Sleuth
for a spin. Funny they didn’t replace the gas, though.”

As he spoke, Frank walked to the back of the boathouse and felt around on a small shelf, placed high up. Here the Hardy brothers had hidden a key for friends who might want to use their boat.

“Gone!” he exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Joe saw that the boat was, as usual, secured with its chain and padlock.

“Lucky I have the spare key in my pocket,” said Frank. “We’d better gas up, then report this to the police.”

“You think the
Sleuth
may have been ‘borrowed’ by the dock thieves?” Joe queried excitedly.

“Good chance, unless some pal of ours took a real long ride.” Already Frank, kneeling, had unlocked the padlock and removed the chain.

“But why would the thieves keep the key?”

“Because our boat would always be available to them. Very handy, if you’re a thief and need transportation in a hurry!”

Joe walked quickly to the front of the little building, and by pulling a rope, raised the door fronting on the bay.

“Suppose we look for some signs of the ‘borrower’ before we rush off,” Frank advised.

He stepped into the front seat of the craft, and examined the compartments in the dashboard. Joe, meanwhile, checked every inch of the interior of the boathouse. But he found nothing. Turning, he saw his brother on his hands and knees under the rear seat of the
Sleuth.

“What’re you up to?”

“Here, steady the boat,” was the reply. “Everything’s sloshing around.”

Like all such boats, the
Sleuth
had a wooden rack placed a few inches above the real bottom of the vessel, so that a certain amount of wash could be collected without the passengers’ getting their feet wet. Frank was probing the murky water under the bars of the rack.

Suddenly he snatched up something. “Got it!”

With a triumphant smile, he handed his brother an empty matchbook.

“‘Bayport and Eastern Steamship Company,’” read Joe from the cover. “It’s a clue, all right!”

The younger boy joined Frank and took the wheel of the craft. He switched on its powerful lights, and with a low purr the
Sleuth
headed out into the calm waters of Barmet Bay. The Hardys steered first for the dock of the Bayport Yacht Club, where they had the night pump attendant fill the fuel tank.

“Wait here!” said Frank, and he jumped to the dock, then dashed away and entered the clubhouse.

About fifteen minutes later Frank was back. Joe had spent the time checking the motor, which seemed to be in perfect condition.

“I called every single person who knew where that key was,” Frank reported. “Nobody has used the boat in the past week, let alone tonight! It’s a case of thievery, all right!”

Joe nodded, and started the motor. “Where to now?”

“Commercial docks.”

Joe opened the throttle with a roar. The trim craft lifted her head and sprang forward. Twin arcs of white spray fell away from her bows. Heavy suds churned at her stern.

The whole bay was bathed in bright moonlight.
Far ahead they could make out the black line of rock marking the edge of the harbor, and the open gap revealing its entrance from the ocean.

A short distance from shore lay the imposing white hulk of the
Sea Bright
, a passenger vessel which had just come from the Far East. Here and there floated buoys marking the channel for the ocean-going freighters. As the boys advanced, the whole harbor spread out astern of them. They could see the big ships in their piers, and over on the right, the wide mouth of Willow River, with the bridge crossing it.

“Where did the guy who borrowed our
Sleuth
take it?” Frank called to his brother above the sound of the motor. His eyes swept the horizon. “That’s a big harbor!”

“You’re not kidding!” Joe shouted. “Where else could they go?”

Frank pointed toward the mouth of Willow River. “Up there. It’s navigable for miles and miles. And don’t forget all the tributary streams.”

“Whew! You think they went up there tonight in the
Sleuth?”

“Could be!”

Joe piloted the craft out to the middle of the bay, then headed in toward the black hull of the freighter which was being unloaded. He nosed the boat smoothly in between two jetties. On one
side was the pier where they had caught the laborer with the squashed lunch.

“We’re in luck,” Frank cried suddenly. “There’s Chief Collig with Tomlin and Callahan!”

Bayport’s chief of police had come to take charge of the case which had been vexing his department for months. He was pacing along the dock when he heard Frank shout:

“We picked up a lead, Chief!”

Carefully Joe brought the speedboat over to one of the huge piles, where Frank made her fast. In another moment the Hardys and the three policemen were standing in eager consultation.

“Somebody’s been using our boat,” Joe explained quickly as he handed over the matchbook. “We’ve a hunch it could be your thieves. One of them left this behind.”

Chief Collig, a big, bluff man, tipped back his cap and examined the matchbook thoughtfully. Suddenly he made a wry face. With a broad palm he smacked his forehead.

“Great Scott!” he declared. “You’re right, of course! Know why we haven’t found these crooks on any boats, Officer Callahan?”

“No, sir,” answered the policeman.

“Because they’ve taken to the water in wellknown Bayport boats. We’ve been looking for strange craft! Frank and Joe, you’ve given us a
real break. I’ll get police launches out on the bay immediately!” He went off to phone orders and soon returned.

“See any unfamiliar people in pleasure boats around here?” Frank asked Officer Tomlin.

“Well,” responded the policeman thoughtfully, “one or two launches I know were around earlier. There were men in them, but I didn’t pay any particular attention—thought they were guests of the owners.”

“Would you consider
our
boat suspicious?” Frank continued.

“Of course not.”

“But that’s the crooks’ idea!” Chief Collig said. “I gave orders to check all boats and the people in ‘em. I don’t care if they’ve been cruising the bay for twenty years!”

At that moment a steamship company guard came over to the group. Seeing Frank and Joe, he gave a friendly nod. “Came back, eh?”

“We’re back,” Joe admitted with a sheepish smile. “Catch anybody else escaping with a ruined lunch?” He had mistaken the guard for Charlie, the one they had met earlier. But when the man looked mystified, Joe realized his mistake.

“Don’t know about anybody’s lunch,” the guard said. “Weren’t you two around here before, while it was raining, in that blue-and-white speedboat?” He peered at the brothers closely. Then he shrugged. “No, I guess it was a couple
of older fellows. They waved to me when they were pushing off.”