The House on the Cliff Read online

  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!

  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 so!” 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.”

  “You are my hostages!” the smuggler sneered

  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!

  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 some-howl” he determined.

  But at the moment the possibility of this looked hopeless.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Coast Guard Action

  WHILE the Hardy boys had been investigating the smugglers’ hide-out and had been captured, together with their father, Tony and Chet were trying their best to accomplish the errand which Frank and Joe had given them.

  During the early part of their trip back to Bayport to contact the Coast Guard, the Napoli had cut through the darkness like a streak. Then suddenly Tony exclaimed, “Oh, oh! My starboard light just went out.”

  Chet turned to look at the portside. “This light’s all right. Must be the bulb in the other one.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” said Tony. “I’ll bet I haven’t another bulb.”

  “You mean, somebody might not see the Napoli and ram us?” Chet asked fearfully.

  “We’ll have to be careful,” Tony replied. “Chet, take the wheel, will you? I’ll see if I can find an extra bulb.”

  Chet changed places with Tony, throttled the motor, and gazed intently ahead. The moon had not yet risen and it was difficult to see very far ahead.

  “Find anything?” Chet called out, as Tony finished his round of the lockers and was now rummaging in the last one.

  “Not yet.” Tony pulled out a canvas bag, a pair of sneakers, and some fishing tackle. As he reached in for the last article in the locker, he gave a whoop of joy. “Here’s one bulb—just one—keep your fingers crossed, pal. If this isn’t any good, we’re in a mess.”

  “And breaking the law besides,” Chet added.

  He held his breath as Tony went forward and crawled inside the prow of the Napoli. With a flashlight, Tony found the protecting shield for the bulb and unfastened it. After removing the dead bulb, he screwed in the new one. As the light flashed on, Tony breathed a sigh of relief and started to crawl out of the prow.

  “Good work!” Chet said. “It’s lucky we—”

  Chet never finished the sentence. At this instant he saw another speedboat loom up in front of him. Like lightning he swung the wheel around, missing the oncoming craft by inches!

  “You fool!” the driver of the other boat shouted. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?”

  Chet did not reply. He was quivering. Besides, he had stalled the motor, which had been throttled so low it had not been able to
take the terrific swerving. “Oh, now I’ve done it!” the stout boy wailed.

  There was no response from Tony for several seconds. He had been thrown violently against the side of the boat and was dazed. But he quickly collected his wits and crawled down beside Chet.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Chet told him, then said, “You’d better take over. I’m a rotten pilot.”

  Tony took the seat behind the wheel, started the motor, and sped off toward Barmet Bay.

  “We’ve sure wasted a lot of time,” he remarked. “I wonder how Frank and Joe are making out.”

  “Hope they found Mr. Hardy,” Chet added.

  There was no more conversation until the boys turned into the bay. The Coast Guard station for the area was a short distance along the southern shore of the bay and Tony headed the Napoli directly for it. He pulled up at the dock, where two patrol boats and a cutter were tied.

  The two boys climbed out and hurried up to the white building. As they were about to enter it, Chet and Tony were amazed to find Biff Hooper and Phil Cohen coming out of it. Jerry Gilroy, another Bayport High friend, was with them.

  “Well, for Pete’s sake!” the three cried out, and Biff added, “Boy, are we glad to see you! Where are Frank and Joe?”

  “Still hunting for the smugglers,” Chet replied. “What brings you here?”

  Biff explained that an hour ago Mrs. Hardy had telephoned him to see if he had heard from Frank and Joe. She confessed to being exceedingly worried about her sons. Mrs. Hardy knew they had gone to look for their father and she was in a panic that they had been captured by the same men who were possibly holding her husband.

  “I told her I’d round up a couple of the fellows and go on a hunt,” Biff went on. “Jerry thought maybe Frank and Joe had come back to town and were somewhere around. We looked, but we couldn’t find them anywhere, so we borrowed Mr. Gilroy’s car and came out here to tell the Coast Guard. They’re going to send out boats. You’d better come in and talk to Chief Warrant Officer Robinson yourself.”

  The boys hurried inside. Quickly Chet and Tony told of the Hardys’ suspicion that they had found the entrance to the smugglers’ hide-out.

  “Can you send help out there right away?” Chet asked. “We’ll show you where the secret tunnel is.”

  “This is astounding,” said Chief Robinson. “I’ll order the Alice out. You can start within five minutes.”

  “I’ll phone Mrs. Hardy right away,” Jerry offered. “I’m afraid, though, that the news isn’t going to make her feel too good.”

  While Jerry was gone, Chet told the chief warrant officer that the Hardys thought they knew the names of two of the men who were involved in the smuggling racket. Chet revealed the Hardy suspicions about Snattman being one and Ali Singh the other.

  “We think Ali is a crewman on the Marco Polo that’s going to dock early tomorrow morning in Bayport,” Chet continued. “Frank and Joe got a tip that makes them think this is the deal: While the ship is offshore, Ali Singh pitches stolen drugs overboard and one of the smugglers picks the package up in a speedboat.”

  Robinson raised his eyebrows. “Those Hardy boys certainly take after their father,” he remarked. “They have the makings of good detectives.”

  Biff told the Coast Guard officer of the boys’ adventure at the haunted house on their first visit to the Pollitt place. “Frank and Joe are sure there is some connection between the house and the smugglers.”

  “And they are probably right,” the chief remarked. “I’ll call the State Police at once and tell them the latest developments in this case.”

  The boys waited while he made the report. Jerry, who had just finished telephoning Mrs. Hardy, said that she seemed even more worried than before but relieved that the Coast Guard was going to take a hand.

  The chief warrant officer then told the boys he would get in touch with the captain of the Marco Polo at once by ship-to-shore telephone. The connection was made and the boys listened with great interest to the conversation. The captain had a booming voice which they could hear plainly.

  “Yes, I have a sailor named Ali Singh,” he replied in answer to Chief Robinson’s question. “He’s a member of the kitchen crew.”

  After he had been told that Ali Singh was suspected of stealing drug shipments and dropping them overboard to a confederate, he said, “That would be pretty easy for him to do. Singh probably throws them out when he dumps garbage into the water, even though he’s not supposed to do it. The drugs could be in an inflated waterproof bag.”

  “Captain, will you have someone keep an eye on this Ali Singh without his knowing he’s being watched?” Chief Robinson requested. “I’ll send a patrol boat out from here to watch for any of his gang who may be in a small boat waiting to pick up something he dumps overboard. How far offshore are you?”

  “About sixteen miles from your headquarters,” was the answer.

  “Will you keep in touch with the patrol boat?” Robinson requested. “It’s the Henley, in charge of Chief Petty Officer Brown.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Ali Singh can be arrested when your ship docks.”

  As the conversation was concluded, a uniformed coastguardman came in. He was introduced as Chief Petty Officer Bertram in charge of the Alice, which would follow Tony and Chet to the smugglers’ hide-out.

  “I’m ready, sir,” he told his chief, after a short briefing. He turned to the boys. “All set?”

  Chet and Tony nodded. As they turned to follow Bertram, Biff, Phil, and Jerry looked glum.

  Noting the expressions on the three boys, Chief Robinson leaned across his desk and said, “I guess you fellows were hoping to be in on this too. How would you like to go on the Henley with Chief Petty Officer Brown and watch the fun?”

  The eyes of the three boys lighted up and Phil said, “You mean it?”

  “Do you want a formal invitation?” Chief Robinson asked with a laugh.

  He rang for Chief Petty Officer Brown, and after introducing the boys, he explained what the mission of the Henley was to be.

  “I understand, sir,” Brown replied. “We’ll leave at once.”

  The three boys followed him down to the dock and went aboard. They met the other Coast Guard men and the fast patrol boat set off. It seemed to the boys as if the sixteen miles were covered in an incredibly short time. The lights of the Marco Polo loomed up in the distance.

  “She’s moving very slowly, isn’t she?” Biff asked their skipper.

  “Yes, she’s making only about four knots.”

  “So it would be easy for a small boat to come alongside and take something from her?” Phil suggested.

  “Yes, it would.” Quickly the officer picked up a telescope and trained it on the large craft. “The galley hatches are on the left and the tide is coming in,” he reported. “Anything thrown overboard will float toward shore.”

  He ordered the wheelsman to go past the Marco Polo, come down the other side, and approach within three hundred yards, then turn off the engine and lights.

  When they reached the designated spot, Petty Officer Brown ordered everyone on board the Henley not to talk or to move around. The Marco Polo’s decks, as well as the water some distance from the craft, was illuminated by light from some of the stateroom portholes. Biff, Phil, and Jerry crowded close to the chief as he trained his powerful binoculars on the galley hatches, so he could give them a running account of anything that might happen. The officer reported little activity aboard the Marco Polo and the boys assumed that the passengers either were asleep or packing their luggage in anticipation of landing the next morning.

  Suddenly Petty Officer Brown saw one of the hatches open. A small man, with a swarthy complexion and rather longish coal-black hair, appeared in the circular opening. He looked out, then raised a large pail and dumped its contents into the water. Quickly he closed the hatch.

  “Ali Singh!” the three boys thought as Brown reported what he had seen.
r />   They watched excitedly to see what would happen now.

  Suddenly Biff grabbed Phil’s arm and pointed. Vaguely they could see a long pole with a scooping net fastened to the end of it appear from outside the circle of light and fish among the debris. Petty Officer Brown reported that apparently the person holding the pole had found what he wanted, for he scooped something up and the pole vanished from sight.

  The boys strained their ears for the sound of a small boat. It did not come and they were puzzled. They also wondered why Petty Officer Brown seemed to be doing nothing about trying to apprehend the person.

  The tense skipper suddenly handed the binoculars to Phil. Without a word the puzzled boy looked through them at the spot where Brown had been gazing. To his amazement he could make out the dim shape of a speedboat with two figures in it. Each held an oar and was rowing the small boat away from the Marco Polo as fast as possible.

  “We’ve got the smugglers dead to rights!” Petty Officer Brown whispered to the boys.

  “Aren’t you going to arrest them?” Phil asked.

  “Not yet,” the officer told him. “I’m afraid we can’t do it without some shooting. I don’t want to scare the passengers on the Marco Polo. We’ll wait a few minutes.”

  Suddenly the engine of the smugglers’ speedboat was started. Tersely, Brown began issuing orders to his men. The motors roared into action.

  The chase was on!

  CHAPTER XIX

  The Chase

  IN A few minutes the Henley’s brilliant searchlight was turned on. It picked up the speedboat which was racing toward shore at full power. But gradually the Coast Guard boat lessened the distance between them.

  Chief Petty Officer Brown picked up a megaphone and shouted for the fleeing men to stop. They paid no attention.

  “We’ll have to show them we mean business,” the officer told Biff, Phil, and Jerry. “We’ll shoot across their bow.”