The Mystery of Cabin Island Page 3

  His father explained that the attachment was a gun-type mounting to use in conjunction with the camera’s high-powered telescopic lens. “You should find it very useful for long-range shots,” he added. “A number of private investigators have purchased them.”

  “Thanks!” they chorused, and Frank added, “We’ll take it to Cabin Island.”

  From her sons Mrs. Hardy received a colorful skirt and blouse set, Mr. Hardy was the happy recipient of handmade doeskin slippers, and Aunt Gertrude beamed over a tan cardigan sweater presented by her nephews.

  As for Frank and Joe, they were amused to discover that each had given the other a handsome leather watchband. “I thought you’d like it, because it appealed to me,” Joe explained.

  “Same here,” Frank replied.

  “Time for you to open my presents,” said Aunt Gertrude as she handed each nephew a brightly wrapped package. “Now you won’t catch your death of cold on this foolish winter vacation!”

  Joe opened his box first and drew out a pair of full-length red ski underwear! “Well—uh—thanks!” he managed to blurt out.

  Frank’s gift was a duplicate. “Aunty, I can’t wait to wear this!” he said, grinning. He unbuttoned the bright crimson suit and pulled it on over his clothes. Joe did the same, and the boys clowned until even Aunt Gertrude was laughing hard.

  When Frank and Joe drove up to the Jefferson home later, the elderly man greeted them with “Merry Christmas, boys!” But there was an agitated ring in his voice.

  “Has anything happened, Mr. Jefferson?” Frank asked quickly.

  The reply was startling. “This morning I found a package on the doorstep. It’s a present from Johnny.” The old man held up the gift card bearing his grandson’s name. “This is Johnny’s printing.”

  The Hardys were astounded. “Is there any clue to where it came from?” Joe asked.

  “There’s no postmark, so the package wasn’t mailed,” Mr. Jefferson answered, “and none of my neighbors lives close enough to have seen the person who left it, but there is a clue in the gift itself.”

  From the hall table he took a round box and opened it.

  “A can of plum pudding!” exclaimed Joe.

  “My favorite dessert,” said Mr. Jefferson. “But this is the significant thing,” he added, pointing to a cluster of fir cones tied clumsily onto the can with red ribbon. “These are blue spruce cones and Cabin Island has many trees of that variety. More than ever, I feel sure my boy is—or was—there.”

  “Perhaps your housekeeper could tell us when and how the parcel was delivered,” Frank suggested.

  “No,” Mr. Jefferson replied. “Mrs. Morley is away on a week’s vacation.”

  Mr. Jefferson donned his coat and locked the house. Then the three got into the car and Frank started for home. On the way he tried to reassure the distraught man. “Perhaps the gift is a sign that Johnny plans to come home soon. He probably wanted to get back into your good graces before returning.”

  Mr. Jefferson frowned. “That boy won’t be back as long as he has the detective bug.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude welcomed their guest warmly, and he soon appeared to relax and enjoy the holiday atmosphere.

  By the time Frank and Joe drove their visitor home that evening, he was smiling. As Frank brought the convertible to a stop in front of the Jefferson house, Joe said, “Sir, I have a strong feeling that Johnny is in this area. Will you describe him in detail?”

  “I’ll do better than that. Come into the house and I’ll give you a recent snapshot.”

  The Hardy boys followed Mr. Jefferson up the walk. He unlocked the door, stepped into the hall, turned on the light, then cried out in alarm.

  Frank and Joe gasped. Furniture had been overturned and drawers hung open, their contents scrambled and strewn about the floor. The antique wall ornaments had been ruthlessly torn down.

  The three hurried into the living room. It, too, was completely disordered. The thick rug was littered with articles that had been in drawers or displayed on shelves. The rich red draperies hung at crazy angles, and one of the crystal chandeliers had been shattered.

  Mr. Jefferson’s face was white and his hands trembled. Frank suggested anxiously, “You’d better sit down, sir. Joe and I will see if the person who did this is still on the premises.”

  “No, I’ll be all right. I have some valuable antiques I must check on immediately. You boys look about.”

  The Hardys soon discovered that entry had been made by jimmying the rear door. They made a thorough tour of the house and circled the grounds. Although the moon shone brilliantly, the young sleuths could find no clue to the marauder.

  “There isn’t even a footprint.” Joe sighed as he and Frank entered the house again. “Whoever it was evidently went right around the sidewalk to the back!”

  Mr. Jefferson reported that nothing was missing, although many valuable objects had been broken. He handed Frank a snapshot of a tall, well-built boy. “Here is the picture of Johnny.”

  Frank placed the photograph in his wallet. “You had better report this damage to the police, Mr. Jefferson,” he advised.

  When the elderly man left the room to telephone, Joe murmured, “I know it sounds crazy, but—do you think Johnny is mixed up in this?”

  “No,” Frank replied promptly, “I can’t believe he’s that kind.”

  A short time later Lieutenant Daley of the Bayport Police Department arrived. He inspected the damage, took fingerprints, and then questioned the Hardys and Mr. Jefferson. The officer left, saying headquarters would notify them if any clues to the vandal turned up.

  The brothers went to bed as soon as they had told their father about the incident. “We’d better get to sleep pronto if we’re going to start early tomorrow,” Joe said.

  The boys’ alarm clock rang just as the sun was rising. Frank and Joe dressed, ate a quick breakfast and gathered their supplies, among which were the Christmas gifts they had received.

  Chet and Biff were waiting outside the Hardys’ boathouse when the brothers drove up. “Hey!” Joe exclaimed as he and Frank hopped out to meet them. “What’s all that?” He pointed to a pile of packages on the ground.

  “Our Christmas presents!” Biff replied.

  “I got super binoculars,” Chet crowed. “And look! A portable ultraviolet light for identifying rocks and minerals.”

  “How about this?” Biff broke in, holding up a large box. “Barbells! I have the weights, too. And-”

  “Fellows!” Frank interrupted. “We’ll never fit all this stuff onto the Sea Gull!”

  “I see you and Joe brought some of your Christmas loot,” Chet grumbled.

  “Only what’s really needed,” Frank insisted. “Snowshoes and a camera. Chet, your binoculars will be great! The rest will have to stay in Bayport.”

  Biff and Chet gave in grudgingly. “My father drove us here,” said Biff. “But you’ll have to drive us back to drop these things off.”

  “Sure. First let’s put the food in the Sea Gull,” Frank said. The boys did so, then Joe locked the boathouse. The four went off in the convertible and the extra items were returned to the Morton and Hooper homes.

  As Frank once more reached the bayfront parking area, a startled expression crossed his face. “Didn’t you lock up before we left?” he asked Joe.

  “Sure I did!” Joe gulped. All four boys stared in disbelief at the area between the parked cars and the Hardys’ boathouse.

  Their supplies which had been stowed in the Sea Gull were scattered in all directions over the ground!

  CHAPTER V

  Two Suspects

  STUNNED, the boys could only stare at one another. Frank turned to Joe and declared, “This reminds me of the damage at Mr. Jefferson’s place last night!”

  “It’s too similar to be just coincidence,” Joe agreed. “And yet, I can’t think of any logical connection between the two break-ins. Who’s our suspect, in either case?”

  “What are y
ou two talking about?” Chet asked impatiently.

  Joe quickly told of the incident at Mr. Jefferson’s house.

  “Good night! That sounds a lot worse than this mess,” said Chet. “Who’d do such a thing?”

  “Search me.” Joe frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe someone who wants revenge on Mr. Jefferson ransacked his house—then found out Frank and I are going to work on his mystery, so the same creep did this to spite us.”

  “But who?” Chet persisted uneasily.

  “What about the wise guy we met on Cabin Island?” Biff put in. “The one who tried to get tough.”

  Joe shrugged and threw a glance at his brother. “Any hunches, Frank?”

  Frank nodded. “I’ve been wondering about that big fellow myself. We found out his name, by the way—it’s Hanleigh. He’s been trying to buy the island from Mr. Jefferson.”

  Suddenly Joe gave a start. “Say! We ought to check the boathouse! Maybe—” He stopped in midsentence and sprinted off. The others followed, catching up to Joe as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  A chorus of groans came from the boys as they looked from the broken single window to the iceboat. The sail lay unfurled on the floor and had been slashed. It was completely useless!

  “I’d like to get my hands on the skunk who did this!” Biff stormed angrily.

  Joe was furious. “Some nerve—smashing his way in!”

  Just then a voice spoke from the doorway. “Hi, fellows! What’s going on?”

  The four turned to see their friend Tony Prito. Tony, a slender, dark-haired youth of Italian descent, stared at the damage with astonishment in his black eyes.

  “Hi, Tony,” Joe said dejectedly. “We were gone for a short time and just got back to find this mess!”

  Tony shook his head. “Tough break! I heard about your trip and came down to see you off.”

  “Any chance you could join us?” Frank asked. “We’d be glad to sail back for you.”

  “No, but thanks,” Tony replied. “I promised Dad I’d help him out during Christmas vacation and drive one of the trucks.” Mr. Prito was a busy building contractor in Bayport.

  Despite the unpleasant situation, Chet could not resist a joke. “What’s going on in construction this time of year? You building an igloo?”

  The others chuckled, and Tony said, “When I pulled up in Dad’s truck, I noticed Ike Nash and Tad Carson running down the road from here.”

  “Ike and Tad again!” Joe exclaimed.

  The Hardys’ minds filled with questions. Were Ike and Tad the malicious visitors? Did they seek revenge for the damage to the Hawk by disabling the Hardys’ iceboat? Or was there a more sinister motive?

  “They’re not going to stop us,” Joe said deter minedly. “Come on! We’ll just have to stow all our gear onto the Gull again.”

  “And we need to make repairs,” Frank added. “Chet and Biff, will you take our car and pick up the spare sail in our garage? In the meantime, Joe and I will repack.”

  “Right,” Chet agreed, taking the ignition key which Frank handed him.

  “On the way,” Joe put in, “why not buy us four police whistles? We may need them for signaling on the island.”

  “And we’d better replace that windowpane,” Frank said.

  “Don’t worry about the glass,” Tony said. “I have some spare in the truck. I’ll fix the window.”

  Frank and Joe resumed packing the Sea Gull, while Tony worked on the boathouse window.

  As Frank arranged the supplies, he noticed that the seat belts had been cut.

  “That’s tough,” said Joe. “We have no spares.”

  The boys worked in silence for a while. Then Frank said, “Joe, this case troubles me. I can’t help wondering if there may be something more behind Johnny Jefferson’s disappearance than his grandfather suspects.”

  Joe glanced at his brother keenly. “What do you mean? Do you have a theory?”

  “No, not yet. But if Johnny is on Cabin Island —or has been there—his disappearance may be tied in somehow with Hanleigh’s desire to buy the place.”

  “Could be,” Joe conceded. “Personally, I’d like to get a line on Ike and Tad. I have a feeling those guys are up to something besides getting even with us—but don’t ask me what.”

  When the Hardys had finished stowing everything aboard the Sea Gull, Tony was picking out the last bits of jagged glass from the window frame. Joe helped him install the new pane, and the Hardys reimbursed their friend for the glass.

  “I’d better go now,” Tony said. “I’m due to meet Dad on a job. Have a swell time!”

  “You bet. Thanks for pitching in,” said Frank. Presently he turned to Joe. “I have a hunch that we’ll find a lot of answers to the mystery at Cabin Island.”

  “Yes, if we ever get there!” Joe grumbled impatiently. “One more delay and this’ll be a spring vacation!”

  Frank grinned. “I think we’re in business. Here come Chet and Biff with the spare sail!”

  The boys put on creepers and took the Sea Gull outside, where they began replacing the torn sail. They worked dexterously, though their hands grew red and numb from the cold.

  “This is a rough job,” Biff said grimly.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad,” Frank replied, “but some of the rigging’s been slashed, too.” Joe brought a coil of rope from the boathouse and helped his brother repair the damage. Then they reinforced the ruined seat belts with rope.

  “Not only did those troublemakers delay us, they’ve made me wait overtime for my lunch!” Chet complained. “Hey! Was any of the food stolen?”

  Frank laughed. “As far as we can tell, Chet, every morsel is intact! Evidently Ike and Tad aren’t thieves or gluttons.”

  “That’s the best you can say for them,” Biff said scornfully.

  “Well, we’re set for some hard-water sailing!” Joe announced.

  The Hardys replaced their tools in a kit. They made sure that the convertible and the boathouse doors were locked. Then the four put on goggles and helmets. Frank took his place at the tiller while Chet and Biff climbed aboard. Joe shoved the Sea Gull before him with short, running steps until the sail caught the wind.

  “Wow! Some load!” he gasped, jumping in beside Frank.

  “Full speed ahead for Cabin Island!” Chet cried out. “I’m starving!”

  The Sea Gull swooped downwind near the shore of Barmet Bay. It was a clear, sharp day, and the sparkling sun made the ice gleam like glass.

  As the boat passed through the narrow inlet and glided toward Cabin Island, Chet chortled. “I’d like to see Hanleigh try to throw us out this time! We have the key!”

  “Anyone who causes trouble—let me at him!” Biff sang out gaily.

  But Frank looked grave. He pointed to the pine tree where they had parked the Sea Gull on their first visit.

  An iceboat was outlined against the dark evergreens. “The Hawk!”

  “It’s been repaired,” Frank observed.

  “And ready for more trouble!” Joe groaned.

  CHAPTER VI

  Troublesome Trio

  FRANK eased the tiller over and made a deft 90-degree turn to port. As the Sea Gull passed the Hawk, the boys noted that there was no one in the vicinity.

  “Maybe Ike and Tad are hiding,” Chet suggested.

  “Could be,” said Frank. “I’ll circle the island and find a more secluded place to tie up.”

  Joe nodded. “Then we can try to find out what’s going on without being seen.”

  Chet and Biff were disgruntled. “What are that grubby pair doing on Cabin Island, anyway?” Biff asked.

  Frank frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe Ike and Tad have some connection with Hanleigh.”

  Joe nodded. “Perhaps they taxi him to the island whenever he wants to come.”

  “That’s right,” Biff agreed. “Last time we were here we wondered how Hanleigh made it without a boat.”

  “Yes, and he might’ve been behind their trick on us at the
boathouse,” Joe said. “I can’t figure out, though, how they knew we were heading for Cabin Island today.”

  Biff grinned. “One more puzzle for us to work on. I have a feeling that the mystery is getting hotter by the minute!”

  Presently Frank slowed the Sea Gull toward a spot on the island’s shore where a thick growth of pines and evergreen bushes would conceal the iceboat. Then he braked and Joe slackened the sail.

  The boys got out and trudged up a slope toward the rear of the cabin. Their footsteps crunched crisply in the snow, but the four Bayporters were careful to keep their voices down.

  Suddenly Joe stopped and pointed toward a clearing on the right. “Look! Footprints!”

  A line of tracks could be seen all the way to the cabin. Whoever had made them had evidently come up through the clearing from some point along the shore below. Trees farther down the slope, however, blocked the boys’ view.

  “Maybe Ike or Tad,” Chet suggested.

  “Or Hanleigh himself,” Joe said quietly. “Whoever he is, he must have come here on the Hawk.”

  “Probably,” Frank agreed. “Let’s make sure, though, before we tackle him. We can backtrack on the prints and find out if anyone came with him.”

  “Good idea,” said Joe.

  With Frank leading, the companions followed the footprints downward to a small, windowless boathouse about a hundred yards from the Sea Gull.

  Nearing the building, Frank motioned for silence. Voices could be heard from inside.

  The four boys crept closer and soon every word sounded clearly. The speakers were Tad Carson and Ike Nash!

  “Hanleigh is sure paying us a lot,” Ike was saying. “I’d like to find out what for.”

  “Who cares, as long as we get our money?” Tad responded lazily.

  “Look—figure it out. All we’re doing is giving him a boat ride now and then.”

  “So maybe Hanleigh likes our company.”

  Ike was evidently becoming impatient with his partner’s indifference. “If he likes us so much, why does he make us freeze in this boathouse while he’s inside the cabin? I’d like to sneak up there and see what cooks.”

  “You worry too much, pal,” Tad drawled. “We bring him here, we get our money. It’s simple.”