The Sinister Signpost Read online

  His warning came just in time. As Alden and the boys got clear, there was an explosion. A large ball of orange flame rose above the burning car. It quickly transformed into a thick cloud of black smoke.

  Minutes later a pickup truck arrived on the scene, carrying a crew of Alden’s mechanics. Mr. Hardy was with them. The men scrambled out with fire extinguishers, and directed streams of chemical foam at the burning car. Soon the flames and smoke disappeared.

  “You gave us a bad scare,” Mr. Hardy said, turning to Frank and Alden. “We saw the smoke and came running. We thought you’d had an accident with the car.”

  “They almost did,” Joe said shakily. He told his father what had happened.

  When the car cooled sufficiently to be touched, the Hardys examined it. The heat had turned the vehicle into a charred mass of twisted metal.

  Frank, looking underneath, made a startling discovery. To the underside was attached the remains of an elaborate radio-controlled system. Wires ran from it to the throttle and steering mechanism.

  “So that’s how the car was operated with no driver!” Joe exclaimed. “But why did it go hay-wire all of a sudden?”

  Frank had an answer. “When Joe used the walkie-talkie to warn us, the signal must have interfered with the radio frequency used to guide the car.”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “Whoever operated the transmitter would have needed a clear view of the road, and at a point not too far away from this spot.”

  Frank looked toward a high hill, the top of which loomed above the treetops. “There’s a perfect spot,” he said, pointing to it.

  The boys lost no time in climbing to the summit to investigate. The area was covered with thick brush and grass.

  “These bushes would provide good cover for anyone watching the road,” Frank stated.

  “Look! Over here!” Joe cried out. “Some of the grass has been trampled flat. I’d say it was done recently by two or three men.”

  Frank examined the spot. “This is where the transmitter was set up,” he concluded. “From here you get a perfect view of the road.”

  A further search revealed no other clues. The boys rejoined their father and Alden. Mr. Hardy stated that he had given the mystery car a thorough going-over, but found nothing that would permit them to trace its owner.

  “The vehicle wasn’t carrying license plates, and the serial numbers on the engine and chassis had been removed,” he continued. “Also, the fact that it was burned to a crisp doesn’t help either.”

  Alden decided to carry on with the tests. When he had finished, the Hardys offered to drive him to his office.

  As they started off, Alden rested back in the seat. “After all the excitement we’ve been having lately, I need a little diversion,” he said. “I think I’ll spend Saturday giving my race horse a work-out.”

  “Race horse?” Joe queried.

  “Yes,” Alden answered. “I’m interested in racing of all kinds. I bought the horse several months ago. Great animal! I keep him in a rented stable near the plant.”

  “Our aunt would tell you off quick if she knew this,” Frank remarked laughingly. He then told Alden about Gertrude Hardy’s recent inheritance.

  “A stable for retired race horses? Sounds like a great idea,” Alden said. “I’ll keep it in mind. Perhaps someday I’ll send my horse down there.”

  “Not if Aunt Gertrude has anything to say about it,” Joe muttered with a grin. “Anyway, she will have sold her stable by that time.”

  Alden asked the Hardys if they would like to see his horse. The boys’ father had to decline because of a business appointment, but Frank and Joe eagerly accepted the invitation.

  “And would you mind if we bring our friend Chet?” Frank asked.

  “Please do,” Alden replied. “Drop by any time. I’ll be at the stable most of the day.”

  Chet was not able to go until the afternoon because of Saturday chores to do. The Hardys picked him up at the Morton farm.

  “A real race horse, eh?” Chet said with a grin. He pulled three apples from his pockets and offered one to each of his friends. “What I wouldn’t give to own one!”

  When they arrived at the stables, Alden was leading a beautiful, haltered thoroughbred around the paddock. His owner spotted the boys and led the animal toward them.

  “How do you like him?” he called out. “His name is Topnotch.”

  “Nice piece of horseflesh,” Chet commented, trying to act like a seasoned equestrian.

  The horse was completely chestnut in color, except for small white areas above its two front hoofs. The boys watched in admiration as Alden removed the halter and permitted Topnotch to trot freely around the paddock.

  As Joe glanced toward a row of stalls nearby, he noticed a sandy-haired young man pitching hay into one of them.

  “Mr. Alden, isn’t that your son Roger over there?” Joe asked.

  “Yes,” Alden replied in a determined voice. “I arranged to get him a job here so he could help pay for the race car he damaged. It’s about time he developed a sense of responsibility. I’d have given him something to do at the plant, but he can’t get along with the other workers.”

  Chet followed the Hardys to the stall.

  “Hello, Roger,” Frank said in a friendly voice.

  The young man looked surprised. Then his eyes narrowed as he glared at the boys.

  “Oh, it’s you guys again!” he snapped. “You keep popping up like bad dreams.”

  “So you’re still carrying a chip on your shoulder,” Joe retorted.

  “You bet I am,” Roger shot back angrily. “I’ve got to work in this lousy place to pay for that stock-race car I had an accident in. You Hardys were the cause of it all!”

  Frank kept his temper, but said, “Don’t tell us you’re sticking to that fairy tale of yours. You know we didn’t reflect sunlight into your eyes while you were driving.”

  “It’s my word against yours,” Roger snarled. “But what chance do I stand? Because you’re the Hardy boys you think you can get away with anything.”

  Joe’s face flushed with anger. However, he managed to exercise self-control. “It’s useless trying to talk sense into Roger,” he said. “We’d better go.”

  As they walked away, Chet remarked, “That fellow is about as friendly as an enraged cobra.”

  Roger, who overheard the comment, gave Chet a black look. He picked up a large mass of hay with his pitchfork and flung it on top of the chubby youth.

  Chet scrambled from underneath the pile. He quickly brushed strands of hay from his eyes, ears, and hair. Then, angry, he grabbed a feed bag nearby and pulled it over Roger’s head, down to his elbows. The imprisoned boy stumbled around the stall in a frenzy.

  “I’ll get you for this!” Roger yelled after his tormentor when he finally pulled the bag free.

  The Hardys and their chum strolled back to the paddock. Mr. Alden had been too preoccupied with Topnotch to notice what had happened.

  “Let’s not say anything to him about Roger,” Frank suggested.

  The boys spent the balance of the afternoon watching Alden exercise his horse, or taking turns riding the mount themselves.

  “He’s super,” Chet remarked. “Sure beats our farm horses.”

  At sundown the boys thanked the owner and left.

  Frank and Joe spent a relaxing Sunday at home and retired early. The family had been asleep only a short time when the telephone rang. Frank got up and rushed to answer it. His father had already picked up the extension by his bed.

  “This is Alden,” an excited voice was saying. “Sorry to disturb you. But something terrible has happened and I need your help. I’m at the stable. Topnotch has been stolen!”

  CHAPTER IX

  Demand for Ransom

  FRANK wakened his brother to tell him about Topnotch. The boys and their father dressed quickly, rushed to their car, and headed for the stable.

  “This sounds to me like some of Roger’s work,” Joe suggested.

  “Possibly,” Frank agreed. “He’s pretty mad at his father. Roger could have done it for spite. But stealing a horse is not easy. He’d need help.”

  “My advice is to wait until we get the facts before coming to any conclusions,” Mr. Hardy interjected. “I realize Roger would never win a popularity contest. Yet it’s hard to believe he’d be mean enough to do a thing like this.”

  They arrived at the stable to find Alden still greatly distraught over the theft of his horse.

  “The police were here to investigate,” he told the Hardys. “They left a few minutes ago.”

  “What did they come up with?” Joe asked.

  “Nothing,” Alden replied disappointedly. “The thieves were careful not to leave a shred of evidence behind. Even the foot- and hoofprints leading from Topnotch’s stall were swept away.”

  “But they must have used some kind of a vehicle to carry the horse off,” Frank said. “Did the police find any tire tracks in the area?”

  Alden nodded and asked the Hardys to follow him. After walking a short distance, he directed the beam of his flashlight toward the ground and pointed to a set of deep, parallel ruts pressed into the soft earth.

  “They must have been made by a truck or a horse van,” Joe said.

  Mr. Hardy stooped down and examined the ruts carefully. “Obviously the thieves covered the wheels with canvas or other heavy material,” he concluded. “There aren’t any tread marks. Too bad.”

  “Were there any witnesses to the crime?” Frank queried.

  “Only one of the grooms,” Alden answered. “But he can’t help us. He lives in a room above the stable. When he heard a strange noise in one of the stalls, he came down to investigate and was struck from behind. The police took him to the hospital.”
r />   “Has the groom been able to tell when the theft took place?” Mr. Hardy questioned.

  “Yes. He regained consciousness. The theft was about five hours ago. The groom had been tied and gagged. It took him over four hours to work himself free after he regained consciousness.”

  Joe let out a whistle. “Five hours!” he exclaimed. “The truck could be hundreds of miles away by now.”

  The Hardys did not want to upset Alden any further by asking him about Roger’s whereabouts that evening. Instead, they discussed the case from another angle.

  “We don’t know if this was an inside job or not,” Mr. Hardy remarked. “But we can be reasonably sure what the motive is. Ransom!”

  “In that case, the thieves will try to contact me,” Alden said. “If they do it by telephone, they’ll call my office, since I have an unlisted number at home.”

  “I suggest we go there right away and wait,” Frank put in. “The horsenappers may start early to call.”

  Alden accompanied the Hardys in their car. During the drive, Mr. Hardy outlined a basic plan.

  “If you should receive a call demanding ransom,” he advised the horse’s owner, “stall him off. Tell him you want proof that they actually have Topnotch. That’ll give us more time to hunt a lead.”

  Arriving at the plant, Alden led the way to his office. There he and his companions each selected a comfortable chair and settled down to wait.

  “Have you a private line here in addition to your regular company phone?” Mr. Hardy asked the executive.

  “Yes, I do,” Alden replied, pointing to one of two phones on his desk.

  “Good,” the elder detective said. “I’ll use it to have the call traced if the thieves should contact you.”

  The night dragged on slowly. The boys were restless and found it difficult to sleep. When morning finally came, Alden arranged to have breakfast served in his office.

  It was a little after nine when there was a short buzz on the company phone. Alden scooped it up, listened for a moment, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

  “It’s my secretary in the outer office,” he informed the Hardys. “She says a man wants to speak to me. He refuses to identify himself.”

  “This might be the call we’re waiting for!” Joe exclaimed softly.

  Mr. Hardy rushed to the private phone. “I’ll get to work on having the number traced,” he announced quickly. Seconds later, he signaled Alden to proceed.

  “Okay, put him on,” Alden ordered his secretary

  The boys fixed their eyes on the executive and waited anxiously.

  Alden suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair. “You want fifty thousand dollars’ ransom to return Topnotch?” he shouted into the phone. “You’re out of your mind! I’d want absolute proof before I handed out that kind of money!”

  A few seconds later the executive placed the phone down. “He hung up,” Alden announced.

  Mr. Hardy frowned. “Too bad. There wasn’t enough time to trace the call. Obviously we’re not dealing with amateurs.”

  “What did he say when you asked for proof that they had Topnotch?” Frank put in.

  “He said he’d think about it and let me know later,” Alden replied.

  Mr. Hardy stretched out his arms and yawned. “You boys must be as exhausted as we are,” he said. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ll stay here. You’ll hear from me immediately if anything comes up.”

  His sons readily agreed. But it was not rest that interested them. Their father’s suggestion offered an excellent opportunity for them to question Roger without Alden’s knowledge.

  “Let’s go back to the stable and see if he’s working today,” Frank said as they drove off in their convertible.

  When the Hardys arrived, Roger was busy painting a section of the fence that surrounded the paddock.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Frank called out.

  Roger quickly glanced at his visitors without interrupting his work. “It’s you guys again!” he snapped. “Haven’t you got a home? Get lost! I don’t have time to answer any of your stupid questions.”

  “Come off it!” Joe shot back angrily. “You must know your father’s horse was stolen last night. That’s what we want to ask you about.”

  There was a momentary pause. Roger nervously fingered his paintbrush and kept his face turned away from the Hardys. “Yes, I heard about it,” he muttered defiantly. “But you’ve come to the wrong guy for information. And even if I did know something about it, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Where were you last night?” Frank demanded.

  “Why don’t you try looking into a crystal ball to find out?” the young man retorted.

  “Cut the comedy!” Joe exclaimed. “This is serious. A theft has been committed, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be among the suspects.”

  “Okay! If you have to know, I was working on my dragster all evening,” Roger snapped.

  “Where?” Frank questioned.

  “At home!”

  “Can you prove it?” Joe asked. “I mean, was there anyone with you who can back up your statement?”

  “You want fifty thousand dollars’ ransom?” Alden shouted

  “No. I was alone,” Roger answered.

  “What about your father?” Frank put in. “Didn’t he see you?”

  “He was visiting friends till late. I was already in bed when he got home.”

  “For your sake,” Joe remarked, “I hope you’re telling the truth.”

  Roger suddenly hurled his paintbrush to the ground. His face was flushed with anger. “I’ve had enough of you two!” he rasped. “What I do is none of your business!”

  “We’re making it our business,” Joe told him.

  Frank wanted to avoid a scene. “Simmer down,” he said calmly. “We’ll have to take your word for what you told us. But if you should run across any information concerning the theft, I advise you not to keep it to yourself.”

  The Hardys walked back to the convertible and returned to Bayport. Their mother and aunt were disappointed to see that the boys’ father had not come with them.

  “I suppose he’s chasing after some horrible criminal!” Aunt Gertrude remarked. “Your father won’t remember where he lives if he keeps up this sort of thing.”

  “Now calm down, Gertrude,” Mrs. Hardy pleaded in a soft voice.

  Joe playfully sniffed the air. “Smells like roast turkey for supper.”

  “And coconut-custard pie for dessert,” announced Mrs. Hardy.

  “Let’s hope your sons can stay put long enough to eat it,” said Aunt Gertrude.

  The boys went to bed early that night. They spent the next day puttering around their crime lab and mulling over the case. It was midafternoon when their father telephoned with an urgent message.

  “Mr. Alden just received another call from the thieves,” said the detective. “He was told that the proof he had asked for would be found in a book entitled Famous Horses of the World, at the Clayton Library. Meet us there just as soon as you can.”

  The boys started out immediately. At the library they found their father and Alden seated at one of the reading tables examining a large book.

  Mr. Hardy handed his sons a photograph. “This was tucked in between the pages,” he whispered.

  The boys’ eyes widened with surprise. “It’s a picture of Topnotch,” Frank said.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” Joe asked.

  “No doubt about it,” Alden replied in a low voice.

  “And it’s a cul-de-sac when it comes to getting a line on who placed the photograph in the book,” Mr. Hardy said. “I questioned the librarian, but she has been too busy to take note of any strangers.”

  “May we keep the picture for a while?” Frank queried. “It might provide us with a clue.”

  “You’re welcome to it,” Alden replied. He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get back to the plant. The thieves will surely call me again.”

  Mr. Hardy explained that Alden had had one of his drivers bring them to the library. He turned to the executive. “Why don’t you send him back to the plant? You and I can go along with the boys in their car.”

  “Very well,” Alden agreed.

  As they drove, Mr. Hardy urged his client to stall for more time. “Tell those crooks that you can’t get the ransom money until Friday morning,” he said.

  “I’ll try.” Alden sighed. “But I don’t want to endanger Topnotch any more than I have to.”