THE STOLEN WITNESS
Swiftly, the Hardy boys rushed over to Mr. and Mrs. Kane and began to
release them. The farmer and his wife had been trussed up by strong
ropes and they had been so well gagged that they had been unable to
utter a sound. It was only a matter of a few minutes, however, before
their bonds were loosened and the gags removed.
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Kane, with a sigh of relief, as the
gag was taken away. Her husband, spluttering with rage, rose from his
chair and hurled the ropes to one side.
“What happened?” asked the boys, in amazement.
For a moment Mr. and Mrs. Kane were unable to give a coherent account
of their experience, owing to the strain they had undergone, but at
last the farmer stumbled over to the window and pointed down the shore
road.
“They went that way!” he roared. “That way! Follow them!”
“Who?”
“The rascals that tied us up. They took Jones away with them.”
“Kidnapped him?”
“Yes—kidnapped him! There were four of them. They broke in here and
tied up my wife and me. Then they went upstairs and carried Jones away
with them. They dumped him into an automobile and made a getaway.”
“Four men!”
“Four of the ugliest looking scoundrels you ever laid eyes on.”
“How long ago?” asked Frank quickly.
“They didn’t leave ten minutes ago. If you had been here just a few
minutes earlier you would have met the whole crowd of them.” The farmer
was angry and excited. “But there’s time yet. You can catch ’em. They
went down the shore road.”
“Come on, Joe!” shouted Frank. “Let’s chase them. They’ve kidnapped
Jones.”
Joe needed no urging. The Hardy boys left the farmer and his wife
rubbing their chafed wrists and ankles and hastened out of the house
over to their motorcycles. Within a few seconds the staccato roar of
the powerful machines broke out on the still air, and then they went
rocking and swaying down the lane out on to the shore road.
“Some high-handed proceeding, I’ll say,” yelled Frank, to make himself
heard above the roaring of the motorcycles.
“Those rascals ought to be in prison,” returned his brother.
The boys followed in the direction the farmer had indicated. Frank then
recollected that just before they had turned in toward the Kane farm
he had seen a cloud of dust down the main road, evidently caused by a
speeding automobile, but he had thought nothing of it at the time, for
traffic along the shore highway occasioned no comment, especially on
Sunday.
“If we had only been a little earlier!” he groaned.
“We’ll catch up to them. They haven’t much of a start. Maybe we can
follow them to some town and have the whole gang arrested.”
The motorcycles roared along at top speed. Both the Hardy boys were
skilful drivers, and for a while Frank was able to follow the course
of the car they were pursuing by watching the fresh tread mark in the
dust. But when the road came to the place where it intersected with
the road leading up to the Morton farm the tread mark became lost, as
evidently another car had turned out of the side road in the meantime
and obliterated the fresh tread here and there.
They passed the lane that led into the Polucca place and continued on
down the shore road until they came to a hilltop that commanded a view
of a wide stretch of country. Here they could see the road winding and
dipping for a distance of more than a mile, until it was lost to sight
in a grove of trees. But there was no sign of the automobile they were
seeking.
“They’ve given us the slip, I guess,” said Frank, as he brought his
motorcycle to a stop.
“They had a good start and they weren’t letting the grass grow under
their feet, either. Think we should keep on?”
“There’s not much use. We’d better go back to the farmhouse and hear
what Mr. and Mrs. Kane have to say about this.”
They turned their motorcycles about and headed back toward the farm. On
the way they discussed the mysterious kidnapping.
“Evidently those men in the other motorboat saw us rescue Jones, or
else they heard that he had been taken to the farmhouse,” remarked Joe.
“They must be desperate characters.”
“I wonder what will happen to poor Jones now,” said Frank gravely.
“They tried to kill him in the first place. This time—”
“Do you think they’ll murder him?”
“It looks like that. They didn’t show him any mercy out in the bay.
They left him for dead that time. Now they’ll make sure of it.”
Joe shuddered. “If they were going to kill him they’d hardly go to
all that bother of kidnapping him,” he pointed out. “Perhaps they just
want to keep him out of the way. Perhaps they were afraid he would tell
about their chasing him and setting fire to his motorboat.”
“They were mighty anxious to get their hands on him, when they would
come to the house in broad daylight and tie up Mr. and Mrs. Kane. Gee,
it’s lucky we came along when we did! They might have been left there
for hours without being able to get loose.”
When they got back to the farmhouse they found that the farmer and his
wife had somewhat recovered from their harrowing experience, although
they were still unnerved. Mrs. Kane, ever the true housewife, was
already beginning to tidy up the kitchen and living room, for the
intruders had upset everything in the struggle.
“We lost them,” said Frank.
Kane nodded.
“I didn’t think you’d catch them,” he said. “They left here in too much
of a hurry. But I hoped you would. They had a big, high-powered car and
they didn’t waste any time getting away.”
“There were four of them, you said?”
“Four. Ugly villains.”
“What did they look like?”
“I didn’t get much of a chance to see. It all happened too quick. One
of them came to the door—he was a tall chap with a thin face—and
asked if I was looking after a man who was almost drowned yesterday.
I said that I was, so he told me he had come to take him away, that
he was a brother of the fellow. I got kind of suspicious, and asked
him his name. But in the meantime I had stepped outside the door, and
before I knew it, some one jumped at me from behind. I put up a fight
as best as I could, but the others came at me from around the corner of
the house where they had been hidin’ and before I knew it I was tied
up. Then they tied up my wife and left us in the livin’ room while they
went upstairs.”
“Did Jones put up a fight when they took him away?”
“He tried to. He hollered for help, but of course I couldn’t do nothin’
and he was too weak to fight much himself. They carried him downstairs
and put him in the automobile. Then they drove away.”
“There must be more to this affair than we imagine,” reflected Frank.
“It’s getting serious when they break into a private home like this.”
“You bet it’s gettin’ serious!” exclaimed the farmer. “It’ll be mighty
serious for them if they try it again.” He motioned to the table where
a shotgun was lying. “I’ve got that gun loaded and waitin’ for the
next gang that tries anything like that. I only wish I’d had it ready
this morning.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any cause to use it,” Frank said
reassuringly. “It was Jones they were after. They won’t bother you
again.”
“They’d better not.”
“I think the best thing we can do, Joe, is to go right back to Bayport
and let dad know about this.”
“Good idea. We can’t do anything by staying here.”
“You boys said yesterday that your name was Hardy, eh?” said the
farmer. “Ain’t any relation to Fenton Hardy, are you?”
“He’s our father.”
“The detective?”
The Hardy boys nodded assent.
“Good!” exclaimed Kane. “You go right back and tell him about this. If
any one can get to the bottom of this affair it’s him. I hate to see
them rascals getting away scot-free.”
Frank and Joe bade good-bye to the farmer and his wife and returned
to their motorcycles. They promised to call again at the Kane farm
as soon as they had any further information, and Mr. Kane, in turn,
gave his promise to notify them if there were any further trace of the
kidnappers or of the mysterious Jones.
When they returned to Bayport the boys lost no time in reaching home.
Fenton Hardy was enjoying one of his rare afternoons of leisure in
reading, but he put his book aside when the boys rushed into the
library.
“Did Mr. Jones talk?” he asked quickly, seeing by their expressions
that something unusual had happened.
“We didn’t have a chance to see him!” exclaimed Joe.
“What’s the matter? Did he clear out?”
“He was kidnapped!”
“Kidnapped!”
“Four men broke into the farmhouse and took him away,” said Frank
hurriedly.
Then he proceeded to tell the story of the strange events of the
morning at the Kane farm, prompted occasionally by Joe.
Mr. Hardy was deeply interested.
“There’s only one theory I can think of,” he said, at last. “This
Jones, or whatever his name is, must have belonged to a gang and either
squealed on them or threatened to do so. They tried to get rid of him
and he escaped in the motorboat, but they thought they had finished him
in the explosion. Then they found out that you had rescued him, so they
went to the farmhouse and took him away before he had a chance to talk.”
“Do you think they are smugglers?”
“Probably. While you were away this morning I called up one of the
government authorities in the city, and he told me that they believe
smugglers are operating in Barmet Bay on a big scale.”
“Did you tell him about Snackley?”
Mr. Hardy smiled. “Not yet. That information, I thought I would keep
to myself for the time being. But I wonder if Snackley can be here. It
begins to look like it. He is the kind who wouldn’t stop at anything
from kidnapping to murder.”
“Do the authorities suspect him of being around here?”
“I imagine so. The man I was talking to mentioned the fact that the
smugglers they are after are in the drug line. And Snackley is king of
the dope smugglers on the Atlantic coast.”
“Gee! I wish we could land him.”
“Of course,” said Fenton Hardy, “no one has asked us to work on this
case, and I don’t believe in working for nothing—”
“You mean you won’t help?” asked Joe, in disappointment.
Fenton Hardy’s eyes twinkled as he went on.
“I don’t believe in working for nothing,” he repeated. “But if we ever
caught this man Snackley it would be worth our while.”
“Why?”
“The reward.”
“Is there a reward offered for him?”
“There has been a standing reward of five thousand dollars offered for
Snackley’s capture for some time. And if he is operating in Barmet Bay,
as I suspect, it’s just possible that we might be able to collect that
reward.”
“Good!” exclaimed Frank. “Let’s go after it!”