A PLAN OF ACTION
The quick work of the Hardy boys and Tony Prito in capturing Paul Blum
won them many compliments within the next few days. Even Chief Collig
grudgingly admitted that it had been a smart capture. In this he was
perhaps largely prompted by a feeling that had Paul Blum made good his
escape he, as chief, would have come in for considerable criticism from
the townspeople.
As it was, the laxity at the city jail was forgotten in the excitement
surrounding the fugitive's return, and Chief Collig was correspondingly
relieved. Had Paul Blum not been recaptured, the police force would
have had to bear the brunt of public displeasure for having allowed the
man to slip through their fingers.
The connection of the Hardy boys with the affair caused many people
to recall their previous activities in the Tower Mansion case and the
affair of the house on the cliff.
"Those lads will be smart detectives yet," more than one person was
heard to remark.
Nothing could have pleased the boys more than recognition of the fact
that they showed some ability in the profession of their famous father,
and, in the light of their recent successes, even Mrs. Hardy was
beginning to abandon her prejudices against their desire to be some day
more than amateur detectives.
But although Paul Blum was safe in jail, counterfeit money was still
being circulated in Bayport and Barmet village.
Hardly a day passed that some one did not report to the police
or to the banks that they had been the unwitting victims of the
counterfeiters by cashing or accepting spurious bills. In one instance
it was a garage owner who had changed a twenty dollar bill for a
passing motorist who bought gasoline and oil. In another instance even
the steamship ticket office had accepted a false five dollar bill for
a ticket and the mistake had not been discovered until the following
day. When the ticket, which was bought at a cost of eighty cents, was
traced by its number it was found that it had never been presented on
the steamboat.
So many instances came to light that the entire city was on guard
against the counterfeiters, but so excellent were the imitation bills
and so plausible were the excuses of those who sought to pass them on
that many people were victimized in spite of their caution.
In some cases, merchants were handed counterfeit bills by respectable
citizens of Bayport, people who were above reproach, and when the
fact was pointed out, the would-be customers explained that they had
received the money in good faith from equally reputable citizens.
Often the original source of the bad money could not be traced, the
counterfeit bills had passed through so many different hands without
being discovered.
The boys talked the matter over several times with their father, and
one day Fenton Hardy took them into his confidence.
"Don't tell anybody," he said, "but the Federal agents have come across
some evidence which makes them think the counterfeiting plant is
located somewhere near Barmet village."
"Have they got any definite idea, dad?" asked Joe eagerly.
"They think it is up in the woods--maybe at some farmhouse. You know
the country over on the other side of the bay is pretty wild. There
would be plenty of hiding places there for counterfeiters."
Mr. Hardy spoke of several places that were being watched, but he
admitted that so far the Federal agents had unearthed little of
practical value.
"They know that most of the bad money is circulated in this vicinity
and in and around Boston," he concluded. "It's just possible the plant
may be in the Hub." There the talk came to an end and the boys walked
away as they knew their father was getting ready for a hurried trip to
the city.
"It's a good chance for us to do some real detective work," said
Frank to his brother one afternoon after school, as they were in the
gymnasium in the barn back of the Hardy home. "The whole city is worked
up over this counterfeit money business."
"Smarter detectives than we are are working on the case," Joe pointed
out, "but they haven't found much yet."
"Paul Blum won't talk. If we could get something out of him we might
have a clue to go on."
"He won't say a word. It's my opinion he doesn't know much about the
source of the counterfeit money, anyway. I think he was only an agent
sent out to dispose of as much of it as he could. They probably have
a dozen men traveling around the country passing off these bad bills.
Once the money gets into circulation it's liable to pass through a
dozen hands before it is discovered."
"Perhaps that man who stung the garage owner for twenty dollars had no
idea the money was bad. And perhaps it's the same way with the fellow
who bought the ticket at the steamboat office."
"It's queer that most of the fuss is being raised right around this
city. You don't hear much about it from other places."
"It's my idea," said Frank, "that the counterfeiters have their plant
right in this vicinity."
"Do you think so?"
"Just as you said--most of the counterfeit money seems to be passed in
and around Bayport."
"Where do you think they could be making the stuff?"
Frank shrugged.
"You never can tell. Perhaps in some cellar of one of the downtown
buildings, for all we know. Personally, I've got an idea. It may be
foolish, but I've been turning it over in my head for a few days, and
the more I think of it, the more reasonable it seems."
"Spring it."
"You remember the day we were at the old mill?"
"I'll say I do! Those fellows wouldn't let me dry my clothes in the
mill after I'd fished that precious kid out of the water."
"But one of them offered us a reward, didn't he?"
"Oh, well--you can't take a reward for that."
"That isn't what I'm getting at. Do you remember how the other man
grabbed the bills out of his hand and turned his back to us?"
"Sure! He said he wanted to see if they were fives or ones. But it
_was_ rather funny that he turned his back to us. I thought so at
the time. Still, he offered the money to us again."
"But was it the same money?"
Joe was silent. The idea had not occurred to him before.
"Do you mean," he said at last, "that perhaps the fellow changed the
bills while he had his back turned?"
"Exactly."
"But why should he do that?"
"Don't you see? Perhaps the first bills were counterfeit. Perhaps the
man thought that if we took the counterfeit bills and later found
out that they weren't good, we would remember where they came from
and start an investigation. This is only a theory, remember; but
perhaps the reason he took the bills from the man they called Dock
was to change them for good bills, so that we would have no cause for
suspicion."
Joe nodded reflectively.
"By gosh, Frank, there may be something to your idea, after all. Say!
Perhaps that's where the counterfeiting plant is. Right in the old
mill!"
"That's just what I've been driving at. There's something fishy about
the old mill, for all their story that they're making a patent kind of
breakfast food. That may be true, of course, but still--"
"They didn't look very much like scientists to me."
"To me, either."
"But how can we find out anything more about the place than we know
already? They won't let any one inside the mill, and it's quite evident
that they don't want any one around the place at all."
"What made me suspicious," said Frank, "was the fact that Paul Blum
seemed to be heading for the mouth of Willow River that afternoon he
got away in the motorboat. I began to wonder later if he might have
been intending to make his way up as far as the old mill. Perhaps he is
connected with the gang."
"It looks reasonable. But if we show our noses around there they'll
just chase us away."
"There's Lester."
"Lester?"
"The boy we saved from drowning. We have him on our side anyway, I
think. If we haven't, he must be a very ungrateful beggar. I'd just
like to ask him a few questions about this patent breakfast food yarn."
"That's a good idea!" cried Joe. "If he tells us any kind of story at
all we can soon tell if he's lying or not. But, somehow, I don't think
he would lie to us. He seemed to me to be a pretty decent sort of boy."
"That's what I thought of him too. Chances are, if these men are
counterfeiters, they're keeping him there as a prisoner. He might be
only too glad to tell what he knows, if given a chance."
"And if it turns out that those men really are scientists and that the
mill is really being used for this breakfast food stunt, we won't be
making ourselves foolish by poking around and perhaps getting into all
sorts of trouble for suspecting they were counterfeiters."
Frank nodded.
"That was my idea in suggesting Lester. We have to work pretty
carefully, for it wouldn't do to start a hue-and-cry and find out that
those fellows really are scientists after all. But what do you say to
taking the motorcycles to-morrow morning and going up to the old mill
to see if we can get to talking to the boy?"
"I'm game. To-morrow's Saturday. Even if the men at the mill do see
us they'll think we're just out on a holiday outing. There's no law
against going near the old mill, even if they don't want strangers
around."
So the arrangement was made, and the Hardy boys laid their plans for
a visit to the old mill on the following day. Each felt that there
was something suspicious about the place, some mystery that was not
entirely nor satisfactorily solved by the breakfast food explanation.
If they could only talk to Lester, who was already under obligation to
them for having saved his life, they felt that they would go a long way
toward verifying or dispelling their suspicions regarding the three men
who were the present occupants of the mill.