Under Arrest
“What’s that?” demanded the storekeeper abruptly, in response to Frank
Hardy’s inadvertent exclamation.
“Nothing,” answered Frank. “I was surprised—that’s all. You see, there
was a robbery at the airport only a day or so ago.”
“Another one, eh? Well, they oughta watch that place more careful,
that’s all I can say. People won’t be sendin’ their letters by airplane
if they think they’re goin’ to be stolen all the time.”
“That’s a case for you fellows,” said Biff.
Neither Biff nor Chet were aware of the depth of the Hardy boy’s
interest in the airport robberies.
“Did the operator tell you anything more about that affair, Mr. Grice?”
asked Frank, after a pause.
“Nothin’ more than what I’ve told you. She just said there was a big
robbery and twenty thousand dollars’ worth of mail had been stolen last
night.”
Joe went to the telephone. After some delay he managed to get the Hardy
home in Bayport on the wire. His mother’s voice answered.
“Hello, Mother! This is Joe talking.”
Her voice had an unmistakable note of relief as she answered:
“Joe! Oh, I’m so glad to hear your voice again. Your father and I have
been greatly worried about you. Where are you? What happened? Why didn’t
you come home last night?”
“Don’t worry, Mother. We were caught in the storm and we couldn’t get
back. We’re quite safe. We’re at Mr. Grice’s place, down below Cabin
Island.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. When are you coming home?”
“We’re coming back to-day. Would you mind telephoning to Mrs. Morton and
Mrs. Hooper? Tell them that Chet and Biff are with us and that they’re
all right too.”
“I’ll do that, Joe. Just a minute. Your father wants to speak to you.”
Joe waited a moment. Then he heard his father’s voice.
“Hello, Son. You’ve given us a pretty bad scare.”
“We’re sorry, Dad, but we got caught in the storm.”
“Let me in on this, Joe,” begged Frank; and when Joe had put the
telephone in his brother’s hand the older Hardy boy continued: “Hello,
Dad! Worried you and mother, did we? Sorry. But we’re all right. Will
tell you about it when we get back.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re all right. Now listen. I want you and Joe to come
home at once.”
“Sure. We are just going to leave.”
“Come back to Bayport at once. Something has happened.”
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
“I’ll tell you when you reach here. But don’t lose any time.”
“Is it about the airport robbery?” asked Frank.
“How did you know there was a robbery at the airport?” demanded his
father in an anxious tone.
“We heard it this morning through Mr. Grice.”
“Well, it’s connected with the robbery, but it’s a little worse than
that. Come right home, mind now.”
“All right, Dad. We’ll leave right away.”
Frank hung up the receiver and turned to the others. He was puzzled.
“I guess we can’t hang around here this morning. Dad wants us back right
away. He seems awfully anxious.”
“Anything wrong at home?” asked Joe quickly. “Mother didn’t say so.”
“Everything’s all right there, I guess. But Dad has something on his
mind. He said he’d explain it when we got home.”
“Shucks!” grumbled Amos Grice. “And I counted on takin’ you lads out
fishin’ this morning.”
“I guess we’ll have to call it off, Mr. Grice. Some other time,
perhaps.”
Chet Morton sighed and ate another slice of bacon.
“I guess we’ll all catch it when we get home. Was your Dad sore, Frank?”
“No, he didn’t seem angry. I can’t imagine what’s wrong. Well, I guess
we’ll have to bail out the boat right after breakfast and start for
home.”
After they had eaten, Amos Grice helped them bail out the motorboat. It
had stood the storm well, in spite of the terrific battering it had
received. The old storekeeper was disappointed because his young guests
could not remain with him longer, and when they thanked him heartily for
his kindness he waved their gratitude aside.
“A pleasure,” he told them. “I’m always glad to see you. Any time you’re
down this way, be sure and drop in.”
“We’ll pick better weather next time, Mr. Grice,” laughed Chet.
“In fair weather or foul, you’re always welcome.”
They got into the boat and started off. The storekeeper stood on the
dock and waved to them as they departed. Then he turned and walked
slowly up toward his store.
Joe came up and sat beside Frank, who was at the wheel.
“What do you think has happened, Frank?”
“I can’t imagine. It has something to do with the robbery last night,
I’m sure.”
“But why should dad want us back right away?” Joe insisted.
Frank shrugged. “It beats me. Perhaps he has some work for us to do,
helping him trace the thieves.”
“Maybe that’s it. I sure hope so.”
Frank was silent for a while. Then he said:
“I wonder if Giles Ducroy and his friends will have an alibi this time.”
“It will have to be a mighty good one. Just think of it! Two mail thefts
in a row. Whoever did last night’s job must know the run of the airport
pretty well.”
“Whoever committed the first robbery knew the lay of the land too. If we
solve the first one we’ve solved them both.”
“We?” said Joe. “I don’t think _we’ll_ have much chance to solve it.
This is dad’s case. I’ll bet it won’t take him very long to clear it up,
either.”
But, with all their conjectures, the Hardy boys had no suspicion of the
real reason for their summons back to Bayport. Had they known what had
caused that note of urgency and anxiety in their father’s voice, they
would have been dumbfounded. A stunning surprise awaited them.
They passed Cabin Island and headed out of the cove into the open bay.
The water was still rough from yesterday’s storm, but there was little
wind. After a while the city came in sight far in the distance, shining
in the sunlight, beneath a pall of smoke from the factory chimneys.
It was a few minutes before twelve o’clock when the boys finally arrived
at Bayport and ran _The Sleuth_ into the boathouse. To their surprise
they saw that a man was lounging in the doorway. He was a big man, with
a fat, stolid face, and he was chewing at an unlighted cigar, his thumbs
in his vest pockets.
“Good mornin’, boys,” he rumbled.
They recognized him as Detective Smuff, of the Bayport police
department, a worthy if unintelligent officer. Frank could not imagine
why Smuff should be in the boathouse, apparently waiting for them, but
he grinned amiably at the detective.
“Hello, Mr. Smuff! It is an unexpected surprise to find you here.”
Smuff nodded portentously. “It is?” he asked.
“Last person in the world we ever thought would come down to welcome
us,” declared Chet. “I tell you, Mr. Smuff, we sure appreciate this. It
isn’t often we have a reception committee on the job when we come back
from a little outing.”
“Well,” said Smuff, “I’m on the job this time.” He turned to the Hardy
boys. “I’ve been sent down here to give you a message as soon as you got
in,” he informed them.
“A message!” exclaimed Joe. “Who from?”
“The chief. He wants to see you down at headquarters.”
The Hardy boys stared at the detective in amazement.
“The chief? Wants to see us?” ejaculated Frank.
“Yep.”
“What about?” demanded Joe.
Smuff looked very mysterious. “You’ll know all about it when you get
there,” he said.
“You’re going to be pinched for staying out all night,” laughed Chet.
“That’s a fine thing to do, Smuff—pinch our chums the minute we get
back to town. A fine reception committee you are!”
“I didn’t say anybody was pinched,” returned Smuff cautiously.
“Well,” said Frank, “this _is_ a surprise! Won’t you tell us what it’s
all about?”
Smuff shook his head. “My orders,” he explained, “was to come down here
and wait for you and to tell you to come up and see the chief right
away.”
“Why not let us wait until after lunch? We want to go home and eat and
change our clothes.”
“Orders is orders,” insisted Smuff firmly. “The chief wants to see you
right away.”
“All right,” sighed Joe. “I suppose we’ll have to go. But I wish I knew
what it was all about.”
“Me, too,” rejoined his brother.
Biff, who had been tying up the boat, came forward.
“He probably wants to fire Smuff, here, and give you jobs on the
detective force,” he suggested, with a grin.
Smuff glowered. “My job is good for a long time yet,” he observed
pompously.
“Come on,” said Frank. “There’s no use standing here arguing about it.
We’ll go with you, Smuff.”
“I have my car right here at the door,” said the detective.
“That’s service,” chirped Chet. “Biff and I will run along home. Our
parents will be worrying themselves sick if we don’t show up. So long,
fellows! If Smuff claps you into a cell, we’ll come and bail you out!”
Chet and Biff hastened off down the street while the Hardy boys
clambered into Smuff’s car. The detective wedged himself in behind the
wheel and they drove the few short blocks to police headquarters.
Here they were ushered into the private office of Chief Collig himself,
a fussy little man with a vast sense of dignity. The chief was sitting
at a huge desk, scanning a large number of photographs of criminals, but
he stacked these to one side as Detective Smuff brought the boys in.
“Good day, Chief,” said Frank easily. “Detective Smuff, here, said you
wanted to see us.”
“I did,” snapped Chief Collig.
“Well, here we are.”
“You’re wanted,” said Collig briefly.
“Wanted?” asked Frank. “What do you mean?”
“You’re wanted by the postal authorities. I have orders to place you
under arrest.”
The lads were so astonished that they could scarcely speak. Under
arrest? This was the last thing either had expected.
“What for?” gasped Joe. “What’s the idea?”
“You know about the airport robbery, don’t you?” demanded Chief Collig.
“Yes, we know about it. But——”
“Well, they say you did it. I have orders to arrest you both.”