On the Trail of Ollie Jacobs
Thanks to the generosity of Elroy Jefferson and Hurd Applegate, the
Hardy boys were quickly released on bail. The two old stamp collectors
scoffed when the lads sought to thank them.
“We’re not giving away fifty thousand dollars,” declared Hurd Applegate.
“We know you won’t run away. And we know that when your case comes to
trial you’ll be able to prove your innocence. So why should we let you
stay in jail when you don’t deserve it?”
“Especially after what you did for us in the past,” said Mr. Jefferson.
“We’re glad we can return the favor.”
That night, at home, the boys discussed the case with their father.
Owing to the arrest of his sons, Fenton Hardy had been told by the
authorities that his services in the airport mystery would no longer be
required. This was a bitter blow, although he realized that the
officials were justified in their action. But he resolved to continue
the investigation on his own account.
“I’ll do all I can to clear you,” he promised. “And you must do all you
can to clear yourselves. As it stands, they haven’t a very strong case
against you, but it’s strong enough to be unpleasant. Our big chance
lies in capturing the real robbers.”
“I’m sure that evidence was planted by Giles Ducroy,” declared Frank.
“Just wait until I get my hands on that skunk!” added Joe.
“I’m afraid you won’t lay your hands on him very easily,” said their
father. “I wanted to have a few words with him myself, but he seems to
have disappeared.”
“Disappeared!” exclaimed Frank, in surprise.
Mr. Hardy nodded assent. “He hasn’t been seen around Bayport for several
days.”
“How about Newt Pipps and Ollie Jacobs?” asked Frank. “Are they still in
town?”
Fenton Hardy seemed somewhat surprised at mention of these two names.
“Is that who Ducroy has been hanging around with?” he asked. “A bad
gang! No, now that you mention it, Pipps and Jacobs have cleared out
too. They haven’t been seen in Bayport for more than a week.”
“That looks bad,” said Joe. “If they weren’t up to something queer they
wouldn’t have cleared out.”
“I’ll tell you where you may be able to find that pair,” said Mr. Hardy.
“Do you know the Raven Roadhouse out on the Claymore Road?”
“I’ve heard of the place,” admitted Frank. “It’s supposed to be a mighty
tough hangout, isn’t it?”
“Bad enough. Well, I’ve been checking up on Ollie Jacobs and Newt Pipps
and I’ve learned that they make that place their headquarters. If you
make inquiries there you may be able to find something about them.”
“We’ll make the inquiries, all right!” declared Frank. “I’m sure they
know something about this business. What do you say, Joe? Let’s go out
there right now and see what we can learn.”
“I’m with you.”
“Better be careful,” advised Fenton Hardy. “This roadhouse is a tough
place and Jacobs and Pipps will likely have some friends there, so don’t
give yourselves away.”
“We’ll watch our step,” promised Frank. “Don’t worry. We’ve got to clear
up those mail robberies to clear ourselves, and I think the quickest way
to go about it is to follow up the Ducroy gang. If they’re not mixed up
in it from the start I’m a mighty bad guesser.”
The Hardy boys lost no time preparing for their journey out to the Raven
Roadhouse, which was located some five miles from Bayport. Within half
an hour they had said good-bye to their parents and had clambered into
their roadster.
They drove down High Street, on through the business section of Bayport,
and out to the highway. Frank was at the wheel.
“It was certainly mighty white of Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Applegate to go
bail for us,” he said.
“They’re real friends,” Joe agreed. “The least we can do now is to clear
up this business and show them that their confidence in us wasn’t
misplaced.”
“We’ll do the best we can, although it doesn’t look very easy right now.
That gang didn’t miss any bets in planting the evidence against us.”
“All the more reason why we should get them, and get them right. After
what we heard in the cabin, I don’t think there’s much doubt that Ducroy
and his crowd had something to do with the robberies.”
“Well,” said Frank, “we’ll go easy, and with any luck we ought to get
some clues that we can follow up.”
They thought they would get to the roadhouse quickly, but a quarter of a
mile on came to a detour sign. The road ahead was closed for repair.
“Just our luck,” grumbled Frank. “I know this road was open yesterday.”
“We’ve got to go around the old Rundle farm,” answered his younger
brother. “That’s a dirt road, too, all the way.”
“Hope it isn’t muddy. It used to have some pretty bad mud holes in it
when it rained.”
Fortunately for the Hardy boys, the detour road proved dry. The worst of
the holes had been filled with cracked stone, so they got through
without much difficulty.
In due time the Hardy boys approached the Raven Roadhouse. It was a
long, rambling building, set back some distance from the road and
approached by a winding driveway.
“I guess the best plan is simply to go in and ask about them,” said
Frank.
He drove up to the front of the roadhouse. There were no guests present
at this hour of the day. A fat man was lounging indolently against a
veranda pillar.
The boys got out of the car.
“Too early,” grunted the fat man. “The fun doesn’t start here until
after dark.”
“We’re not guests,” returned Frank. “We’re looking for somebody.”
A guarded expression crossed the fat man’s face.
“Who?” he asked abruptly.
Frank looked at Joe. “I don’t know whether we should tell him or not.”
Joe, taking his cue, looked dubious. “We weren’t supposed to tell.
Still, it mightn’t do any harm.”
Frank looked around mysteriously. Then he lowered his voice:
“Have you seen Newt or Ollie around lately?”
The fat man regarded him shrewdly.
“Why do you want to know?”
“We have a message for him.”
“Who from?”
Frank shrugged. “Why should we tell you?”
The fat man was silent. Then he said:
“Is it from Sam?”
“Maybe. I’m not talking.”
The fat man seemed impressed.
“Well, you know how to keep your mouth shut anyway,” he said. “And
that’s more than lots of people know. I guess you’re regular, all right.
Well, I can put you in touch with Ollie Jacobs.”
“How about Newt?”
“He’s not here. I don’t know where he is right now.”
“Where is Ollie, then?”
“Down the road. You know where Greenfield village is, eh?”
Frank nodded. “About two miles farther down the road.”
“Well, that’s where you’ll find Ollie. He’s at the hotel. The clerk will
find him for you.”
“Thanks. We’ll go on to Greenfield, then.”
“If you’d like to wait here,” suggested the fat man, “Ollie should be
back in an hour or so.”
The Hardy boys had no desire to wait. They were on the trail of the
elusive Ollie Jacobs and it did not suit their purpose to meet him face
to face at the Raven Roadhouse. They thanked the fat man, got back into
the car and drove away.
Within a few minutes they reached Greenfield. It was a meagre little
village with a few unprosperous-looking stores and a ramshackle hotel.
“We’ll have to go easy here,” said Frank. “It won’t do to have Ollie
Jacobs see us.”
“What should we do? Wait out in front of the hotel?”
“He would probably see us first. No, I think it would be better to go
inside and take a look around. Once we locate him we can keep out of
sight and then follow him later.”
They parked the roadster in front of the hotel and went inside. The
Clerk, a seedy little man with shifty eyes, regarded them with
suspicion. By way of explaining their presence, the Hardy boys bought
some newspapers and a few chocolate bars, then sat down in the lounging
chairs in the main office.
“We’ll just sit tight for a while,” whispered Frank. “If Ollie Jacobs is
in the hotel, he’ll probably pass through here on his way out.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Joe gave his brother a
sharp nudge and hastily began to unfold one of the newspapers. Frank
glanced up. Coming down the stairs was Ollie Jacobs.
The man did not see the boys, or at least did not recognize them, for
Frank quickly lowered his head, then he, too, spread out a newspaper so
that it concealed him from view. Thus, to the man descending the
stairway, the two lads appeared intent on the papers, and their faces
were completely hidden.
Another man was coming down the stairs a few steps behind Ollie Jacobs.
When the pair reached the office, instead of going toward the door, they
sauntered over and sat down a few feet from the Hardy boys.
Frank and Joe were trembling with excitement. Behind the newspapers they
were safe from observation.
“I won’t go a cent over eight thousand, and that’s final,” they heard
Ollie Jacobs saying.
“We’ll split the difference,” returned the other man, in a wheedling
tone. “Make it nine thousand dollars cash.”
“Nothing doing! I’ll give you eight thousand dollars. Take it or leave
it.”
“An airplane for eight thousand dollars!” exclaimed the other. “I can’t
do it. I’d be losing money.”
Ollie Jacobs laughed. “Even at eight thousand, you’ll be making a good
profit.”
“Eighty-five hundred,” pleaded the bargainer.
“I’ve made my offer and I won’t raise it a nickel. I’ll give you eight
thousand dollars in cash the moment the airplane is turned over to us.
You have the machine within five miles of here, you say. Well, I can
have the money within half an hour and we’ll close the deal. So make up
your mind, for I can’t be wasting time. If I can’t buy your airplane I
can easily find another one.”
Ollie Jacobs got up from his chair. The other man rose quickly and
seized him by the arm.
“All right. All right,” he said hastily. “It’s just downright robbery,
but I’ll sell you the plane for eight thousand. I won’t be making a
cent.”
“That’s your lookout,” returned Jacobs coolly. “You don’t have to sell
it.”
“I’ll have the plane ready for you at my farm. As soon as you turn over
the money, the machine is yours.”
“The money will be in your hands within half an hour. Are you going to
the farm now?” said Jacobs.
“I’ll go there right away and get the plane in shape.”
“Be sure you have the tanks full of gas. I want everything to be in
perfect running order. That’s the only condition of sale. I want the
plane to be in readiness.”
“You can step right in it and start flying the minute you buy it,”
insisted the other man. “And you’re getting a bargain, let me tell you.
There isn’t a better machine on the market. If you bought that plane
from the factory it would cost you fifteen or twenty thousand dollars.”
“A new plane would cost that much. Yours isn’t worth five. It’s an old
crate, almost falling to pieces. You’ve been flying it for more than
four years now. Well, the deal is made. You go to the farm and get the
machine ready. I’ll be over to take possession in half an hour.”
The two men went out the door and descended the steps. Apparently Ollie
Jacobs did not notice the roadster belonging to the Hardy boys, for,
after halting for a moment on the sidewalk, he strode briskly down the
street in a direction opposite to that taken by his companion.
Frank lowered his newspaper and looked at Joe.
“What do you make of that?” he demanded.
“Ollie Jacobs buying an airplane! That fellow never had eight thousand
dollars of his own in all his life.”
“He seems to have it now,” said Frank. “There’s something in the wind.”
“I think we’d better follow him.”
They sprang to their feet.
“There’s no time to lose,” Frank agreed. “I’d like to know what Ollie
Jacobs is planning to do with that plane!”