Mysterious Plans
When the Hardy boys left the hotel they saw Ollie Jacobs about a block
away, walking quickly down the street toward the outskirts of the
village. As unobtrusively as possible, they followed him. They soon
found that there was little need for caution, as Ollie Jacobs evidently
had no suspicion that he was observed, and not once did he look back.
Leaving the sidewalk, their quarry struck out along a country road in
the direction of an abandoned house. Here, instead of passing by, he
vaulted the fence, crossed the unkempt yard, and disappeared into the
building.
“We’ll have to go carefully,” said Frank. “I’ll bet he’s meeting the
others there.”
“That’s where he intends to get the eight thousand dollars, I suppose.”
“Chances are, they’re watching. We’d better go around by the back way.”
At the end of the street, therefore, the Hardy boys did not follow the
road, but instead made a detour through the fields, coming around at the
rear of the old house. There they made their way carefully across the
yard. They knew that they risked detection in so doing, but they were
obliged to take this chance.
Luck was with them. They crossed the yard in safety, evidently
unobserved by anyone in the house.
They crouched beneath a window and listened. From inside the house they
could hear human voices. Frank raised himself slightly and peeped
through the window. The room was empty. The voices seemed to be from the
front of the house.
He gestured to Joe, and silently they crept on to the next window. Here
they had better luck. The window was partly open and they could clearly
hear the voices of the men in the room beyond.
The first voice they heard was that of Ollie Jacobs.
“Well,” he was saying, “I guess we can each chip in and make up that
money. The plane is waiting for us.”
A familiar voice answered:
“Eight thousand dollars is a lot of dough. But it will be worth it in
the long run.”
Frank and Joe exchanged glances. They recognized the voice. Giles
Ducroy!
“Are you sure the plane is all right?” demanded the third man—Newt
Pipps.
“It’s old, but it’s plenty good enough for our purpose,” returned
Jacobs. “She’ll hold four or five men.”
“I don’t want to go flying in some old rattletrap that’ll bust all to
pieces in mid-air and kill us all,” demurred Newt.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be in charge of the plane,” declared Ducroy. “I could
fly a baby carriage if it had wings. Your precious neck is safe enough.”
“Well, here’s twenty-five hundred dollars,” said Jacobs. “That’s my
share.”
“And here’s mine,” said Newt.
“And I’ll make up the other three thousand,” said Ducroy. “You never
spent money any better. If this pans out all right it will bring us
fifty thousand dollars at least.”
“You say it’s the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth?” asked Ollie Jacobs.
“Yes,” answered Ducroy. “Pay day is on the first of the month, and they
always send the money a day or two ahead.”
“It’ll be a big haul if we get away with it,” declared Newt Pipps. “But
it’s certainly risky.”
“You’ve got to take chances to make big money,” Ducroy answered. “Fifty
thousand dollars isn’t to be sneezed at.”
“I’m satisfied,” said Ollie Jacobs. “I think we can get away with it.
Fifty thousand dollars looks mighty good to me. I think we ought to go
right over to the farm, buy this plane, and start out.”
“Where do we go first?” asked Newt.
“There’s an airport about thirty miles from here,” Ducroy said. “It’s
just a small flying field—the Riverside Field, they call it. We can
take the plane there and wait until everything is ready.”
“What if we’re caught?” asked Newt. “The police in Bayport are on the
lookout for us, you know that. If they find out where we are, it will
ruin everything.”
“We have the plane, haven’t we? If they find out where we are, we’ll
simply fly somewhere else, and dodge them. I have everything all figured
out. We’ll be quite safe.”
“Then let’s get going,” said Ollie Jacobs impatiently. “We’re just
wasting time by arguing here.”
There was a scuffling of feet, then the slam of a door. After a few
moments the Hardy boys peeped around the side of the house and saw the
three men going down the road in the direction of the village.
“It looks as if we’ve stumbled on something,” said Joe.
“I wonder what they’re going to do with that airplane. One thing is
certain—there’s something in the wind for the twenty-eighth or
twenty-ninth of this month.”
“What date is this?”
“The twenty-sixth.” Frank watched the receding figures of the men. “I
suppose we ought to follow them.”
Joe demurred.
“Why should we? There’s no chance of losing them now. We know the name
of the airport they’re bound for, and we can go there in the car and
wait for them.”
“That’s right. We’ll go on to Riverside Field and keep an eye on them
from there. But first of all, I think we ought to call up dad and let
him know what we’ve learned.”
Joe agreed that this was a sound suggestion. The boys waited until the
trio were out of sight, then hastened on toward the village. Their first
concern was a telephone, and as they did not want to go to the hotel, in
case some of Ollie Jacobs’ friends might be within earshot, they lost
some time seeking the telephone exchange, which they finally located in
the rear of the post office.
There they put through a call to their father in Bayport. After a wait
of about ten minutes, the call was answered. The operator turned to
them.
“Mr. Hardy is not at home. Will anyone else do?”
“Anyone at that number,” assented Frank.
He picked up the receiver and heard his mother’s voice.
“Hello, Mother. This is Frank calling.”
“Yes, Frank. Where are you?”
“We’re at a little village just outside the city. Where is Dad?”
“He left for New York an hour ago,” answered Mrs. Hardy. “He just
received a telegram calling him to New York on special business.”
Frank was disappointed.
“That’s tough luck. We had some news for him. Well, we’ll just have to
carry on alone. If we’re not home to-night, don’t worry about us. We’ve
picked up some information that may clear up all this fix we’re in.”
“Don’t stay away too long, Frank,” said Mrs. Hardy. “The police were
making inquiries a little while ago.”
“The police? Why?”
“They think you may have run away. They’re afraid you have jumped bail.”
This news came as a stunning shock to Frank.
“Why, that’s nonsense!” he exclaimed hotly. “We’ll be back as soon as we
can, and if they make any more inquiries you can tell them so. And when
we do come back, they won’t have any further excuse for holding us, for
we’ll have the real mail robbers with us.”
“I hope you are right, Frank. If your father comes back, I’ll tell him
you called.”
“All right, Mother. And don’t worry about us. We’ll be back home as soon
as we can get away.”
Frank hung up the receiver and paid the cost of the call. When he turned
toward Joe, however, he found his brother standing in the door, gazing
up at the sky.
“They’re away already!” exclaimed Joe excitedly. “Look!”
Frank ran to the door. Joe was pointing up at the clouds. High above
them soared an airplane, drumming its way toward the south.
“I saw it rise,” said Joe. “It took off from one of those farms back of
the village. It’s Ducroy’s crowd, sure as guns.”
“On their way to the flying field already. Well, we’d better be moving.”
They hurried down the street toward the hotel, where they had left the
roadster. On the way, Frank told Joe the result of his telephone call.
Joe too was disappointed that they had not been able to get in touch
with Fenton Hardy.
“It means we have to play a lone hand, that’s all. What do you think we
should do next, Frank?”
“I think we ought to tell the authorities.”
“We’ll warn them to watch the airplane hangars on the twenty-eighth and
twenty-ninth,” said Joe. “But we mustn’t lose sight of Ducroy and his
cronies.”
They looked back. The airplane was merely a blur in the distance. The
boys realized that they had no time to lose. They scrambled into the
roadster. Frank threw in the clutch and the car shot forward. Within a
few minutes they were speeding down a road toward the south in the
direction of the Riverside Field.