UNDER SUSPICION
For a moment after the detective's question there was dead silence.
Jack Dodd stared at the fishing rod as though stupefied. Then,
mechanically, he took it in his hands.
"Yes, it's mine, all right," he admitted. "I lost it."
"Oh, you lost it, did you?" said the detective unpleasantly. "That's
very likely. You lost it in that car."
"I didn't! I've never seen the car. I left my fishing rod out by the
front fence about a week ago and when I came to look for it the rod was
gone."
The other detective snickered incredulously.
"It's true," protested Mr. Dodd. "Jack told me at the time that he had
lost his rod."
"You'd back him up, of course. But that story won't go down. If he
never saw the car before, how does his fishing rod happen to be in it?"
Jack and his father looked blankly at one another. Clearly, they were
utterly astounded by this unexpected development, and at a loss to
account for it.
"I think this pretty well clinches it," declared the trooper. "The rod
couldn't have got there unless the boy was in the car--that's certain."
"But I wasn't in the car. I lost the rod a week ago."
"You'd say that, anyway," declared one of the detectives roughly.
"Bring the car back to town, Jim." He turned to Mr. Dodd. "This isn't
the end of the matter. There's not much doubt in my mind that you and
your boy took that car. You certainly haven't been able to give us much
of an explanation of how it came to be on your property, and the boy
has told a pretty thin story to explain away that fishing rod."
"You're not going to arrest me!" exclaimed Mr. Dodd.
"No," said the detective reluctantly. "You don't have to come back with
us. I guess you won't go very far away. But we're going to lay charges
against you and your son."
"For what?"
"For stealing that car. What else do you think? And we're going to do
a little more investigating about those other cars that were stolen,
too."
Mr. Dodd said nothing. He realized the futility of objection. Nothing
he might say would swerve the detectives from their determination to
charge him and Jack with car stealing. On circumstantial evidence, they
would be branded as thieves.
The state trooper turned to the Hardy boys and Chet, who had remained
silent during this exchange of words.
"You boys said there was another car stolen?"
Frank nodded.
"A Cadillac sedan. It was stolen about half an hour ago, on the Shore
Road."
"Describe it."
The trooper took out his notebook.
"We don't know the number. It was a blue sedan."
"Who did it belong to?"
"Isaac Fussy, the rich old fisherman."
"I've seen that car," said the trooper. "I'd recognize it anywhere. It
didn't pass along this road. You've been following it?"
"We were right behind it until we had a spill a few miles back. That
held us up for a while."
"I see. Well, the car has probably got away by a side road. I'll report
it at headquarters, anyway."
He turned briskly away and went over to the Packard, getting into the
front seat and taking his place at the wheel. The two detectives
followed.
"You'll hear from us again in a day or so," said one gruffly to Mr.
Dodd. "See that you stay here."
"I have nothing at all to fear. I didn't steal the car."
"You can tell that in court. Tell your boy to think up a better yarn
about the fishing rod."
With this parting shot, the officers drove away.
Stunned by the misfortune that had befallen them, Mr. Dodd and Jack
were silent. Frank Hardy was the first to speak.
"I'm sure it'll turn out all right, Jack. There's been a big mistake
somewhere."
"Of course there's been a mistake," returned the boy heavily. "But it
looks mighty bad for us."
"I've been living on this farm for more than thirty years," said Henry
Dodd, "and there's never been any one could say anything against my
good name or the name of any one in my family. I've no more idea how
that automobile got here, than--" He shrugged his shoulders, and moved
slowly away toward the house.
"We've told the truth," declared Jack. "We never saw the car before. We
didn't know it was here. And I told them the truth about my fishing
rod. I lost it last week and I didn't see it until that detective took
it out of the automobile. How it got there, I don't know."
The chums were sympathetic. They tried, to the best of their ability,
to cheer up Jack Dodd, although in their hearts they knew that the
evidence against the boy would weigh heavily in a court of law.
"If you had known anything about the car and if you had left your
fishing rod there you wouldn't have identified it so readily," said
Frank shrewdly. "That was what made me certain you were telling the
truth."
"I was so surprised at seeing the rod I couldn't help it! I told them
just what they wanted to know. I suppose if I had lied about it they
wouldn't have been so sure."
"It's always best to tell the truth in the long run," declared Frank.
"It looks rather black for you just now, but after all they haven't
very much to go on. The main thing is to find out who did hide that car
behind the barn."
"And who put the fishing rod in it," added Joe Hardy.
"I don't suppose you suspect any one?"
Jack Dodd was thoughtful.
"I hadn't thought of it before," he said slowly; "but we had a hired
man here up until last week who wouldn't be above playing a trick like
that on us."
"Who was he?"
"His name was Gus Montrose. He worked here for about two months, but we
had to let him go. He was lazy and he drank a lot and last week he had
a quarrel with my father; so he was dismissed. I wouldn't say he stole
the car and left it here, but he's the only person I can think of who
might have cause to do anything like that."
"He might have had something to do with the fishing rod, at any rate,"
said Chet.
"He was a surly, bad-tempered fellow, and when he left he swore that
he'd get even with us. But of course that may have been only talk."
"Talk or no talk, it's something to work on," Frank Hardy remarked.
"Have you seen him around since?"
Jack shook his head.
"Haven't seen or heard of him."
"It's rather suspicious, having a thing like this happen so soon after
he left. He might have found the stolen car himself and concluded that
it was a good chance to pay off his grudge. Or he may have found the
car hidden here and deliberately put the fishing rod in the seat so it
would appear that you knew something about it. I wouldn't be at all
surprised if Gus Montrose were mixed up in the affair in some way or
another."
Jack's face flushed.
"I wish I had him here right now. I'd make him talk!"
"Just sit tight," advised Frank. "I know things look pretty bad, but
something may turn up. We'll see if perhaps we can't do something for
you."
Jack brightened up at this, for he knew that the help of the Hardy boys
was not to be despised. The case looked black against him, but with
Frank and Joe on his side he did not feel quite so disconsolate.
"Thanks, ever so much," he said gratefully. "I'm glad some one believes
me."
"Those city detectives can't see any farther than the end of their
noses," Chet Morton declared warmly. "Don't worry about them. If they
put you in jail we'll dynamite the place to get you out." He grinned as
he said this and his good humor alleviated the tension that had fallen
over the group.
"Well, I guess we'll have to be going," said Frank, as he mounted his
motorcycle. "Don't think too much about this, Jack. Something will turn
up."
"I hope so," answered the boy.
Chet Morton and the Hardy lads said good-bye to their chum and rode
out of the farmyard.
"No use chasing Mr. Fussy's car now," decided Joe.
"Gone but not forgotten," Chet said. "We might as well go home."
So, leaving Jack Dodd standing disconsolately in the yard, the three
headed their motorcycles back toward Bayport.