IN THE LOCKER
The massive roadster rolled smoothly out of the garage that evening and
the Hardy boys drove down High Street, greatly enjoying the attention
their new car attracted. Freshly painted, the automobile had not
the slightest evidence of being a second-hand car. It was long and
low-slung, with a high hood, and there was a big locker at the back.
The upholstery was in good condition and the fittings were ornate and
handsome. All in all, it was a car to arouse the envy of all their
chums, and one that would arouse the covetousness of any auto thief.
This was precisely what the Hardy boys were counting on.
They drove about the streets until it was almost dark. They met Biff
Hooper and Tony Prito, who exclaimed over the luxurious appearance of
the roadster and immediately wanted a ride, but the boys were obliged
to refuse.
"Sorry," said Frank. "We'll take you out any other time but to-night.
We have business in hand."
"I'd like to know what it's all about," remarked Biff. "You two have
been mighty mysterious about something lately."
"Some time you'll understand," sang out Joe, as they drove off.
They headed out the Shore Road.
It was getting dark and the headlights cut a brilliant slash through
the gloom. Leaving Bayport behind, the boys drove about two miles
out until they came to a place where a grassy meadow beside the road
provided a favorite parking place for motorists who wished to descend
the path leading down through the woods to the beach below.
"This is about as good a place as any," said Frank.
"Suits me."
He drove the car off the road onto the grass. It came to a stop.
"Any one around, Joe?"
Joe looked back.
"No other cars in sight," he reported a moment later.
"Then make it snappy."
Any one observing the roadster at that moment would have seen the two
boys clamber out, but in the gloom they would not have seen what
followed. For the boys suddenly disappeared.
The roadster remained where it was, parked by the road, in solitary
magnificence.
A few minutes later an automobile passed by. It belonged to a Bayport
merchant, out for an evening drive. He saw the splendid car by the
roadside and said to his wife:
"Somebody is taking an awful chance. I wouldn't leave a fine-looking
automobile like that out here without some one to watch it. I guess the
owner is down on the beach. If one of those auto thieves happens along
there'll be another good car listed among the missing."
"Well, it's their own lookout," returned his wife.
They drove past.
But the roadster was not deserted, as it seemed. So quickly had the
Hardy boys concealed themselves that, even had any one been watching,
it would have been difficult to follow their movements.
The roadster, having been built for show, had a large and roomy locker
at the back. By experimenting in the privacy of the garage and by
clearing this locker of all odds and ends, the boys found it was just
large enough to accommodate them both.
Here they were hidden. They were not uncomfortable, and the darkness
did not bother them, for each was equipped with a small flashlight.
"You didn't forget your revolver, did you?" whispered Frank.
"No. I have it here," answered his brother. "Have you got yours?"
"Ready in case I need it."
Although there would seem to be no purpose in spending an evening
crouched in the locker of a parked roadster, the Hardy boys had laid
definite plans. From the morning they had bought the car they had
perfected the various details of their scheme to capture the auto
thieves on the Shore Road.
"Most of the cars have been stolen while they were parked on the Shore
Road," Frank had argued. "It stands to reason that the auto thieves
are operating along there. Since the first few scares, not many people
have been parking their cars along there, so the thieves have taken to
stealing cars in town and to hold-ups. If we park the roadster, it's
ten chances to one the thieves won't be able to resist the temptation."
"And we lose a perfectly good car," objected Joe.
"We won't lose it, because we'll be right in it all the time."
"The thieves won't be likely to steal it if we're in it."
"They won't see us. We'll be hiding in the locker."
Joe saw the merits of the plan at once.
"And they'll kidnap us without knowing it?" he chuckled.
"That's the idea. They'll drive the car to wherever they are in the
habit of hiding the stolen autos, and then we can watch our chance to
either round them up then and there or else steal away and come back
with the police."
This, then, was the explanation of their mysterious behavior, and as
they crouched in the locker they were agog with expectation.
"We'll just have to be patient," whispered Frank, when they had been in
hiding for more than half an hour. "Can't expect the fish to bite the
minute we put out the bait."
Joe settled himself into a more comfortable position.
"This is the queerest fishing _I've_ ever done," he mused.
It was very quiet. They had no difficulty in breathing, as the locker
had a number of air spaces that they had bored in the top and sides,
invisible to a casual glance.
Once in a while they could hear a car speeding past on the Shore Road.
Minute after minute went by. They were becoming cramped. Presently Joe
yawned loud and long.
"I guess it's no use," said Frank, at last. "We're out of luck
to-night."
"Can't expect to be lucky the first time," replied his brother
philosophically.
"We might as well go home."
Frank raised the lid of the locker and peeped out. It was quite dark.
The Shore Road was deserted.
"Coast is clear," he said.
They got quickly out of the locker. They lost no time, for there was a
possibility that one of the auto thieves might be in the neighborhood,
watching the roadster, and if their trap was discovered it would be
useless to make a second attempt.
They got back into the car, Joe taking the wheel this time. He drove
the roadster back onto the highway, turned it around, and they set out
back for Bayport.
Both lads were disappointed, although they had not yet given up hope.
They had been so confident that their plan would be successful that
this failure took some of the wind out of their sails, so to speak.
"We'll just try again to-morrow night," said Frank.
"Perhaps the auto thieves have quit."
"Not them! They'll fall for our trap yet."
"I'm glad we didn't tell any of the fellows. We'll look mighty foolish
if it doesn't work."
The car sped along the Shore Road, the headlights casting a brilliant
beam of illumination. As they rounded a curve they caught a glimpse of
a dark figure trudging along in the shadow of the trees bordering the
ditch.
"Wonder who that is," Frank remarked, peering at the man.
Joe bore down on the wheel, swinging the car around so that the
headlights fell full on the man beside the road. Then he swung the car
back into its course again.
The fellow had flung up his arm to shield his face from the glare, but
he had not been quick enough to hide his features altogether. Frank had
recognized him at once.
"So!" he remarked thoughtfully. "Our friend again."
"I didn't get a good look at him," Joe said. "Somehow, he seemed
familiar."
"He was. I'd recognize that face anywhere now."
"Who was it?"
"Gus Montrose."
Joe whistled.
"I wonder what he's doing, skulking along here at this time of night."
"I have an idea that we'll find out before long."
"Do you think he has anything to do with the car thefts?"
"Shouldn't be surprised. He seems a rather suspicious sort of
character."
They sped past the dark figure, who went on, head down, hands thrust
deep in his coat pockets.
"I'd like to know more about that chap," mused Frank. "I'll bet he's
not hanging around here for any good reason."