A Figure in Hiding by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

approached and handed Frank a note penciled in spidery handwriting. It read:
    I’d like to talk to you about
Braxton’s hydrofoil.
    Z. Mudge
    Frank looked surprised. “Where is Mr. Mudge?”
    Rip Sinder gave a guttural grunt and made stabbing gestures toward the terrace.
    â€œThank you.” Frank restrained a start as he took in the boxer’s huge, sausage-fingered hands.
    â€œCome on. Let’s go see him,” Joe said. He whispered to his brother, “What’s wrong?”
    â€œDid you get a look at Sinder’s hands?”
    â€œBig, aren’t they?” Chet said.
    â€œI’ll say they’re big,” Frank retorted under his breath. “Just like the pair of hands that tried to throttle me last night!”
    Chet shuddered. “You don’t mean Rip did it?”
    Frank shrugged. “Probably a coincidence. But I’d like to get my hands on the person—whoever he is.”
    The pudgy lad groaned. “Remind me to keep away from you two. You attract trouble!”
    Zachary Mudge was seated in a deck chair with his spindly legs stretched out. As before, he was clad only in shorts and a straw hat.
    â€œDid you want to see us, sir?” Frank said.
    â€œWhat? Speak up, boy!” As Frank repeated his words in a bellow, Mr. Mudge fiddled with his hearing aid. “All right, all right! You don’t have to shout—I’m not deaf. Certainly I want to see you. Why do you think I sent for you?”
    â€œWell, here we are, sir,” Joe said, grinning.
    â€œWhat about that fellow Braxton? Is he out of the hospital yet?”
    â€œHe’s getting out today, sir.” Suddenly Joe snapped his fingers. “Frank! We forgot to tell Braxton about Mr. Mudge!”
    The elderly man snorted contemptuously. “Typical! You young whippersnappers wouldn’t remember to come in out of the rain if someone didn’t remind you. How about Lambert? Has he made Braxton an offer yet?”
    â€œNo, sir. Braxton hasn’t seen him,” Frank replied.
    Mudge cackled and rubbed his hands in glee. “Fine! Then there’s still time to sew things up! All right, sonnies.” Settling back, Mudge pulled his straw hat down over his face.
    â€œWhat a character!” Chet Morton whispered as the boys walked away.
    Chet hurriedly showed Frank and Joe through the splendid gymnasium building. This included a pool, steam room, tiled showers, and handball courts. The main room was equipped with exercise mats, trampolines, pulley weights, and other apparatus. Chet dropped several broad hints about his prowess as a gymnast.
    â€œOkay, let’s see you perform on that,” Joe challenged, pointing to a leather horse.
    â€œNot now. I have to change.” Seeing the Hardys’ grins, Chet burst out, “Okay, if you think I can’t! I’ll show you!”
    Seizing the steel grips, he hoisted himself off the floor, getting somewhat red in the face. Then he tried to swing his legs around the horse. But as he let go with one hand, his grip with the other loosened.
    â€œOops!” Frank cried, and Chet landed heavily on the mat in a sitting position.
    â€œThat doggone handgrip was slippery!” Chet explained, wincing as he got up.
    â€œSure.” Joe repressed a smile. “Anyhow, it was a good try.”
    Chet changed clothes in the locker room and the three boys walked back down the drive.
    â€œWell, it’s noon and you’re through here,” Frank reminded Chet. “How soon do we get briefed on that kidnapping tip?”
    Just then Chet’s yellow jalopy drove up outside the gateway. Two girls sat in the front.
    â€œHey! Iola and Callie!” Joe exclaimed.
    The girls waved gaily and the trio hurried to meet them. Chet was chuckling as he ran.
    â€œWell, fellows, it’s like this,” he said. “You’re about to be kidnapped by two dangerous dolls—for a beach party!”
    Frank and