The Hidden Harbor Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page B

docks, where the man from whom the boys had rented the boat eyed them suspiciously.
    â€œWhere’s my boat?” he asked.
    â€œDrifted off,” Frank answered.
    â€œDrifted off! Then you all will pay for her!”
    Bart Worth immediately drew out his checkbook. “You boys were working in my interest when you lost it,” he insisted, despite the Hardys’ protests.
    Once more they pressed the search. Suddenly Frank halted before a small gift shop not far from the docks.
    â€œThose two oriental vases,” he said, pointing to the window. “They’re the same kind as the one Blackstone used to hit Rand!”
    Eagerly the party went into the store. Chet noticed a small, shy-looking Negro boy, who had been tagging them constantly, enter after them.
    â€œOh, those china vases,” the shopkeeper said in answer to Frank’s question. “Yes, they’re always sold in pairs.”
    â€œThat explains how Blackstone replaced his,” Frank murmured to the others, as they turned to go. Quickly the little lad slipped out in front of them.
    â€œThat kid’s been eavesdropping on us for half an hour,” Chet finally remarked.
    â€œThat youngster?” Bart shook his head doubtfully. “He’s doing no harm, I’m sure.”
    Next, the Hardys and their friends stopped at an open-air fish market. While Frank, Joe, and Bart questioned the paunchy vendor, Chet watched the little boy sneak up behind the high wheel of a loaded cart of fish, and listen with bright, inquisitive eyes.
    â€œJenny Shringle?” the vendor repeated. “Sure, I saw her. Just the other day, early—”
    Crash! Chet had made a frantic dive at the little eavesdropper. The boy had dodged nimbly, but Chet had caused the whole cartload of fresh, wet fish to tip forward on its two wheels. The fish cascaded in a heap on top of Chet!
    â€œMy fish!” cried the vendor.
    â€œMy new shirt!” Chet wailed.
    â€œGet that kid!” cried Joe to others on the street. But the little boy disappeared.
    After Chet had been helped to his feet, and the Hardys had paid for the fish, the vendor, mollified, went on with his story.
    â€œI was settin’ up my stall t‘other morning. Pretty soon I saw Jenny come by and get on the six-o’clock bus for Sea City. She’s got kin there, you know, Mr. Worth. Right funny, though, she didn’t carry a suitcase.”
    â€œThat settles it,” said Frank with satisfaction. “We’re off for Sea City!”
    They hurried back to the Record’s parking lot, where the four got into Worth’s green sedan and sped out to the boys’ camp among the dunes. Here Chet quickly changed his fishy shirt, and the party drove off.
    They traveled at the highest legal speed toward Sea City. Suddenly Bart slowed down.
    â€œThat parked car back there on the shoulder!” he exclaimed. “Professor Rand was in it!”
    â€œReally?” asked Frank, amazed. “Cutter was at the wheel!”
    Impatiently Bart sped forward looking for a chance to turn back, but traffic was heavy in both directions. At last he found a chance, but when they retraced their route to the spot, the parked car was gone.
    â€œYou’re sure it was Rand?” Frank asked as they headed for Sea City once more.
    â€œYes,” Worth stated. “He saw me, too.”
    â€œWell, why doesn’t he want anyone to know he’s still around?” Joe wondered.
    Nobody could answer this question. When they reached the main street of Sea City, Frank hopped out and went into a drugstore with a phone booth.
    Returning, he reported, “Only one Shringle listed in the telephone book,” and gave Bart the address.
    Soon they pulled up before a little white bungalow on a side street. The Hardys and Bart alighted and knocked on the door.
    A bald, middle-aged man answered. “Oh, you all want to see my cousin Jenny?” he said. “Yes,