The Secret Panel

by Franklin W. Dixon

At breakfast the next morning Mr. Hardy announced he had to see Chief Collig at headquarters about the television burglaries.

  “Dad,” Frank said, looking disappointed, “we were hoping you’d come to the Mead place with us! Maybe you’ll spot something important that we overlooked.”

  “Okay. But let’s do it right away. I have a couple of important things to do later.”

  The three set off immediately after they had eaten. Frank and Joe followed their father’s car in the convertible. When they arrived at the mysterious mansion, it looked deserted. They parked their cars in the back so they would not be seen by any visitor. Mr. Hardy walked around the grounds before entering the house. He found no one on the premises.

  When Frank opened the front door, Mr. Hardy was fascinated by the concealed hardware. “You’re to be congratulated,” he praised the boys. “These locks are quite a puzzle.”

  Joe felt for the wall switch and clicked it, but no light came on.

  “Current’s still off,” he remarked.

  The boys showed their father through the house, using their flashlights when necessary. They admired their father’s careful search, even though it netted no clues to the man who called himself John Mead.

  Presently the three returned to their cars.

  “I’m off to see Chief Collig,” Mr. Hardy said. “Are you going straight to Bayport Salvage?”

  “Yes,” Joe replied. “Maybe they can look for Chet’s boat today.”

  The detective wished them luck and drove away.

  A few minutes later Frank and Joe reached the salvage company. When they entered the front office, a man working on some ledgers looked up.

  “Mr. Redfield?” Frank inquired.

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  Frank stated their business. As he described the sunken dory, Mr. Redfield looked startled. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Do you own that boat?”

  “No,” Joe replied. “It belongs to a friend.”

  “Oh, well, that makes sense, then. Your friend has already gone out on one of our boats to look for it.”

  “Our friend?” Frank was perplexed. “What did he look like?”

  “Stocky and dark. Said he was the owner and he’s out in the bay right now!”

  The Hardys turned to each other. “That isn’t Chet!” Frank cried. “That’s the guy who tricked us!”

  “Come on,” Joe urged. “Let’s get the Sleuth and go after him!”

  They quickly explained the situation to Mr. Redfield, then raced outside, hopped into their car, and not long afterward parked near the boathouse where they kept the Sleuth.

  Joe had the engine going in no time, and sped out into Barmet Bay. He headed for the spot where Chet’s dory had sunk. No salvage boat was in sight. To the boys’ dismay, they could see no sign of the Bdoodhound, though they circled round and round the vicinity, peering down through the water.

  “They must have raised it!” Frank concluded.

  “Now what’ll we do?” Joe asked in disgust.

  “Let’s go back to the salvage company.”

  Joe headed the Sleuth in that direction. They had gone only a mile when they spied the salvage boat ahead. Hoping that Chet’s dory was aboard, and that they could nab the man who had ordered it raised, they drew up alongside and hailed the captain. He came to the rail.

  “What did you say?” he called down.

  Frank repeated his question.

  “Yes, I raised a sunken dory, but I haven’t got ’er aboard,” the man replied.

  “Where is it?”

  “I put ’er down on the beach where the fellow told me to.”

  “But he didn’t own it!”

  “What?” The captain was astounded upon hearing the story. He told the Hardys where he had left the Bloodhound.

  The boys thanked him and Joe swung the Sleuth toward the north shore of the bay. The bow cut clearly through the water, churning a white wake as it picked up speed.

  “We’re sure running into some bad luck,” Joe said, gripping the wheel.

  “Maybe we can still capture the guy and get the dory, too,” Frank countered.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the man who retrieved it was the same who had sold it to Chet and had trapped the three boys in the room at 47 Parker Street.

  “Meanwhile, the guy probably took what he wanted out of the locked box and skipped,” Joe went on.

  “Well, let’s go see.”

  When they reached the spot indicated by the salvage captain, there was no sign of the dory. Frank and Joe jumped into the shallow water and pulled the Sleuth up on the sand.

  Close scrutiny led them to drag marks some distance away. They followed the track, obviously made by a keel. But to their disappointment, it ended at the roadside. Chet’s Bloodhound was not in sight!

  “Evidently a truck was waiting and carried it away,” Joe concluded.

  “I have an idea!” Frank said. “I’ll bet that dory came from the Mead place and has been taken back there!”

  “You mean because of the strange Y symbol?”

  “Right. What do you think?”

  “It’s certainly worth a try. Let’s go!”

  Joe stepped into the Sleuth and Frank pushed it out into the bay. Soon it was skimming across the water, its motor churning. When they reached the Mead property, Frank tied up to the dock. There was no sign of anyone. The boathouse was tightly locked, and Chet’s dory was not in sight.

  “Where is the dory?” Frank called

  Joe took out a pair of swim trunks from a compartment.

  “What are you going to do?” Frank asked.

  “See if I can swim under the boathouse door.” Joe quickly changed, then cut the water in a clean dive and disappeared.

  Frank waited eagerly. All was quiet. In a minute he called out, “Joe, can you hear me?”

  The only sound was the water lapping against the Sleuth. There was no sound from the boathouse !

  CHAPTER X

  The Intruder

  WHAT had happened to Joe? Several possibilities raced through Frank’s mind. Had his head butted into a submerged piling? Did he have a stomach cramp?

  “Joe! Joe!” Frank called out again. No reply. He kicked off his shoes and was about to dive after his brother when he heard a whistling-spluttering noise from inside the boathouse. Joe had popped to the surface and let out a chestful of pent-up air. Then he called out:

  “Frank! I’m okay. Got tangled up in a piece of old cable.”

  “Oh boy! You had me scared for a minute.”

  “Sorry about that.” A few seconds passed, then Joe reported, “The dory’s not here. But I’ll look around a bit more.”

  “Good idea.” Frank waited, hoping no one would appear to ask what they were doing there. Presently Joe returned and climbed aboard the Sleuth. As he dried himself and put on his clothes, Frank asked him what he had seen.

  Joe related that there was no boat of any kind inside the building. He had, however, spotted a valuable piece of evidence.

  “There was an old oar on a rack,” he said. “That same funny Y was carved on it!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I looked at it twice.”

  “No question now that the dory belongs to this place,” Frank commented.

  “Right. And I saw something else of interest,” Joe went on. “There’s a generator in the boathouse. Probably supplies auxiliary power to the mansion.”

  “Then that explains the lights,” Frank declared. “Someone’s been tampering with the generator, turning the current on and off.”

  “Right again,” said Joe. “You know, I still suspect that the dory will be brought here. What say we come back later and check again?”

  “Okay. But we ought to tell Chet what happened. Maybe he’d like to come along.”

  “Yes. Let’s go over to the Mortons around lunch time,” Joe suggested with a grin. “Turn the tables on Chet. Aunt Gertrude says he eats us out of house and home.�
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  Frank chuckled. “Great idea. Mrs. Morton is about the best cook in the world.”

  When the boys reached home they told their mother where they were going. But they could not get out of the house without Aunt Gertrude remarking about it.

  “Gallivanting again!” she said sternly. “Home the last thing at night and out first thing in the morning. Now you’ve been in this house just about five minutes, and already you’re off again!”

  “Oh,” said Joe, a twinkle in his eye, “this is strictly business, Aunty. We’re working on a case for Chet.”

  Before Miss Hardy could think of an answer, the boys had disappeared through the doorway. They got into their convertible and headed for the Morton farm. As Joe had predicted, the midday meal was about to be served.

  Chet’s sister Iola was glad to see them, especially Joe. She told Frank to go into the living room. “Surprise!” she said with a broad smile.

  Frank found Callie Shaw there, watching television. The brown-eyed, vivacious girl was his favorite date.

  “Oh, hi, Frank!” Callie said, beaming. “I had a hunch you might be coming.”

  “You did?”

  “A little bird was on the news just a minute ago. He said so!”

  Frank laughed. “No kidding. Is that why you decided to stay for lunch?”

  Callie blushed. She got even with him when Mrs. Morton came in.

  “Frank and Joe have eaten already and won’t join us for lunch,” she said with a wink.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Morton said, taking her cue from Callie. “We’re having barbecued spare-ribs and biscuits.”

  Then, seeing Frank’s hungry expression, she laughed good-naturedly and said she would set two more places at the table at once, and asked Frank to call Chet. “He’s out spraying the apple trees.”

  Frank went to find his friend, who was delighted to be relieved of his job, and started for the house.

  “Wait a minute,” Frank said. “I have something to tell you.”

  He related how the dory had been salvaged. Chet’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets; then he shook his head sadly and groaned. “Now what am I going to do?”

  He brightened, however, when Frank told him that he and Joe were going back to the Mead house later to see if the Bloodhound had been brought there.

  Chet was sorry not to be able to go along because of his afternoon chores at the farm, but he expressed confidence in his friends’ ability to solve his problem. As the two walked toward the house, he asked Frank not to mention anything to his folks about the boat.

  During lunch the young people made plans for a triple date to the movies that evening. Chet called his girl, Helen Osborne, and invited her to the show. Soon after dessert the Hardys left the house.

  They were eager to clear up the mystery of Chet’s dory. Since they planned to be at the movies that evening, they decided to return at once to the Mead mansion.

  When they arrived at the estate, they concealed their car in a tangle of trees. Then they looked for evidence of recent visitors. There were no footprints or automobile tracks near the boathouse.

  “Probably the dory hasn’t been brought here yet,” Joe deduced.

  “Why don’t we have another look around the place as long as we’re here?” Frank suggested. He opened the front door and clicked on the light in the hall. Nothing happened.

  “Whoever turns on the generator isn’t here now, that’s for sure,” he remarked. “Let’s do a little investigating in the cellar and try to find where the line comes in.”

  Frank snapped on his flashlight and led the way below. For the next few minutes they hunted in vain for any sign of a fuse box.

  “Maybe old Mr. Mead concealed it as he did the locks and latches,” said Frank, almost slipping on the damp floor as he reached up on a wall shelf. There was no sign of the incoming power line.

  Joe noticed a wooden panel on the wall. “Hey, Frank,” he said, “have a look at this!”

  Frank came over and studied it carefully. He placed his hands on the bottom of the panel and pushed. It slid open!

  “Fuses!” he cried, beaming his flashlight inside.

  “I wonder why the cover is off,” Joe remarked. “Usually fuse boxes have a metal cover.”

  “I don’t know,” Frank replied. He reached up and touched one of the oblong handles. The basement was flooded with light. At the same instant Frank received an electrical shock and fell to the floor unconscious!

  Joe leaped to his brother’s side and felt for his pulse. The beat was weak but steady.

  “Thank goodness he’s alive!” he murmured, and quickly administered first aid. In a few moments Frank opened his eyes, wondering what had happened.

  Joe told him and suggested they go upstairs where Frank could lie down on a sofa.

  When they reached the kitchen, Frank was so weak he sat down in a chair. He told Joe to look around the house alone while he rested. The younger boy nodded and started off.

  Going from room to room, he tried the lights. In some places they flashed on, in others they did not.

  Joe was just about to step into the library, which was dark, when he heard a loud groan.

  “Frank!” he thought, conscience-stricken, and rushed back to the kitchen.

  His brother still sat in the chair and was deadly white. He admitted feeling awful. Joe insisted they leave at once, and helped Frank to the car.

  By the time they reached home Frank felt much better. “I’m made of pretty tough stuff,” he said with a faint grin.

  “You were lucky!” Joe agreed. “If the current had been more powerful you—” He broke off. “Hold it,” he warned as he pulled open the kitchen screen door. “Something’s the matter here!”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked.

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when he, too, became aware of women’s loud voices in the front hall. Aunt Gertrude seemed to be consoling someone. A moment later the boys recognized the other speaker as Mrs. Stryker.

  “My son’s honest and I want him back!” she cried out. “Nobody seems to be doing anything for me!”

  “You have no right to talk about my brother and my nephews that way!” Miss Hardy replied with spirit. “They’re the best detectives in this state; in fact, the best in the whole United States!”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Frank and Joe looked at each other and grinned. This was high praise from their aunt. High praise which she would not have voiced had she known they were listening.

  Winking at Frank, Joe turned around and slammed the kitchen door. Then, with a “Hello, anybody home?” he stalked into the front hall.

  Frank followed. “Have you had any word from Lenny?” he asked Mrs. Stryker.

  The woman shook her head, remarking that she had heard from no one. “Those racketeers have things fixed so he can’t let me know where he is,” she said sadly. Then she added, “I thought you and your father were working on his case for me. But all I get are promises!”

  “Try not to worry,” urged Frank. “I have a hunch Lenny will be coming home soon.”

  “You have?” Mrs. Stryker asked eagerly. “Oh, you must know something you’re not telling me!”

  The Hardys had to admit that they really were no closer to the solution of the mystery, but they were hopeful that clues they had gathered would lead them to the gang.

  “Clues, clues, you told me that before!” Mrs. Stryker said.

  “We’ll do everything we can,” Joe assured her.

  After she had left, the boys held a conference. Aunt Gertrude insisted upon being present, and advised her nephews that the police should track down the criminals, not they.

  “Lenny Stryker probably did some shooting himself,” she declared.

  “We certainly won’t let anybody who should be in jail go free,” Frank stated. “But—”

  The telephone rang and the boys hurried into the hall. Joe answered it. It was his father. He listened intently as Joe related the
day’s happenings, ending with Frank’s electrical shock. Mr. Hardy warned Joe to be very careful, saying they most likely were on the trail of some illegal operation.

  “Pass that along to Frank,” he ordered. “Now I’ll tell you my plans.”

  He explained that there were only two major appliance warehouses in the close vicinity which had not been burglarized.

  “They were both on the list you saw at Bilks’ garage. We have a hunch they will be robbed, even though the thieves must know they will be extra well guarded. I can’t give you the details over the phone,” he went on, “but I won’t be home tonight. Tell Mother not to worry. See you all in the morning.”

  Joe repeated the conversation to his brother. They felt certain that their father was going to lie in wait inside one of the warehouses.

  The boys were still discussing their father’s telephone call when Mrs. Hardy came home, and they gave her his message. Aunt Gertrude had dinner ready, and as usual she insisted they all sit down at once to eat.

  “One of your old school friends is coming over this evening, Laura,” she announced presently.

  “Who’s that?” asked Mrs. Hardy.

  “Frank, eat more slowly,” Aunt Gertrude ordered. “Laura, these boys certainly are going to ruin their digestion if they stuff themselves like this.”

  “But, Aunty, we’ve just started,” Frank pointed out.

  “That makes no difference. I know by the way you two are setting out you plan to eat enough for four people. Oh, yes,” she added, “Martha Johnson is coming to call.”

  “I’m so glad,” said Mrs. Hardy. Then, turning to her sons, she explained that Miss Johnson was a high school friend. “She became a nurse and moved to the West Coast. She comes back every so often, but I haven’t seen her for several years.”

  Aunt Gertrude said Miss Johnson was on a short visit in Bayport, and had telephoned to see if the Hardys were at home. The boys’ mother was eagerly looking forward to seeing her friend. Shortly after dinner the woman arrived.

  Frank and Joe talked with Miss Johnson for a while, then excused themselves to keep their movie date with Chet and the girls.

  After they had left, the three women settled themselves in the living room for a long talk. Presently the conversation became so animated and full of laughter that they failed to hear the back door open softly and a stealthy figure tiptoe in. The man who entered listened to them for several moments. Then a cunning gleam came into his eyes.