“One of the times when I was here my uncle showed me the pirates’ hide-out and I never forgot it. After I got in with a gang of hoods I kept thinking about this place, and what a swell hide-out it would be for smugglers. I was afraid to try it while my uncle was alive. But when I heard he was dead, I thought that was my chance.
“You see, I didn’t dare go to claim the property as the rightful heir. But now I’m planning to take it over. Of course it won’t do me any good, because I know I’ll have to do a long stretch in the pen. But I’m going to ask those executors to use my uncle’s money to run this place as a boys’ home—I mean a place where boys without proper home training can come to live.”
The group listening to Snattman, king of the smugglers, were too overwhelmed by his complete change of heart to say anything for a few seconds. But when the man looked up, as if pleading for his hearers to believe him, Mr. Hardy said, “That’s a very fine thing for you to do, Snattman. I’m sure that the boys who benefit from living here will always be grateful to you.”
The solemn scene was suddenly interrupted by the return of Chief Petty Officer Brown. He reported that another patrol boat had picked up his message about Captain Foster’s ship and within a few minutes had reported sighting it. Then, within a quarter of an hour, word came that Captain Foster had been put under arrest, and that the missing Coast Guard man had been found on the ship, as well as a quantity of merchandise which the captain had expected Snattman to remove.
The prisoners were now taken away from the Pollitt home and the Hardys and their friends found themselves alone.
Chet asked suddenly, “How do we get home?”
Tony grinned. “I guess the Napoli will hold all of us.”
The group went to the woodshed, opened the trap door, and started down the secret passageway to the pond below. They climbed into the Napoli and Tony slipped behind the wheel. The Coast Guard men thoughtfully had left the portable searchlight on the prow and Tony was able to make the trip through the tunnel and the narrow channel out to the ocean without accident.
Suddenly Frank spoke up, “Dad, what happened to your car?”
Mr. Hardy smiled. “It’s in Bayport in a garage. I was being followed, so I shook off the shadowers and took the bus.” He added ruefully, “But it didn’t do me much good. Snattman’s men attacked me and took me prisoner on the road.”
The famous detective now said, “While I have the chance, I want to thank each of you boys individually for what you did. Without the seven of you, this case might never have been solved and I might not have been found alive.”
Modestly Frank and Joe and their friends acknowledged the praise, secretly hoping another mystery would come their way soon. One did and by learning The Secret of the Old Mill the Hardy boys encountered a cunning gang of counterfeiters.
Suddenly Joe remarked, “Compliments are flying around here pretty thick, but there’s one person we forgot to mention. Without him, Frank and I might never have found Dad.”
“Who’s that?” Biff asked.
“Pretzel Pete!” Joe replied.
“That’s right,” said Frank. “All together, fellows! A rousing cheer for Pretzel Pete!”
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The House on the Cliff Page 12