What Happened at Midnight

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Perhaps,” Joe said, “he saw you and me and is trying to shake us.”

  “I don’t think so. I believe he’s going to the railroad station.”

  “Good night! If he takes a train out of town, we’ll lose him.”

  “I don’t intend to lose him,” Frank declared. “How much money do you have with you?”

  Joe groped in his pockets. “About seven dollars.”

  “Luck’s with us. I have thirty. We can take the train if he does, but I hope he won’t go far.”

  It was soon evident that Chris was indeed bound for the station. When he came in sight of the big brick building, he broke into a run and disappeared through the massive doorway.

  The Hardys hastened in pursuit, still looking for a policeman. Just before reaching the station, they saw one of their father’s friends. Quickly Frank told him the story and added, “Call headquarters and my mother.” He dashed after Joe.

  When the boys entered the station they saw Chris just leaving one of the ticket windows. He ran across to an exit, raced through it, and darted toward a waiting train.

  Frank stepped up to the window which the fair-haired man had just left.

  “Where to?” the agent asked.

  “We wanted to meet a man here,” Frank explained. “He’s a big fellow with blond hair. Have you seen him?”

  “Just bought a ticket to New York City a minute ago.”

  Frank was taken aback. He had not anticipated that Chris would be going as far as New York. However, having once picked up the trail, the young detective decided to follow it.

  “Two one-way tickets,” he said.

  “You’ll have to hurry,” the agent said. “The express is due to leave right away.”

  Frank grabbed the tickets. He heard a whistle and saw that the train was beginning to move.

  The boys dashed to the platform. Joe, in the lead, scrambled up the rear steps of the last coach. Frank followed.

  When the boys had recovered their breath, they went through to the coach Chris occupied. They halted in the rear doorway and made a quick survey of the occupants.

  Alone in a front seat they saw a familiar thatch of yellow hair. Chris was unaware that he had been followed.

  The boys took seats at the rear of the car, and settled down for the journey.

  CHAPTER X

  Elevator Chase

  “I hope the Bayport police communicate with the authorities in New York,” Frank remarked. “If they meet the train and arrest Chris, our worries will be over.”

  “And if they don’t?” Joe asked.

  Frank gave a wan smile. “Our troubles will just be starting. There’ll be crowds and it’ll be tough to keep track of him.”

  The train did not make many stops, but each time it did, Frank and Joe were ready to hop off in case Chris should alight. At length the train reached the suburbs, clattering past miles of factories and houses, and finally lurched to a halt in the underground station in New York City.

  The boys watched Chris intently as the passengers prepared to leave. The fair-haired man did not look back once. He put on his hat and strolled toward the front of the car.

  “We’ll get out at the back and keep an eye on him from there,” Frank said.

  The Hardys scrambled onto the platform where passengers were just beginning to file up the ramp to the waiting room. Chris had not yet appeared, so the brothers, shielding their faces, made their way quickly to the exit gate.

  “I don’t see any police,” Frank remarked, disappointed.

  “No,” Joe replied. “I guess we’ll have to take over.”

  The boys emerged into the concourse. There, in the enormous, high-vaulted station, booming with hollow echoes, they waited for Chris to appear.

  He stalked through the gate, looking neither to right nor left. The boys quickly fell in behind him. He towered above the throng, and they had little difficulty following him. Despite the crowds that jostled them, the Hardys managed to keep Chris in view and pursued him out into the street.

  “What’ll we do if he hops into a taxi?” Joe asked.

  “Hop into one ourselves and hope we can trail him,” Frank said.

  “I’d feel better if we had more money with us,” Joe mumbled.

  The man they were trailing still seemed unaware that he was being followed.

  “It’s going to be mighty hard for one taxi to follow another in this traffic,” Frank remarked.

  “Maybe we won’t need one,” his brother suggested. “Anyhow, these New York taxi drivers are pretty clever. I think if we tell one to follow a car we point out and make it worth his while, he could do it.”

  “Going to cost a lot of moolah,” Frank said.

  They were relieved when their quarry continued walking.

  “Come on!” Frank called.

  The two sleuths had a twofold problem: to follow Chris and be careful he did not suspect they were after him. Twice he swung around while they hurried along the crowded sidewalk, and it seemed as if he were suspicious.

  On these occasions the boys dodged back of passers-by. After two momentary surveys, Chris hastened on again.

  “I don’t believe he saw us,” Frank murmured as they again took up the chase.

  “No, evidently not. But we’re coming to heavy congestion. Look at the crowd and there are traffic signals. If he gets across the street ahead of us and you and I are held up by a red light, we’ll lose him.”

  The boys were anxious as they approached a busy corner where a policeman was directing the flow of automobiles and pedestrians.

  “Shall we ask his help?” Joe asked.

  “I doubt he could leave his post,” Frank answered.

  Just what Joe had feared took place. Chris was among the last to slip across the thoroughfare before the lights flashed from green to red and the officer blew his whistle sharply. Joe groaned.

  “Just our luck!” he cried.

  “Look!” Frank exclaimed. “We’re in luck!”

  Chris was speaking to a man on the other side of the street. Evidently the stranger had asked directions and Chris had halted to explain and point out the location of a certain street. He took such pains with the man that by the time he finished, the traffic light had again flashed green.

  “Let’s go!” Joe cried.

  They trailed Chris along the street for several blocks, then he turned into a large office building. Inside was a row of elevators opposite the entrance. Frank and Joe hesitated a few seconds about following Chris.

  “Come on!” Joe urged. “If he gets in an elevator, and we aren’t there, we won’t know what office he’s going to.”

  “You’re right!” Frank agreed.

  They hurried into the lobby just as Chris stepped into one of the cars. The door closed and he shot upward. Fortunately he was the only passenger and the boys watched the dial. The car stopped at the tenth floor.

  “I hope he doesn’t get away,” Joe murmured excitedly.

  “We never would have dared get into the same elevator with him,” Frank said. “He’d have recognized us.”

  The boys stepped into the next car. It soon filled and shot up leaving passengers off at various floors. The boys left it at the tenth. Each wondered if they could locate Chris in the maze of offices.

  Again luck was with them. As Frank and Joe looked down a corridor, Chris was just entering an office. Evidently he had been delayed looking for his destination.

  The Hardys hurried to the door as it closed behind the suspect. It was a green-painted steel door with an open transom. The sign read:SOUTH AFRICAN IMPORTING COMPANY WHOLESALE ONLY

  “I wonder what he’s doing in there,” Joe murmured.

  Frank put a finger to his lips. The sound of muffled voices could be heard from the office. Apparently Chris and the others inside were so far from the door that their conversation was indistinct.

  A moment later Chris’s voice came loud and clear. He must be walking toward the outer door!

  “
We’d better scram,” Frank advised.

  “When he comes out, shall we grab him?” Joe asked.

  Frank shook his head. “If those are buddies of his in there, they may grab us.”

  The boys scooted up the corridor and watched Chris over their shoulders. He did not notice Frank and Joe. The suspect was looking intently at some papers in his hand as he went to the elevators and pushed a button for an ascending car. He was going to a higher floor

  “Shall we follow him?” Joe whispered.

  “Too risky. Let’s go down and wait in the lobby, then take up the trail again.”

  After Chris had gone up, the boys took a Down car. On the ground floor they watched each descending elevator. After half an hour had passed, their patience was rewarded. Amid a carload of businessmen, they saw the burly form of the big blond man towering above all the others.

  “Come on!” Frank whispered to Joe as Chris moved toward the street doors.

  Again the chase was resumed in the crowded street. For several blocks Chris maintained a straight course. Then he swung around a corner and stalked down a side street. The sleuths hurried after their quarry and saw him dip beneath a restaurant sign below street level.

  “Oh—oh!” Joe muttered. “If we follow him in there, he can’t miss us.”

  “Let’s see if there are many customers inside,” Frank suggested. “If so, we just might be able to get away with it. Could be he’s meeting someone there.”

  Frank went down the steps leading to the restaurant and made a quick survey of the place through the door. It was almost full.

  “Chris is taking a table in the rear, and he’s not facing the door. Come on, Joe! We’re not letting him out of our sight.”

  Boldly Frank and Joe entered the place. It was a cheap restaurant, with a row of booths along one side. The boys slipped quickly into one of the compartments. They could watch Chris but he could not see them.

  “This is a break!” Joe whispered.

  An untidy-looking waiter came over and they gave their orders. After he had gone to the kitchen, the boys put their money on the table.

  “There’s enough to pay for a hotel room if we have to stay over, and a few more meals.”

  “We can’t afford to hang around New York long,” Joe remarked, eying their available cash. “I guess we’d better tell the police about Chris and forget trying to spot his buddies.”

  Suddenly Frank sat bolt upright. “Chris is getting up from his table.”

  “Leaping lizards!” Joe exclaimed. “He’s heading right for us!”

  CHAPTER XI

  Discovered !

  JOE pretended to be searching for something he had dropped and quickly ducked his head underneath the table as the fair-haired man approached. Frank snatched up a menu and held it in front of his face.

  There was a tense moment as Chris drew nearer. To the boys’ relief, he brushed past without noticing them and walked directly to the cashier’s counter. The Hardys got ready to pursue him, but he only stopped to glance at a newspaper lying there, then returned to his own table.

  “Whew, that was close!” Joe murmured as he raised his head.

  “It sure was,” Frank agreed. “But we have one thing in our favor. We’re the last persons in the world Chris would expect to find trailing him in New York City.”

  The Hardys watched as a waiter walked up to the big man’s table. Apparently Chris was well known in the restaurant, for the two exchanged a few words laughing all the while. Presently a slim, sharp-featured man emerged from a door to the kitchen and went directly to Chris. He sat down, then began to talk.

  “I think,” Joe whispered, “it’s time for some action. How about my going outside and looking for a policeman?”

  “Good idea, Joe. I have a feeling the man with Chris should be investigated, too. He may be one of the smugglers.”

  Joe slid from the booth and went outside. No officer was in sight, but there was a public-telephone booth nearby. “I’ll call headquarters from here,” Joe decided and dialed the number.

  He was connected with a lieutenant, who said they had been alerted by Chief Collig, but the boys’ message to him had been delayed, and the call to New York had come too late for the police to meet the train from Bayport. “I will send two officers to the restaurant. If this man Chris hasn’t started to eat yet, he’ll be there a while. By the way, we got a message that you are to phone your home at once.”

  “Thank you,” said Joe and hung up.

  He immediately dialed the Hardy house. Aunt Gertrude answered. “My, you boys certainly take off fast! You ought to be right here taking care of the secret radio mystery.”

  “What do you mean, Aunty?”

  “I mean that I can’t understand your father. He sent a telegram saying, ‘Inventor will phone. Do as directed.’ Well, the inventor called and said we should leave the radio on the front steps at ten o‘clock tonight.”

  Joe was astounded. After a moment’s thought he said, “I think the telegram was a hoax. Dad would never do such a thing. Somebody may be listening in on this call, but I’ll take a chance. Put a package on the steps but not the radio. Then ask the police to shadow the house and pick up this fake inventor. I have to say good-by now. Frank and I have one of the gang almost nabbed. Give my love to Mother. Tell her we’re sorry we couldn’t call before this.”

  Joe returned to the restaurant and in whispers repeated his whole conversation. Frank nodded, then pointed to Chris’s table.

  “I heard that thin guy call him Chris, so we know for sure we’re on the right track.”

  The smuggler and his companion were busily engaged with pencil and paper. Chris seemed to be explaining something that did not please the other man, for he shook his head doubtfully and crossed out what Chris had already jotted down.

  “I’d give anything to know what those two are talking about,” Frank said in a low tone.

  “So would I,” Joe replied and started to eat.

  At that instant the boys’ attention was diverted to a stocky man who had just entered the restaurant. He glanced in their direction, then made his way toward them. He planted himself in front of their table and glared at the Hardys.

  “What’s the idea of sittin’ at my table?” he demanded.

  “Your table?” Frank asked in surprise.

  “Yes. This is my table you’re sittin’ at. You’d better clear out!”

  “There are lots of other tables,” Frank retorted in a low voice.

  “Sure. And you can have any one of ‘em you want.”

  Frank decided that nothing would be gained by arguing with the stranger. Both boys returned quietly to their meal and did not look up.

  “Well,” the man roared, “are you gonna move?”

  “As soon as we’ve finished our lunch,” Joe snapped.

  “You’ll move now! This is my table you’re sittin’ at, and I mean to have it!”

  The young sleuths were infuriated by the intrusion. Unknowingly the man was putting them in a difficult position. If they stood up to walk to another table, Chris would surely spot them and might escape before the police arrived! If they remained where they were, they probably would be discovered, since the incident was beginning to attract attention.

  Frank signaled a waiter standing nearby.

  “What’s the trouble, Mr. Melvin?” he asked.

  “These kids are sittin’ at my table,” Melvin protested. “Make‘em move!”

  The waiter looked uneasy. “I can’t ask these young men to move, Mr. Melvin. They were here first.”

  “Ain‘tIagood customer of this restaurant?”

  “Yes, indeed. But there are plenty of other tables, sir. If you don’t mind—”

  “I do mind. These boys can get outta here or I won’t come back to this restaurant again!” Melvin shouted.

  Frank saw that Chris and his friend had turned and were looking in the Hardys’ direction. At once Chris spoke to the sharp-featured man, who nodded. Then both dart
ed toward the kitchen door and disappeared through it.

  Joe said to the waiter, “We’re not afraid of this fellow, but we’ll leave just to save trouble.”

  The boys got up. Melvin, breathing defiance and declaring that no person could sit at his table and get away with it, promptly sat down in the seat Frank had just vacated.

  Joe dashed to the back of the restaurant and whirled into the kitchen. Chris and his friend were not in sight, but a back door was open and Joe assumed the men had ducked outside and up a delivery alley to the street. He hurried back into the restaurant.

  Frank had hastened to the cashier’s desk and paid the boys’ check. Then he ran up the front steps and into the street. The police had not arrived.

  Joe joined his brother. “Chris left by the back door,” he said. “He should be coming up that alley.” When the two men did not put in an appearance, he added, “You stay here, Frank. I’ll run down.”

  Joe returned in a short time. “Come on!” he cried, and explained that the alley joined another one that led to the busy street beyond. They followed it to the sidewalk, which was teeming with pedestrians. Chris was not in sight.

  “We’ve really lost him this time,” Joe commented in disgust.

  “I have an idea,” Frank said. “Let’s walk along this street in opposite directions for about ten or twelve blocks. I’ll head downtown, you uptown. There’s a slight chance one of us might spot Chris.”

  “But he might have gone cross town,” Joe argued.

  “You’re right. But what have we to lose?”

  “Okay, Frank, I’m game. But there’s just one hitch. If I should see Chris, how do I let you know and vice versa?”

  Frank looked around and pointed to a public-telephone booth. He walked over and jotted down the number.

  Rejoining his brother, he said, “We’ll meet back here in half an hour. However, if one of us gets back and the other isn’t here, I say stay by the phone and wait for a call.” He handed Joe a copy of the number and took one himself.

  “Here’s hoping!” Joe declared with a grin as the boys went their separate ways.