The Secret Of The Old Mill thb-3

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The Secret Of The Old Mill

  ( The Hardy Boys - 3 )

  Franklin W. Dixon

  Counterfeit money is in circulation, and the limit is reached when Mrs. Hardy takes some from a stranger. Then the Hardy boys and their high school chums are warned to stay away from the old mill. Their curiosity plunges them into peril of the most unexpected kind.

  ______________

  Determined to learn the secret of the old mill, Frank and Joe employ a clever use to gain entrance and become trapped. There they unravel two mysteries, one involving a counterfeiting case and the other, a national security case their father is working on.

  HARDY BOYS #003 - THE SECRET OF THE OLD MILL

  FRANKLIN W. DIXON

  CHAPTER I

  A Narrow Escape

  "WONDER what mystery Dad's working on now?" Joe Hardy asked.

  His brother Frank looked eagerly down the platform of the Bayport railroad station. "It must be a very important case, the way Dad dashed off to Detroit. We'll know in a few minutes."

  Joe looked at his watch impatiently. "Train's late."

  Both boys were wondering, too, about a certain surprise their father had hinted might be ready for them upon his return.

  Waiting with Frank and Joe for Mr. Hardy's arrival was their best friend Chet Morton. "Your dad's cases are always exciting-and dangerous," the plump, ruddy-faced boy remarked. "Do you think he'll give you a chance to help out on this one?"

  "We sure hope so," Joe replied eagerly-

  "Well, if I know you fellows," Chet went on, "you'll get mixed up in the mystery, somehow-and so will I, sooner or later. There goes my peaceful summer vacation!"

  Frank and Joe chuckled, knowing that Chet, despite his penchant for taking things easy and

  avoiding unnecessary risks, would stick by them through any peril.

  Dark-haired, eighteen-year-old Frank, and blond impetuous Joe, a year younger, had often

  assisted their detective father, Fenton Hardy, in solving baffling mysteries. There was nothing the two brothers liked more than tackling a tough case, either with their father, or by

  themselves.

  Chet gave a huge sigh and leaned against a baggage truck as though his weight were too much

  for him. "I sure could use something to eat," he declared. "I should have brought along some candy or peanuts."

  The Hardys exchanged winks. They frequently needled their friend about his appetite, and Joe

  could not resist doing so now.

  "What's the matter, Chet? Didn't you have lunch? Or did you forget to eat?"

  The thought of this remote possibility brought a hearty laugh from Frank. Chet threw both boys a glance of mock indignation, then grinned. "Okay, okay. I'm going inside and get some candy from the machine."

  As Chet went into the station, the Hardys looked across to the opposite platform where a

  northbound train roared in. The powerful diesel ground to a halt, sparks flashing from under

  the wheels. Passengers began to alight.

  "Did you notice that there weren't any passengers waiting to board the train?" Frank remarked.

  At that moment a man dashed up the stairs onto the platform toward the rear of the train. As

  the train started to move, the stranger made a leap for the last car.

  "Guess he made it. That fellow's lucky," Joe commented as the train sped away. "And crazy!"

  "You're telling me!" Chet exclaimed, as he rejoined the brothers. Munching on a chocolate bar, he added, "That same man stopped me in the station and asked me to change a twenty-dollar bill. There was a long line at the ticket window, so he didn't want to wait for change there. He grabbed the money I gave him and rushed out the door as if the police were after him!"

  "Boy!" Joe exclaimed. "You must be really loaded with money if you could change a twenty-dollar bill."

  Chet blushed and tried to look as modest as he could. "Matter of fact, I do have a good bit with me," he said proudly. "I guess the man saw it when I pulled out my wallet to be sure the money was there."

  "What are you going to do with all your cash?"

  Frank asked curiously. "Start a mint of your own?"

  "Now, don't be funny, Frank Hardy," Chet retorted. "You must have noticed that for a long time I haven't been spending much. I've been saving like mad to buy a special scientific instrument.

  After your dad arrives, I'm going to pick it up."

  "What kind of hobby are you latching onto this time, Chet?" Frank asked, grinning.

  From past experience, Frank and Joe knew that their friend's interest in his new hobby would

  only last until another hobby captured his fancy.

  "This is different," Chet insisted. "I'm going to the Scientific Specialties Store and buy a twin-lensed, high-powered microscope-and an illuminator to go with it."

  "A microscope!" Joe exclaimed. "What are you going to do with it-hunt for the answers to school exams?"

  Frank joined Joe in a loud laugh, but Chet did not seem to think there was anything funny about it.

  "Just you two wait," he muttered, kicking a stone that was lying on the platform. "You don't know whether or not I'll decide to be a naturalist or even a zoologist."

  "Wow!" said Joe. "I can just see a sign: Chester Morton, Big-game Naturalist,"

  "Okay," Chet said. "Maybe even you two great detectives will need me to help you with some of your cases."

  The conversation ended with Frank's saying, "Here comes Dad's train."

  The express from Detroit rolled into the station. The brothers and their friend scanned the

  passengers alighting. To their disappointment, Mr. Hardy was not among them.

  "Aren't there any other Bayport passengers?" Frank asked a conductor.

  "No, sir," the trainman called out as he waved the go-ahead signal to the engineer and jumped back onto the car.

  As the train pulled out, Joe said, "Dad must have been delayed at the last moment. Let's come back to the station and meet the four-o'clock train."

  "That's plenty of time for you fellows to go with me and pick up my microscope," said Chet.

  The boys walked to Chet's jalopy, nicknamed Queen, parked in the station lot. The Queen had

  been painted a brilliant yellow, and "souped up" by Chet during one of the periods when engines were his hobby. It was a familiar and amusing sight around the streets of Bayport.

  "She's not fancy, but she gets around pretty quick," Chet often maintained stoutly. "I wouldn't trade her for all the fancy cars in the showrooms."

  "The gas gauge reads 'Empty, " Joe observed, as Chet backed the jalopy from the curb. "How do you figure we'll make it downtown?"

  Chet was unconcerned. "Oh, the tank's really half full. I'll have to fix that gauge."

  The Hardys exchanged amused glances, knowing that Chet would soon be so absorbed in his

  microscope he would forget to tinker with the car.

  Suddenly Chet swung the Queen around in the parking lot. The rough gravel caught in the tire

  treads and rattled against the rear fenders.

  "Hey! What's the big rush?" Joe demanded. "We have three whole hours to get back there!"

  "Who's in a hurry?" said Chet, adding proudly, "I'm not driving fast. I just wanted to find out if I changed the turning circle of the Queen by adjusting the tie rods."

  "Some adjustment!" Joe grimaced. "Think we'll get to town in one piece?"

  "Huh!" Chet snorted. "You don't appreciate great mechanical genius when you see it!"

  In the business center of Bayport, the boys found traffic heavy. Fortunately, Chet found a

  parking spot across the street from the Scienti
fic Specialties Store and swung the car neatly into the space.

  "See what I mean?" he asked, "Good old Queen. And boy, I can't wait to start working with that microscope!" Chet exclaimed as the three boys got out and walked to the corner.

  "All bugs beware." Joe grinned.

  "You ought to be a whiz in science class next year," Frank said while they waited for the light to change.

  When it flashed green, the trio started across the street. Simultaneously, a young boy on a

  bicycle began to ride toward them from the opposite side of the street.

  The next moment a large sedan, its horn honking loudly, sped through the intersection against

  the red light and roared directly toward the Hardys and Chet, Instantly Frank gave Joe and Chet a tremendous push and they all leaped back to safety. To their horror, the sedan swerved and

  the young boy on the bicycle was directly in its path.

  "Look out!" the Hardys yelled at him.

  CHAPTER II

  Trailing a Detective

  THE BOY on the bicycle heard the Hardys' warning just in time and swerved away from the on-

  rushing car. He skidded and ran up against the curb.

  The momentum carried the boy over the handlebars. He landed in a sitting position on the

  pavement, looking dazed.

  "That driver must be out of his head!" Joe yelled as he, Frank, and Chet dashed over to the boy.

  The sedan continued its erratic path, and finally, with brakes squealing and horn blaring,

  slammed into the curb. It had barely missed a parked car.

  By now the Hardys and Chet had reached the boy. He was still seated on the sidewalk, holding

  his head.

  "Are you all right?" Frank asked, bending down. The boy was about fourteen years old, very thin and tall for his age.

  "I-I think so." A grateful look came into the boy's clear brown eyes. "Thanks for the warning, fellows!

  Whew! That was close!"

  Frank and Joe helped him to his feet. A crowd had gathered, and the Hardys had a hard time

  keeping the onlookers back. Just then the driver of the sedan made his way through the throng.

  He was a middle-aged man, and his face was ashen and drawn.

  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! My brakes wouldn't hold. Are you fellows all right?" The driver was frantic with worry. "It happened so fast-I-I just couldn't stop!"

  "In that case, you're lucky no one was hurt," Frank said calmly.

  The Hardys saw a familiar uniformed figure push through the crowd toward them.

  "What's going on?" he demanded. He was Officer Roberts, a member of the local police department and an old friend of the Hardys. The driver of the car started to explain, but by this time he had become so confused, his statements were incoherent.

  "What happened, Frank?" Officer Roberts asked.

  Frank assured him no one was hurt, and said that apparently the mishap had been entirely

  accidental, and the only damage was to the boy's bicycle. The front wheel spokes were bent,

  and some of the paint was scratched off the fender.

  The car driver, somewhat calmer now, insisted upon giving the boy five dollars toward repairs.

  "I'll phone for a tow truck," Joe offered, and hurried off to make the call while Officer Roberts got the traffic moving again.

  After the garage truck had left with the sedan, and the crowd had dispersed, the boy with the

  bicycle gave a sudden gasp.

  "My envelope!" he cried out. "Where is it?"

  The Hardys and Chet looked around. Joe was the first to spot a large Manila envelope in the

  street near the curb. He stepped out and picked it up. "Is this yours?" he asked.

  "Yes! I was afraid it was lost!"

  As Joe handed over the heavy, sealed envelope, he noticed that it was addressed in bold

  printing to Mr.

  Victor Peters, Parker Building, and had Confidential marked in the lower left-hand corner.

  The boy smiled as he took the envelope and mounted his bicycle. "Thanks a lot for helping me, fellows.

  My name is Ken Blake."

  The Hardys and Chet introduced themselves and asked Ken if he lived in Bayport.

  "Not really," Ken answered slowly. "I have a summer job near here."

  "Oh! Where are you working?" Chet asked.

  Ken paused a moment before replying. "At a place outside of town," he said finally.

  Although curious about Ken's apparent evasiveness, Frank changed the subject. He had been

  observing the bicycle with interest. Its handlebars were a different shape from most American

  models. The handgrips were much higher than the center post and the whole effect was that of

  a deep U.

  "That's a nifty bike," he said. "What kind is it?"

  Ken looked pleased. "It was made in Belgium. Rides real smooth," Then he added, "I'd better get back on the job now. I have several errands to do. So long, and thanks again."

  As Ken rode off, Joe murmured, "Funny he's so secretive about where he lives and works."

  Frank agreed. "I wonder why."

  Chet scoffed. "There you go again, making a mystery out of it."

  Frank and Joe had acquired their keen observation and interest in places and people from their father, one of the most famous investigators in the United States.

  Only recently, the boys had solved The Tower Treasure mystery. Shortly afterward, they had

  used all their ingenuity and courage to uncover a dangerous secret in the case of The House on the Cliff.

  "Come on, you two," Chet urged. "Let's get my microscope before anything else happens."

  They had almost reached the Scientific Specialties Store when Joe grabbed his brother's arm

  and pointed down the street.

  "Hey!" he exclaimed. "There's Oscar Smuff. What's he up to?"

  The other boys looked and saw a short, stout man who was wearing a loud-checkered suit and

  a soft felt hat. Chet guffawed. "He acts as if he were stalking big game in Africa! Where's the lion?"

  "I think"-Frank chuckled-"our friend is trying to shadow someone."

  "If he is," Chet said, "how could anybody not know Oscar Smuff was following him?"

  Oscar Smuff, the Hardys knew, wanted to be a member of the Bayport Police Department. He

  had read many books on crime detection, but, though he tried hard, he was just not astute

  enough to do anything

  right. The boys had encountered him several times while working on their own cases. Usually

  Smuff's efforts at detection had proved more hindrance than help, and at times actually

  laughable.

  "Let's see what happens," said Joe.

  In a second the boys spotted the man Oscar Smuff was tailing-a tall, trim, well-dressed stranger.

  He carried a suitcase and strode along as though he was going some place with a firm purpose

  in mind.

  The boys could hardly restrain their laughter as they watched Smuff's amateurish attempts to

  put into action what he had read about sleuthing.

  "He's about as inconspicuous as an elephant!" Chet observed.

  Smuff would run a few steps ahead of the stranger, then stop at a store window and pretend to

  be looking at the merchandise on display. Obviously he was waiting for the man to pass him,

  but Smuff did not seem to care what kind of window he was looking in. Joe nudged Frank and

  Chet when Oscar Smuff paused before the painted-over window of a vacant store.

  "Wonder what he's supposed to be looking at," Chet remarked.

  Smuff hurried on, then suddenly stopped again. He took off his jacket, threw it over his arm,

  and put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

  "Get a load of his tactics now!" Joe laughed. "He's trying to change his appearance."

  Frank chuckled. "Oscar's be
en studying about how to tail, but he needs a lot more practice."

  "He probably suspects the man has contraband in his suitcase," Joe guessed, grinning.

  The tall stranger suddenly turned and looked back at Smuff. The would-be detective had

  ducked into a doorway and was peering out like a child playing hide-and-seek. For a moment

  Smuff and the stranger stared at each other. The man shrugged as though puzzled about what

  was going on, then continued walking.

  Smuff kept up his comical efforts to shadow his quarry, unaware that the boys were following

  him. Near the end of the block, the man turned into a small variety store and Smuff scurried in after him.

  "Come on!" said Joe to Frank and Chet. "This is too good to miss."

  The boys followed. Oscar Smuff was standing behind a display of large red balloons. He was so

  intent on his quarry that he still did not notice the Hardys and Chet.

  Frank looked around the store quickly and the stranger at the drug counter selecting [some

  toothpaste.

  The suitcase was on the floor beside him. As they watched, the man picked up the toothpaste

  and his bag, and went up front to the checkout counter. He took out a bill and gave it to the

  woman cashier.

  Immediately Smuff went into action. He dashed from behind the balloons and across the front

  of the store. Elbowing several customers out of the way, he grasped the man by the arm and in

  a loud voice announced, "You're under arrest! Come with me!"

  The man looked at Oscar Smuff as though he were crazy. So did the cashier. Other people

  quickly crowded around.

  "What's the matter?" someone called out.

  The Hardys and Chet hurried forward, as the man pulled his arm away from Smuff's grasp and

  demanded angrily, "What's the meaning of this?"

  "You know very well what's the meaning of this," Smuff blustered, and grabbed the man's arm again.

  "Now, miss"-Smuff turned to the cashier-"let me see the bill this man just gave you."

  The woman was too surprised to refuse the request and handed the bill to the amateur

  detective.

  Smuff took the money. The Hardys stepped up and peered over his shoulder. The bill was a five-