"I'll put Jeff Kane here, together with a few regulars the police will a.s.sign. Joe, go tell the others the plan. And insist that Mr. Delhi go with us to the hotel."

Joe relayed the message and Mr. Delhi said he would accompany them and stay at least for the remainder of the night.

After everyone had dressed, and the Hardys had packed a few clothes, they gathered outdoors.

Chief Collig was on hand now, having been sum-moned from his home. He had ordered searchlights set up and had stationed men on every side of the Hardy house.

The chief reported that the hard ground had yielded no footprints and that his men had found not a single clue to the person who had thrown the bomb. However, in the living room they had found parts of the bomb scattered about. The remnants had been gathered up for the police laboratory to examine.

Satisfied that the situation was under control, Mr.

148 Hardy and the others went to the Bayport Hotel. Dawn was breaking when they were finally settled in their suite.

By that time all desire for sleep had vanished for everyone except Mr. Hardy. The detective said he had worked late the previous two nights and needed a few hours' rest before tackling several important problems. Not the least of these was the attempt on the lives of himself, his family, and their visitor.

After he had gone to bed, his sons talked with Mr. Delhi for some time about the mystery. But they could not figure out any lead to the ident.i.ty of the hooded figure who had thrown the bomb. It was certainly not Ragu, since he was safely behind bars in the Bayport jail.

When the hotel coffee shop opened at six o'clock, the three went in to have breakfast.

Halfway through the meal, Mr. Delhi excused himself to make a phone call. After several minutes, he returned, much dis turbed.

"Forgive me," he began nervously. "I have just learned that I must fly to New York at once. Should you want to reach me, call Mr. Ghapur. He will know of my whereabouts. And please make my apologies to your family."

"Let us drive you to the airport," Frank offered.

The Indian, who seemed extremely upset, said quickly, "Thank you, no. You have been most kind to me. I shall take a cab. Good-by."

With that, he strode out the door of the coffee 149 shop, the boys following him to the hotel entrance. As he climbed into a brown-and-white cab, they waved farewell to the royal gentleman who had suddenly begun to act so mysteriously.

"What do you suppose upset him so?" Joe said quizzically as they returned to the coffee shop.

"He sure acted strange," Frank agreed, but could not guess the reason.

When the boys finished eating, Frank suggested that they go back to their house to make a search for a clue to the person who had thrown the bomb, in the hope that the police might have overlooked it.

It was shortly after seven when they turned into Elm Street. The story of the explosion had spread all over Bayport, and scores of people had gathered outside the police lines.

One of the officers approached the Hardys and said: "There's a young fellow over there by the barrier who says you boys would want to see him."

Frank, turning, saw Chet waving at them excitedly and asked the officer to let him through. Chet hurried to the boys, his eyes popping as he studied the damage to their home.

"Gee, fellows, I'm sorry this happened," he said. "Is everybody all right?" At a nod from Joe, he went on, "How'd Miss Peregrine take it?"

Frank's and Joe's mouths dropped open. In the excitement they had completely forgotten the prize bird!

They dashed up the porch steps two at a time and 150 ran pell-mell up the stairway. There was only a slim chance that the falcon would still be alive. The door to their room stood ajar and one glance inside revealed the bird's perch lying in a corner.

But the falcon was gone!

After the first shock was over, Joe said: "She couldn't have flown away, Frank. Her leash was fastened to the ring at the base of the perch stand. It would have to be twisted or broken to free her. Someone took her!"

Frank nodded. "With all the police and bystanders around here, someone must have seen who it was. Let's go and ask them."

By this time Chet had caught up to the boys and was saying, "What ails you guys? I ask you a simple question and you act as if you'd been shot." When the boys explained, the stout boy said thoughtfully, "Maybe the house was bombed so those smugglers could get your bird."

"That might have been part of the plan," Frank conceded, but he felt sure that there was much more behind it than that.

The three boys headed back downstairs. They checked with Jeff Kane and the policemen guarding the house, but none of them had seen the bird, nor had any one of them entered the house since the second shift of men had come on duty at seven o'clock.

"Let's ask some of the people in the crowd if they saw anyone carry off the bird," Joe suggested.

151 The boys separated and began quizzing the bystanders. Finally a neighbor woman approached Frank and said: "I saw your falcon. About six forty-five this morning a man in a taxi came up and spoke to the policeman on duty at the front door. He went upstairs with him and they came down a few minutes later with the falcon. The man drove off in the taxi-cab with it."

"Which policeman was it?" Frank asked.

"I don't see him around just now, so I guess he's gone off duty. But I remember his badge number. It was eighty-two."

"Did you notice what kind of taxicab the man who took the bird came in?" the boy asked.

"It was a brown-and-white cab of the Bayport Taxi Company, I think."

Frank thanked the woman for her information and relayed it to Joe and Chet. Then they climbed into Chet's jalopy and drove to police headquarters.

They traced the officer through the badge number and learned that he was at his home.

Frank reached him by phone. The man said that the stranger had told him the Hardys wanted him to get the falcon, and he knew just which room the bird was in.

"No, he didn't give his name," the policeman said. "He was dark-skinned and seemed to be in an awful hurry."

The Hardys were astonished. Dark-skinned man. Brown-and-white cab. Taking the falcon during the 152 time they were finishing breakfast. It all seemed to piece together-unfortunately. Could Mr. Delhi have taken the falcon? Had his phone call to New York prompted this? He certainly had started to act strangely all of a sudden.

As Frank started to ask the policeman for a fuller description of the thief, the connection was broken. He was about to call the officer again when Joe suggested that they get it from the taxi driver, as well as information on his pa.s.senger's destination.

The boys headed for the office of the Bayport Taxi Company, a modern outfit with a fleet of radio-equipped taxis. Convinced of the importance of the Hardys' request, the dispatcher willingly contacted his various drivers.

The one they sought appeared at the office about ten minutes later. Frank explained about the missing falcon and their desire to apprehend the thief. The taxi driver's eyebrows went up.

"I remember the guy all right," he said. "I picked him up in front of the Bayport Hotel between six thirty and seven this morning.

"After the man collected the falcon from a house on Elm Street," the driver went on, "he ordered me to drive him down to a deserted wharf on the water front. I was curious about why he wanted to go there at that hour of the morning. But this guy claimed that someone was going to pick him up in a boat."

"Could you give us a description of this man?" Frank asked excitedly.

153 The taxi driver furrowed his brow for a moment, then replied, "Well, he was young and good-looking and dark-skinned, like one of them Indian rug makers down at Ahmed's place.

And he had a light scar on his chin. I mean a scar that really stood out-* looked lighter than the rest of his skin."

Frank exchanged glances with Joe. They both heaved a sigh of relief. The falcon thief was not Mr. Delhi after all! It must have been the Indian who had bought pigeons from Mr.

Newton two years before-the imposter who had used Mr. Delhi's real name of Bhagnav!

The driver noticed the boys' amazed expressions and asked, "Does that description help you?"

"It sure does," Frank said. "Thanks a lot. Now will you drive us to the wharf where you left this man? He may still be there."

The three boys climbed into the cab. Moments later the driver let them out on one of the wharves, promising to wait. They hurried down the length of the dock, but the dark-skinned man was not in sight, and no one they questioned on the small boats tied up at the dock had seen anyone carrying a hooded hawk.

"Looks like a dead end," Joe declared, disappointment in his voice.

Frank agreed, but Chet tried to cheer them up, saying: "Listen, fellows, you're due for a real break. Wait and see!"

154 The boys smiled at Chet's loyalty and Frank said, "Let's head back to the hotel and brief Dad on this latest development. He ought to be awake by now."

The taxi driver took them back to Chet's jalopy and Chet in turn drove the Hardys to pick up their car at their home. Then Joe and Frank headed for the hotel.

The three adults listened in amazement to the boys' story. When it was finished, Mr.

Hardy leaned forward intently in his chair and reached for the telephone.

"I think we have our man," he said, as he lifted the receiver and waited for the operator.

"The light-colored scar on the chin is the give-away. The description fits an Indian by the name of Nanab. He is Rahmud Ghapur's personal servant!"

CHAPTER XX.

A Nautical Clue.

ten minutes later Mr. Hardy replaced the instrument in its cradle and turned to them.

"Well, boys, the pieces are beginning to fall into place. Ghapur says that his servant Nanab quit his job very suddenly the day before yesterday and has disappeared."

"Wow!" cried Joe, adding, "Why didn't Mr. Delhi recognize him while staying at Ghapur's home?"

"Nanab apparently kept out of his sight on purpose," Mr. Hardy replied. "He may have feared he might be recognized. The only relative in India that Nanab wrote to while he was in Washington," Mr. Hardy continued, "was a brother whose name is Bangalore. So far as Ghapur knows, Bangalore is still in India."

Frank broke in excitedly. "No, Dad. You were away when we learned this, but Bangalore was the name of an Indian who jumped ship on the Continental Continental while the vessel was docked while the vessel was docked in New York. That happened two years ago."

155.

156 As he finished speaking, Radley came in, an envelope in his hand. He said he had been to the house and was amazed to learn of the bombing and was glad the Hardys wrere sate. He now handed over the envelope, saying: "I came down here to check my mail. When I opened this, I knew you boys would want to see it." He held up a photograph. "It's a picture of that fellow Bangalore. The steamship line sent it."

"Bangalore!" Mr. Hardy exclaimed. "He's Na-nab's brother all right. Looks just like him, except that the chin scar's missing. Good work, fellows. It certainly looks as if Bangalore is one of the ringleaders in this smuggling and kidnaping business. Nanab has probably been working with him part of the time and is now spending full time on the rackets."

"Dad, do you think he could have been the one who intercepted Mr. Ghapur's letter to us?" Joe asked.

"No doubt of it. Unfortunately, Ghapur trusted Nanab implicitly and always confided in him. Nanab destroyed the letter, but why do you suppose he let the falcon come through to you?"

"That does seem strange," Frank agreed. "Anyway, we know he learned all the plans and developments in the case by eavesdropping on Ghapur and Mr. Delhi."

"There's one bright side to this whole thing," said his father. "You boys must be much nearer a 157 solution than you think, or I doubt that Nanab would have left his job at Ghapur's. He probably knew the net was closing around him."

Frank and Joe, certain that part of the solution was to be found on the Daisy K, Daisy K, determined to carry through with their fishing plan. Since it was too late for the trip scheduled for that day, Frank phoned the booking office for Bayport's charter boats to find out if the Daisy K was going out the following morning. He was delighted to learn there would be a was going out the following morning. He was delighted to learn there would be a trip.

Mr. Hardy said he would make the necessary arrangements for repairs to their home, then he must return to Washington on urgent business.

The phone rang and Joe answered. The caller was Chet, who said, "How about you fellows coming out here to live until your house is repaired? The folks say it's fine with them."

"Sounds good, Chet. Wait till I ask Dad and Mother."

The family agreed that the brothers would enjoy staying with Chet far more than living in the hotel, so Joe promptly accepted. Then, at their parents' request, Frank and Joe worked nearly all day at the bombed house storing away pictures, lamps, and other small furnishings, and moving clothes to the hotel. It was late afternoon when they arrived at the Morton farm.

"Before it gets dark today," Frank proposed, "let's go over to the deserted hunting lodge and see if Rad-ley has anything new to report."

158 After the Hardys had deposited their luggage in the Mortons' guest room, the three boys set off for the lodge. Radley said there was no evidence that anyone had returned to the lodge and felt further watch of it was useless. He remarked that he would like to tackle the mystery from another angle.

"I've had a lot of time to think out here," he said, "and just this morning I came up with an idea. Maybe these smugglers don't send their pigeons from a boat at all. They may be working from an island."

"An island! Maybe that's it!" Joe replied enthusiastically. "When we get back to Chet's, let's take a look at a map to see what's northeast of here."

"And," said Radley, "why not let me cut loose with a plane and see if I can spot something out there."

"Okay," Frank agreed. "Joe and I are planning a fishing trip on the Daisy K Daisy K early early tomorrow morning. Among the three of us we may uncover something either on the sea or from the air."

Radley and the boys walked back to the Morton home where they pored over a map.

"Hmm," said Radley. "Islands galore northeast of here. The closest ones are Shoals, Pine Haven, and Venus, but that doesn't mean they're the ones. The smugglers may be taking no chances and using an island quite a distance away. I'll look over as many as I can from the plane, though."

That evening, after Radley had left, Frank and Joe got their fishing disguises ready.

Their father, 159 an expert at disguise, had taught his sons many of the techniques. First came a make-up base: ruddy for Joe, slightly sallow for Frank. Then Frank pasted on a false chin stubble and sideburns, while Joe gummed on a small mustache and heavy false eyebrows, then plastered down his blond, slightly wavy hair. With slickers and sou'westers in case of rain, they looked like middle-aged fishermen. lola and Chet laughed heartily at their disguises.

"n.o.body will know you," lola declared.

Before dawn the next morning, Frank and Joe repaired their make-up and set out through a drizzle for the wharf where the Daisy K Daisy K was tied up. Four other sports fishermen was tied up. Four other sports fishermen already were there, ready to go aboard. The Hardys kept a wary eye on Captain Flont, who did not give any indication that he recognized them. In fact, he paid little attention to his pa.s.sengers.

The day's fishing went along with reasonable success. All of the members of the Daisy Daisy K's pa.s.senger list managed to net a fair-sized catch of tuna and mackerel. Under various pa.s.senger list managed to net a fair-sized catch of tuna and mackerel. Under various reasonable pretexts during the trip, both Frank and Joe wandered all over the craft, but the falcon was not aboard. The boys had also made a point of trying to pick up conversations between the captain, his crew of two, and any pa.s.sengers that might be in league with him, but learned nothing.

In the late afternoon, when the Daisy K Daisy K started back for Bayport, Frank and Joe were started back for Bayport, Frank and Joe were seated inside 160 the deckhouse as close as they dared to Captain Flont, who was at the wheel.

Suddenly, above the roar of the motors, they heard him say to one of his crew, "It beats me where Ragu went."

"I'm afraid he's in trouble," the man replied.