"But you promise promise to tell Mr. Hardy about it the minute he comes in tomorrow?" she to tell Mr. Hardy about it the minute he comes in tomorrow?" she begged.

"Yes, we will," Frank agreed.

His mother had slipped from the room five minutes before, and now returned with a steaming cup of broth, which she offered to Mrs. Stryker. The woman sipped it gratefully, wrote down her address, and went out into the night.

"Poor woman," Mrs. Hardy said.

She shook her head, gazed affectionately at her two sons, and went upstairs.

"We certainly couldn't ever let our our mother down the way Lenny did his," Joe said to his mother down the way Lenny did his," Joe said to his brother.

"We sure couldn't," Frank agreed.

Fenton Hardy arrived home before breakfast the next morning, and listened attentively to the story of Lenny Stryker. His face grew grave.

"I don't like it," he remarked. "Racketeers, shooting-no, it sounds like trouble among members of a gang. That's something I don't want to get mixed up with."

41 "Then you aren't going to help Mrs. Stryker?" Frank asked.

"It isn't just a matter of helping her," his father replied. "It's a case of finding out where some gang has hidden Lenny. At the moment I haven't time to take on anything more. No, Mrs. Stryker had better go to the police. You run over to her house later and tell her that."

As the family was about to sit down at the table, a car pulled up at the curbstone. The driver alighted, slammed the door, and hurried up the walk. Frank let him into the hall.

"Mr. Hardy at home?" the caller asked briskly. The man, who was middle-aged, seemed very agitated. As the detective came into the hall, he went on, "I've just come from the police, and they seem to be unable to help me."

"Suppose we go into my study, Mr.------"

"Doctor Lyall," the man announced.

"This is my son Frank," said Mr. Hardy. "He and his brother a.s.sist me, so you need not hesitate to speak freely before them."

"Thank you," the physician said. "My troubles are over-at least, I hope so. But something should be done to punish the culprits." He lowered his voice. "Last night I was kidnaped!"

"Kidnaped!" Frank exclaimed.

"Yes," the doctor went on. "I was leaving the hospital late last night when two men came up and ordered me into a car."

42 "I suppose they threatened that if you yelled or struggled, you'd regret it," said Mr. Hardy.

"Exactly. But they promised I wouldn't be harmed if I did as I was told."

"What did the men look like?" Frank asked eagerly.

"I have no idea," Doctor Lyall replied. "Everything happened so fast I really didn't notice."

The doctor then told how he had been blindfolded, driven some place in the car, forced to alight, and when the blindfold was removed from his eyes, had found himself in a room with several masked men.

"They were taking no chances," remarked Mr. Hardy.

"Even the patient I was to take care of had his face covered," Doctor Lyall told the Hardys. "I thought the poor fellow ought to have an anaesthetic before I probed for the bullet, but the others wouldn't allow his face to be uncovered."

"Where was the bullet?" Frank asked excitedly.

"In his right leg."

The Hardys, including Joe, who had been called in, exchanged quick glances. Could the patient have been Lenny Stryker? To their questions the physician replied that the fellow's leg was the only part of his body he had seen uncovered, and that there was no distinguishing mark on it which could be used as a means of identification.

"All I can say is, the victim is young, and has a lot 43 of grit. He didn't cry out once. And I got the impression he isn't a cold-blooded criminal as the others seemed to be."

"What did the room look like?" Mr. Hardy questioned his caller. "Would you say you got into it through a secret panel?"

"I could see very little in the room. It was dark except around the patient. One of the men held a flashlight so I could work," Doctor Lyall replied. "It almost seemed as if the room had no windows, or if there were any, that they were well covered. As for a secret panel, I really couldn't say."

"Tell me about how long you spent riding to and from the place, and if you observed anything on the way," Mr. Hardy requested.

Doctor Lyall was thoughtful a minute. "I don't know how accurate I may be, but I'd say we went at the rate of thirty miles an hour. I was so mad and so worried I failed to take much notice of anything that might be important," he explained. "But one thing does come to my mind. About ten minutes before reaching the place, we stopped. I imagine it must have been at a traffic light."

"Do you recall how long you paused at the light?" the detective questioned him.

"No, but I did notice a humming sound as we waited. It was almost as if someone were singing faintly," the physician answered. "I believe the traffic signal made the sound. Is this information helpful to you?"

44 "It's a good clue," Mr. Hardy said enthusiastically. "A very good clue. Boys, suppose you follow it."

"You mean Joe and me?" Frank cried.

"No one else," smiled their father. "Locate a humming traffic light, drive ten minutes from it in each direction, and report to me what you find."

Doctor Lyall looked at his watch and said he must leave at once. He thanked the Hardys for their interest, adding that he hoped his abductors would be caught. After he had gone, Mr. Hardy picked up the telephone and spoke to Chief Collig. He advised the officer to notify every physician in Bayport to be on his guard to avoid an experience similar to that of Doctor Lyall. Then the detective turned to his sons.

"Tell Mrs. Stryker I'll try to find Lenny," he said. "It looks as if the gang I'm after may have him in their clutches."

The boys stared in surprise. "You know who they are?"

"I have a suspicion who the master mind is. There's a very clever crook by the name of Whitey Masco, who has been in hiding for some time. He's a clever safe-cracker and bank robber."

"Why do you suspect him of the museum robberies?" Frank asked.

"Because his methods are always new and original. Last night another museum was entered, but again there was no clue as to how it was done. But just as the thieves were leaving, the watchman, whom they 45 had knocked out earlier, regained consciousness and fired a shot. It's just possible he hit Lenny Stryker."

"Why didn't the thieves take the watchman's gun?" Joe remarked.

Mr. Hardy smiled. "Maybe they gave that job to Lenny and he didn't get away with it!" the detective said. "Well, boys, we'd better eat breakfast and get started on our work." He led the way to the dining room. "I have an appointment with an F. B. I. man, and you have------"

"The boys have several mysteries to solve," interrupted Mrs. Hardy. "One of them is for me. I want them to find out who used my name at Ben Whit-taker's shop, and why he------"

Someone slammed the kitchen screen door, and a cheery voice called out, "h.e.l.lo."

It was Chet Morton. The stout boy sniffed the air, looked at a platter of bacon and eggs, and grinned.

"Yes, Chet, you're just in time," said Joe. "I suppose you haven't had a thing to eat for an hour."

The boy pretended not to hear the gibe. He walked into the dining room and drew another chair up to the table.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hardy," he said brightly. "Morning, Mr. Hardy. Hi, Frank." As the family greeted him, he went on, "Yes, I've had my breakfast, but I could eat one of those bananas." Chet reached into the fruit basket. "And maybe a small portion of bacon and a couple of eggs. Milk? Thank you, Mrs. Hardy. Don't get up. I'll find it myself."

As he seated himself a second time, Chet became serious, and asked Frank and Joe if they were ready to work on his boat mystery. He said he had hoped the registration papers might come in the morning mail, but they had not arrived. Now the stout boy was convinced he never would get them. He wanted the man who had sold him the dory found at once!

"Sorry, Chet, but your case will have to wait," said Frank.

"What's that? Why?" the boy sputtered. "Mine's not a two-cent case. I'm out a lot o'

money. You got to get it back for me!"

"Several things have come up since we saw you," Frank told his chum. "We have to work on them first. But later we'll hunt for your man."

Chet groaned. "And after all I've done for you two!"

"You've done for us?" Joe repeated.

"Sure thing." Chet waved the banana dramatically. "Why, I've got one of your mysteries half solved."

The Hardys stared at their plump friend.

"Yep. I found out something for you. John Mead isn't dead. And the current in his John Mead isn't dead. And the current in his house hasn't been turned off!"

CHAPTER VI.

A Worried Locksmith.

chet morton enjoyed the effect of his bombsh.e.l.l for several seconds before revealing anything more. Whenever he could tell the Hardys something they had not found out already, he felt it was a great victory for him.

"You're sure John Mead's alive?" Frank asked, unbelieving.

"Sure am," Chet insisted. "On my way over here I had a hunch, so I stopped at the power company and asked if they have an account for John Mead. They do!"

Before Frank and Joe could think of anything to say to this surprising announcement, the doorbell rang. Frank went to answer it. To his surprise he saw his Aunt Gertrude standing on the porch. Since his relative had a key to the house, he wondered why she had not let herself in.

After opening the door, Frank submitted to a brushing kiss, and took his aunt's suitcase.

Miss Hardy glared at it for a couple of seconds. Frank wondered why. He could not see that any damage had been done to the suitcase which might have upset his aunt.

"That's the cause of all my trouble," she said, pointing at the bag with her umbrella. "I wish I'd never started out."

"Did something happen?" Frank asked her.

"Did something happen? A great deal! Where is everybody?" Without waiting for an answer, the unpredictable woman went on, "They're still at the breakfast table, I'll be bound."

She strode into the dining room and greeted the others. "Laura, how do you stand it to have meals at all hours? Well, things will be different, now that I'm here."

Frank, Joe, and even Chet knew this only too well. Aunt Gertrude, though she loved her famous brother's family, always made a point of trying to improve their habits during her visits to the Hardy home. Her methods were apt to be dictatorial, and the boys had had difficulties with her too often for comfort.

Mrs. Hardy smiled. "It'll be nice to have your help, Gertrude," she said. "Tell us, how did you get here? We would have come for you if we had known your plans."

"It would have been better if you had," said Miss Hardy. "Then my keys wouldn't have been stolen."

Urged to tell what had happened, the maiden lady went on to say that she had decided suddenly to come to Bayport. She had telephoned to the Hardy home 49 several times, only to get a busy signal. Impatient, Miss Hardy had taken a bus to Bayport, and driven up from the terminal in a taxicab.

"After I got in the taxicab, I noticed my keys were gone-every one of them," Miss Hardy explained.

"You lost them?" said Joe.

His aunt gave the boy a withering look. "I? Not Gertrude Hardy. And they wouldn't have been stolen out of my purse if it hadn't been for that suitcase of mine."

She explained that a clumsy fellow, who was getting off the bus, had tripped over her suitcase, fallen into her lap, and knocked her purse to the floor. He had apologized profusely and had helped her pick up the contents of her pocketbook.

"Later I discovered my keycase was gone," Aunt Gertrude finished the story. "He stole it! I know it!"

"But why would anyone want your keys?" Joe asked.

Aunt Gertrude glared at the boy. "Why, indeed? Well, that case contained the keys to my suitcase and a lot of other things."

"But you have your suitcase," Mrs. Hardy said kindly. "Is it locked?"

Her sister-in-law admitted it was. "And now I can't open it. Frank, Joe, I want you to take my bag downtown right away and have another key made for it."

"We'll go to Ben Whittaker's," offered Frank.

"Now mind you, don't let him snoop inside,"

Aunt Gertrude ordered. "Or you, either. Go on now, and don't be long. There are some things in the bag I want to hang up before they have a million wrinkles in them."

Chet had not eaten all he would have liked to, but he thought it wise to leave with the boys. Any moment now, Miss Hardy might start trying to reform his eating habits!

When the three friends arrived at Whittaker's shop, they found the locksmith in a state of anxiety.

"Just the people I want to see!" he cried out. "Boys, Mike Matton hasn't come back. I phoned his house, and they told me that he's moved! n.o.body knows where he's gone!"

Frank and Joe were not surprised to hear this, but they were astonished at Ben Whittaker's next announcement. A large quant.i.ty of expensive hardware had been taken from the shop!

"Of course you suspect Mike?" Joe asked.

"I'm forced to," the elderly locksmith admitted. "But that's not the worst of it. My reputation is at stake. For forty years I've been in business and no one has ever questioned me before!"