Dare to read: Нэнси Дрю и Братья Харди
(https://vk.com/daretoreadndrus)
ПРИЯТНОГО ЧТЕНИЯ!
Franklin W. Dixon
Hardy Boys Mystery Stories: Volume Thirteen
The Mark on the Door
Copyright, 1934, by GROSSET & DUNLAP, inc.
This is original text, 1934
The Hardy Boys and Mr. Hardy travel to Mexico to locate a missing witness in an oil rights trial.
CHAPTER I
The Missing Witness
"Better head for shore, Frank! It's blowing up a gale!"
Frank Hardy, at the steering wheel of the Sleuth, glanced up at the sky. Heavy black clouds were gathering and a gusty wind was whipping the waters of Barmet Bay into foam.
The trim little motorboat was beginning to pitch and roll in the swell.
"I guess you're right, Joe," he said to his brother. "I'll swing her around."
Frank bore down on the wheel and brought the bow of the craft about so that it was once more heading toward the city of Bayport. One of the conditions on which the boys had been allowed to own the Sleuth was that they must not run unnecessary risks. The bay always was treacherous and subject to sudden squalls.
The motorboat was just speeding back down the bay when the storm broke. There was a howling gust of wind, a few slashing streaks of rain, a flash of lightning, a roll of thunder.
Then the skies seemed to open. The rain fell in a torrential downpour. Bayport was completely obscured from view.
Frank Hardy, a dark, good-looking boy of seventeen, crouched at the wheel and peered out across the tossing waste of waters. Joe threw him an oilskin coat and sou'wester and struggled into a similar outfit himself.
The little motorboat was cutting easily through the waves, the engine pounding away without a miss.
"It won't last long!" Frank shouted.
The storm seemed to sweep the tumultuous surface of the bay like a great gray broom from the skies. The wind moaned and whistled overhead.
In a few minutes the squall was passing, roaring on out toward the sea. The rain diminished. The buildings of Bayport began, to appear dimly ahead.
"Another boat nearby!" said Joe, gazing out over the water. He could hear the rapid throb of an engine. The sound came from over to their right. A moment later he caught sight of a dark shape streaking through the storm.
The other craft, which was big and powerful, was traveling at high speed, its bow rising high out of the water. And it was rushing straight toward the Sleuth!
Joe expected to see the boat alter its course. But it drew swiftly nearer, bearing down on their own craft. Suddenly he realized that a collision would be only a matter of seconds.
"Hey! Look out!" he yelled.
The other boat came roaring swiftly toward them. Frank Hardy juggled the wheel, and swung the Sleuth around in a dangerous turn. A huge wave crashed against the side. The boys were drenched with water. Joe uttered a cry of alarm when he saw the big powerboat looming right at their stern, within an ace of running them down.
Frank swung the wheel over again in a desperate effort to avoid a crash. He was just in the nick of time. The stern sheered away when it seemed that the prow of the other boat was about to go through it. Nevertheless, there was a sudden jarring shock as their craft was clipped by the other.
The boys caught a glimpse of the man at the wheel. He was a swarthy fellow, black-haired, handsome in a way, but unpleasant looking. A moment later the big powerboat was racing away from them in a boiling flurry of foam.
"He didn't even slow up to see what damage was done!" cried Frank angrily. "We might have drowned out here for all he cared."
Joe looked over the side.
"There's a big dent here and the paint is all scratched, but I don't think the boat is leaking," he announced. "Mighty lucky you pulled around when you did."
"Why, that fellow is as bad as a hit-and-run motorist on land. I'm going after him. Did you recognize him, Joe?"
"Never saw him before. He looked like a foreigner to me."
Frank Hardy swung the bow of the motorboat in the direction of Bayport and opened the throttle wide as he took after the other craft. But the Sleuth, reliable as it was, proved to be no match for the fugitive. Within a few minutes the powerboat was only a tiny speck on the tossing waters and the Hardy boys were left far behind in its wake.
"I can't figure it out," said Joe, mystified. "There are faster boats than ours on Barmet Bay, but I've never seen one that fast."
"He must be a stranger. Probably from one of the towns up the coast."
By the time the Hardy boys reached the calmer water of the harbor there was no sign of the man they were chasing.
"I'd like to meet that fellow and tell him what I think of him," Frank said, steering the Sleuth into their own boat-house. They knew that there had been no excuse for the accident and that it might easily have been more serious, perhaps fatal to both of them.
While they were examining the damage, the door opened.
"What ho! What ho, my cheery mariners!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "Welcome ashore, mates, after your voyage on the vasty deep."
A short, stout boy with a good-natured face came in, munching an apple. He was Chet Morton, a close chum of the Hardy boys. Chet was a fun-loving lad, and the butt of many jokes because of his desires for food. He was always hungry and he admitted it.
"I was looking for you fellows," he announced. "Let's go up to the Federal Court. My father is on the jury and there's an exciting case going on."
"What's it about?" they asked, interested.
"The Bio Oil Company fraud. You know–the crowd that sold so much Mexican oil stock around Bayport. If you want to hear the case you'd better hurry."
The Hardy boys agreed to go, and hastily tied their boat in the slip. Chet noted the damaged side, and wanted to know the details. The Hardys told him about the swarthy man who had come so close to wrecking them in the bay.
"Why, that must be Sandy MacPherson's big new powerboat!" exclaimed Chet. "I was watching the engine being tested the other day. It just arrived from the factory the first part of the week."
Sandy MacPherson was an elderly Scot who managed a boat livery not far down the shore. The Hardy boys knew it had long been his ambition to own a speedy craft that could show its heels to any other boat on Barmet Bay.
"Let's drop in and ask him before we go up to the court," Frank suggested.
The boys found Sandy MacPherson fondly admiring a big, powerful boat that they recognized at once.
"That's it, all right!" shouted Joe. "Who was out in your boat, Sandy?"
"I dinna ken the mon's name," replied Sandy. "He hired the boat frae me just t'other day. A furrin lad he was. He hired the boat and he brocht it back and he paid me weel."
"A foreigner!"
"Aye! He couldna speak English vena weel. Could scarcely unnerstan' me."
"And you don't know anything more about the man?"
Sandy shook his head.
"The mon minded his ain business. And I mind mine," he observed.significantly.
Disappointed, the Hardy boys and Chet left the boat livery and went up the street.
"Forget it," advised Chet. "Let's hurry, or the case will be over before we hear any of it."
When the boys made their way into the Federal Court ten minutes later they found the place crowded. All Bayport was interested in the sensational Bio Oil case. Scores of citizens had invested their money in shares of the stock that had been peddled by smooth and convincing salesmen. The arrest of the promoters, and the discovery that the wells–which were said to be in Mexico–had never produced a drop of oil and never would, were developments that had been emblazoned in newspaper headlines for days.
The boys slipped into seats just in time to hear the District Attorney questioning one of the Bio Company's stock salesmen. He was a Buave, shifty-eyed fellow who did not seem to be the least bit at ease in the witness box.
"You sold three thousand shares of this stock to Mrs. Margaret Chadwick?" asked the District Attorney sharply.
"Yes, sir."
"She is a widow?"
"So I believe."
"It was all the money she had?"
"I–I think so."
"And you knew the stock was worthless!"
"I didn't know anything about it. I was just obeying orders."
"And your orders were–?"
"To sell as much stock as I could."
At this moment an attendant pushed his way through the crowd and handed the District Attorney a note.
"If the court will excuse me," the latter said to the Judge, "I should like to read this communication."
Frowning, he glanced at the note. Then he appeared much upset.
"Your Honor," he said abruptly, "I am sorry, but I must ask for a postponement of this case."
"Upon what grounds?" asked the Judge.
"I have just received word that my principal witness, Mr. Tremmer, has mysteriously disappeared. Inasmuch as he was the bookkeeper of the Bio Oil Company, he is in possession of a great deal of evidence highly important to my case. It is impossible for me to proceed without him."
The Judge considered briefly.
"Very well," he said. "I shall grant you a stay of twenty-four hours. Court stands adjourned."
The District Attorney's announcement that his star witness had disappeared created a sensation in the courtroom. A buzz of voices arose when the Judge left the bench.
"Dirty work in this case," said Chet. "I'll bet the Bio crowd had something to do with that disappearance. The State can't very well get a conviction without Tremmer's evidence."
But Frank was not listening. Suddenly he grabbed his brother's arm.
"Look, Joe!" he exclaimed. "Isn't that man over there the one who damaged our boat a while ago?"
He was gazing in the direction of a crowd of men near the doorway. Among them was a tall, swarthy, black-haired stranger who seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the courtroom.
Joe took one look and exclaimed:
''That's the fellow! Come on, Frank! Let's get him before we lose him in the crowd outside."
The Hardy boys scrambled into the aisle, closely followed by Chet. They were held back by the dense crowd, however, and by the time they reached the doorway they had lost sight of their quarry. Vainly they searched the corridor outside the courtroom.
"I'll bet he saw us first!" said Joe bitterly.
"We're going to find that fellow!" Frank declared. "We're going to find him and make him pay for the damage to our boat."
CHAPTER II
The Strange Mark
"I'm sure he saw us and got out of the courtroom as quickly as he could because he was afraid to face us," insisted Frank Hardy.
"Brave words, my hearty!" Chet said. "But how are you going to find him? Why not put an ad in the newspaper? 'Will the foreign gentleman who busted our boat on Thursday afternoon please call at our house and pay for same.' Maybe that will fetch him soon enough."
The boys asked some of the courtroom attendants and the doorman if they remembered the swarthy stranger, but their inquiries met with no success. When Frank and Joe Hardy tackled a problem they did not give up easily and insisted that they would locate the man sooner or later. Chet was highly amused.
"There are several thousand people in Bayport," he laughed, "and you know the fellow only by sight. You've never heard his name or where he lives or anything."
"Just the same, we'll find him!"
The trio went on down the chief business street of Bayport, discussing the mysterious stranger and the odd turn of events that had caused the postponement of the Bio Oil trial.
"My father said that this bookkeeper, Tremmer, was going to give evidence for the State, and that the District Attorney was relying on him to prove that the oil promoters were a pack of crooks," said Chet. "It seems funny that he should disappear just at this time."
"It's more than funny. It's suspicious," Joe remarked. "Perhaps they gave him some money and he left the country."
"Tremmer wouldn't do that. He's honest. That is why so many people put faith in the company. They thought that if Tremmer was connected with it, the stock must be all right."
"Lots of people lost all their savings," said Frank. "Do you think they'll get their money back if the State wins the case?"
"The promoters didn't have time to get away with the money. It seems that Tremmer got suspicious and tipped off the Secret Service."
Down the pavement marched an angular woman with a determined stride. She had a grim, severe face. A pair of spectacles perched precariously on the end of her nose.
"Aunt Gertrude!" exclaimed Frank.
"Let's get out of sight!" exclaimed Chet, who had a wholesome dread of the formidable old lady.
They were too late, however. Aunt Gertrude had an eye like a hawk and had seen them already. She bore down as relentlessly as the swarthy stranger's powerboat. Aunt Gertrude was a spinster of uncertain age who "visited" one relative after another. Just now she was installed at the Hardy home on one of her periodical visits. She was a gruff, outspoken woman, but the Hardy boys knew that her bark was worse than her bite.
"Ha!" she exclaimed. "So here you are! Loafing about the streets, eh?"
"We aren't loafing, Aunt," said Frank. "We were just over at the court house listening to a trial."
"Stay away from court houses!" ordered Aunt Gertrude. "Court houses mean crime. If there was no crime there would be no court houses. And crime means jail. And jail means disgrace. Stay away from 'em. I nearly got bitten by a dog."
Aunt Gertrude had a way of jumping from one subject to another in a manner that was disconcerting to those who did not know her.
"Nearly got bitten, Aunt Gertrude!" exclaimed Joe.
"Lucky for the dog that it was only nearly," murmured Chet.
"What's that, young man?" demanded Aunt Gertrude, glaring at him over the top of her spectacles. "What was that remark?"
"I said I'm glad it was only nearly," said Chet meekly. "I'm glad he didn't really bite you, ma'am."
"Dogs shouldn't be allowed!".said Aunt Gertrude. "Nasty little brutes. I'll report that woman."
"What woman?" asked Frank.
"Why, the woman who owned the dog. Don't be so stupid!" cried his aunt. "What other woman should I be talking about? I'll report her. And such a dog. If people must own dogs let them own dogs, not an apology for a dog. Not an imitation dog. My goodness, this dog was actually naked!"
"A naked dog!" exclaimed Joe.
"Not a hair on its hide! If I had a dog like that I should put hair tonic on it. Said a Mexican gave it to her. Bah!"
Frank was interested.
"A Mexican! Then it was a Mexican hairless dog, probably."
Aunt Gertrude cupped her hand to her ear.
"Eh? A Mexican heiress?"
"A Mexican hairless. Who owns it, Aunt Gertrude?"
"Mrs. Smith, the woman who runs the boarding house two blocks from home. She said one of her boarders gave it to her. And it tried to bite me. If I ever meet that boarder I'll give him a piece of my mind. Going around handing out naked dogs that try to bite people when they're walking quietly along minding their own business! Outrageous. Go home!"
With that, Aunt Gertrude marched on her way. Chet whistled softly and mopped his brow with relief.
"That must have been either a doggone brave dog or a doggone foolish dog, to try to take a bite out of her!" he remarked.
Frank was thoughtful.
"So there's a Mexican boarder at Mrs. Smith's place," he said meaningly.
Joe looked up.
''That fellow did look something like a Mexican!" he exclaimed.
"Maybe it's a clue. We'll look into it."
"Clue!" snorted Chet. "Probably some poor, innocent old fellow who doesn't even know how to run a motorboat. However, I'll tag along. I'd like to see that hairless dog anyway."
While the Hardy boys and Chet are on their way to the boarding house to investigate Mrs. Smith's lodger from Mexico, let me introduce the lads more fully to my readers.
Frank and Joe Hardy were the sons of Fenton Hardy, famous detective who had retired after a brilliant career with the New York Police Department, to launch out professionally for himself. So successful had he been that he was known throughout the United States as one of the shrewdest criminal investigators in the country.
Although Mr. Hardy had not planned that his sons should follow in his footsteps, it soon became apparent that they had inherited his deductive talents. In the opening volume of this series, "The Hardy Boys: The Tower Treasure," the two brothers succeeded in solving a mystery that had baffled the Bayport police, and recovered a rich treasure from its hiding place. From then on Frank and Joe were determined to carve out careers for themselves as detectives. Many of the puzzling mysteries that they solved have been recounted in the various books in this series, such as "The Secret of the Old Mill," "Hunting for Hidden Gold," and others.
In "Footprints Under the Window," the preceding volume, the boys investigated a weird mystery surrounding an apparently innocent Chinese laundry in Bayport, and succeeded in clearing up a case upon which Fenton Hardy himself had been engaged.
As the chums walked toward Mrs. Smith's boarding house they had no idea that their efforts to locate the swarthy stranger were about to involve them in one of the most thrilling adventures of their lives.
Mrs. Smith, a sweet, kindly old lady -whom they knew well, was surprised when she learned the object of their visit.
"Why, yes," she said, when they asked about her lodger. "I have a Mexican boarding here. At least, I had. He left not ten minutes ago. His name was Pedro Vincenzo."
"Has he gone for good?" asked Frank, keenly disappointed.
"I'm afraid so," replied Mrs. Smith. "He was away for the past two days but returned a short time ago, packed up, and left. He paid me in a peculiar manner, too-not with cash, but by a lot of pieces of paper that he said would bring me plenty of money."
The Hardy boys were just on the point of asking Mrs. Smith if she would let them see the papers, when there was a sudden disturbance from the upper part of the house. A maid screamed wildly, and ran down the stairs.
"The dog, ma'am!" she shrieked. "The dog! He's gone mad."
The boys could hear an animal barking and yelping. Mrs. Smith was badly frightened.
Her face turned pale, and she clung to the banister for support.
Frank reached the stairs at a bound and hastened to the upper floor, Joe and Chet close at his heels. In the hall he found a Mexican hairless pup writhing and twisting on the floor.
"He's not mad!" cried Chet. "He is having a fit. Throw some water on him."
Frank located the bathroom, quickly filled a glass with water, ran back, and dashed the contents over the squirming animal. After a few trips the dog was thoroughly drenched, becoming quieter as he came out of the fit. Finally he crawled away, whining.
Mrs. Smith, who had watched these proceedings from the stairway, was greatly relieved.
"Then he isn't mad after all?" she inquired anxiously.
"I think he'll be all right now," said Frank. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to call a veterinary surgeon to have a look at him."
Mrs. Smith picked up the quivering little animal and it lay in her arms, shivering.
"Mr. Vincenzo gave me this dog," she explained. "I've become greatly attached to the little animal." She indicated an open doorway nearby. "That was Mr. Vincenzo's room."
Frank and Joe stepped into the chamber. It was clean and neat. Vincenzo had taken away all his belongings. Nothing remained to indicate the character of the previous occupant so far as they could see.
"Even if he was the man we're looking for," said Joe quietly, "I guess we've lost track of him now."
"I'm afraid so," admitted Frank. "We may as well go."
Joe's sharp eyes suddenly caught sight of something that interested him.
"That's queer!" he exclaimed, going over to the door. "I wonder if it's Mr. Vincenzo’s work."
Mystified, Frank followed him while Joe swung the door partly shut. There, in the woodwork, the hoys saw a peculiar mark burned into the back of the door.
It was a strange symbol, very neatly executed, and represented a heap of blazing sticks with the initial P in the center of the flames.
CHAPTER III
The Boys Investigate
That evening the Bio Oil Company case was the chief topic of conversation at the Hardy dinner table. The newspapers were filled with the story of Elmer Tremmer's sudden disappearance just when his evidence was needed by the authorities.
"What do you think happened to him, Dad?" asked Frank of his father.
Fenton Hardy smiled.
"I haven't the least idea," he said, "but I hope to find out."
"Are you working on the case?" cried Joe.
"Yes, the stockholders of the oil company have retained me to try to locate Trimmer."
"Do you think he ran away?"
"Elmer Tremmer was never very long on brains," said Mr. Hardy, "but I would bank on his honesty. That's why the swindlers made him bookkeeper of the company–because they imagined he wouldn't be smart enough to see through their crooked work and would at the same time convince everybody in Bayport that it was a legitimate enterprise. No, I don't believe Tremmer ran away. After all, it was on his information that the authorities first took action against the company."
"Perhaps he was kidnaped!" Frank suggested.
"That is a possibility," Fenton Hardy agreed. "Then again, the crooks may have frightened him into going away. I have picked up a few clues that may lead to something."
"Do you know if a man named Pedro Vincenzo had anything to do with the Bio Oil fraud?" asked Joe.
"Not to my knowledge. I have never heard the name mentioned."
"Weren't there some Mexicans at the head of the concern?"
"The oil wells were supposed to be in Mexico and two or three of the directors were from that country. The others were Americans."
That evening, when the boys were discussing the affair, they agreed that Pedro Vincenzo might well have been involved in the oil company fraud even if his name had not come to light.
"Mexicans aren't so numerous in this part of the United States," Frank argued. "It seems queer that he checked out of his boarding house just as soon as he knew the trial was postponed. He was certainly interested in the trial or lie wouldn't have been in the courtroom."
"I vote we go back to Mrs. Smith's house tomorrow and ask her a few more questions about the fellow," said Joe.
"We may as well do a little detective work on our own account. Perhaps we'll learn something that will help Dad."
Next morning, after going down to the boat-house to inspect the damage done to the Sleuth and turn the craft over to Sandy MacPherson for the necessary repairs, the Hardy boys again called on Mrs. Smith.
They found the little old lady mourning the loss of her dog. The animal had died during the night.
"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Smith. "I was so attached to the poor fellow and now I don't suppose I'll ever be able to get another dog quite like him."
"Perhaps the climate didn't agree with him," Joe suggested.
Mrs. Smith thought otherwise. She would never buy a dog to replace her pet unless she could get another Mexican hairless. Frank and Joe gradually led the conversation around to the subject of Pedro Vincenzo, the boarder who had given her the animal.
"What sort of a man was he?" asked Frank.
"He was very polite," said Mrs. Smith, "but lie was also very conceited. To hear him talk you would think he had been one of the greatest men in Mexico. He bragged a little too much to suit me. He used to tell me the most terrible stories about Mexican bandits–dreadful people. And he actually joked about some of the things those bandits did. He said he came from a place where people lived in the cliffs."
"By the way," Joe remarked, "you told us yesterday that he didn't pay you in money but in pieces of paper. What were they?"
"I don't rightly know," said Mrs. Smith. "He said they would be very valuable some day. They have something to do with oil. I'll go and get them."
Joe glanced significantly at his brother, when Mrs. Smith went into the next room and rummaged through an old desk.
"Oil certificates, I'll bet a hat," he murmured.
Joe was right. Mrs. Smith returned with half a dozen gaudily printed documents that proved to be certificates for five thousand shares of Bio Oil Company stock.
"Are they worth much?" she asked anxiously.
"Haven't you been reading the newspapers?" asked Frank.
"My eyes have been bad lately. I haven't looked at a paper in weeks."
"Mr. Vincenzo must have known that. I'm afraid you have been swindled, Mrs. Smith."
The Hardy boys then told her about the Bio Oil fraud and the interrupted trial. The poor woman was greatly disturbed by the news that the certificates were probably valueless.
"How much did he owe you?" asked Frank.
"Three hundred dollars. Oh, I thought I was foolish when I didn't insist on getting the money, but he said the certificates would be worth much more than the three hundred dollars and that he was giving them to me as a special favor."
The knowledge that Pedro Vincenzo had paid his landlady in certificates of Bio Oil stock strengthened the Hardy boys in their suspicion that the lodger was connected inj some way with the fraud case.
"I'd like to know more about that fellow," said Frank when they left Mrs. Smith a little later. "I should particularly like to know where he went when he hired that big speedboat from Sandy MacPherson."
"Perhaps if we take a run to the villages down the bay we may pick up some information," Joe suggested.
"That's not a bad idea. Let's go and see if the boat is ready yet."
On their way down to the waterfront the boys encountered Chet Morton and Tony Prito, an Italian lad who had been one of their chums for years.
"Tony and I," announced Chet, "are looking hopefully for fun, trouble, adventure or whatever you have."
"How about a spin in the Sleuth?" suggested Frank.
"Let's go!" Tony said, his dark eyes fairly Bancing.
Chet considered the matter.
''The proposal has its good points. But how long shall we be away from the home port? Shall we be back in time for dinner! The salt water always gives me an appetite and if I miss a meal I hate to think of the consequences. The shock to my stomach would be too much.''
"It wouldn't hurt you to go on a diet for a few weeks anyway," returned Tony unsympathetically. "You're getting too fat."