"Well, we’ve got it. Let's go back up.''
The switch snapped and the cavern was left in darkness immediately. It was a darkness immeasurably welcome to the lads crouched behind the boxes. They began to breathe more easily. They heard the door close and then they could hear the footsteps of the two men as they ascended the stairs in the passageway.
When the footsteps could be heard no more, Frank switched on the flashlight with a sigh of relief.
''That was a close call. Gosh, but I was sure they had us."
"We wouldn't have had any chance with that pair. You can bet your life they carry guns."
"Well, let's follow them."
"I'm with you. We know we're on the right trade."
"And we know we're liable to blunder right into the whole den of smugglers if we don't watch our step. It's going to be ticklish from now on."
"It can't be any more ticklish than it has been. I lived about ten years while that pair was in here."
They crossed the chamber and again opened the door. Cautiously, they stepped out on the landing, closed the door behind them, and again confronted the flight of steps.
"I'll go first," said Frank. "Stick close behind me."
He decided to turn out the flashlight, because it was barely possible that the smugglers might have a guard at the top of the stairs, in which event their approach would be discovered. So, in the inky blackness, they ascended, step after step.
They reached the top of the first flight of stairs and then they found themselves upon a crude landing of planks which ran along the side of the rock wall for some distance until it ended in another flight of steps.
Here the boys stopped again to listen. All was as silent as the tomb save for the distant pounding of the sea upon the cliff.
"I don't hear a sound," whispered Joe.
"Come on," came from his brother.
The passage through the rock was of considerable depth, and they went on up countless steps until their limbs were weary. They had never realized that the cliff was so high until now.
But at length they reached the final landing and there they were confronted by another door. This door, they assumed, either led out Into the open or into some cave just below the surface of the ground. Perhaps, thought Frank, it even led into the cellar of the Polucca house.
The boys pressed close to the door, taking care to make no noise, and listened.
They heard not a sound.
Still, with the caution arising from their previous narrow escape, they decided to wait a little while longer. As later events proved, it was well that they did.
For a while they could hear nothing from beyond the door and there was no indication that anyone was there. But, after listening intently for as long as five minutes, they heard a queer shuffling sound and then a sigh. That was all.
"Some one there!" breathed Frank, in a low whisper.
Joe nodded in the darkness.
They did not know what to do. It seemed apparent that there was some one beyond the door. Possibly a sentry. If there was only one man it might be possible to attack him and disarm him, although it was scarcely possible that they could do this without noise and without attracting the attention of the smugglers.
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The problem was solved for them.
A door thudded in the distance. Then there was a muffled murmur of voices, growing in volume, and a trampling of feet.
"I tell you this nonsense has gone far enough. He'll sign, and he'll sign right now, or I'll know the reason why."
The boys started. For the voice was none other than the voice of the man who had ordered them out of the cove that afternoon.
"That's the stuff, chief!" returned someone. "Make him sign and promise to keep his mouth shut."
"If he doesn't, he'll never live to tell about it, that's one thing sure!" snapped the first man coldly.
There was the sound of a switch being snapped, and then the boys could see a yellow beam of light beneath the door at their feet. From the sounds they judged that three or four men had entered the room beyond.
"Well, he's still here," said the man who had been addressed as "chief." He strode across the room and the boys could hear a chair scrape on the board floor. "You'll find that this is an easier place to get into than it is to get out of."
A weary voice answered him. The tones were low. The boys could not make out the words.
"You're a prisoner here and you'll be a prisoner here until you die unless you sign that paper."
Again the weary voice spoke, but, as before, the tones were so low that the words were indistinguishable.
"You won't sign, eh! We'll see about that!"
"Wait till he goes hungry for a few days and then he'll think differently," put in one of the other men. There was a hoarse laugh from his companions.
"Yes, you'll be hungry enough before we're through with you. I can promise you that," said the harsh voice. '' Are you going to sign it?"
"No," they heard the prisoner in the other room answer.
Who was this man who was evidently held captive by the smugglers in the underground' room? The same thought was in the mind of each boy as he listened to the conversation.
"You know too much about us. You've found out too much, and we'll never let you get out of here to use your information. You may as well get that straight. You've read that paper. If you don't sign it you will starve."
The prisoner evidently did not reply.
"Give him a taste of the hot iron," suggested one of the smugglers.
"No. nothing like that. It's too crude. I'm giving him his chance. He can sign this paper now or take the consequences."
Still there was no reply.
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"Getting obstinate, are you! Won't you even answer me!" The leader of the gang was evidently getting angry. Suddenly he shouted out:
"Sign this paper, Hardy, or you'll starve–as sure as my name is Snackley!"
CHAPTER XIX
Captured!
Worst fears of the Hardy boys were that they had been unable to distinguish clearly the voice of the Prisoner until then, for it had been muffled by the intervening door, but all along they had suspected that it was their father. Now they knew, and they knew also that he was a captive of Snackley, the head of the gang of smugglers.
Joe gave a perceptible start, but Frank laid a warning hand upon his brother's arm. Now, of all times, there was need for caution. They listened.
"I won't sign it," replied Fenton Hardy.
Hijacker replied: "You heard what I said. Sign or starve."
"I'll starve."
"You'll think differently in a day or so. You’re pretty hungry now. Hardy, but you'll be a lot hungrier later on. And thirsty, too. You'll be ready to sell your soul for a drop of water or a bite to eat."
"I won't sign."
"After all, we're not asking very much. You've discovered a number of things that we want you to forget about. It won't hurt you to go back to Bayport and say that you couldn't find out anything about us. Nobody knows where you have been."
"I've found out all I wanted to know about you, Snackley. I've got enough evidence to send you to the penitentiary for the rest of your life. And I have more than that."
"What do you mean-more than that?"
"I know enough to have you sent to the electric chair."
There was a sudden commotion in the room and two or three of the smugglers began talking at once.
"You're crazy!" shouted Snackley, but there was a current of uneasiness in his voice. "You're crazy. You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough to have you sent up for murder."
"All the more reason why you're not going to get out of here without signing this paper. You can count yourself lucky you have even this chance of getting out alive. By all rights we should knock you on the head and heave you over the cliff into the sea."
"I won't sign."
"Don't be foolish. All we ask you to do is to agree that you won't make use of the information you have. I admit that you've stumbled on some of our secrets, and we can't afford to turn you loose and have the federal agents about our ears in no time."
"You must trust me very much. What is to prevent me from signing that paper and then going back on my word?" asked Fenton Hardy curiously.
"We know you too well, Hardy. We know that if you signed that promise you would keep it."
"Exactly. And that is why I won't sign it. I wouldn't be doing my duty if I agreed to any scheme that would protect you."
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"How about your family? Are you doing your duty to them by being so obstinate!"
There was silence for a while. Then Fenton Hardy answered slowly:
"They would rather know that I died doing my duty than have me come back to them as a protector of smugglers and criminals."
"You have a very high sense of duty," sneered Snackley. "But perhaps you'll think better of it after a while. Are you thirsty I"
There was no reply.
"Are you hungry?"
Still no answer.
"You know you are. And you'll be hungrier and thirstier before we are through with you. We'll put food and water in your sight but you won't be able to reach it. You'll die of thirst and starvation-unless you sign that paper."
"I'll never sign it."
"All right. Come on, men. We'll leave him to himself and give him time to think about it."
Footsteps resounded as Snackley and the others began to leave the room, and finally they died away and a door banged.
Fenton Hardy was left alone.
Joe made a sudden move toward the door, but Frank restrained him.
"Not just yet," he cautioned. "They may have left some one to guard him."
So the boys waited, listening intently at the door.
But there were no further sounds from within the room. At length, satisfied that his father had indeed been left alone, Frank fumbled for the latch of the door.
Noiselessly, he managed to open it. He pressed in on the door until it was open about an inch, then he peeped through the aperture.
He found himself on the threshold of a sort of cellar, a damp and mouldy chamber, of about the same size as the storage room in the heart of the cliff, with the difference that whereas the first room was a cave in the rock, this place had been dug out of the earth. It was floored with planks and a lone electric light cast a yellowish illumination over the scene. There was a crude table and a few chairs, while in one corner stood a small camp-bed.
On this bed he spied his father.
Fenton Hardy was bound hand and foot to the cot, so tightly trussed up that he was unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. He was lying flat on his back, staring up at the muddy ceiling of his prison. On a chair beside the cot was a large sheet of paper, presumably the document the smugglers were asking him to sign.
The detective did not hear the door open. As Frank looked at him he was conscious of a change in the appearance of his father, a change that shocked him extremely. For Fenton Hardy was thin and pale, his cheeks were sunken and he looked like a man who was famished for want of food.
Frank opened the door a little wider and tiptoed into the room. Joe followed quietly.
They knew that there was danger of the smugglers returning at any moment. They knew that they must work swiftly and quietly if they were to effect the release of their father.
A slight sound attracted Fenton Hardy's attention and he slowly turned his head. When his gaze rested on the figures of the two boys who were stealing across the floor toward him he almost uttered an exclamation of amazement hut he managed to check the involuntary utterance, although his face lighted up with re-Kef.
Quickly, the Hardy hoys reached his bed-side. Frank drew out his pocketknife and, without a word, without even a whisper, began to hack at the ropes that bound his father. But the knife was dull and the ropes were heavy.
Joe had lost his knife in the water soon after they had left Bayport, and although he searched about the room, he was unable to find one, so he set himself to the laborious business of trying to untie the knots.
Every moment was precious. At any second, the boys knew, they might hear the footsteps of the approaching smugglers. They worked with frantic caution, working against time.
Frank hacked at the ropes, but the dull blade seemed to make little progress. Joe fumbled at the obstinate knots until his fingernails were broken, but he could scarcely loosen the strands.
Minutes passed-slowly and agonizingly. Fenton Hardy could give no assistance. He had to lie there in silence, not daring even to encourage the lads by a whisper. The silence was broken only by the heavy breathing of the two boys, by the scarcely audible sound of the knife against the ropes.
At last the knife cut through one of the ropes and Fenton Hardy's feet were free. Frank pulled the ropes away, but a loose end fell on the floor with a light sound.
Slight as the noise was, it seemed to them almost deafening, in view of the necessity for silence. Desperately, Frank prepared to set to work to cut through the ropes that bound Fenton Hardy's arms. And, even as he reached over with the knife, they heard a sound that sent a thrill of terror through them.
It was a heavy footstep beyond the door through which the smugglers had recently disappeared!
Some one was approaching the underground room.
Frank strained at the knife, but the ropes were stubborn. The dull blade made little impression at first. But at last the rope began to give, and finally, as Fenton Hardy gave a mighty effort, it snapped, and the detective was free.
But the footsteps on the stairs had drawn nearer and it was followed by others. The smugglers were returning.
"Quick!" whispered Prank, as he flung the ropes aside.
"I-I can't-hurry!" gasped out Fenton Hardy. "I've been here too-too long." He could hardly utter the words. His face showed his exhaustion.
"But we've got to hurry, dad!" came excitedly from Frank. ''See if you can't make it.''
"I'll-I'll do my-my best," returned his father.
"If those fellows come back let's fight for it," put in Joe desperately.
"You bet we'll fight," answered Frank in a voice that meant a great deal.
Fenton Hardy got to his feet as hastily as he could, but when he stood up on the floor he reeled and would have fallen had not Joe grasped his arm. He had been lying bound to the cot for so long and he was so weak from hunger that a fit of dizziness had attacked him. It soon passed, however, and the three hastened toward the door through which the Hardy boys had entered.
But the smugglers were very close now. The Hardys could hear the coarse voices just outside the other door.
There was no chance of escape.
Just as the Hardy boys and their father crossed the threshold the door on the opposite side of the room was flung open.
Frank had a caused glimpse of the dark man, Snackley, whom they had seen in the cove that afternoon, with na^ a dozen rough men crowding behind frim. Then ne saw Snackley whip a revolver from his pocket.
The chief of the smugglers was filled with astonishment, but he did not lose his presence of mind. The weapon was leveled at Frank before he had time to dose the door.
Snackley did not speak. He pressed the trigger and the Revolver roared, the echoes crowding on one another in that narrow space. The bullet chipped into the wood of the door. Frank ducked. Joe who was on the lead, flung himself to one side. Fenton Hardy stumbled out on to the landing at the top of the stairs.
"Come back!" roared Snackley, plunging across the room. "Come back or I'll fire again!"
As the smuggler drew closer Frank crouched for a spring and then leaped directly at Snackley. He struck otrt a* ^ne nian's wrist and the revolver flew out of the rascal's grasp, skidding across the floor to a corner.
Then they grapP^e<^» and so sudden had been Frank's attack that the smuggler was taken by surprise and he reeled up against the wall. But his companions rushed to his rescue. Frank was swiftly overpowered and dragged away, while other smugglers, with drawn revolvers, pursued Joe and Fenton Hardy out on to the landing. Being unarmed, they were forced to submit, otherwise they would have been shot without mercy.
The struggle was short. The menacing revolvers gave the smugglers the upper hand.
Within five minutes Fenton Hardy was bound to the cot again while the Hardy boys were seated, trussed up and unable to move, on two chairs near by. They were captives of the smugglers!
CHAPTER XX
Dire Threats
Snackley, once he had recovered from his first consternation and surprise, was in high humor.
"Just in time!" he chuckled, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "Just in time! If we'd been a few minutes later they'd have been away from us altogether."
The Hardy boys were silent. They were sick with disappointment. It had seemed that escape was certain, and then, in a twinkling, the tables had been turned and now they were all worse off than they had been before.
"What will we do with 'em, chieft" asked one of the men.
The voice sounded familiar to the boys and they looked up. Not altogether to their surprise, they saw that the fellow was none other than Bedhead, whom they had seen at the Polucca place the day Frank discovered his father's cap.
"Do with. them?" exclaimed Snackley.
"That's quite a problem. We have three on our hands now, where we had only one. We have to make three people keep their mouths shut instead of only one. We have three people to keep guard over now."
"We ought to do what I wanted to do in the first place," declared Redhead doggedly. "As long as Hardy is alive, he's dangerous."
"You mean we should get rid of him!"
"Sure, we ought to get rid of him-and get rid of those boys of his, too."
"That's easier said than done," returned Snackley, but with a sinister look at the man on the cot.
"I should think you had enough on your conscience already, Snackley!" exclaimed Fenton Hardy. "But I suppose you're hardened enough for anything," he added bitterly. He was thinking more of his sons and their possible fate than of himself.
"Don't you bother about my conscience," sneered Snackley; but a shadow crossed his face. "What do you know about me, anyhow?" he demanded roughly.
"I know all about what happened to Felix Polucca. He had a big treasure hidden in that house on the cliff and you got it, and then you started to use the place for your smuggling operations."
"O, shut up!" Snackley snapped. "I'm going to fix you, and those kids of yours, tool Just wait and see!"
Four of the smugglers had been whispering among themselves at the back of the room during this talk between the chief smuggler and the detective, and now one of these men stepped forward.
"Got a word to say to you, chief," he began, addressing Snackley.
"What is it now?" The chief smuggler's voice was surly.
"It's about what's to be done with these three, now we have 'em prisoners," returned the man hesitatingly. "Of course, your business is your own and we're not asking any questions about what happened to Felix Polucca, but we're in this game of smuggling, see? We don't stand for anything that's too red-handed."
"That's the truth!" put in another of the men.
"Kind of chicken-hearted," sneered Snackley. "You look out or I'll fire the lot of you!"
"No, you won't, chief," replied the first man who had addressed him. "We've helped in this smuggling, and we're going to have our full share of what's coming to us."
"We've got another plan about those three prisoners," put in a fellow who had not yet spoken. "I think it would work out grand."
"What plan?" questioned the chief smuggler briefly.
"We've been talking about Li Chang."
"What about him?"
"Turn 'em over to Li Chang. He's sailing back to China in the morning. Have 'em put on board his ship."
Snackley scratched his head for a moment. Evidently the idea caught his fancy.
"Not bad, "he muttered. "I hadn't thought of Li Chang. Yes, he'd be able to look after them. He'd see to it that they never returned," and he grinned grimly.
"He'd probably dump 'em overboard before they got to China at all," declared Ked-head smugly. "Li Chang doesn't like to feed passengers if they can be got rid of."
"So much the better. We won't be responsible."
"Leave it to Li Chang. The old villain would just like to have three white men in his power. He'll attend to them."
Snackley reached over and picked up the document from the floor, where it had fallen in the struggle. He glanced at it and then tore it into pieces.
"We won't need this. You've lost your chance, Hardy. If you had signed it you would have been free by now. But you'll never be free-not with three of you knowing our secret. It's too risky. You'll all be turned over to Li Chang. He brought in a little cargo this week and his ship is to sail in the morning. You "will go with him."
Fenton Hardy was silent. He had resolved not to plead for his own safety.
"Well," said Snackley, "haven't you anything to say?"
"Nothing. Do as you wish with me. But let the boys go."
"We'll stick with you, dad," said Frank quickly.
"We sure will!" added Joe.
"You certainly will," declared Snackley. "I'm not going to let one of you have the chance of getting back to Bayport with your story."
The chief of the smugglers stood in the center of the room for a while, contemplating his captives with a bitter smile. Then he turned suddenly on his heel.
"Well, they're safe enough," he said to Redhead. "We have that business with Burke to attend to. You two," he said, speaking to two of his men, "had better go down to the cove and take the rowboat out. Signal to Li Chang that we need the motorboat sent in at once. The rest of you come and help load Burke's truck. If any nosey policeman came along and found it in the lane we'd be done
"How about them?" asked Bedhead, indicating the prisoners.
"They're safe enough. But I guess we'd better leave one guard, anyway. Malloy, yon stay here and keep watch."
Malloy, a surly and truculent fellow in overalls and a ragged sweater, nodded and sat down on a box near the door. This arrangement seemed to satisfy Snackley, and after warning Malloy not to fall asleep on the job and to see to it that the prisoners did not escape, he left the room, followed by Bedhead and the other smugglers, with the exception of two who left >by the other door. Their footsteps could be heard as they went down the flight of stairs leading to the bottom of the cliff.
A heavy silence fell over the room after the departure of the smugglers. Malloy crouched 'gloomily on the box, gazing blankly at the floor. The butt of a revolver projected from his hip pocket.
Frank strained against the ropes that bound him to the chair. But the smugglers had done their task well. He could scarcely budge.
"We're done for, I guess," he heard Joe says.
Frank seldom gave up heart, but this time he could see no ray of hope.
"I'm afraid so. Looks as if we'd be with Li Chang by morning."
"But we don't want to go to China, Frank!"
"We may never get to China, Joe. Didn't you hear what they said? For all we know, that rascally Chinaman, whoever he is, may heave us overboard when he gets well out in the ocean."
"You fellows shut up," growled Malloy. "Shut up, I tell you, or I'll make it hot for you," and he tapped his revolver suggestively.
After that an ominous silence fell between the prisoners. Frank and Joe were downhearted. It looked as if their fate were sealed.
CHAPTER XXI
Quick Work
The Hardy boys glanced over at their father on the cot.
To their surprise they saw that he was smiling. Frank was on the point of asking him what he found in the situation to smile at when he caught a warning glance. He looked over at the guard.
Malloy was not bothering with the prisoners. He was not even looking in their direction. Instead, his head was already beginning to nodj, as though he were going to sleep.
Snackley had made a poor selection when he chose Malloy as guard. The man had been up the entire previous night helping bring in the shipment of smuggled goods from Li Chang's vessel, and he had had no sleep that day. He was very tired. Sleep stole upon him without Ms being aware of it.
Several time he straightened up and rubbed his eyes, but eventually he would bow his head and give ia to the luxury of a little doze.
In the meantime, Mr. Hardy was hnsy. He had profited by his previous experience.
When the smugglers seized him and attempted to tie him to the bed for the second time he had made use of a trick frequently employed by magicians and professional "escape" artists, who guarantee to escape from ropes and strait-jackets. He had expanded his chest and held his muscles rigid, keeping his arms as far away from his sides as possible, so that later, when he relaxed, he found that the ropes did not bind him as tightly as his captors had intended.
This gave him a small leeway. He found that the ropes were especially slack about his right wrist, so he began to work laboriously to free himself. For a long time he thought it would be impossible, and the rope chafed his wrist, but at last he managed to slide his hand free.
Joe and Frank watched this performance with amazement, and new hope came into their eyes as they saw their father slowly groping for one of the knots. The detective fumbled at it for a while. It was slow work, for he had but one hand free, but in their haste the smugglers had not tied the knot as firmly as they should, and before long Fenton Hardy had loosened it to such an extent that soon the ends of the rope fell away.
His arms were now free, so lie braced himself against the sides of the bed and struggled to release his feet. They had not been bound so securely, being simply tied down tinder one strand of rope about the cot, and after silently struggling for a few minutes he was able to work his way free.
The detective's next move was to take off his boots, which he did swiftly and quietly, placing them noiselessly on the bed. Then he crept out onto the floor and began to steal over toward the guard.
Malloy was half asleep, but the detective had not gone more than two yards before a slight sound, a slight creaking of the floor, warned the guard that something was amiss.
He turned, blinking.
A look of intense amazement crossed Malloy's face and he opened his mouth to yell for help, but Fenton Hardy leaped across the intervening space and hurled himself upon the smuggler before the guard had time to utter more than a muffled gasp.
He clapped one hand over Malloy's mouth and bore the guard to the floor, where they rolled over and over in a desperate and silent struggle. Although Fenton Hardy was weakened by his imprisonment and privation and although the smuggler was strong and wiry, the detective had the advantage of a surprised attack, and Malloy had no time to collect his faculties.
Joe and Frank watched the battle in an agony of suspense. It was, they knew, their last hope.
Fenton Hardy still kept his hand over the other man's mouth, although Malloy was gasping and gurgling and making frantic efforts to call out for help. The detective dug his knee into Malloy's stomach and when the smuggler tried to wriggle out of the way he snatched for the revolver.
Their hands closed about the butt of the weapon at the same instant.