Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Secret of the Old Mill (12 page)

BOOK: The Secret of the Old Mill

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CHAPTER XV

Lead to a Counterfeiter

C-R-A-S-H!
The green truck smashed through the heavy garage doors. The Hardys felt a terrific jolt and heard the wood splinter and rip as they shot forward into the farmyard.

“Wow!” Joe gasped as he braked to a halt. “We're freeâbut not saying in what shape!”

Frank gave a wry laugh. “Probably better than the front of this truck!”

The boys hopped to the ground and looked around the overgrown yard. No one was in sight. The whole area seemed just as deserted as it had been when they arrived.

“Let's check the house,” Joe urged. “Someone
could
be hiding in there.”

The brothers ran to the run-down dwelling. They found all the doors and windows locked. Again they peered through the dirty panes, but did not see anyone.

“I figure that whoever locked us in the garage would decide that getting away from here in a hurry was his safest bet.”

“He must have gone on foot,” Joe remarked. “I didn't hear an engine start up.”

The Hardys decided to separate, each searching the highway for a mile in opposite directions.

“We'll meet back at the service station we stopped at,” Frank called as the boys kicked their motors into life and took off toward the highway.

Fifteen minutes later they parked near the station. Neither boy had spotted any suspicious pedestrians.

“Did you see anybody come down this road in a hurry during the past twenty minutes?” Joe asked the attendant.

“I didn't notice, fellows,” came the answer. “I've been busy working under a car. Find your friend?”

“No. That farmhouse is apparently deserted except for signs of a tramp living there,” Joe told him.

The Hardys quickly asked the attendant if he knew of any boardinghouse nearby. After a moment's thought, he replied:

“I believe a Mrs. Smith, who lives a little ways beyond the old place, takes boarders.”

“We'll try there. Thanks again,” Frank said as he and Joe went back to their motorcycles.

Before Frank threw his weight back on the starter, he said, “Well, let's hope Ken Blake can give us a lead.”

“If we ever find him,” Joe responded.

They located Mrs. Smith's boardinghouse with no trouble. She was a pleasant, middle-aged woman and quickly confirmed that Ken was staying there for the summer. She was an old friend of his parents. Mrs. Smith invited the Hardys to sit down in the living room.

“Ken's upstairs now,” she said. “I'll call him.”

When Ken came down, the Hardys noticed that he looked dejected. Frank felt certain it was because of losing his job and asked him what had happened.

“I don't know,” Ken replied. “Mr. Markel just told me I wouldn't be needed any longer. I hope I'll be able to find another job this summer,” he added. “My folks sent me here for a vacation. But I was going to surprise themâ” His voice trailed off sadly.

“Ken,” Frank said kindly, “you may be able to help us in a very important way. Now that you're not working at the Elekton gatehouse, we hope you can answer some questionsâto help solve a mystery.”

Frank explained that he and Joe often worked on mysteries and assisted their detective father.

Ken's face brightened. “I'll do my best, fellows,” he assured them eagerly.

“Last week,” Joe began, “a shabby green panel truck went to Pritos' Supply Yard and picked up old bricks and lumber. Our friend Tony Prito said there was a boy in the truck who helped the yardman with the loading. Were you the boy?”

“Yes,” Ken replied readily.

“Who was the driver?” Frank asked him.

“Mr. Docker, the maintenance man at the mill. He said he'd hurt his arm and asked me to help load the stuff.” Ken looked puzzled. “Is that part of the mystery?”

“We think it could be,” Frank said. “Now, Ken âwe've learned since then that one of the bills you gave the yardman is a counterfeit twenty.”

Ken's eyes opened wide in astonishment. “Aâa counterfeit!” he echoed. “Honest, I didn't know it was, Frank and Joel”

“Oh, we're sure you didn't,” Joe assured him. “Have you any idea who gave Docker the cash?”

Ken told the Hardys he did not know. Then Frank asked:

“What were the old bricks and lumber used for, Ken?”

“Mr. Docker told me they were for repair work around the plant. After we got back to the mill, Mr. Markel and I stored the load in the base. ment.”

“Is it still there?” asked Frank.

“I guess so,” Ken answered. “Up to the time I left, it hadn't been taken out.”

The Hardys determined to question Markel and Docker at the first opportunity. Then Frank changed the subject and asked about the day of the picnic when Joe thought he had seen Ken at the window.

“I remember,” the younger boy said. “I did see you all outside. I never knew you were looking for me.”

“When we told Mr. Docker,” Frank went on, “he said Joe must have been mistaken.”

Ken remarked slowly, “He probably was worrying about the plant's security policy. He and Mr. Markel were always reminding me not to talk to anybody.”

“During the time you were working at the Elekton gatehouse, did you see any strange or suspicious person near either the plant or the mill grounds?” Frank asked.

“No,” said Ken in surprise. Curiosity overcoming him, he burst out, “You mean there's some crook loose around here?”

Frank and Joe nodded vigorously. “We're afraid so,” Frank told him. “But who, or what he's up to, is what we're trying to find out. When we do, we'll explain everything.”

Joe then asked Ken if he had seen anyone in the area of the mill with a bow and arrow.

“A bow and arrow?” Ken repeated. “No, I never did. I sure would've remembered that!”

Frank nodded and switched to another line of questioning. “When you delivered envelopes, Ken, did you always take them to Mr. Victor Peters?”

“Yes,” Ken answered.

The Hardys learned further that Ken's delivery trips always had been to Bayportâsometimes to the Parker Building, and sometimes to other office buildings in the business section.

“Did Mr. Peters meet you in the lobby every time?” Frank queried.

“That's right.”

“What was in the envelopes?” was Joe's next question.

“Mr. Markel said they were bulletins and forms to be printed for Elekton.”

“Were the envelopes always marked confidential?” Joe asked.

“Yes.”

“Probably everything is that Elekton sends out,” Frank said.

“Sounds like a complicated delivery arrangement to me,” Joe declared.

Ken admitted that he had not thought much about it at the time, except that he had assumed Mr. Peters relayed the material to the printing company.

Frank and Joe glanced at each other. Both remembered Frank's surmise that the bulky Manila envelopes had not contained bona fide Elekton papers at all!

“What does Mr. Peters look like?” asked Joe, a note of intense excitement in his voice.

“Average height and stocky, with a sharp nose. Sometimes he'd be wearing sunglasses.”

“Stocky and a sharp nose,” Frank repeated. “Sunglasses.” Meaningfully he asked Joe, “Whom does that description fit?”

Joe jumped to his feet. “The man who gave Chet the counterfeit twenty at the railroad station!”

The Hardys had no doubt now that the mysterious Victor Peters must be a passer for the counterfeit ring!

CHAPTER XVI

A Night Assignment

GREATLY excited at this valuable clue to the counterfeiters, Frank asked, “Ken, who gave Mr. Markel the envelopes for Victor Peters?”

“I'm sorry, fellows, I don't know.”

The Hardys speculated on where Peters was living. Was it somewhere near Bayport?

Joe's eyes narrowed. “Ken,” he said, “this morning we found out that sometimes you'd ride up that dirt road to the deserted farmhouse. Was it for any particular reason?”

“Yes,” Ken replied. “Mr. Markel told me a poor old man was staying in the house, and a couple of times a week I was sent there to leave a box of food on the front porch.”

“Did you ever see the âpoor old man'?” Frank asked. “Or the green panel truck?”

The Hardys were not surprised when the answer to both questions was No. They suspected the “poor old man” was Peters hiding out there and that he had made sure the truck was out of sight whenever Ken was expected.

The brothers were silent, each puzzling over the significance of what they had just learned. If the truck was used by the counterfeiters, how did this tie in with its being used for the sabotage at Elekton?

“Was The Arrow in league with the saboteurs? Did he also have something to do with the envelopes sent to Victor Peters?” Joe asked himself.

Frank wondered, “Is The Arrowâor a confederate of his working at Elektonâthe person responsible for the warnings, the attack on us, and the tampering with the
Sleuth?”

“Ken,” Frank said aloud, “I think you'd better come and stay with us for a while, until we break this case. Maybe you can help us.”

He did not want to mention it to Ken, but the possibility had occurred to him that the boy might be in danger if the counterfeiters suspected that he had given the Hardys any information about Victor Peters.

Ken was delighted with the idea, and Mrs. Smith, who knew of Fenton Hardy and his sons, gave permission for her young charge to go.

As a precaution, Frank requested the kindly woman to tell any stranger asking for Ken Blake that he was “visiting friends.”

“I'll do that,” she agreed.

Ken rode the back seat of Joe's motorcycle on the trip to High Street. He was warmly welcomed by Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” said Mrs. Hardy, who knew that Frank and Joe had a good reason for inviting Ken. But neither woman asked questions in his presence.

“Your father probably will be out all day,” Mrs. Hardy told her sons. “He'll phone later.”

While lunch was being prepared, Frank called police headquarters to give Chief Collig a report on what had happened at the deserted farmhouse.

“I'll notify the FBI,” the chief said. “I'm sure they'll want to send men out there to examine that truck and take fingerprints. Elekton,” the chief added, “had no record of any employee answering The Arrow's description.”

“We're working on a couple of theories,” Frank confided. “But nothing definite so far.”

After lunch the Hardys decided their next move was to try to find out more about the contents of the envelopes Ken had delivered to Peters.

“We could ask Elekton officials straight out,” Joe suggested.

His brother did not agree. “Without tangible evidence to back us up, we'd have to give too many reasons for wanting to know.”

Finally Frank hit on an idea. He telephoned Elekton, asked for the accounting department, and inquired where the company had its printing done. The accounting clerk apparently thought he was a salesman, and gave him the information.

Frank hung up. “What did they say?” Joe asked impatiently.

“All Elekton's printing is done on the premises!”

“That proves it!” Joe burst out. “The setup with Ken delivering envelopes to Peters isn't a legitimate one, and has nothing to do with Elek ton business.”

Meanwhile Ken, greatly mystified, had been listening intently. Now he spoke up. “Jeepers, Frank and Joe, have I been doing something wrong?”

In their excitement the Hardys had almost forgotten their guest. Frank turned to him apologetically. “Not you, Ken. We're trying to figure out who has.”

Just then the Hardys heard the familiar chug of the Queen pulling up outside. The brothers went out to the porch with Ken. Chet leaped from his jalopy and bounded up to them. His chubby face was split with a wide grin.

“Get a load of this!” He showed them a badge with his picture on it. “I'll have to wear it when I start work. Everybody has to wear one before he can get into the plant,” he added. “Even the president of Elekton!”

Suddenly Chet became aware of Ken Blake. “Hello!” the plump boy greeted him in surprise. Ken smiled, and the Hardys told their friend of the morning's adventure.

“Boy!” Chet exclaimed. “Things are starting to pop! So you found that green truck!”

At these words a strange look crossed Frank's face.

“Chet,” he said excitedly, “did you say
every body
must show identification to enter Elekton's grounds?”

“Yesâeverybody,” Chet answered positively.

“What are you getting at, Frank?” his brother asked quickly.

“Before yesterday's explosion, when we saw the gate guard admit the green truck, the driver didn't stopâdidn't: show any identification at all!”

“That's true!” Joe exclaimed. “Mr. Markel doesn't seem to be the careless type, though.”

“I know,” Frank went on. “If the green truck was sneaking in explosivesâwhat better way than to let the driver zip right through.”

Joe stared at his brother. “You mean Markel deliberately let the truck go by? That he's in league with the saboteurs, or the counterfeiters, or both?”

As the others listened in astonishment, Frank replied, “I have more than a hunch he isâand Docker, too. It would explain a lot.”

Joe nodded in growing comprehension. “It sure would!”

BOOK: The Secret of the Old Mill

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