The Secret of the Old Mill (2 page)

“Look out!” the Hardys yelled at him.

CHAPTER II

THE BOY on the bicycle heard the Hardys' warning just in time and swerved away from the on-rushing car. He skidded and ran up against the curb.

The momentum carried the boy over the handlebars. He landed in a sitting position on the pavement, looking dazed.

“That driver must be out of his head!” Joe yelled as he, Frank, and Chet dashed over to the boy.

The sedan continued its erratic path, and finally, with brakes squealing and horn blaring, slammed into the curb. It had barely missed a parked car.

By now the Hardys and Chet had reached the boy. He was still seated on the sidewalk, holding his head. “Are you all right?” Frank asked, bending down. The boy was about fourteen years old, very thin and tall for his age.

“I—I think so.” A grateful look came into the boy's clear brown eyes. “Thanks for the warning, fellows! Whew! That was close!”

Frank and Joe helped him to his feet. A crowd had gathered, and the Hardys had a hard time keeping the onlookers back. Just then the driver of the sedan made his way through the throng. He was a middle-aged man, and his face was ashen and drawn.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! My brakes wouldn't hold. Are you fellows all right?” The driver was frantic with worry. “It happened so fast—I—I just couldn't stop!”

“In that case, you're lucky no one was hurt,” Frank said calmly.

The Hardys saw a familiar uniformed figure push through the crowd toward them.

“What's going on?” he demanded. He was Officer Roberts, a member of the local police department and an old friend of the Hardys. The driver of the car started to explain, but by this time he had become so confused, his statements were incoherent.

“What happened, Frank?” Officer Roberts asked.

Frank assured him no one was hurt, and said that apparently the mishap had been entirely accidental, and the only damage was to the boy's bicycle. The front wheel spokes were bent, and some of the paint was scratched off the fender. The car driver, somewhat calmer now, insisted upon giving the boy five dollars toward repairs.

“I'll phone for a tow truck,” Joe offered, and hurried off to make the call while Officer Roberts got the traffic moving again.

After the garage truck had left with the sedan, and the crowd had dispersed, the boy with the bicycle gave a sudden gasp.

“My envelope!” he cried out. “Where is it?”

The Hardys and Chet looked around. Joe was the first to spot a large Manila envelope in the street near the curb. He stepped out and picked it up. “Is this yours?” he asked.

“Yes! I was afraid it was lost!”

As Joe handed over the heavy, sealed envelope, he noticed that it was addressed in bold printing to Mr. Victor Peters, Parker Building, and had
Confidential
marked in the lower lefthand corner.

The boy smiled as he took the envelope and mounted his bicycle. “Thanks a lot for helping me, fellows. My name is Ken Blake.”

The Hardys and Chet introduced themselves and asked Ken if he lived in Bayport.

“Not really,” Ken answered slowly. “I have a summer job near here.”

“Oh! Where are you working?” Chet asked.

Ken paused a moment before replying. “At a place outside of town,” he said finally.

Although curious about Ken's apparent evasiveness, Frank changed the subject. He had been observing the bicycle with interest. Its handlebars were a different shape from most American models. The handgrips were much higher than the center post and the whole effect was that of a deep U.

“That's a nifty bike,” he said. “What kind is it?”

Ken looked pleased. “It was made in Belgium. Rides real smooth.” Then he added, “I'd better get back on the job now. I have several errands to do. So long, and thanks again.”

As Ken rode off, Joe murmured, “Funny he's so secretive about where he lives and works.”

Frank agreed. “I wonder why.”

Chet scoffed. “There you go again, making a mystery out of it.”

Frank and Joe had acquired their keen observation and interest in places and people from their father, one of the most famous investigators in the United States.

Only recently, the boys had solved
The Tower Treasure
mystery. Shortly afterward, they had used all their ingenuity and courage to uncover a dangerous secret in the case of
The House on the Cliff.

“Come on, you two,” Chet urged. “Let's get my microscope before anything else happens.”

They had almost reached the Scientific Specialties Store when Joe grabbed his brother's arm and pointed down the street.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “There's Oscar Smuff. What's
he
up to?”

The other boys looked and saw a short, stout man who was wearing a loud-checkered suit and a soft felt hat. Chet guffawed. “He acts as if he were stalking big game in Africa! Where's the lion?”

“I think”—Frank chuckled—“our friend is trying to shadow someone.”

“If he is,” Chet said, “how could anybody not know Oscar Smuff was following him?”

Oscar Smuff, the Hardys knew, wanted to be a member of the Bayport Police Department. He had read many books on crime detection, but, though he tried hard, he was just not astute enough to do anything right. The boys had encountered him several times while working on their own cases. Usually Smuff's efforts at detection had proved more hindrance than help, and at times actually laughable.

“Let's see what happens,” said Joe.

In a second the boys spotted the man Oscar Smuff was tailing—a tall, trim, well-dressed stranger. He carried a suitcase and strode along as though he was going some place with a firm purpose in mind.

The boys could hardly restrain their laughter as they watched Smuff's amateurish attempts to put into action what he had read about sleuthing.

“He's about as inconspicuous as an elephant!” Chet observed.

Smuff would run a few steps ahead of the stranger, then stop at a store window and pretend to be looking at the merchandise on display. Obviously he was waiting for the man to pass him, but Smuff did not seem to care what kind of window he was looking in. Joe nudged Frank and Chet when Oscar Smuff paused before the painted-over window of a vacant store.

“Wonder what he's supposed to be looking at,” Chet remarked.

Smuff hurried on, then suddenly stopped again. He took off his jacket, threw it over his arm, and put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

“Get a load of his tactics now!” Joe laughed. “He's trying to change his appearance.”

Frank chuckled. “Oscar's been studying about how to tail, but he needs a lot more practice.”

“He probably suspects the man has contraband in his suitcase,” Joe guessed, grinning.

The tall stranger suddenly turned and looked back at Smuff. The would-be detective had ducked into a doorway and was peering out like a child playing hide-and-seek. For a moment Smuff and the stranger stared at each other. The man shrugged as though puzzled about what was going on, then continued walking.

Smuff kept up his comical efforts to shadow his quarry, unaware that the boys were following him. Near the end of the block, the man turned into a small variety store and Smuff scurried in after him.

“Come on!” said Joe to Frank and Chet. “This is too good to miss.”

The boys followed. Oscar Smuff was standing behind a display of large red balloons. He was so intent on his quarry that he still did not notice the Hardys and Chet.

Frank looked around the store quickly and saw the stranger at the drug counter selecting some toothpaste. The suitcase was on the floor beside him. As they watched, the man picked up the toothpaste and his bag, and went up front to the checkout counter. He took out a bill and gave it to the woman cashier.

Immediately Smuff went into action. He dashed from behind the balloons and across the front of the store. Elbowing several customers out of the way, he grasped the man by the arm and in a loud voice announced, “You're under arrest! Come with me!”

The man looked at Oscar Smuff as though he were crazy. So did the cashier. Other people quickly crowded around.

“What's the matter?” someone called out.

The Hardys and Chet hurried forward, as the man pulled his arm away from Smuff's grasp and demanded angrily, “What's the meaning of this?”

“You know very well what's the meaning of this,” Smuff blustered, and grabbed the man's arm again. “Now, miss”—Smuff turned to the cashier—“let me see the bill this man just gave you.”

The woman was too surprised to refuse the request and handed the bill to the amateur detective.

Smuff took the money. The Hardys stepped up and peered over his shoulder. The bill was a five-dollar one. Suddenly the expression on Smuff's face changed to confusion and concern.

“Oh—er—a five—” he stuttered.

He dropped his hold on the man's arm and stared down at the floor. “Awfully sorry,” he muttered. “It's been—a—mistake.”

Both the man and the cashier looked completely bewildered. The next moment Smuff whirled and dashed from the store.

The Hardys and Chet rushed after him. They were overwhelmed with curiosity as to what Smuff thought the man had done. The boys soon overtook the would-be detective.

“What's up?” Joe demanded. “Looking for somebody suspicious?”

Oscar Smuff reddened when he realized the boys had witnessed his entire performance.

“Never mind,” he said sharply. “I'll bet even you smart-aleck Hardys have made mistakes. Anyhow, this is different. I'm helping the police on a very special, very confidential case.”

As he made the last statement, Smuff shrugged off his look of embarrassment and assumed an air of great importance.

“Well, I can't waste precious time gabbing with
you
three.” Smuff turned and rushed off down the street.

The boys watched his bustling figure as he disappeared into the crowd. “I wonder what kind of case 'Detective' Smuff
is
working on?” Frank mused.

“I do too,” Joe said, as Chet finally led the way into the Scientific Specialties Store.

Mr. Reed, the shop owner, stood behind the counter. He was a plump, pleasant man with a shock of white hair that stood erect on his head.

“Have you come for your microscope, Chet?” he asked. As he spoke, the man's head bobbed up and down and his white hair waved back and forth as though blown by the wind.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Reed,” Chet said enthusiastically. “My friends, Frank and Joe, are looking forward to trying out the microscope just as much as I am.”

Joe smiled a little skeptically, but Frank agreed with his chum. Chet pulled out his wallet and emptied it of ten- and twenty-dollar bills. “Here you are, Mr. Reed. I've been saving for a long time so I could get the best.”

“And the best this is.” Mr. Reed smiled. “I'll get the microscope you want from the stock-room.” The proprietor picked up the money and disappeared into the back of the store.

While they waited, Chet pointed out the various instruments on display in the showcase. The Hardys were surprised at how much Chet had learned about microscopes and their use.

After waiting five minutes, Chet grew impatient, “Wonder what's keeping Mr. Reed,” he said. “I hope he has my 'scope in stock.”

At that moment Mr. Reed returned. There was a look of concern on his face.

“Don't tell me you haven't got the model.” Chet groaned.

Mr. Reed shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was solemn.

“It's not that, Chet,” he said. “I'm afraid that one of the twenty-dollar bills you gave me is a counterfeit!”

CHAPTER III

“COUNTERFEIT!”
Chet burst out.
“Counterfeit!
It can't be. I just drew the money out of the bank this morning.”

The Hardys, nonplused, stared at the twenty-dollar bill Mr. Reed was holding.

“I'm sorry, Chet,” Mr. Reed said sympathetically. “But just a few days ago all the store-keepers in town were notified by the police to be on the lookout for fake twenties. Otherwise, I wouldn't have checked it. I can't understand, though, why the bank didn't detect it.”

Frank's mind raced. “Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “Chet, what about the man you made change for at the station?”

“You're right, Frank!” Joe put in.
“He
must have passed Chet the phony twenty!”

“You mean he gave it to me on purpose?” Chet asked indignantly.

“It's possible,” Frank said. “Of course it would be pretty hard to prove whether he did it intentionally or not.”

“What did the man look like?” Joe questioned Chet. “We got only a glimpse of him running for the train. He was medium height and stocky, but did you notice anything else about him?”

Chet thought for a few seconds. Then he said, “I do remember that the man had a sharp nose. But he was wearing sunglasses and a slouch hat, so I didn't notice much else.”

The Hardys tried to fix a picture of the man in their minds. Meanwhile, Chet looked gloomily at the bogus bill.

“What luck!” he complained. “Here I am cheated out of twenty dollars and the microscope.”

“I'm sorry, Chet,” Mr. Reed said. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“Don't worry, Chet,” said Joe. “You'll get the microscope, anyway.” He turned to his brother. “How much money do you have with you?” he asked. “I have five-fifty.”