“They won’t see us. We’ll be hiding in the locker.”
Joe saw the merits of the plan at once.
“And they’ll kidnap us without knowing it?” he chuckled.
“That’s the idea. They’ll drive the car to wherever they are in the habit of hiding the stolen autos, and then we can watch our chance to either round them up then and there or else steal away and come back with the police.”
This, then, was the explanation of their mysterious behavior, and as they crouched in the locker they were agog with expectation.
“We’ll just have to be patient,” whispered Frank, when they had been in hiding for more than half an hour. “Can’t expect the fish to bite the minute we put out the bait.”
Joe settled himself into a more comfortable position.
“This is the queerest fishing I’ve ever done,” he mused.
It was very quiet. They had no difficulty in breathing, as the locker had a number of air spaces that they had bored in the top and sides, invisible to a casual glance.
Once in a while they could hear a car speeding past on the Shore Road.
Minute after minute went by. They were becoming cramped. Presently Joe yawned loud and long.
“I guess it’s no use,” said Frank, at last. “We’re out of luck tonight.”
“Can’t expect to be lucky the first time,” replied his brother philosophically.
“We might as well go home.”
Frank raised the lid of the locker and peeped out. It was quite dark. The Shore Road was deserted.
“Coast is clear,” he said.
They got quickly out of the locker. They lost no time, for there was a possibility that one of the auto thieves might be in the neighborhood, watching the roadster, and if their trap was discovered it would be useless to make a second attempt.
They got back into the car, Joe taking the wheel this time. He drove the roadster back onto the highway, turned it around, and they set out back for Bayport.
Both lads were disappointed, although they had not yet given up hope. They had been so confident that their plan would be successful that this failure took some of the wind out of their sails, so to speak.
“We’ll just try again tomorrow night,” said Frank.
“Perhaps the auto thieves have quit.”
“Not them! They’ll fall for our trap yet.”
“I’m glad we didn’t tell any of the fellows. We’ll look mighty foolish if it doesn’t work.”
The car sped along the Shore Road, the headlights casting a brilliant beam of illumination. As they rounded a curve they caught a glimpse of a dark figure trudging along in the shadow of the trees bordering the ditch.
“Wonder who that is,” Frank remarked, peering at the man.
Joe bore down on the wheel, swinging the car around so that the headlights fell full on the man beside the road. Then he swung the car back into its course again.
The fellow had flung up his arm to shield his face from the glare, but he had not been quick enough to hide his features altogether. Frank had recognized him at once.
“So!” he remarked thoughtfully. “Our friend again.”
“I didn’t get a good look at him,” Joe said. “Somehow, he seemed familiar.”
“He was. I’d recognize that face anywhere now.”
“Who was it?”
“Gus Montrose.”
Joe whistled.
“I wonder what he’s doing, skulking along here at this time of night.”
“I have an idea that we’ll find out before long.”
“Do you think he has anything to do with the car thefts?”
“Shouldn’t be surprised. He seems a rather suspicious sort of character.”
They sped past the dark figure, who went on, head down, hands thrust deep in his coat pockets.
“I’d like to know more about that chap,” mused Frank. “I’ll bet he’s not hanging around here for any good reason.”
XIV
Montrose Again
The Hardy boys were not discouraged by this failure. They realized that it was too much to hope for success in their venture at the first trial and resolved to lay their trap again.
If their parents were curious as to why they had remained out so late, they gave no sign of it, and the following night Frank and Joe again drove out along the Shore Road in their new car. This time they went to another parking place, not far from the spot where Isaac Fussy’s automobile had been stolen.
Again they turned out the lights, again they crawled into the locker at the back, and again they remained in hiding, while car after car went by on the Shore Road.
An hour passed.
“Looks as if we’re out of luck again,” whispered Joe.
“We’ll stay with it a while longer.”
Frank switched on his flashlight and glanced at his watch. It was almost ten o’clock. They heard an automobile roar past at tremendous speed, and a few moments later there was the heavy rumble of a truck.
“Funny time of night for a truck to be out,” Frank remarked.
“That first car was sure breaking all speed laws.”
After a long time, Frank again looked at his watch.
“Half-past ten.”
“Another evening wasted.”
“Are you getting tired?”
“My legs are so cramped I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk straight again.”
Joe had inadvertently raised his voice. Suddenly Frank gripped his arm.
“Shh!”
They listened. They heard footsteps coming along the road. The steps sounded clear and distinct on the hard highway. Then they became soft and muffled as the pedestrian turned out onto the grassy slope.
“Coming this way,” whispered Frank.
Someone approached the roadster cautiously. The boys could hear him moving around the car. After a moment or so, one of the doors was opened and someone clambered into the seat.
The boys were breathless with excitement. Was this one of the auto thieves?
But the intruder made no move to drive the car away. Instead, when he had snapped the lights on and off, he got out, closed the door behind him and strode off through the grass.
The first impulse of the two brothers was to clamber out, but they realized that this would be folly. They remained quiet, as the footsteps receded into the distance.
