“Yes?” Tony and Phil were immediately interested. “What’s up?”
Frank then told them of the incident of the letter and, often prompted by his brother, explained how they had connected it with the disappearance of their chums.
“And so,” he concluded, “we’ve figured that Chet and Biff may have been kidnapped in mistake for us.”
“There’s something in that, too,” agreed Phil. “And here’s something else that may help. I forgot about it when we were searching for the fellows the other day. Just a little while before they went on their trip I was talking to Chet and Biff and I remember that Biff said he had always wanted to visit Blacksnake Island.”
“Blacksnake Island!” exclaimed Frank. “That’s the place that is overrun with big blacksnakes, isn’t it? Nobody ever goes there.”
“That’s the place, and that’s why it’s called Blacksnake Island. And you can’t blame people for staying away from it—with a name like that. But Biff had read about it and said he wanted to see what the place was like.”
“That’s Biff all over,” agreed Tony. “But did they decide to go?”
“Chet didn’t want to go. Blacksnake Island is down the coast, and Chet wanted to go up the coast.”
“Sure! That’s why we searched up the coast—because Chet said that was where they were going!” Frank declared.
“Well, Biff kept on saying that he wanted to see Blacksnake Island anyway, and while Chet wasn’t very much struck with the idea he might have gone there.”
“Perhaps they went that way after all. I wish we’d known that when we made our first search. They might have started for Blacksnake Island and got captured on the way.” Frank drained the last of his bottle of pop. “Say, I’d like to start another search for them, and go down the coast in that direction. What do you say?”
“I guess I can get away all right,” said Tony. “How about you, Phil?”
“It’s OK with me.”
“We’ll probably find it hard to get away,” said Frank doubtfully. “We’ll go home and ask mother, anyway. You see, we’re supposed to stay around the house now that dad’s away. But Aunt Gertrude is there and if we can make a getaway without her seeing us I guess it’ll be all right.”
“Look us up if you can make it.”
“You bet we will! Let’s go home now, Joe, and see if we can go.”
The boys separated and Frank and Joe returned home. They found their mother and Aunt Gertrude still discussing the letter.
“It’s absolute foolishness, Laura Hardy, that’s all it is!” Aunt Gertrude declared. “You’ll just scare the man out of his wits and he’ll be back here on the first train.”
“Well, I’ve sent the message, and at least I’ll know where he is. I haven’t had any word from Fenton since he left and it’s been making me nervous.”
“Fiddlesticks! The man is too busy to write.”
“It isn’t like him not to drop a line every two or three days. He is usually very particular about it. He always sends me a note at least twice a week while he’s away.”
“Well,” sighed Aunt Gertrude, as though giving it up as a bad job, “I suppose you know your own affairs best; but I’m telling you I would not have sent that telegram. There!” and she picked up her knitting, the needles flashing furiously.
“What’s the matter?” asked Frank.
“Little boys should be seen and not heard,” grunted Aunt Gertrude, glaring at him over the tops of her spectacles.
“I sent a telegram to your father, telling him about the letter,” their mother explained. “I think he should know about it. And, besides, I’ve been worrying because he hasn’t written.”
“Where did you address the telegram?”
“He gave me two addresses where I would be sure to find him in Chicago,” said Mrs. Hardy. “He gave me the name of the hotel he would be staying at and he also said that Police Headquarters would reach him. I sent the same telegram to each place so I’d be sure to get him.”
“Waste of money,” sniffed Aunt Gertrude.
At that moment the telephone rang. Mrs. Hardy answered it. The phone was in the hallway and the boys could not hear their mother’s words, but when she returned to the room a few minutes later they saw that she was pale with apprehension.
“The telegraph company tells me that there is no Fenton Hardy registered at the hotel and that Police Headquarters say he hasn’t shown up there either,” she announced gravely.
The boys looked at each other in surprise.
“That’s strange,” said Frank. “And he hasn’t written. There’s something mighty queer about this!”
Aunt Gertrude, for once, was at a loss for words. The knitting needles remained suspended in midair. Behind the spectacles, her eyes were wide and her mouth remained open in astonishment.
“This affair gets more puzzling every minute,” remarked Frank, at last. “Of course dad might have been delayed, or he might have picked up a clue that took him away from Chicago after all. But I think he would have written.”
“Perhaps he didn’t report at Police Headquarters in Chicago because he was afraid Baldy Turk’s gang might find out he was in the city,” Joe suggested.
“There’s something in that.”
“But why wouldn’t he be at the hotel?” asked Mrs. Hardy.
“He might be there under an assumed name. If Baldy Turk’s gang are on the lookout for him he wouldn’t register under his real name. They would be checking up on all the hotels to find him if they thought he was in Chicago,” said Frank eagerly. “Perhaps that’s why your message didn’t reach him.”
“Of course, that’s why!” sniffed Aunt Gertrude, returning to her knitting, much relieved. “Anyone might have known that. It was a waste of time to try to reach him with a telegram, and I said that from the start.” The needles clashed.
“Oh, I guess we needn’t worry about dad very much. He can look after himself,” said Frank, with a warning glance at his brother. Nevertheless, he was deeply worried over the fact that the telegraph company had
