They saw that the man in the motorboat was heading toward a small bay that afforded ideal protection from the storm. The entrance was very narrow and great waves dashed over the rocks with showers of white spray, but the man in the boat guided his craft skillfully into the channel. He was in difficulties for a few moments, but by good steering brought the craft around. Then it shot forward, making the channel neatly, and surged down toward the beach.
The men in oilskins were there to meet him. The boat was run up on the sand and the lone steersman sprang out and splashed through the water. For a few moments the five men conferred, standing there on the dark beach, with the wind whipping their oilskins about their legs, the lantern gleaming like a white eye, and the rain pouring down upon them. They looked like five sinister birds of prey as they stood there in the storm, and then they turned and began to walk back up over the rocks toward the center of the island.
“This must be their landing place,” said Frank. “And that means they must have a good trail from here to the cave.”
“Let’s follow them,” suggested Joe.
“Just what I was going to say. We know our boat is safe, and we can’t get any wetter than we are now.”
The boys therefore made their way down to the place where the five men had been standing. They could see the reflection of the lantern as it bobbed up and down while the quintette trudged back toward the trees, and they followed. True enough, there was a well-defined trail among the rocks and they made easy progress, considering the darkness and the fact that the trail was unknown to them.
The height of the storm had passed and the rain had settled down to a steady downpour. The roar of the thunder had diminished to an occasional distant rumble, and the lightning flashes were less frequent. The wind, too, had died down.
The light ahead guided them up the trail, across the rocks, then into the grove again, and in a short time they again emerged on the edge of the clearing and could see the dull mass of the granite slope before them. The fire still gleamed, and they could see the five men go into the cave, which was brilliantly illuminated for a moment in the light of the lantern which the first man held so that the others might pass.
“We may as well go right up,” said Frank. “We’ve come this far. There isn’t any use backing down now.”
“I’m with you.”
They crossed the rocks and crept up toward the entrance to the cave. They found tumbled boulders about the opening that afforded good protection and they were able to make their way up to within a few feet of the cave mouth without danger of being seen. The wind and the rain still created sufficient noise to drown out any sounds that they might have made in their approach.
Through an opening in the boulders, they peeped into the cave. As they were in darkness they knew there was little chance that they would be seen by the men within; as for the latter, they were in the full glare of the fire, which one of the men had replenished from a pile of wood near by. The boys, therefore, could see without being seen.
The men were divesting themselves of their oilskins, and one of them, the newcomer, had flung himself down on a pile of blankets, as though exhausted.
“I tell you it was a tough trip,” he was saying. “I was sure I was going to be wrecked. I couldn’t find the passage. If you hadn’t come along with the lantern when you did I’d have been washed up on the rocks and the boat would have been smashed to pieces.”
“Well, you’re here, and that’s all there is to it,” declared the man they called Red. “You shouldn’t have started out when you saw a storm was coming up.”
“I didn’t know it was going to be so bad. Anyway, I thought I’d get here before it broke.”
“It must have been good news that brought you out here tonight,” declared one of the others, sitting down.
“I’ll say it was good news,” said the newcomer. “Mighty good news.”
“What is it?” they asked eagerly.
“I’ve found out why Fenton Hardy didn’t pay any attention to that letter.”
The boys listened eagerly. At the mention of their father they knew that all their suspicions had been verified. They waited tensely as the conversation went on.
“Why?” asked Red.
“He didn’t get it.”
“Why didn’t he get it?”
The newcomer paused and smiled.
“The reason he didn’t get it,” he said, slowly and triumphantly, “is because we’ve got him.”
“Got him?”
“We’ve got Fenton Hardy!”
“How?”
“Where?”
“How do you know?”
Questions were fired at the newcomer from all parts of the cave. He was enjoying the sensation he had caused. As for the hidden listeners, they experienced only a sickening amazement.
“The gang got him in Chicago last night. I just got word this afternoon. He went out there to catch Baldy; but the boys got wind of it and they laid a trap for him. He stepped right into it.”
“Good!” exclaimed the redheaded man, rubbing his hands. “What could be sweeter? We’ve got Hardy and we’ve got his sons—”
“By the way, how are they acting?” asked the newcomer.
“Oh, still kicking up a fuss—the young brats,” growled the man called Pete. “They say they ain’t the Hardy boys at all.”
“Don’t worry about that. Bring ’em out here.”
One of the men got up from beside the fire and disappeared into the rear of the cave. His footsteps died away and the Hardy boys judged that there must be some sort of inner chamber to the place. In a short time he returned, pushing
