“Good idea!” exclaimed Frank, who never needed an excuse to take the boat out. “Come on, Joe. Come on, Chet.”
“I’ll go out in dad’s boat,” volunteered Tony Prito.
“Fine!” agreed the others, and the boys hastened down the street in the direction of the boathouses.
Jerry Gilroy and Biff Hooper went with Tony, while Phil Cohen went with Chet and the Hardy boys.
Frank unlocked the door of the boathouse and went inside, followed by the others.
But the familiar shape of the Sleuth could not be seen.
The front of the boathouse was open. The motorboat had disappeared.
“The boat’s gone!” he exclaimed in consternation.
The other boys stared, amazed at this unexpected development.
“It’s been stolen!” cried Frank. “No one has a key to the boathouse but Joe and me.”
“It was here at noon!” exclaimed Joe. “I was in here for a few minutes before I went to school.”
“Who could have taken it?” asked Chet.
“Do you think it could have been Paul Blum?” suggested Joe.
The same thought had been in Frank’s mind.
“That’s who it was! He wanted to make a quick getaway, so he figured his best chance would be by boat.”
“And perhaps he found out where our boathouse was, just so he could get even because we turned him over to the police,” Joe put in.
“He can’t be very far away,” Phil Cohen pointed out. “Your father said he just escaped a little while ago.”
Frank ran along the landing out to the front of the boathouse. For a moment he scanned the bay. Then he gave a sudden shout.
“I see the boat! There’s the Sleuth! I’d know it anywhere!”
The others ran to his side, and Frank pointed out a flashing white shape heading far up the bay. There were very few boats out that afternoon and there was no mistaking the Sleuth as it sped eastward.
“Get Tony to chase him!” exclaimed Joe. “Quick!”
They ran hurriedly out of the boathouse and made their way down to the ramshackle building where Tony Prito kept his craft. The other boys looked up in surprise as the Hardys and their companions entered. Tony had been just on the point of starting.
“Paul Blum has stolen our boat!” Frank told him. “He’s making his getaway in it now!”
“Paul Blum!” exclaimed Tony.
“Yes. The escaped prisoner. There’s the boat now,” declared Joe, as he pointed out toward the bay.
In a flash, Tony grasped the situation. He leaped into the motorboat.
“Jump in! We’ll chase him.”
The Hardy boys scrambled into the boat, but Chet and the others stayed behind.
“Too many cooks spoil the broth,” explained Chet. “You’ll need all the speed you can get out of that boat to catch him. We’d only delay you.”
Chet was eager to join in the chase, but he realized that the fewer passengers Tony’s boat carried, the better would be their chance of capturing the fugitive. The other boys quickly took their cue from his attitude and declared that they would remain behind also.
“We’ll telephone to Barmet village,” suggested Chet. “Perhaps a boat can put out from there and head him off.”
His remarks were drowned in the roar of the engine, as Tony’s motorboat began to back slowly out into deeper water. It left the boathouse, then Tony turned the wheel and the motorboat headed about for the open bay.
“Now I guess you wish the Sleuth wasn’t faster than my boat,” he said, with a grin. “We’ll have trouble catching him.”
He opened the throttle, and the motorboat leaped ahead, leaving a widening trail of foaming water behind.
The white shape of the stolen craft could be seen far out in the bay. Paul Blum was losing no time, and it was evident that his method of escape had not yet been discovered by the police, as Tony’s craft was the only boat in pursuit. It was doubtful, too, if the fugitive realized as yet that he was being pursued.
“I’ll let her out as fast as she’ll go,” said Tony, suiting the action to the word.
The boat was drumming along at a high rate of speed and it soon became apparent that they were gaining on the Sleuth. This was evidently because Paul Blum thought his flight had passed unnoticed and did not feel it necessary to run the craft at its highest speed.
“If we can only sneak up behind him before he knows we’re after him, we’ll have a chance,” said Joe.
“No such luck,” Tony remarked. “He’ll be looking behind once in a while.”
Frank found a pair of binoculars on one of the seats, and he raised them to his eyes, adjusting them so that Paul Blum and the speeding motorboat were brought within his line of vision. The distant Sleuth leaped closer as he looked through the glasses, and he could plainly see the face of the man at the wheel.
They had not been mistaken. The fugitive was Paul Blum.
Even as Frank looked, the man turned, and an expression of alarm crossed his face. He had seen the motorboat pursuing him.
Frank saw Blum lean forward, and the Sleuth began to increase its speed. The wing of water cleft by its bow became higher and the spray was flying. Swiftly, the motorboat began to draw away.
“He’s seen us,” said Frank, lowering the binoculars.
“We’ll keep after him, anyway.”
“We’ll chase him clean across the Atlantic if the gas holds out,” declared Tony.
Joe gave an exclamation of delight.
“The gas!” he exclaimed. “The gas! That’s where we have him. I went down to the boathouse at noon just to see if there was enough gas in the tank, and it’s pretty low. He hasn’t enough to take him more than a few miles.”
“Good!” exclaimed Tony. “That’s
