They got out and stood in a little group in the moonlit road. Fenton Hardy was in charge of the raid, and he gave his orders quickly and with precision. The men were to follow the road until they reached the meadow between the wood and the mill. The troopers were to deploy out so as to come up in the rear of the mill; the Secret Service men and the others were to take the front way.
They trudged down the road until at last they stood at the edge of the wood and they could see the mill below them in the moonlight. Then the three troopers moved off to the right, keeping well in the shade, preparatory to cutting down across the meadow toward the back of the mill.
Fenton Hardy, the two Secret Service men and the boys walked boldly across the meadow.
They were not seen. There was not a sound from the mill.
When they reached the front of the building they could see the dark forms of the three troopers who flitted across the grass and waited in readiness back of the mill in case anyone should attempt to escape that way.
Mr. Hardy tried the front door. It swung open. He stepped inside. The Secret Service men followed. The boys crowded close at their heels.
“Which room?” whispered the detective.
“At the top of the stairs,” Frank told him.
At that moment the door of the workroom opened and they could see a man run out onto the landing.
“Who’s there?” called out a startled voice.
It was Markel. He was clearly silhouetted in the light from the workroom.
“The police,” answered Mr. Hardy. “Put up your hands! We have you covered.”
In reply, Markel flung himself flat on the floor, there was a streak of crimson, and a revolver shot roared out. Mr. Hardy and the Secret Service men had their weapons ready and they replied with a fusillade of shots.
The light in the room at the head of the landing had gone out. With a bound, Mr. Hardy reached the stairs, then raced up the steps. When he reached the landing, however, he found that it was deserted. Markel had escaped the bullets and had crawled back into the room, for the door was closed.
Fenton Hardy launched himself against the door of the workroom, but it did not budge. He could hear sounds of voices, a noise of banging and of running about in the room beyond.
The Secret Service men and the two boys reached the landing.
“Break in the door!” snapped Mr. Hardy.
Together they launched themselves against the door, and there was a splintering sound, but still the barrier held.
“Again!”
With a concerted rush they plunged forward once more. The door fell in with a crash.
Fenton Hardy switched on his flashlight, for the room was in darkness.
There was the printing press, there was the table with the packages of counterfeit money—but the counterfeiters were gone. The window was wide open. They had made their escape that way.
From beneath the window came the sound of rough voices, a shot, a loud yell. Mr. Hardy ran to the window and looked out.
“We got ’em, sir!” called out a voice.
Underneath the willow tree were six figures, and three of them were troopers. Each man held a prisoner. The counterfeiters had been captured.
XXV
The Reckoning
When the full story of the activities of the counterfeiters became known next day, Bayport found that the Hardy boys had succeeded in breaking up one of the most dangerous bands that had ever baffled the Federal authorities.
After the capture of Uncle Dock and his associates, Fenton Hardy and the Secret Service men had wasted no time. Frank had remembered the New York address of the mysterious Burgess, that he had heard Uncle Dock mention, and a telegram to the New York police resulted in the arrest of this man, who turned out to be the brains of the gang, the man who had arranged for the distribution of the spurious bills. The crooks in Barmet village, and the rascally woman in black were also apprehended.
“The machinery in the mill,” Mr. Hardy told his sons, “was the most complete and efficient they could obtain. Markel, it seems, was at one time an expert photo-engraver. He furnished the engravings that enabled them to make such an excellent imitation of United States currency, while Uncle Dock and the other man helped him turn out the bills. Burgess saw to it that they got the proper paper and also planned the distribution. There were enough bad bills lying on the table when we raided the place to have netted them almost half a million dollars between them.”
Thanks to the quick work of the officers, not one member of the gang had escaped. In Burgess’ rooms had been found a notebook containing the names and addresses of the agents he had working for him, distributing the counterfeit money throughout the country, and by the next day every man had been apprehended.
The two Secret Service men who had aided in the final roundup of the counterfeiters at the old mill called personally at the Hardy home next day to congratulate the boys.
“We’ve been working around here for almost a week trying to get the goods on these men,” said one, “but never once did we think of the old mill. What made you suspicious of that place?”
Frank told him how they had first learned that strangers had taken over the mill and told of their first visit to the place.
“To tell the truth,” he said, “my first suspicions were when Uncle Dock offered to give us a reward for helping save Lester from the river. He took two five dollar bills from his pocket and offered them to us. Then the other man snatched them from him, turned around, and later offered them to us again.”
The Secret
