waved to him, like I always do to people in the country, and then I see it's Mr. Hardy.'
'You know my father?' Frank asked.
'Only from his pictures. But I'm sure it was him.'
'Dad left here in a sedan,' Joe spoke up. 'Did you see one around?'
'No, I didn't.'
'What was this man wearing?' Mrs. Hardy asked.
'Well, let's see. Dark-brown trousers and a brown-and-black plaid sport jacket. He wasn't wearin' a
hat, but I think he had a brown cap in one hand.'
Mrs. Hardy's face went white. 'Yes, that was my husband.' After a moment she added, 'Can you tell us
anything more?'
'I'm afraid not, ma'am,' the trucker said. 'You see, I was in kind of a hurry that mornin', so I didn't notice
nothin' else.' He arose to leave.
'We certainly thank you for coming to tell us, Mr. Bates,' Mrs. Hardy said.
'Yes, you've given us a valuable lead,' Frank added. 'Now we'll know where to look for Dad.'
'I sure hope he shows up,' the driver said, walking toward the door. 'Let me know if I can help any.'
When the man had left, Joe turned to Frank, puzzled. 'Do you suppose Dad hid his car and was walking
to the Pollitt house? If so, why?'
'Maybe he picked up a clue at that deserted farmhouse on Hillcrest Road,' Frank suggested, 'and it led
to the old Pollitt place. If he left his car somewhere, he must have been planning to investigate the haunted
house without being seen.'
'Something must have happened to him!' Joe cried out. 'Frank, I'll bet he went to Pollitt's and that fake
ghost got him. Let's go look for Dad right away!'
But Mrs. Hardy broke in. Her expression was firm. 'I don't want you boys to go to that house alone.
Maybe you'd just better notify the police and let them make a search.'
The brothers looked at each other. Finally Frank, realizing how alarmed she was, said, 'Mother, it's
possible Dad is there spying on some activities offshore and he's all right but can't leave to phone you.
The Pollitt line must have been disconnected. If Joe and I go out there and find him we can bring back a
report.'
Mrs. Hardy gave a wan smile. 'You're very convincing, Frank, when you put it that way. All right. I'll
give my permission, but you mustn't go alone.'
'Why not, Mother? We can look out for ourselves,' Joe insisted.
'Get some of the boys to go with you. There's safety in numbers,' his mother said.
The boys agreed to this plan and got busy on the telephone rounding up their pals. Chet Morton and Biff
Hooper agreed to go, and they suggested asking Tony Prito and Phil Cohen, two more of the Hardys'
friends at Bayport High. Phil owned a motorcycle. He and Tony said they could go along.
Shortly after lunch the group set out. Chet rode with Frank, Biff with Joe, and Tony with Phil. The three
motorcycles went out of Bayport, past the Tower Mansion, and along the shore road.
They passed the Kane farmhouse, Hillcrest Road, and at last came in sight of the steep cliff rising from
Barmet Bay and crowned by the rambling frame house where Felix Pollitt had lived. All this time they had
watched carefully for a sign of Mr. Hardy's car, but found none.
'Your dad hid it well,' Chet remarked.
'It's possible someone stole it,' Frank told him.
As the boys came closer to the Pollitt property, Phil said to Tony, 'Lonely looking place, isn't it?'
'Sure is. Good haunt for a ghost.'
When they were still some distance from the lane, Frank, in the lead, brought his motorcycle to a stop
and signaled the other two drivers to do likewise.
'What's the matter?' Chet asked.
'We'd better sneak up on the place quietly. If we go any farther and the ghost is there, he'll hear the
motorcycles. I vote we leave them here under the trees and go the rest of the way on foot.'
The boys hid their machines in a clump of bushes beside the road, and then the six searchers went on
toward the lane.
'We'll separate here,' Frank decided. 'Three of us take one side of the lane and the rest the other side.
Keep to the bushes as much as possible, and when we get near the house, lay low for a while and watch
the place. When I whistle, you can come out of the bushes and go up to the house.'
'That's a good idea,' Joe agreed. 'Biff, Tony, and I will take the left side of the road.'
'Okay.'
The boys entered the weeds and undergrowth on either side of the lane. In a few minutes they were lost
to view and only an occasional snapping
and crackling of branches indicated their presence. The six sleuths crept forward, keeping well in from
the lane. After about ten minutes Frank raised his hand as a warning to Chet and Phil. He had caught a
glimpse of the house through the dense thicket.
They went on cautiously until they reached the edge of the bushes. From behind the screen of leaves they
looked toward the old building. An expression of surprise crossed Frank's face.
'Someone's living here!' he exclaimed in astonishment.
From where the boys stood they hardly recognized the old place. Weeds that had filled the flower beds
on their last visit had been completely cleared away. Leaves and twigs had been raked up and the grass
cut.
A similar change had been wrought in the house. The hanging shutters had been put in place and the
broken library window glass replaced.
'What do you suppose has happened?' Chet whispered.
Frank was puzzled. 'Let's wait a minute before we go any farther.'
The boys remained at the edge of the bushes, watching the place. A short time later a woman came out
of the house carrying a basket of clothes. She walked over to a clothesline stretched between two trees
and began to hang up the laundry.
Shortly afterward a man came out, and strode across the yard to a shed where he started filling a basket
with logs.
The boys looked at one another in bewilderment. They had expected to find the same sinister and
deserted place they had visited previously. Instead, here was a scene of domestic tranquillity.
'There's not much use in our hiding any longer,' Frank whispered. 'Let's go out and question these
people.' He gave the prearranged whistle.
The other three boys appeared, and the entire group walked boldly up the lane and across the yard. The
man in the woodshed saw them first and straightened up, staring at them with an expression of
annoyance. The woman at the clothesline heard their footsteps and turned to face them, her hands on her
hips. Her gaunt face wore an unpleasant scowl.
'What do you want?' demanded the man, emerging from the shed.
He was short and thin with close-cropped hair, and he needed a shave. His complexion was swarthy, his
eyes narrow under coarse, black brows.
At the same time another man came out of the kitchen and stood on the steps. He was stout and
red-haired with a scraggly mustache.
'Yeah, who are you?' he asked.
'We didn't know anyone was living here,' Frank explained, edging over to the kitchen door. He wanted
