matter of moments he succeeded in loosening it and the rope fell away from his arm.
After making sure the guard was still asleep, the detective sat up on the cot and struggled to release his
feet. This was an easier task. The smugglers had merely passed a rope around the cot to hold the
prisoner's feet. A few minutes' attention was all that was necessary for the boys' father to work his way
loose.
'Now he'll release us,' Joe thought excitedly, 'and we can escape from here!'
As Fenton Hardy tiptoed toward his sons, the board floor squeaked loudly. The guard muttered again, as
if dreaming, shook his head, then sat up.
'Oh, no!' Frank murmured, fearful of what would happen. He saw his father pick up a white rag
someone had dropped.
A look of intense amazement crossed Malloy's face. As he opened his mouth to yell for help, Fenton
Hardy leaped across the intervening space and flung himself on the smuggler.
'Keep quiet!' the detective ordered.
Malloy had time only to utter a muffled gasp before the detective clapped a hand over the guard's mouth,
jammed the rag in it, and toppled him to the floor. The two rolled over and over in a desperate, silent
struggle. The boys, helpless, looked on, their fears mounting. They knew their father had been weakened
by his imprisonment and hunger, and the guard was strong and muscular. Nevertheless, the detective had
the advantage of a surprise attack. Malloy had had no time to collect his wits.
Frank and Joe watched the battle in an agony of suspense. If only they could join the fight! Mr. Hardy
still had the advantage, for he could breathe better than his opponent. But suddenly Malloy managed to
raise himself to his knees. He reached for the revolver at his hip.
'Look out, Dad!' Frank hissed. 'He's got his gun!'
Quick as a flash the detective landed a blow on the guard's jaw. Malloy blinked and raised both hands to
defend himself as he fell to the ground. Mr. Hardy darted forward and pulled the revolver out of the
man's side pocket.
'No funny business!' the detective told him in a low voice.
Without being told, Malloy raised his hands in the air. He sat helplessly on the floor, beaten.
'He's got a knife too, Dad,' Joe said quietly. 'Watch that.'
'Thanks, Joe,' his father replied. Then, motioning with the pistol, he said, 'All right. Let's have the knife!'
Sullenly the guard removed the knife from its leather sheath at his belt and handed it to Mr. Hardy.
Frank and Joe wanted to shout with joy, but merely grinned at their father.
Still watching Malloy, the detective walked slowly backward until he reached Joe's side. Without taking
his eyes from the smuggler, he bent down and with the knife sliced at the ropes that bound his son.
Fortunately, the knife was sharp and the ropes soon were cut.
'Boy, that feels good, Dad. Thanks,' Joe whispered.
He sprang from the chair, took the knife, and while his father watched Malloy, he cut Frank's bonds.
'Malloy,' Mr. Hardy ordered, 'come over here!'
He motioned toward the bed and indicated by gestures that the smuggler was to lie down on the cot.
Malloy shook his head vigorously, but was prodded over by Joe. The guard lay down on the cot.
The ropes which had held Mr. Hardy had not been cut. Quickly Frank and Joe trussed up Malloy just as
their father had been tied, making certain that the knots were tight. As a final precaution they pushed in
the gag which was slipping and with a piece of rope made it secure.
The whole procedure had taken scarcely five minutes. The Hardys were free!
'What now?' Frank asked his father out of earshot of Malloy. 'Hide some place until the Coast Guard
gets here?' Quickly he told about Tony and Chet going to bring the officers to the smugglers' hide-out.
'But they should have been here by now,' Joe whispered. 'They probably haven't found the secret door.
Let's go down and show them.'
This plan was agreed upon, but the three Hardys got no farther than the top of the first stairway when
they heard rough, arguing voices below them.
'They can't be Coast Guard men,' said Mr. Hardy. 'We'll listen a few seconds, then we'd better run in
the other direction. I know the way out to the grounds.'
From below came an ugly, 'You double-crosser, you! This loot belongs to the whole gang and don't you
forget it!'
'Listen,' said the second voice. 'I don't have to take orders from you. I thought we was pals. Now you
don't want to go through with the deal. Who's to know if we got ten packages or five from that friend o'
Ali Singh's?'
'Okay. And the stuff'll be easier to get rid of than those drugs. They're too hot for me. Snattman can burn
for kidnapin' if he wants to-I don't.'
The voices had now become so loud that the Hardys did not dare wait another moment. 'Come on!' the
boys' father urged.
He led the way back to the corridor and along it to the door at the end. Suddenly Frank and Joe noticed
him falter and were afraid he was going to faint. Joe recalled that his father had had no food except the
candy bar. Ramming his hands into his pockets, he brought out another bar and some pieces of pretzel.
Quickly he filled both his father's hands with them. Mr. Hardy ate them hungrily as his sons supported
him under his arms and assisted him to the door.
As Frank quietly opened it, and they saw a stairway beyond, the detective said, 'These steps will bring
us up into a shed near the Pollitt house. There's a trap door. That's the way Snattman brought me down.
Got your lights? We haven't any time to lose.' Mr. Hardy seemed stronger already. 'I'll take the lead.'
As they ascended, Frank and Joe wondered if they would come out in the shed where they had seen the
man named Klein picking up small logs.
When the detective reached the top of the stairs he ordered the lights out and pushed against the trap
door. He could not budge it.
'You try,' he urged the boys. 'And hurry! Those men we heard may discover Malloy.'
'And then things will start popping!' Frank murmured.
The boys heaved their shoulders against the trap door. In a moment there came the rumble of rolling logs.
The door went up easily.
Frank peered out. No one seemed to be around.
He stepped up into the shed and the others followed.
The three stood in silence. The night was dark. The wind, blowing through the trees, made a moaning
sound. Before the Hardys rose the gloomy mass of the house on the cliff. No lights could be seen.
From the direction of the lane came dull, thudding sounds. The boys and their father assumed the
smugglers' truck was being loaded with the goods which were to be disposed of by the man named
Burke.
Suddenly the Hardys heard voices from the corridor they had just left. Quickly Frank closed the trap
door and Joe piled up the logs. Then, silently, the Hardys stole out into the yard.
CHAPTER XVII
Hostages
LITHE as Indians the three Hardys hurried across the lawn and disappeared among the trees. They
headed for the road, a good distance away.
'I hope a bus comes along,' Frank said to himself. 'Then we can get to a phone and report-'
