At this moment the phone rang and Frank went to answer it. 'It's for you, Dad!' he called, coming back
to the table.'
Mr. Hardy spent nearly fifteen minutes in conversation with the caller. In the meantime, the boys and
Mrs. Hardy finished their supper. Then, while Mr. Hardy ate his dessert, he told his family a little about
the information he had just received on the phone.
'More drugs have disappeared,' he said tersely. 'I'm positive now that Snattman is behind all this.'
'Were the drugs stolen around here?' Frank asked.
'We don't know,' his father answered. 'A pharmaceutical house in the Midwest was expecting a
shipment of rare drugs from India. When the package arrived, only half the order was there. It was
evident that someone had cleverly opened the package, removed part of the shipment, and replaced the
wrapping so neatly that neither the customs officials nor the post office was aware that the package had
been tampered with.'
'How were the drugs sent to this country?' Joe queried.
'They came by ship.'
'To which port?'
'New York. But the ship did stop at Bayport.'
'How long ago was this?'
'Nearly two months ago. It seems that the pharmaceutical house wasn't ready to use the drugs until now,
so hadn't opened the package.'
'Then,' said Joe, 'the drugs could have been removed right on the premises, and have had nothing to do
with smugglers.'
'You're right,' Mr. Hardy agreed. 'Each time drugs are reported missing, there's a new angle to the case.
Although I'm convinced Snattman is back of it, how to prove this is really a stickler.'
Mr. Hardy went on to say that the tip he had received about 'Snattman being in the Bayport area had
been a very reliable one. He smiled. 'I'll tell you all a little secret. I have a very good Mend down on the
waterfront. He picks up many kinds of information for me. His name is Pretzel Pete.'
'Pretzel Pete!' Frank and Joe cried out. 'What a name!'
'That's his nickname along the waterfront,' Mr. Hardy told them. He laughed. 'During the past few years
I've munched on so many of the pretzels he sells, I think I'm his best customer.'
By this time the boys' father had finished his dessert, and he suggested they leave at once for the Kane
farmhouse. He brought his black sedan from the garage and the boys hopped in. It did not take long to
cover the six miles to the place where Jones was spending the night.
'Why, the house is dark,' Frank remarked, puzzled.
'Maybe everyone's asleep,' Joe suggested.
'This early?' Frank protested.
Mr. Hardy continued on down the lane. There was no sign of anyone around the place. Frank remarked
that perhaps the farmer and his wife had gone out for the evening. 'But I'm surprised that they would
leave Jones alone in his condition,' he added.
'I'm quite sure they wouldn't,' his father averred. 'If they're asleep, I'm afraid we'll have to wake them.'
He pulled up in front of the kitchen entrance. Frank was out of the car in an instant, the others followed.
He rapped on the door. There was no answer.
'Let's try the front door,' Joe suggested. 'Maybe that has a knocker on it.'
The boys walked around to the ocean side of the house. Although they banged loudly with the brass
door knocker, there was still no response.
'The Kanes must have gone out,' said Joe.
'But what about Jones? Surely he's here.'
'And too weak to come to the door,' Frank surmised. 'But he could call out. I can't understand it.'
The brothers returned to the back door and i reported to their father. Then, as Joe rapped several more
times without response, a sinking feeling came over the brothers.
'I guess Jones recovered fast and has gone,' Joe said dejectedly. 'We've goofed.'
'Try the knob. The door may not be locked,' Mr. Hardy ordered. From his tone the boys knew that he
shared their fears.
Frank turned the knob and the door swung open. Mr. Hardy felt around for a light switch on the wall.
'We'll go in,' he murmured. 'If Jones is here we'll talk to him.'
By this time the detective had found the switch. As the kitchen became flooded with light, the boys
gasped, thunderstruck. On their previous visit they had been impressed by the neatness of the room.
Now the place looked as though an earthquake had shaken it.
Pots and pans were scattered about the floor. The table was overturned. A chair lay upside down in a
corner. Shattered bits of cups and saucers were strewn on the floor.
'What happened?' Frank exclaimed in bewilderment.
'There's been a fight-or a struggle of some kind,' said Mr. Hardy. 'Let's see what the rest of the house
looks like.'
The boys opened the door to the adjoining living room. Frank snapped on the wall switch.
There a horrifying sight met the Hardys' eyes.
The farmer and his wife, bound and gagged, were tied to chairs in the middle of the room!
Swiftly Frank, Joe, and their father rushed over to Mr. and Mrs. Kane. They had been tied with strong
ropes and so well gagged that the couple had been unable to utter a sound. In a minute the Hardys had
loosened the bonds and removed the gags.
'Thank goodness!' Mrs. Kane exclaimed with a sigh of relief, stretching her arms.
Her husband, spluttering with rage, rose from his chair and hurled the ropes to one side. 'Those
scoundrels!' he cried out.
Frank hastily introduced his father, then asked, 'What happened?'
For several moments Mr. and Mrs. Kane were too upset to tell their story. But finally the farmer
staggered over to the window and pointed down the shore road.
'They went that way!' he roared. 'Follow them!'
'Who?'
'Those thugs who tied us up! They took Jones!'
CHAPTER VI
The Strange Message
'How long ago did those kidnapers leave?' Frank asked the Kanes quickly.
'About ten minutes,' replied the farmer. 'Maybe you can catch them if you hurry!'
'Come on, Dad!' Frank cried. 'Let's go after them!'
Mr. Hardy needed no further urging. He and his sons ran out of the house and jumped into the car.
'That's rough stuff,' Joe said to his father as they turned onto the shore road, 'barging into house, tying up
the owners, and kidnaping a guy!'
'Yes,' Mr. Hardy agreed. 'It looks as though 'your friend Jones is mixed up in some kind of racket.
Those men must have been pretty desperate to risk breaking into an occupied house.'
The boys' father was able to follow the tracks of the car from the tread marks in the dusty road. But soon
there were signs that another car had turned onto the shore road from a side lane and the trail became
confused.
The Hardys passed the lane that led into the Pollitt place and continued on until they came to a hilltop.
Here they could get a clear view of the road winding along the coast for several miles. There was no sign
