answered. 'Hello. . . . Oh, yes, doctor. ... Is that so? . . . Jackley will probably
live only until morning? ... I can see him. . . . Fine. . . . Thank you. Good-by.'
The detective put back the receiver and turned to the boys. 'I'll take that
six-o'clock plane to Albany. But if Smuff goes too, it may ruin everything. The
Albany police and I must question Jackley first.'
'When's the next commercial flight after six?' Joe asked.
'Seven o'clock.'
'Then,' said Frank, 'Smuff can take that one and question Jackley later.
Come on, Joe. Let's see what we can do to help Dad!'
'Don't you boys do anything rash,' their father warned.
'We won't.'
Frank led the way outdoors and started walking down the street.
'What's on your mind?' Joe asked as they ! reached the corner.
'We must figure out how to keep Detective Smuff in Bayport until seven
o'clock.'
'But how?'
'I don't know yet, but we'll find a way. We can't have him bursting into that
hospital room and spoiling the chance of Dad's getting a confession. Smuff
might ruin things so the case will never be solved.'
'You're right.'
The brothers walked along the street in silence. They realized that the
situation was urgent. But though they racked their brains trying to think of a
way to prevent Detective Smuff from catching the six-o'clock plane, it seemed
hopeless.
'Let's round up our gang,' Joe suggested finally. 'Perhaps they'll have some
ideas.'
The Hardys found their friends on the tennis courts of Bayport High.
'Hi, fellows!' called Chet Morton when he saw
Frank and Joe approaching. 'You're too late for a game. Where've you
been?'
'We had something important to do,' Frank replied. 'Say, we need your
help.'
'What's the matter?' asked Tony Prito.
'Oscar Smuff is trying to win that thousand-dollar reward and get himself on
the Bayport police force by interfering in one of Dad's cases,' Frank
explained. 'We can't tell you much more than that. But the main thing is, we
want to keep him from catching the six-o'clock plane. We-er-don't want him
to go until seven.'
'What do you want us to do?' Bill Hooper asked.
'Help us figure out how to keep Smuff in Bay-port until seven o'clock.'
'Without having Chief Collig lock us up?' Jerry Gilroy put in. 'Are you
serious about this, Frank?'
'Absolutely. If Smuff gets to a certain place before Dad can, the case will be
ruined. And I don't mind telling you that it has something to do with Slim
Robinson.'
Chet Morton whistled. 'Oh, ho! I catch on. The Tower business. If that's it,
we'll make sure the six-o'clock plane leaves here without that nutty
detective.' Chet had a special dislike for Smuff, because the man had once
reported him for swimming in the bay after hours.
'So our problem,' said Phil solemnly, 'is to keep Smuff here and keep out of
trouble ourselves.'
'Right.'
'Well,' Jerry Gilroy said, 'let's put our heads together, fellows, and work
out a plan.'
A dozen ideas were put forth, each wilder than the one before. Biff Hooper,
with a wide grin, went so far as to propose kidnaping Smuff, binding him
hand and foot, and setting him adrift in the bay in an open boat.
'We could rescue him later,' he said. The proposal was so ridiculous that
the others howled with laughter.
Phil Cohen suggested setting the detective's watch back an hour. That plan,
as Frank observed, was a good one except for the minor difficulty of laying
hands on the watch.
'We might send him a warning not to take a plane before seven o'clock,'
Tony Prito said, 'and sign it with a skull and crossbones.'
'That's a keen ideal' Chet cried enthusiastically. 'Let's do it!'
'Wait a minute, fellows,' Frank spoke up. 'If Smuff ever found out who
wrote it, we'd be up to our necks in trouble. We could all be arrested!'
'I know!' Joe cried suddenly, snapping his fingers. 'Why didn't I think of it
before? And it's so simple, too.'
'Well, tell us!' Frank urged.
Joe explained that every once in a while he and Frank went down to Rocco's
fruit store to act as clerks while the owner went home to supper. He stayed
open evenings until nine.
'Rocco's is only a block from Smuff's house. Smuff knows Frank and I go
there, so he wouldn't be surprised to see us in the neighborhood. I suggest
that the bunch of us meet casually down near the store and one boy after
another stop Smuff to talk. Maybe we can even get him into the shop. You
know Smuff loves to eat.'
'You can't hate him for that,' Chet spoke up. 'I'll be glad to invite him in
and buy him an apple for his trip.'
'A fifteen-minute delay for Smuff is all we need,' Frank said.
'I think it's a swell idea,' Biff spoke up. 'And I'm sure Mr. Rocco will
co-operate.'
'Who's going to persuade him?' Phil asked.
'That's Frank and Joe's department,' Jerry replied.
Rocco was a hard-working man who had come from Italy only a few years
ago. He was a simple, genial person and had great admiration for the Hardy
boys.
The whole group made their way toward the fruit store, but only the Hardys
went inside. The others spread out to watch for Smuff, who was expected to
leave his house soon. Each boy went over his part in the plan.
When Frank and Joe walked into the fruit store, they found the dark-eyed
Rocco sorting oranges. 'Buona sera' he said. 'Good evening. How you like
my fix the place?'
'Looks swell,' Frank answered. 'New bins. Better lights.' Then he added,
'How does your neighbor Smuff like it?'
Rocco threw up his hands in a gesture of disgust. 'Oh, that man! He make
me mad. He say I charge too much. He tell me I ought to go back to old
country.'
