'Have you an appointment?'
'No,' replied Chet. 'I guess I should have phoned first.'
The guard agreed. 'You would've saved yourself time and trouble,' he said. 'I'm sure there aren't any openings, especially for temporary help.'
'Well, couldn't I go in and leave an application with the personnel manager?' Chet asked.
The guard shrugged. 'Tell you what-I'll phone the personnel office instead,' he offered, and went back into the mill.
While they waited, the five looked around. At the south side of the mill grounds, a slender,
graying man who wore overalls was clipping the low hedges.
'Look, Callie,' said Iola, pointing toward a spot near the hedges. 'Isn't that quaint? An old flour barrel with ivy growing out of it!'
'Charming.' Callie smiled.
The girls and boys started over toward the mill for a closer inspection. At that same moment
the guard came to the door. 'Just as I told you,' he called out to Chet. 'No openings! Sorry!'
'Too bad, Chet,' Joe said sympathetically. 'Well, at least you can keep on relaxing.'
Despite his disappointment, Chet grinned. 'Right now I'm starved. 'Let's go down to the river and have our picnic.'
He thanked the guard, and the young people started to walk away. Suddenly Frank stopped and
looked back at the mill. Propped against the south wall was a bicycle. Quickly he ran over to
examine it. 'This looks like a Belgian model,' Frank thought. 'Sure is,' he told himself. 'The same type Ken Blake has.'
On impulse Frank pulled the pedal from his pocket and compared it to those on the bike. They
matched exactly. Frank noticed that one of the pedals looked much less worn than the other.
'As if it had been replaced recently,' he reflected, wondering excitedly if someone had used this bicycle to deliver the warning note.
'And could this bike be Ken's?' the young detective asked himself.
He inspected the front-wheel spokes. None was twisted, but several had slight dents. 'They could've been straightened out easily,' Frank reasoned, 'and the paint scratches on the fender touched up.'
He felt his heart beat faster as he waved his companions to join him. When Frank pointed out
the clues to his brother, Joe agreed immediately.
'It could be the bicycle which was used to deliver the message-'
Joe was interrupted by a strange voice behind them. 'Pardon me, but why are you so
interested in that bike?'
Frank quickly slipped the pedal into his pocket as the group swung around to face the speaker.
He was the man who had been clipping the hedges.
'Because just yesterday we met a boy, Ken Blake, who was riding a bike of the same model. We don't often see this Belgian make around.'
For a moment the man looked surprised, then smiled. 'Of course! Ken works here-does odd
jobs for us around the mill. You must be the boys he met yesterday when he was delivering
some copy to the printer.'
'Yes,' Frank replied. 'When we asked Ken about his job he was very secretive.'
'Well,' the maintenance man said, 'he has to be! This plant is doing top-secret work. All of us have been impressed with the necessity of not talking about Elekton at all.'
'Is Ken around?' Joe asked nonchalantly. 'We'd like to say hello.'
'I'm afraid not,' was the reply. 'We sent him by bus this afternoon to do an errand. He won't be back until later.' The man excused himself and resumed his clipping.
'We'd better eat.' Iola giggled. 'My poor brother is suffering.'
'I sure am!' Chet rolled his eyes. Laughing, the picnickers started away.
Joe, who was in the rear, happened to glance up at the front of the mill. He was startled to
catch a glimpse of a face at one of the second-story windows. He stopped in his tracks.
'Ken Blake I' Joe said to himself.
As the young sleuth stared, mystified, the face disappeared from the window.
CHAPTER VI
A Mysterious Tunnel
PUZZLED, Joe continued looking up at the window of the old mill.
'What's the matter?' Iola asked him. 'Did you see a ghost?'
In a low whisper Joe explained about the face which had disappeared. 'I'm sure it was Ken Blake I saw at that window!'
The others followed his gaze. 'No one's there now,' Iola said. 'Of course the glass in all the windows is old and wavy. The sunlight on them could cause an illusion.'
Chet agreed. 'How could Ken be here if he was sent on an errand?'
Joe stood for a minute, deep in thought. 'I can't figure it out, but I'm sure that it was no illusion.
Come on, Frank. Let's go check.'
While the others walked down the hill, the Hardys strode up to the maintenance man, who was
still trimming hedges.
'Are you sure Ken went into town?' Joe asked. 'Just now I thought I saw him looking out a second-floor window.'
'You couldn't have. You must have been dreaming.' The man gave a jovial laugh.
Joe was still not convinced. Impulsively he asked, 'Does Ken ever run any errands for you at night?'
'No,' the man answered readily. 'He leaves his bike here and walks home when we close at five-thirty.'
'Does anyone else have access to the bike after that?' Frank queried.
'It's kept in an open storage area under the rear of the mill and could be taken from there easily.'
Although obviously curious, the man did not ask the Hardys the reason for their questions. He
looked at his watch.
'Excuse me, boys, I'm late for lunch.' He turned and hurried into the mill.
As the brothers hastened to catch up with Chet and the girls, Frank said, 'Another thing which makes me wonder if that bicycle is connected with the warning is the description of the boy
who bought the pedal.
He could be Ken Blake.'
'I agree,' Joe said. 'I'd sure like to question Ken.'
'We'll come back another time,' Frank proposed.
The group picked up the picnic hamper from the Queen and strolled down a narrow path,
through the woods leading to Willow River.
'Here's a good spot.' Callie pointed to a shaded level area along the bank. 'We haven't been in this section before.'
Soon everyone was enjoying the delicious lunch the girls had prepared: chicken sandwiches,
potato salad, chocolate cake, and lemonade. While they were eating, the girls were the targets of good- natured kidding.
'Boy!' Joe exclaimed as he finished his piece of cake. 'This is almost as good as my mother and Aunt Gertrude make.'
'That's a compliment!' Chet said emphatically.
Callie's eyes twinkled. 'I know it is. Joe's mother and aunt are the best cooks ever!'
Iola sniffed. 'I don't know about this compliment stuff. There's something on your mind, Joe Hardy!'
Joe grinned. 'How are you on apple pie and cream puffs and-?'
'Oh, stop it!' Iola commanded. 'Otherwise, you won't get a second piece of cake!'
'I give up.' Joe handed over his paper plate.
