Frank sat straight up in bed. 'I'm sorry, he isn't here,' he replied. 'I'll call some of our friends and see what I can find out.'
Biff's mother gratefully accepted the offer. 'Oh, thank you. I'm so worried about him.'
As Frank put down the phone, Joe mumbled sleepily, 'What's the matter?'
'Matter? It looks as if plenty's the matter. Wake up! Chet and Biff are missing!'
CHAPTER VI
A Perilous Slide
STARTLED by the news, Joe sat bolt upright in bed. 'Chet and Biff gone?'
'They vanished after the party.'
'Who was that on the telephone?' suddenly asked a deep voice. In the doorway stood Fenton Hardy in a robe.
Quickly Frank told his father and Joe about the calls from Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Hooper. Mr.
Hardy promptly dialed police headquarters, and identified himself to the desk sergeant.
'Have any accidents been reported since midnight?' he inquired. As he listened, the lines of his forehead relaxed.
'None,' he reported to Frank and Joe. Then the detective explained the situation to the officer, who promised that the police would look for Chet and Biff.
After putting down the phone, Mr. Hardy asked his sons, 'Is there any place the boys are likely to have gone?'
'They were planning to go camping early this morning,' Joe recollected, 'stopping at different islands along the coast. Maybe they decided to go tonight instead.'
'I doubt it-in this fog,' Frank objected. 'And not without telling anyone.' Nevertheless, he dialed the Hooper home to make sure.
'Oh, no,' Biff's mother replied to Frank's question. 'Mr. Hooper carries the boathouse key with him. If Biff and Chet had wanted to leave earlier, they would have had to get it from him.'
Frank tried not to show his mounting alarm. Hoping he sounded cheerful, he said, 'We'll keep looking for the boys.' After saying good-by, he turned to Joe and his father. 'This is serious. I hate to disturb Callie, but I'll have to now.' He dialed her number. Callie herself answered sleepily.
'Sorry to bother you so late,' Frank said. 'But will you do me a favor? Peek out the window and see if Chet's jalopy is there. It was parked under the street light.'
After a short pause he turned to Joe and his father. 'It's still there! . . . Callie, when did Biff and Chet leave?' He listened a moment. 'Thanks. We can't locate them. . . . Nothing wrong for sure yet. We'll call you tomorrow.'
Frank hung up and said worriedly, 'They left the party ten minutes after we did.'
Joe snapped his fingers. 'I'll bet they couldn't get the jalopy started. They're probably spending the night with one of the fellows who lives on Callie's street.'
Frank looked relieved. 'Let's go over and check the jalopy.' The boys began dressing.
'Have you a key to the car?' Mr. Hardy asked.
'Chet gave us one,' Frank explained.
Fifteen minutes later the boys drove up quietly in their father's sedan and parked behind the
yellow jalopy. Quickly Frank slipped into the driver's seat, and a moment later the Queen
coughed and rattled into life. Abruptly he cut the motor and the two brothers looked at each
other soberly.
'I was wrong,' Joe said. 'They didn't have car trouble. What did happen?'
Frank shook his head grimly. By the light of the street lamp the boys examined the jalopy, the curb and road around it, but found no clues. Using their flashlights, they checked the Shaws'
yard and porch.
'Nothing here,' Frank said finally.
The porch lights blinked on and Callie appeared in the doorway. 'Frank-Joe, what are you
doing?' she asked.
'Looking for clues,' Joe replied. 'But we haven't found any yet.'
'Chet and Biff had their costumes on when they left, and carried the masks,' Callie said. 'They looked so conspicuous, they should be easy to locate.'
'We'll keep trying,' Frank promised.
He used the Shaw phone and called each boy who had been at the party. Chet and Biff were
not with any of them, nor had Tony or Jerry heard from them.
Finally the Hardys headed for home. They gave their father the discouraging report and
reluctantly went back to bed.
After a few hours of uneasy sleep, Frank and Joe awakened to find bright sunlight filling the
room.
Hurriedly they dressed and dashed downstairs. Their father was already at the breakfast table.
'Any news of Chet and Biff?' Frank asked.
Mr. Hardy shook his head soberly. 'The police have found no trace of them.'
'If only we knew where to start looking!' Joe said worriedly. 'But we haven't a single clue to go on.'
'The State Police are searching, too,' Mr. Hardy told them. 'A lead may turn up before the day is over. I hate to mention it,' he added, 'but the boys might have been kidnaped. So, to be on the safe side, there'll be absolutely no publicity.'
'Good idea,' Frank agreed.
For a minute he and Joe sat in glum silence. 'What about the Sleuth?' Joe asked finally.
'The Coast Guard hasn't found it yet,' Mr. Hardy replied, 'and there are no leads on the bank robbery, either.'
'How about the stolen car?' Frank queried. 'Who owns it?'
'A man living up the coast,' his father answered. 'It disappeared day before yesterday while he was at a boat regatta in Northport.'
'A boat regatta-' Joe murmured. 'Where have we heard of one lately?'
'At the Coast Guard station,' Frank prompted.
'That's it! Seaman Thompson thought the boat that tried to ram us might have come down
from the regatta in Northport.'
'Looks like Northport might furnish a lead to more than one mystery,' Frank declared. 'Let's take a run
up there and see if we can pick up a due.'
'If I go up the coast, I want to go in the Sleuth!' Joe answered firmly. 'We must find her!'
At this point, Mrs. Hardy brought the discussion to an end by setting before each boy a stack of steaming, golden-brown pancakes.
Aunt Gertrude came in behind her with a block of yellow butter and a tall pitcher of maple
syrup. 'There are more cakes on the griddle,' she said.
'You need your strength. And for goodness' sake, find those poor lost boys!'
'If we can help-' Mrs. Hardy began.
'Thanks,' Frank said.
After breakfast the brothers hurried to the garage. 'The bank robbers must have beached the Sleuth somewhere,' Joe reasoned. 'If we follow the shore, we're sure to find her.'
The black-and-silver motorcycles backfired like pistol shots, then roared from the drive and
down High Street. The riders headed out Shore Road, past the private docks.
The fog of the night before had given way to a bright-blue summer morning. As the boys sped
along in a cool, salty breeze they watched the white sand of the beach on their right. There was no sign of the Sleuth.
Finally they reached the head of the bay and turned sharply, following the seacoast northward.
For a while Frank and Joe saw only the big green rollers of the Atlantic as they broke into
foaming white along the sand and rocks.
