Three doors opened from the corridor-two on the opposite side from where the brothers were Standing
and another at the end.
The passage was floored with planks and had a beamed ceiling like a cellar. Frank and Joe quickly
figured where their father was and sped across the planks to the room. They pushed open the door of the
almost dark room and peered inside. There was a crude table and several chairs. In one corner stood a
small cot. On it lay Fenton Hardy. He was bound hand and foot to the bed-and so tightly trussed that he
was unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. He was flat on his back, staring up at the
ceiling of his prison. On a chair beside the cot was a sheet of paper and a pencil, evidently the materials
for the letter Snattman had demanded he write.
"Dad!" Frank and Joe cried softly.
The detective had not heard the door open, but now he looked at his sons in amazement and relief.
"You're here!" he whispered. "Thank goodness!"
The boys were shocked at the change in their father's appearance. Normally a rugged-looking man,
Fenton Hardy now was thin and pale. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes listless.
"We'll have you out of here in a minute," Frank whispered.
"Hurry!" the detective begged. "Those demons may be back any minute!"
Frank pulled out his pocketknife and began to work at the ropes that bound his father. But the knife was
not very sharp and the bonds were thick.
Joe discovered that he did not have his knife with him. "It probably slipped out of my pocket when we
undressed on the Napoli," he said.
"Mine's gone too," Mr. Hardy told them. "Snattman took everything I had in my pockets, including
concentrated emergency rations. Have you anything sweet with you?"
Joe pulled out the candy bar from his pocket and held it, so Mr. Hardy could take a large bite of the
quick-energy food. Meanwhile, his eyes roamed over the room in search of something sharp which he
might use to help Frank with the ropes. He saw nothing.
Mr. Hardy finished the candy bar, bite by bite. Now Joe started to help Frank by trying to untie the
knots. But they were tight and he found it almost impossible to loosen them.
Minutes passed. Frank hacked at the ropes, but the dull blade made little progress. Joe worked at the
obstinate knots. Fenton Hardy could give no assistance. All were silent. The only sound was the heavy
breathing of the boys and the scraping of the knife against the ropes.
At last Frank was able to saw through one of the bonds and the detective's feet were free. His son pulled
the ropes away and began to work on the ones that bound his father's arms. As he reached over with the
knife there came a sound that sent a feeling of terror through the Hardys.
It was a heavy footstep beyond the corridor door. Someone was coming back!
Frank worked desperately with the knife, but the ropes still held stubbornly. The dull blade seemed to
make almost no impression. But at last a few strands parted. Finally, with Fenton Hardy making a mighty
effort and Joe clawing at the rope with his fingers, it snapped.
The detective was free!
But the footfalls of the approaching smuggler came closer.
"Quick!" Frank whispered, as he flung the ropes aside.
"I-I can't hurry!" Mr. Hardy gasped. "I've been tied up so long my feet and legs are numb."
"But we've got to hurry, Dad!" Frank said excitedly. "See if you can stand up."
"I'll-I'll do my best," his father replied, as the boys rubbed his legs vigorously to restore full circulation.
"We must run before those crooks come!" Joe said tensely.
Fenton Hardy got to his feet as hastily as he could. But when he stood up, the detective staggered and
would have fallen if Frank had not taken his arm. He was so weak from hunger that a wave of dizziness
had come over him. He gave his head a quick shake and the feeling passed.
"All right. Let's go," he said, clinging to both boys for support.
The three hastened out the door of the room and across the corridor to the cave. As they entered it, Mr.
Hardy's knees buckled. In desperation his sons picked him up.
"You go on," he whispered. "Leave me here."
"I'm sure all of us can make it," Joe said bravely.
They reached the far door, but the delay had been costly. Just as Frank opened it, clicking off his
flashlight, the corridor door was flung open and the ceiling light snapped on.
Frank and Joe had a confused glimpse of the dark man whom they had seen at the pond that afternoon.
Snattman! Two rough-looking companions crowded in behind him.
"What's going on here?" Snattman exclaimed, apparently not recognizing the group for a moment.
"It's the Hardys I" one of the other men cried out.
The fleeing trio started down the steps but got no farther than the landing when the smugglers appeared at
the stairway and rushed down after them.
"Stop!" cried Snattman, jumping down the last three steps and whipping an automatic from his hip
pocket. The place was flooded with light.
As Snattman drew closer, Frank crouched for a spring, then leaped directly at the smuggler. He struck at
the man's wrist and the revolver flew out of his grasp. It skidded across the landing and clattered down
the steps. Frank closed in on the man. Snattman had been taken completely by surprise. Before he could
defend himself, Frank forced him against the wall.
Joe, in the meantime, with a swift uppercut had kayoed one of the other men. And Mr. Hardy, whose
strength had partially returned, was battling the third as best he could.
But at this moment the boys saw their father's adversary dodge to the wall and press a button. In an
instant an alarm bell sounded in the corridor. Within seconds a new group of Snattman's gang appeared.
As some held drawn revolvers, others overpowered the three Hardys.
In the face of the guns, father and sons were forced to surrender and return to the room where Mr.
Hardy had been held captive before.
Within five minutes Fenton Hardy was bound again to the cot, while Frank and Joe, trussed up and
unable to move, were tied to two chairs.
CHAPTER XV
Dire Threats
SNATTMAN, once he had recovered from his first consternation and surprise at finding the Hardy boys
in the underground room, was in high good humor. He turned to his men.
"Just in time," he gloated, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "If we hadn't come here when we did,
they'd have all escaped!"
The Hardy boys were silent, sick with despair. They had been sure they were going to succeed in
rescuing their father and now the three of them were prisoners of the smuggling gang.
"What are we goin' to do with these guys?" asked one of the men.
The voice sounded familiar to the boys and they looked up. They were not surprised to see that the man
was the red-haired one they had met at the
Pollitt place when Frank had discovered his father's cap.
"Do with them?" Snattman mused. "That's a problem. We've got three on our hands now instead of one.
Best thing is to leave them all here and lock the door."
"And put gags in their traps," suggested a burly companion.
Red objected. "As long as the Hardys are around here, they're dangerous. They almost got away this
time."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"We ought to do what I wanted to do with the old man in the first place," Red declared doggedly.
"You mean get rid of them?" Snattman asked thoughtfully.