At last the boys maneuvered to a stop in Milton Place just off Main Street. Through the fog and gathering dusk, vague lights could be seen in the big brick building on the opposite corner.
"They're working overtime at the bank," Joe pointed out and grinned. "Counting the extra money they took in during evening hours."
The brothers walked around the corner onto Main Street and entered a soda shop. Minutes
later they emerged, each carrying a two-gallon drum of ice cream packed in dry ice.
"Wow! This is cold!" said Joe, as they turned into the alley.
Frank and Joe placed the cylinders in Joe's carrier. "Now for the party!" Frank grinned.
Suddenly they heard a harsh grating noise and looked down the narrow street to see a heavy
side door swing open in the bank building. There was a clatter of footsteps on concrete, and
four men hurried from inside, carrying white sacks. Their faces looked like those of hideous
beasts!
For an instant the Hardys stood paralyzed with surprise until Frank cried out, "It's a bank robbery!"
In a split second the men dived into a waiting sedan. Its powerful engine roared. As the
getaway car moved down Milton Place through the mist, a bank custodian raced out and fired
his revolver at one of the car's tires, but missed.
"Let's tail 'em, Joe!" cried Frank, leaping onto his motorcycle.
CHAPTER IV
A Daring Getaway
FRANK and Joe gunned their motors and took off down the narrow street after the bank
robbers. Tires screamed as pursuers and pursued careened through the fog-filled streets
toward the Bayport waterfront district. Through the haze, the boys could see the red taillights of the bank robbers' car.
"They're heading for the docks!" Joe shouted as he recognized the long, dark shapes of warehouses on both sides of the murky street.
The fleeing car shot out onto a wide pier, lighted at intervals by yellow fog lamps. Ahead, a
four-foot wire fence barred motorists from the pier's end.
Brakes squealed sharply. In the amber glow, the Hardys saw the four doors of the thieves' car
pop open at once. Five dark-coated figures piled out and jumped the fence.
The Hardys' motorcycles screeched to a halt behind the empty getaway car. "Stop!" shouted Frank, leaping off. "Help! Police!"
A clatter of footsteps sounded far out on the jetty. Frank and Joe vaulted the fence and
sprinted in pursuit.
The sound of heavy breathing told them they were nearing their quarry. But as the boys
reached the end of the long pier a powerful boat engine suddenly roared to life.
There was a churning of water, a whiff of gasoline smoke, and the sound of men jumping into
the boat.
Then the craft gained headway in the darkness of the bay.
"We can still stop them!" Frank exclaimed. "The Coast Guard station's on the next pier. Come on, Joe!"
The boys dashed back, cleared the barrier, and ran past their motorcycles. Suddenly they heard shouts and footfalls approaching along the pier.
Omph! With stunning impact, Joe collided head-on with a running man.
"Look out!" Frank shouted as strong arms grasped him.
"Halt!" a voice ordered. "We've got you!" A whistle pierced the air. For a moment all was confusion.
"Now-what's going on here?" demanded the authoritative voice.
"Let us go! Bank robbery! We need the Coast Guard!" Frank said, gasping.
"We are the Coast Guard," replied the voice, and a flashlight shone through the fog. "Why, it's the Hardy boys. Release them, men," said Lieutenant Parker.
"We heard somebody shouting for police," he added. "What's this about bank robbers?"
After Frank had explained, the officer said, "I'll dispatch a cutter after the bandits right away."
Lieutenant Parker and his men raced off.
Moments later, a police car sped onto the pier, its siren wailing and red top light blinking. It stopped and three uniformed men leaped out.
"There's the car!" cried one of the men. Even in the heavy fog, Frank and Joe recognized him as the bank guard who had fired the shots after the fleeing robbers. "The crooks got into that car, and then these motorcycles raced off with them."
Suddenly he spotted Frank and Joe. "Those are the bodyguards who rode the motorcycles. Grab
'em!"
A grim-faced policeman, gun in hand, ordered Frank and Joe to come forward. Apparently he
and the officer with him were new members of Bayport's police department, for the boys had
never seen them before.
"All right, what do you two have to say about this?" the patrolman demanded. Again Frank told what had happened.
The policeman turned to the guard. "Is that the way it was?"
"Yes-no-" the man stammered, highly excited. "The robbers had on hats and pea jackets. And they wore horrible-looking masks."
"Look at this!" called the second policeman, who had been examining the car and the
motorcycles. He came over, holding up the gorilla face in one hand and the magician mask in
the other. "These were in the carrier of that cycle. I guess we've got two members of the gang."
"Now wait a minute!" Joe began, but the wail of a siren cut him short.
Two more police cars arrived and heavily armed men poured from both cruisers.
The first officer to reach the group was Chief Collig. "We got your radio call!" he told the policemen briefly. "Any sign of the bank robbers?"
"Two of them-right here!" the man replied. He jerked a thumb at the Hardys.
Joe stepped forward quickly into the beam of yellow fog light. "Hello, Chief!"
"Frank! Joe!" Collig cried out in astonishment. "How did you get here?" He faced the startled rookies and said, "These boys are all right."
"But," one of the men protested, "according to the bank guard the thieves wore masks. And we found these on one of the cycles." He handed Chief Collig the false faces.
"You'll find four gallons of ice cream, too, Chief," Frank put in. "We're on our way to Callie Shaw's masquerade party."
The chief laughed heartily, but quickly became serious again. "Any suspicion of these boys is nonsense.
Now, what about the bank robbers?"
Quickly Frank told him all that had happened.
"I guess it was too foggy to see their getaway boat," the chief said gloomily.
"That's right," Joe answered, "but from the sound of it, I'd say it was an open speedboat, with a powerful inboard motor."
There was the ringing of bells and the deep rumble of engines from the next pier.
"The Coast Guard is taking the cutter," Frank said. "But even their powerful searchlights won't pierce through this pea soup."
"Their best bet is to crisscross the bay and perhaps close in on the robbers," Joe added.
"And for that a little boat is as good as a big one," Frank said excitedly. "Joe, do you think the Sleuth is in good enough shape to take out?"
"It's worth a try," his brother assented.
Chief Collig nodded approvingly. "The more boats we send out, the better our chances," he said. "I'll dispatch the police cruiser, too."
Frank and Joe swung onto their motorcycles and roared off the pier and along the Shore Road
toward their boathouse as fast as they dared in the heavy fog.
Guessing they were near the private docks, the boys pulled off the road and parked. Each took
a flashlight from the carrier of his motorcycle.
After a short walk they found their boathouse. Joe reached the small door and took out his key.
He gave a cry.
"The lock's broken off!"
"What!" Frank exclaimed.
He swung the door open and beamed his flashlight inside the building.