"Those slits in the wall are too high and too narrow, anyway," Frank said, chiding himself for not having been on guard.
Finally he reached into the glove compartment and drew out an empty cigarette package he
had noticed before. He pulled off the foil. Joe understood immediately what his brother had in mind. Frank lifted the truck's hood and jammed the foil between the starting wires near the
fuse box. "Worth a try," he said.
"Ignition key's gone. If we can start the engine-we'll smash our way out!"
Joe took his place at the wheel and Frank climbed in beside him. To their delight, Joe gunned
the engine into life.
"Here goes!" he muttered grimly. "Brace yourself!"
"Ready!"
Joe eased the truck as far back as he could, then accelerated swiftly forward. The truck's wheels spun on the dirt floor and then with a roar it headed for the heavy doors.
CHAPTER XV
Lead to a Counterfeiter
C-R-A-S-H! The green truck smashed through the heavy garage doors. The Hardys felt a terrific
jolt and heard the wood splinter and rip as they shot forward into the farmyard.
"Wow!" Joe gasped as he braked to a halt. "We're free-but not saying in what shape!"
Frank gave a wry laugh. "Probably better than the front of this truck!"
The boys hopped to the ground and looked around the overgrown yard. No one was in sight.
The whole area seemed just as deserted as it had been when they arrived.
"Let's check the house," Joe urged. "Someone could be hiding in there."
The brothers ran to the rundown dwelling. They found all the doors and windows locked. Again
they peered through the dirty panes, but did not see anyone.
"I figure that whoever locked us in the garage would decide that getting away from here in a hurry was his safest bet."
"He must have gone on foot," Joe remarked. "I didn't hear an engine start up."
The Hardys decided to separate, each searching the highway for a mile in opposite directions.
"We'll meet back at the service station we stopped at," Frank called as the boys kicked their motors into life and took off toward the highway.
Fifteen minutes later they parked near the station. Neither boy had spotted any suspicious
pedestrians, "Did you see anybody come down this road in a hurry during the past twenty
minutes?" Joe asked the attendant
"I didn't notice, fellows," came the answer. "I've been busy working under a car. Find your friend?"
"No. That farmhouse is apparently deserted except for signs of a tramp living there," Joe told him.
The Hardys quickly asked the attendant if he knew of any boardinghouse nearby. After a
moment's thought, he replied: "I believe a Mrs. Smith, who lives a little ways beyond the old place, takes boarders."
"We'll try there. Thanks again," Frank said as he and Joe went back to their motorcycles.
Before Frank threw his weight back on the starter, he said, "Well, let's hope Ken Blake can give us a lead."
"If we ever find him," Joe responded.
They located Mrs. Smith's boardinghouse with no trouble. She was a pleasant, middle-aged
woman and quickly confirmed that Ken was staying there for the summer. She was an old
friend of his parents. Mrs.
Smith invited the Hardys to sit down in the living room.
"Ken's upstairs now," she said. "I'll call him."
When Ken came down, the Hardys noticed that he looked dejected. Frank felt certain it was
because of losing his job and asked him what had happened.
"I don't know," Ken replied. "Mr. Markel just told me I wouldn't be needed any longer. I hope I'll be able to find another job this summer," he added. "My folks sent me here for a vacation.
But I was going to surprise them-" His voice trailed off sadly.
"Ken," Frank said kindly, "you may be able to help us in a very important way. Now that you're not working at the Elekton gatehouse, we hope you can answer some questions-to help solve a
mystery."
Frank explained that he and Joe often worked on mysteries and assisted their detective father.
Ken's face brightened. "I'll do my best, fellows," he assured them eagerly.
"Last week," Joe began, "a shabby green panel truck went to Pritos' Supply Yard and picked up old bricks and lumber. Our friend Tony Prito said there was a boy in the truck who helped the
yardman with the loading. Were you the boy?"
"Yes," Ken replied readily.
"Who was the driver?" Frank asked him.
"Mr. Docker, the maintenance man at the mill. He said he'd hurt his arm and asked me to help load the stuff." Ken looked puzzled. "Is that part of the mystery?"
"We think it could be," Frank said. "Now, Ken -we've learned since then that one of the bills you gave the yardman is a counterfeit twenty."
Ken's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "A-a counterfeit!" he echoed, "Honest, I didn't know it was, Frank and Joe!"
"Oh, we're sure you didn't," Joe assured him. "Have you any idea who gave Docker the cash?"
Ken told the Hardys he did not know. Then Frank asked: "What were the old bricks and lumber used for, Ken?"
"Mr. Docker told me they were for repair work around the plant. After we got back to the mill, Mr.
Markel and I stored the load in the basement."
"Is it still there?" asked Frank.
"I guess so," Ken answered. "Up to the time I left, it hadn't been taken out."
The Hardys determined to question Markel and Docker at the first opportunity. Then Frank
changed the subject and asked about the day of the picnic when Joe thought he had seen Ken
at the window.
"I remember," the younger boy said. "I did see you all outside. I never knew you were looking for me."
"When we told Mr. Docker," Frank went on, "he said Joe must have been mistaken."
Ken remarked slowly, "He probably was worrying about the plant's security policy. He and Mr.
Markel were always reminding me not to talk to anybody."
"During the time you were working at the Elekton gatehouse, did you see any strange or
suspicious person near either the plant or the mill grounds?" Frank asked.
"No," said Ken in surprise. Curiosity overcoming him, he burst out, "You mean there's some crook loose around here?"
Frank and Joe nodded vigorously. "We're afraid so," Frank told him. "But who, or what he's up to, is what we're trying to find out. When we do, we'll explain everything."
Joe then asked Ken if he had seen anyone in the area of the mill with a bow and arrow.
"A bow and arrow?" Ken repeated. "No, I never did. I sure would've remembered that!"
Frank nodded and switched to another line of questioning. "When you delivered envelopes,
Ken, did you always take them to Mr. Victor Peters?"
"Yes," Ken answered.
The Hardys learned further that Ken's delivery trips always had been to Bayport-sometimes to
the Parker Building, and sometimes to other office buildings in the business section.
"Did Mr. Peters meet you in the lobby every time?" Frank queried.
"That's right."
"What was in the envelopes?" was Joe's next question.
"Mr. Markel said they were bulletins and forms to be printed for Elekton."
"Were the envelopes always marked confidential?" Joe asked.
"Yes."
"Probably everything is that Elekton sends out," Frank said.
"Sounds like a complicated delivery arrangement to me," Joe declared.
Ken admitted that he had not thought much about it at the time, except that he had assumed
Mr. Peters relayed the material to the printing company.
Frank and Joe glanced at each other. Both remembered Frank's surmise that the bulky Manila