Frank laughed quietly. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” he advised.
As the boys debated about whether to leave the grounds or to go forward, the matter was suddenly taken out of their hands. From around the corner of the tower rushed a huge police dog, growling and barking. It apparently had scented the brothers and was bounding directly toward them.
Frank and Joe started to run pell-mell, but were unable to keep ahead of the dog. In a few moments he blocked their path menacingly and set up a ferocious barking.
“I guess we’re caught,” Frank said. “And I hope this old fellow won’t take a piece out of my leg.”
The two boys tried to make friends with the animal, but he would not let them budge.
“Well, what do we do now?” Joe asked in disgust as the dog continued to growl menacingly.
“Wait to be rescued,” Frank replied tersely.
A moment later they saw a bobbing light coming in their direction and presently Mr. Applegate appeared. He looked ,at the boys in complete astonishment.
“You fellows never give up, do you?” he remarked. “What have you been doing-more digging?”
The brothers did not reply at once. They were embarrassed at having been discovered, but relieved that the man did not suspect what they had really intended to do. The owner of Tower Mansion took their lack of response to mean he was right.
“I’m just not going to have any more of my grounds ruined,” he said gruffly. “I’ve borrowed this watchdog, Rex, and he’s going to keep everybody away. If you have any reason for wanting to see me, you’d better phone first, and I’ll keep Rex chained.”
“Who was up in the tower with a flashlight?” Frank asked the elderly man.
“My sister. She got it into her head that maybe she was smarter than you fellows and could find the stolen stuff in the old tower, but she didn’t!” Frank and Joe suppressed grins as he went on. “And then Adelia decided to flash that high-powered flashlight around the grounds, thinking we might have a lot of curious visitors because of the publicity. Apparently she picked you up.”
The boys laughed. “Yes, she did,” Frank admitted. “Between her and Rex, I guess you needn’t worry about any prowlers.”
Frank and Joe said good night to Hurd Applegate and started down the driveway. This time the dog did not follow them. He remained at the man’s side until the Hardys were out of sight.
As they trudged homeward, Joe remarked, “This seems to be our day for exciting events that fizzle out like wet fireworks.”
“Yes. Nothing to show for all our work.”
At supper both Mr. and Mrs. Hardy laughed at the boys’ story of their encounter with the dog. Then they became serious when Frank asked his father if he thought there was a chance that the Applegates might be guilty of falsely reporting a robbery.
“It’s possible, of course,” the detective answered. “But the Applegates are so well-to-do I can’t see any point in their trying such a thing. I believe it’s best for us to stick to the original idea -that someone really did take jewels and securities from the safe, and that the person was Jackley.”
As the boys were going to bed that night, Frank remarked to his brother, “Tomorrow is Saturday and we have the whole day free. I vote we set ourselves the goal of solving the mystery before night.”
“A big order, but I’m with you,” Joe replied with a grin.
They were up early and began to discuss what course of sleuthing they should follow.
“I think we ought to start off on a completely new tack,” Joe suggested.
“In which direction?” Frank asked him.
“In the direction of the railroad.”
Joe went on to explain that one thing they had not done was find out about Red Jackley’s habits when he had worked around Bayport. If they could talk to one or more persons who had known him, they might pick up some new clue which would lead them to the stolen property.
“Good idea, Joe,” his brother agreed. “Let’s take our lunch and make an all-day trip on our motorcycles.”
“Fine.”
Mr. Hardy had left the house very early, so his sons did not see him. When his wife heard the boys’ plan, she thought it an excellent one and immediately offered to make some sandwiches for them. By the time they were ready to leave she had two small boxes packed with a hearty picnic lunch.
“Good-by and good luck!” Mrs. Hardy called as the brothers rode off.
“Thanks, Mother, for everything!” the young detectives chorused as they started off.
When Frank and Joe reached the Bayport railroad station, they questioned the stationmaster, and learned that he had been with the company only a year and had not known Red Jackley.
“Did he work on a passenger train?” the man asked.
“I don’t think so,” Frank replied. “I believe he was employed as a maintenance man.”
“Then,” said the stationmaster, “I’d advise you to go out along the highway to the railroad crossings and interview a couple of old flagmen who are still around. Both of them seem to know everybody and everything connected with the railroad for the past fifty years.” He chuckled.
The boys knew of two grade crossings some miles out of town and now headed for them. At the first one they learned that the regular flagman was home ill and his substitute had never heard of Red Jackley. Frank and Joe went on.
At the next crossing they found old Mike Hal-ley, the flagman there, busy at his job. His bright blue eyes searched their faces for a moment, then he amazed them by saying, “You’re Frank and Joe Hardy, sons of the famous detective Fenton Hardy.”
“You know us?” Frank asked. “I must confess I don’t recall having met you before.”
“And you ain’t,” the man responded. “But I make it a rule to memorize every face I see in the newspapers. Never know when there’s goin’ to be an accident and I might be called on to identify some people.”
The boys gulped at this gruesome thought, then Frank asked Halley if he remembered a railroad man named Red Jackley.
“I recollect a man named Jackley, but he wasn’t never called Red when I knew him. I reckon he’s the same fellow, though. You mean the one that I read went to jail?”
“That’s the man!”
“He out of the pen yet?” Mike Halley questioned.
“He died,” Joe replied. “Our dad is working on a case that has some connection with Jackley and we’re just trying to find out something about him.” “Then what you want to do,” said the flagman, “is go down to the Bayport and Coast Line Railroad. That’s where Jackley used to work. He was around the station at Cherryville. That ain’t so far from here.” He pointed in a northerly direction. “Thanks a million,” said Frank. “You’ve helped us a lot.”
The brothers set off on their motorcycles for Cherryville. When they came to the small town, a policeman directed them to the railroad station, which was about a half mile out of town. The station stood in a depression below a new highway, and was reached by a curving road which ran parallel to the tracks for several hundred feet.
The building itself was small, square, and very much in need of paint. A few nearby frame buildings were in a bad state of disrepair. An old wooden water tank, about seventy yards from one side of the station house, sagged precariously. At the same distance on the other side rose another water tank. This one, painted red, was of metal and in much better condition.
Frank and Joe parked their motorcycles and went into the station. A man in his shirt sleeves and wearing a green visor was bustling about behind the ticket window.
“Are you the stationmaster?” Frank called to him.
The man came forward. “I’m Jake-stationmaster, and ticket seller, and baggage slinger, and express handler, and mail carrier, and janitor, and even rice thrower. You name it. I’m your man.”