Part 9 (1/2)
”I don't believe Sparewell was the one who dropped this notebook,” Joe reasoned. ”He'd have frozen to death over here.” The boy, frowned in perplexity as he turned to the last page. All four stared at it in astonishment.
”What kind of lingo is that?” Biff gulped.
The letters at the bottom of the page were HJOSW SHRJWN HLSEWPA RPAO A, EWO WSWP APPO LSUL.
”A coded message!” Frank exclaimed.
CHAPTER XII.
An Ice-yacht Clue ”IT's a coded message, all right!” Joe declared as the four boys continued to stare at the mysterious letters in the tattered notebook.
”How will we ever figure it out?” Chet asked.
”There are several methods of deciphering,” Frank replied. ”Dad has told Joe and me something about it, and we've read a few of his books on cryptography.”
”Can you make anything out of this message?” Biff asked.
”Not right off,” Frank replied. ”It's some kind of subst.i.tution system, at any rate.”
”The first thing to look for is transposition,” Joe explained. ”All the letters of the actual text - what's really meant - may be present, but reversed or scambled.”
”There must be countless possibilities,” remarked Biff, ”once you start putting one letter in place of another.”
”Yes, which makes deciphering very difficult,” Frank agreed. ”But I remember several of the standard patterns. I'll use some of the blank pages in the notebook and try them.”
Frank worked for more than half an hour, while the others looked on and made various combinations of the letters he jotted down.
”I'm stymied,” Frank admitted finally.
Biff frowned. ”How did Hanleigh get hold of this notebook? Does he know Sparewell?”
”Hanleigh might have swiped it,” Joe said.
The Hardys pondered their next move. Joe suggested they take the ice-yacht model and the photo of the turbaned prowler to Mr Jefferson for possible identification.
”And on the way show Amos Grice the picture, too,” Frank added.
A stop at the Hardy home also was included in the day's plans, in case the boys' father had any more information on the ”alley” cat.
Chet heaved a huge sigh. ”Which means Biff and I stand guard here.”
Joe grinned. ”How'd you guess?”
After a quick lunch the Hardys put on their parkas and boots. ”I'm taking the camera along,” Joe said. ”It may come in handy again.”
The Hardys climbed into the Seagull and headed for Surfside. At the dock, Joe tied up while Frank braked and slackened sail. Then they strode off to the general store.
Amos Grice, seated by the stove, slapped his knee when Frank and Joe walked in. ”Glad to see you two. Thief steal your food again?”
”No, sir,” Frank said. ”We came to show you this.” He handed the snapshot to Mr Grice. The storekeeper stared at it, then handed the picture back without comment.
”Mr Grice,” Joe inquired, ”is this the man who asked you about Mr Jefferson's medals?”
Amos Grice drew his lips into a thin, firm line.
”Yep. It's him. But there's some spooky business goin' on, and I don't want any part of it.”
”Did this man say something to frighten you?” Joe persisted. ”Did he threaten you?”
Mr Grice looked grim. ”No. But I'm not mixin' in with any scary masqueraders.”
The Hardys could see that the storekeeper would say no more on the subject. They thanked him and returned to the Seagull. A brisk wind sped them towards Bayport. They tied up outside their boathouse and drove home.
Mrs Hardy greeted her red-cheeked sons with big hugs, while Aunt Gertrude looked on apprehensively, as if trying to find something wrong with her nephews. Noting their excellent health, she turned her worries to their companions.
”Has something terrible happened to Chet or Biff?”
”No. Why, Aunty?” Joe asked.
”That sudden snowstorm. I was scared stiff for you boys. Some trees blew down over here.”
Frank grinned. ”We weathered it - howling banshee and all.”
”A what?” Mrs Hardy asked, and her sons told of the whistling bottle.
”Well, I'm relieved to know that's all the trouble you ran into,” Mrs Hardy said.
”Oh, there was more,” Joe said. ”By the way, where's Dad?”
”Out of town. But he left a message. It's in a sealed envelope on his desk.”
Frank and Joe hastened to their father's study, found the envelope addressed to them, and tore it open.
Inside was a terse note telling them that fingerprints found by the police in Mr Jefferson's ransacked house were those of Hanleigh. They had been identified by the FBI in Was.h.i.+ngton, where the federal agency had a record of interstate frauds involving Hanleigh several years before. The local police were looking for him.
”Aha! A con man. We might have known,” mumbled Joe.
The message went on to warn the boys again to be cautious and ended, ”Just as in fis.h.i.+ng through the ice, you have to be patient. I'm confident that you'll land this big one.”
Frank and Joe were more excited about the case than ever. With a quick ”goodbye” to their mother and Aunt Gertrude, they hastened into their car and drove directly to Mr Jefferson's place.
”Frank and Joe!” the elderly gentleman exclaimed when he answered the doorbell. ”Nice to see you! Let me take your jackets - my housekeeper is still away. Come right in. I hope you are enjoying your trip.”
”We're having a fine vacation,” said Frank as they took seats. ”We wanted to ask you about a few things.” Frank handed over the snapshot. ”Have you ever seen this fellow?”