Part 3 (2/2)

”Naw,” the chief said with a flourish of his hand. 3t Annie's just a harmless vagrant.

Likes to p.a.w.n things she finds on the street. Once she found a necklace and got a tidy reward when she turned it In. She's harmless.”

”Well, that seems to give Annie a clean bill of 33 health,” Joe said, as the boys left the station house.

”But she did add a couple of clues to the case,” Frank remarked.

”That's right,” Joe agreed. ”Since she p.a.w.ned the watch on the same day the mystery car was left in Slow Mo's garage, the owner must have had business in Bay port.”

”Maybe in Al's Tobacco Shop,” Frank said. ”Some of the victims of holdups said the men who stopped them asked for lights. Perhaps they trade at Al's.”

”Al might even be mixed up with the gang,” Joe ventured.

”He might even own another watch with a crooked arrow on it!” Frank added. ”It's worth finding out.”

The boys went to the tawdry little store, located in the water-front district of Bayport. A couple of rough-looking characters lounged outside.

”Here's where we get tough,” Joe said, grinning.

As the boys strode into the dimly lighted store, Frank said to the man behind the counter, ”Got any Baby Lu candy bars?”

The man, squat and beady-eyed, with a flattened nose, snorted and said, ”Candy bars?

This ain't no candy store. This is a respectable tobacco shop.”

”I was just kiddin',” said Joe. ”Are you Al?”

”Yeah.”

34 ”Gimme a pack of b.u.t.ts.”

Al looked at the boys suspiciously.

”Hey, what are you kids snoopin' around here for?” he asked gruffly. ”I don't sell nuthin'

to minors.”

”Okay,” Joe said, taking in the layout of the dirty store in swift glances. ”We'll go somewhere else.”

”Got the time?” Frank asked suddenly, leaning over the counter to glance at the man's wrist watch.

Al obligingly held his hand toward the youth. The watch had a plain face, unadorned by any sort of doodads. There was no arrow, crooked or otherwise, etched on it.

”If you can read,” Al said sarcastically, ”you can see it's ten o'clock. Time for fresh kids to scram.” Then he added menacingly, ”Now get goin'!”

Frank and Joe left the place, walked down the street to where their car was parked, and drove toward home.

”I don't like him,” Joe said. ”I've got a hunch he winks at the law plenty.”

”He'll bear watching,” Frank agreed.

Disappointed that nothing had come of their clue} the boys decided to try finding their father and discussing the case with him. Frank parked the coupe in front of the Hardy house.

They jumped out and entered the front door.

”I hope Dad's here,” Joe said, walking instinc35 lively toward the telephone table, where the Hardys always left notes to other members of the family. ”Hey, what's this!” he exclaimed. ”Mother's writ-ing.”

”She must be back from her trip,” Frank said. ”What did she say?”

The boys gazed at the memo pad, then gasped. On it, in a hurried hand, was a message that stunned Frank and Joe: ”Father in Bayport General Hospital. Shot. Come at once.”

CHAPTER V.

Heading Out West.

”dad shot!” Joe exclaimed.

The brothers stared at the note. There was no mistaking the ominous news.

”This is mother's handwriting, all right,” Frank declared. ”Aunt Gertrude's not here, either. Come on, Joe, we'd better hurry to the hospital!”

They raced outside and sped toward the hospital as fast as the law would permit. The usually ebullient Joe sat in worried silence as his brother stopped for one traffic light after another.

Finally the boys drove up in front of a large building on which the name Bayport General Bayport General Hospital was carved in gleaming marble. They dashed up to the information desk. was carved in gleaming marble. They dashed up to the information desk.

”We're Mr. Fenton Hardy's sons,” Frank said to the woman behind the desk. ”We'd like to see him right away.”

The woman looked in her files, telephoned the third floor of the surgical wing, then said: ”You may see him a few moments, Room 328.”

Their footsteps echoed hollowly as they approached the door of the room. Joe gripped his brother's arm as they entered. A screen concealed the patient and the boys heard the low tone of conversation behind it. Together they stepped around the screen, and stood beside the bed.

In it lay Fenton Hardy, pale and restless. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. Standing beside him were his wife, Aunt Gertrude, a young doctor, and a nurse.

”What happened?” Frank asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. Mrs. Hardy put a finger to her lips and motioned for the boys to come closer.

”Mr. Hardy isn't quite out of the anesthetic yet,” the doctor said. ”Bad wound in his leg.”

The boys could hardly restrain themselves. ”Is it s-serious?” Joe asked.

”Serious,” replied the doctor quietly, ”but not critical. Your father will pull out of it soon, provided no complications set in.”

Mrs. Hardy took each of her sons by the arm and guided them into the corridor, where they could talk without disturbing the wounded man.

”Tell us about it,” Frank pleaded.

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