Part 11 (1/2)
”He hasn't heard my story because I just remembered. Joe went Here he comes now.”
As Joe came in, he asked, ”Frank, how did you make out?”
”Great! Listen! Taffy Marr is working at Bickford's!”
”No kidding?”
”It's straight. I got the tip from Shorty, the prisoner,” Frank answered. ”And listen to this. Aunt Gertrude saw Marr with Chris in Gresham! While I remove my disguise, will you call Chief Collig and tell him this ?”.
”Okay, and let's go down and watch the fun when Marr is arrested,” Joe urged.
It took Frank only five minutes to take off his costume and makeup. Since Mrs Hardy and Aunt Gertrude planned to leave the house, Joe put Mr Wright's invention in the tyre well of the boys' car. Then he and Frank rode downtown in the convertible. When they reached Bickford's, there was a good-sized crowd in front of the jewellery store.
”What's going on?” Joe asked a bystander.
”Don't know. An attempted holdup, I guess. Police arrived and circled the building. We've been waiting for them to bring somebody out.”
A siren began to wail and seconds later an ambulance raced up the street. It stopped in front of the jewellery store. A hush fell over the crowd as they waited for the victim to be brought out. Would it be Taffy Marr, or a policeman who had gone in to arrest him or would it be the shop owner?
A stretcher was carried in and a little later it was brought out bearing a man. His eyes were closed and his face ghostly white.
”It's Mr Bickford!” Joe exclaimed.
Instantly the boys pushed through the crowd and rushed up to an officer just emerging from the store. He knew the Hardys and beckoned to them.
”We were just a little too late arriving to catch Marr,” he said. ”Marr must have attacked Mr Bickford and cleaned the place out before he skipped.”
”A complete haul, you mean?” Joe asked.
”Took everything.”
”How bad is Mr Bickford?” Frank inquired.
The officer shrugged. ”He's unconscious and his pulse is weak.”
Joe spluttered angrily, ”If I get my hands on Marr, I'll-I'll”
”It's going to be tough tracking him down,” Frank predicted. ”I'll bet by this time he's wearing a disguise and has already left town.”
Joe snapped his fingers. ”If he owns a suitcase full of disguises, he probably went back to wherever he's living to pick them up. Officer, have you any idea where he's living?”
”No, but our men are questioning people in the neighbourhood.”
As the ambulance pulled away, the boys asked permission to check out the jewellery shop for a clue to Marr's address.
The officer smiled. ”Go ahead. You fellows may manage to pick up a lead before the police check. I'm to stay on duty outside so take all the time you want.”
Frank told his brother he was sure Mr Bickford would have some kind of record concerning his a.s.sistant.
”No doubt they will be under an a.s.sumed name, but let's have a look.”
The boys found a drawer full of papers. Under them was an account book. They read each name listed in the book and at last came to one with recent, regular notations of payments.
”This might be him,” Frank observed. ”Ray Stokeley, 49 New Street.”
”It's worth following,” Joe said.
Frank and Joe briefly told the officer on duty they might have a lead and dashed off to their car. They soon reached New Street, where most of the oldfas.h.i.+oned houses had ”Rooms for Rent” signs in windows. Number 49 was a large run-down mansion, set far back from the street.
Frank and Joe climbed the high steps and rang the bell. A neatly dressed, middle-aged woman opened the door.
”Is Mr Stokeley at home?” Frank inquired.
”No, he left-moved out, not ten minutes ago.”
The woman started to close the door, but Frank, smiling at her, said, ”We think he's the man we're looking for, but we're not sure. Would you mind describing Mr Stokeley for us?”
Her description fitted Marr. Frank nodded. ”He's our man. Do you know where he went?”
There was no answer for a few seconds, then the woman said jokingly, ”Who are you? Boy detectives?”
”Yes,” Joe replied promptly, ”and Mr Stokeley is wanted by the FBI and police. You'd be doing them a great favour if you tell us ail you know.”
”Oh!” she gasped. ”I know very little about Mr Stokeley. But I did hear part of a phone call he made early this morning. He said, 'Then to the airport.' Does that help you?”
”Yes indeed. Thanks,” Frank answered as he and Joe raced down the steps.
They arrived at the airport in record time. As they rushed through the terminal lobby, the boys caught sight of Cole Weber, the pilot, looking at the antique aircraft and waved.
”If Marr's wearing a disguise, how can we spot him?” Frank said.
Joe was staring at a man with grey hair, moustache, and a beard. He stood near a counter, talking to a redhaired fellow.
”Frank, took! That guy the grey-haired man's talking to looks like one of the kidnappers!”
”Sure?”
”Positive! And I'll bet Grey Beard is Taffy Marr!”
The men turned and went out to the field. Frank and Joe followed. The suspects started running towards a small white single-engine plane that was ready for take-off. They climbed aboard quickly.
”Now what'll we do?” Frank asked.
”Only one thing we can do,” Joe replied. ”Follow them!”
CHAPTER XV.