The Secret Of The Lost Tunnel Part 6

"Sorry I frightened you," said the stranger, who had appeared as if out of nowhere.

He was a tall, scrawny man with a long, sharp nose, which was accentuated by a broad black mustache and flowing black hair. Dressed in the clothes of a plantation owner of the Civil War period, the man looked as if he might have stepped out of one of the pictures in the museum.

"I'm Professor Randolph," he said with a deep voice, "and who are these unbidden guests trespa.s.sing on my property?"

"We understood this was a museum, professor, open to the public," Frank explained.

"We paid to come in," Joe said.

The man raised his eyebrows and with a half-smile said, "It was was a museum until I bought a museum until I bought it. You see, 66 I am a doctor of philosophy. I'm writing a book on the history of the Civil War so I bought the museum -to catch the spirit of the thing, you understand."

"We don't understand!" Joe interrupted. "That old man over there . . ." The boy turned.

The chair by the doorway was empty.

"What old man?" Professor Randolph asked.

Chet's eyes popped. He edged toward the dooi as the Hardys protested leaving so soon.

"You haven't any right on private property!" roared the man suddenly. "Get out!"

CHAPTER IX.

Rifled Luggage.

frank and Joe exchanged glances. Perhaps Professor Randolph really did own the place.

"I think we'd better play safe and leave," Frank whispered to his brother. "If he's the owner, we're breaking the law by trespa.s.sing."

The professor was quick to perceive the boy's decision. The smile that came to his face was triumphant rather than friendly.

"So gratifying to see you agree with me," he smirked as the boys walked out, "but you realize the cause of education must be served!" He bowed stiffly.

"What a character!" Frank remarked as the three boys stepped into their car. "He reminds me of a comic-strip villain."

Chet bobbed his head to mimic a bow. "To be sure, my dear boys. It's all for education. What do you suppose he teaches?"

Joe grinned. "Little boys, and knows how to puf them in their places."

"Perhaps General Smith is acquainted with Professor Randolph," Frank suggested as they drove through Centerville. "If they're friends, then Randolph will let us in after all."

Frank drove home. Hardly had the boys entered the house, when they realized the Army officer was battling with a problem of his own. The brigadier was decidedly agitated. He was pacing up and down the living room, his red hair rumpled. So wrapped in thought was he that he barely noticed the arrival of his guests.

Frank was alarmed. What dire turn of events had happened?

"General Smith, what's the matter?" he asked.

Aroused from his thoughts, the man turned with a start.

"Matter? Everything! The house has been ransacked!"

"Jumping cows!" Joe exclaimed. "Since we ate lunch?"

"It must have happened before then," the officer replied. "Nothing downstairs was touched. Just the second-floor bedrooms!"

"None of us went up there at noontime," Frank recalled.

"If you'd only let me go up-" Chet began.

"That's neither here nor there," the brigadiei snorted impatiently. "The fact is, that an intruder was looking for something in this house!"

"You mean nothing was taken?" Frank asked.

"Nothing so far as I can make out," the officer replied. "The contents of our suitcases and dresser drawers were strewn about. You'd better check on your own belongings."

Frank and Joe ran up the stairs three at a time. They found their room a picture of disarray. Clothes which they had hung up in the closet lay on the floor and the contents of their bags were scattered over the rug.

"Gosh," Chet moaned as he began to pick up hi? stuff, "I hope they didn't take it."

"Take what?" Joe was curious.

"I had a box of special attachments for my camera in this . . . oh, here it is!"

The Hardys went about examining their things iiinutely, while the officer looked on.

"All my stuff is here," Joe said finally.

"Mine too," Frank added, rising from his kneeling position. Then he let out a sudden exclamation 'Wait! The picture is gone!"

70 "Picture?" the general repeated.

"The half-man that Chet snapped in Bayport."

"That proves it!" Joe shouted. "Dr. Bush has been here! n.o.body else but Bush would want that photo."

"Right," Frank agreed. "But I don't think that's what he was after."

"What else?" Chet piped up. "That was a valu^ able picture. I even brought another one in my wallet."

"That's good," Joe said. "But I believe Bush was after a map showing where the lost gold was buried."

"But we haven't any map," Chet said, perplexed.

"Bush probably thinks we have," Joe came back. "Which proves he still doesn't know where to look for the treasure and thinks we've got a clue!"

By the time the boys had straightened up the place, General Smith had regained his composure.

"We must get a servant to guard this house when *we're away," he said. "I know just the man for the job, if he's still in town."

The officer went to the telephone and in a moment was talking to someone named Sara. As the boys exchanged puzzled glances, Smith said to the woman: "I'll send Claude a note. Give it to him when he returns."

71!

After completing the call, General Smith explained to his visitors that Claude was his Army orderly and was on vacation at his home in Centerville, too. The brigadier requested the boys to deliver the note, as he did not want to leave the house unoccupied. He suggested they continue their sleuthing alone.

Before going, Frank asked the officer if he knew Professor Randolph, and told him about the incident at the museum.

"No, never heard of him," Smith replied. "But it doesn't surprise me to learn the museum's been sold. It always ran at a loss."

Upon reaching Centerville, Frank parked in the town square. Joe offered to deliver the general's note and started down the narrow, cobblestone street where the orderly lived. As the others waited for him, Frank gazed across the square. His eyes lighted on the courthouse and an idea occurred to him. If Professor Randolph had bought the museum, the deed would be registered there.

"Wait here a minute," he said to Chet. "I'll be right back."

The courthouse was a low brick building that looked like a church without a steeple. Two heavy white columns stood on either side of the front doorway. Frank entered and asked an attendant where 72 deeds were registered. He was directed to an office at the side of the building. In it sat an old man, on whose desk towered row upon row of thick volumes of records.

"Something I can do for you?" he asked.

"Yes," Frank replied. "I've been told the old Rocky Run Museum has been sold to a Professor Randolph."

"Hm," said the man, peering over his spectacles. "That's news to me. Nothing of the sort has been registered here."

"Maybe the deed was recorded while you were out," Frank suggested.

The man hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and tilted back in his chair.

"Son," he said, "I've been settin' here for forty years, 'cept for lunch, and when I'm out, this office is closed."

Frank smiled, thanked the man, and walked back to the car. "I had a hunch Professor Randolph's story was a fake," he told Chet and his brother, who had returned from the orderly's house.

Upon hearing Frank's report, Chet made a decision. "I guess we'll let Randolph and his fake stories alone. I think that old museum is a good place to stay away from."

"I should say not!" Frank's jaw jutted with de73 termination. "We're going right back and tell Randolph the place isn't his."

"And continue our tour," Joe put in. "I wonder why he didn't want us in there."

"Maybe he likes to do his studying alone," Chet ventured.

"There's probably more to it than that," Frank said. "Maybe he knows some secret about the museum."

"And we're going to find out if it has anything to do with our case," Joe added as he stepped into the car.

"Say, fellows," Frank whispered, "I think somebody's watching us." He glanced out the corner of his eye in the direction of the hotel.

"Who?" Chet asked.

"I didn't see enough to identify him, but I saw a man slip into the alley alongside the building."

Joe glanced across the square. n.o.body was in evidence except a short, thin man with a stubbly gray beard. He wore mud-spattered overalls and was leaning against one of the hotel pillars.

"I don't like this," Frank said uneasily.

"Do you suppose that was Dr. Bush spying on us?" Chet wondered.

"If it was," Frank replied, "we ought to throw him off our trail."

74 "How?"

"By finding a back route to the museum. Maybe there's a side road which only the natives know about."

"That fellow over there looks like one," Joe said, nodding in the direction of the man in front of the hotel.

"I'll ask him," Frank offered, stepping out of the car and going over to the man. "I'd like to go to the Rocky Run Museum," he said, "but not by the main road. Is there any other?"

The man looked at Frank suspiciously. "Yeah, there's another way," he said slowly.

"Why you want to know?"

"To see the country," the boy answered noncom-mittally.

The old fellow outlined the directions on the side of the white pillar with a dirty finger.

Frank listened intently. "I get you," he said. "Thanks."

Frank returned to the car and told the others of the roundabout way to the museum.

"If anybody's following us, he'll be thrown off the track," he said. "Let's go!"

A dirt road led the boys off the main highway and through a stretch of woodland. The trees interlaced high overhead, making a canopy which s.h.i.+elded out the afternoon sun.

75 "We're not going to get there in a hurry," Joe said. "This road's too b.u.mpy."

Frank deftly steered the car along the rutty road, avoiding large rocks which now and then jutted from the side. They drove down a little gully, then up a steep slope.

"Hey, wait!" Chet shouted suddenly.

"What's up?" Joe did not want to stop.

"Look at those deer! I want to get a picture!"

A hundred yards to the left near a brook in the woods stood three deer.

"Come on, stop!" Chet pleaded, as Frank made no move to put on the brake.