The Mystery Of Cabin Island Part 14

"You think Hanleigh deciphered the code?" Chet asked.

"No," Frank replied. "Otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager to recover the notebook."

"I'd still like to know how he got his hands on it," said Biff. "Did he steal it from John Sparewell?"

"I don't know," Joe replied, "but I vote we zero in on the medals p.r.o.nto."

The boys' discussion was broken off by a signal for silence from Frank, who pointed to the door.

From the other side came the sound of creaking of floorboards. Swiftly the Hardys scooped up the notebook and the papers and hid them in a cupboard. Then Frank and Joe went over and pushed open the door a crack.

They peered out and saw Hanleigh limping to the fireplace. He pulled aside the guard from the fire, now burning low, took a poker and thrust it up inside the chimney.

"Bet he was eavesdropping," Joe muttered.

"Well, the code directions won't do him much good without tools," said Frank, and stepped into the living room.

"Looking for something, Mr Hanleigh? Glad to see your leg is better."

The big blond man wheeled, his face purple with rage. "I'm sick of being hounded by you pests. I'll fix you-"

Hanleigh lunged forward, brandis.h.i.+ng the poker, but tripped on a rug and went sprawling. The poker flew from his hands. Quickly Frank retrieved it.

"I wouldn't try that again," Joe said in warning tones as Chet and Biff rushed in.

Scowling, Hanleigh dragged himself over to the sofa and sank down heavily. "All right, all right. I was just going to stir up the fire," he mumbled. "It's cold as an iceberg in here."

The boys had to agree, because the wind had risen to great velocity and gusts shook the cabin. Icy draughts seeped beneath the outside door and the windows were half covered by driving snow.

"Maybe I'd better stoke the fire," Chet said.

Joe nudged him. "Later. We have something to do first."

Chet grinned. "That's right. Well, I can turn out a snack, anyway. That'll warm us."

The stout boy headed for the kitchen, but the next instant stopped in his tracks as a shrieking blast of wind struck the front window full force.

With a loud crash the entire pane shattered inwards. The freezing wind roared inside, knocking over all the oil lamps. Fire flared along the spilled fuel and Joe leaped forward, flailing at the flames with his parka.

Hanleigh rolled off the couch as his terror-stricken voice shrilled through the darkness. "Get me out of here! The whole place is going to collapse. I'll be killed!"

CHAPTER XIX.

A Frightened Thief "QUICK! Into the kitchen!" Frank ordered. "Grab the parkas!" Hanleigh limped out hastily and the others followed. Having smothered the flames, Joe entered last and locked the door.

Their prisoner sprawled onto a chair and listened apprehensively to the roaring wind. "I never heard anything so bad before. What're we going to do?"

"Stick it out," Frank replied coolly. He eyed the rattling window over the sink. "We'd better board that up," he said, "and the ones in the bedrooms, too. Come on! We can rip up some of this flooring."

Chet brought two hammers, some nails, and a crowbar from the toolbox. For half an hour the sound of ripping boards and hammering could be heard through the noise of the storm.

As the four boys worked, they saw that the snow had drifted almost to the tops of the windows. Their thoughts went again to Johnny Jefferson.

Frank visualized the boy lying injured behind a crag on the icy cliff. "Joe," he said quietly, "as soon as the wind lets up we must go looking for him again."

His brother nodded. "I know."

When everyone gathered in the kitchen once more, Chet said, "I think we'd better fill the wood box and bring in some extra logs. If the drifts get any higher, we won't be able to open the back door."

He put on his parka, took a flashlight, and plunged outside.

Suddenly there was loud pounding on the door. Joe looked surprised. "What's he doing back so soon?"

Biff opened the door and Chet fairly fell inside.

"The ghost!" he gasped. "In the woodshed!" The boys stared at their trembling chum in amazement.

"I guess he's not kidding," said Frank. "There's something out there. Come on, Joe!"

The Hardys stepped out and trudged through Chet's tracks to the woodshed.

Frank pulled the door open and flashed his light inside. Cowering in the corner was a white turbaned figure!

"Yussef!" Joe exclaimed.

But a moment later he saw that he was mistaken, as Frank pulled the white-robed figure of a young boy to his feet. Johnny Jefferson!

The Hardys knew him instantly from the photograph Mr Jefferson had given them. But he was more st.u.r.dy and better looking than they had imagined.

"Good grief!" Joe exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Quick, into the cabin!" Frank commanded.

Wordlessly, the boy stumbled ahead of them towards the kitchen. Biff, Chet, and Hanleigh looked up in astonishment as the trio entered.

"Here's your ghost, Chet," said Joe. "Johnny Jefferson. That's right, isn't it?" Johnny nodded, a frightened look on his face.

Chet found his voice. "You must be frozen, Johnny. Get some soup."

"Thanks." The boy removed the turban and the white robe. Underneath he wore a heavy jacket, ski pants, and climbing boots.

"Who are you?" he asked the boys, then nodded toward Hanleigh, "Friends of his?"

"Certainly not," said Frank. He introduced everyone and explained why they were on the island.

Johnny looked at them anxiously for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'll buy that."

"Good. Mr Jefferson sure will be relieved to hear you're okay," Frank said.

Then Johnny turned to Hanleigh. "You lied to me," he burst out. "You promised to teach me to be a detective, so I could find my grandfather's medals. But I know now you wanted them for yourself."

Hanleigh pretended he was not listening.

"Sit down and eat, Johnny," said Chet, serving a steaming bowl of soup. "Cheese sandwiches coming up."

The lad broke into a smile. "Gee, thanks." He began eating hungrily. "I thought you fellows were working with Hanleigh," he said, between bites. "So I decided to play ghost and scare you off. I got the idea from somebody else in a white robe and turban who was prowling around here and scared Chet." He glanced at Chet. "I'm sorry. That howl in the woods really shook you!"

As Chet grinned, Johnny could not repress a chuckle. "The trick worked so well that I decided to scare Hanleigh, but I couldn't find him. When I got back to my cave I heard a noise inside, so I ran away."

"Where did you hide?" Frank asked.

"In a crevice I knew about in the rocks above the pa.s.sage. Later I saw you hunting for me, but I kept out of sight."

"Suppose you start from the beginning," Frank said. "How did you get mixed up with Hanleigh?"

"Well, one day last summer when Gramp was in Europe, Hanleigh came to the house to see him about buying Cabin Island. Our housekeeper sent Hanleigh away, but some loose pages fell out of a notebook he was carrying."

"And you found them?" Frank asked.

"That's right. There was a map of this island and a plan of the cabin. Next time he came to the house I gave him the papers he had lost. I questioned him, too."

Hanleigh looked up. "I thought he knew something about the value of the medals so I kidded him along.

Turned out he didn't know anything."

After a few more bites Johnny continued: "At first I believed Mr Hanleigh was a detective and when I got back to school I wrote to him several times, but he didn't answer. I began to suspect that he was trying to find the medals for himself. About two weeks before Christmas I ran away from school and came to Cabin Island to see if Hanleigh was here. I hoped I could find Gramp's medals myself."

"He's worried about you," Frank said. "You should have seen his face when we gave him that model you carved. We found it by the boathouse."

Johnny looked concerned. "I didn't mean to worry Gramp. I'm glad he liked the carving. I carved it to pa.s.s time in the cave. I wondered where I'd lost it."

"You've been living in that cave all this time?" Chet asked.

"No. At first I lived here in the cabin, but when Hanleigh started coming around, I moved out fast. I had a key and came back for a couple of blankets." As to the cave, Johnny said he had played in it for years, but had kept its location a secret.

"What about the letter from Texas you wrote your grandfather?" Joe asked.

Johnny smiled. "I read about that trick in a detective story. I sent the letter to a friend of mine in Texas and asked him to mail it - and not to tell anyone. I was afraid Gramp might suspect I was here at Cabin Island and would send his detectives after me."

As Johnny finished, the wind suddenly shrieked and a strong draught made the oil lamp flicker. Hanleigh turned pale.

"If this keeps up," Frank said, "we'll have to dig our way out. It's going to be rough."

"But I can't do that!" Hanleigh exclaimed. "I'm hurt! And I'll die if you leave me here alone!"

Joe looked disgusted. "We'd send somebody back for you, of course."

Hanleigh's eyes filled with suspicion. "No you won't. Why should you? What's in it for you?"

As Biff was about to retort, Frank winked at him and shook his head. "I'll tell you what's in it for us, Hanleigh," he said, a.s.suming a hard tone. "Information! You tell us your whole story and I promise you'll be rescued."

The man looked up in relief. "Now you're talking my language. It's a deal. Here!" With trembling fingers he pulled a long envelope from his pocket and shoved it across the table. "Read this."

Frank reached into the envelope and took out a doc.u.ment and a letter. He scanned the doc.u.ment first.

"Good grief! This is John Sparewell's last will and testament!" Frank exclaimed. "Hanleigh is his nephew and sole heir."

"Sparewell dead!" Johnny said sadly. "When did that happen?"

"Last spring," Hanleigh volunteered. "Now read the letter from my uncle's lawyer."

Frank did so. "This letter," he told his companions, "which is dated last April, explains that Sparewell stole the medal collection when he was pressed for funds. Then he realized that no dealer would touch it."

Hanleigh interrupted. "Uncle John never tried to find a private outlet for the medals, the way I did."

"On his deathbed," Frank went on, "he requested that his nephew return the collection to Mr Jefferson."

"Why didn't he do it himself, earlier?" Chet asked Hanleigh.

"Because he was chicken, that's why. Uncle John was afraid old man Jefferson would try to bring him to justice. He wanted the medals to be in an absolutely secret place, so he thought of this cabin. On one of Jefferson's trips my uncle spent a weekend hiding the collection out here in the chimney lining. But at the time he didn't tell me where," Hanleigh complained. "The next I heard about the collection was when he died and I came into possession of the notebook with a clue to this island and the secret code."

"Was it part of your tape measure we found in the chimney?" Frank asked.

Hanleigh nodded. "I guessed the medals were in there or the fireplace, but I couldn't crack the code."

"We know it was you who ransacked Mr Jefferson's house at Christmas," Joe said. "You're wanted by the Bayport police."

"I was a fool!" Hanleigh confessed. "I thought maybe the old man had found the medals and was keeping them in the house."

"After you stole our food," Biff said, "where did you go? We scoured the island for you."

"I walked back to the mainland road and hitched a lift to Bayport. Those two young punks with the ice-yacht ran out on me."

"I guess it was you who came in here the other night," Chet spoke up. "You knew we were here. Why did you risk it?"

"I had a feeling you were getting close to where the treasure was hidden," Hanleigh replied. "I wanted to find out if you were searching the chimney, and also to retrieve the notebook. It's rightfully mine. I figured you'd all be asleep."

Johnny sighed. Joe flung a quizzical look at the boy. "What's the matter?"

"We still haven't solved the main part of the mystery. n.o.body knows for sure where the medals are."

Johnny added wistfully, "And I did so want to find them for Gramp."'