The mysterious guest 3 page

The others agreed that they might pick up some information by visiting the scene of the fight. It would do no harm, at any rate, to inquire about Sidney Pebbles at the steamship office. He might have left Bayport by an early morning boat.

Satisfied that Aunt Gertrude was in good hands they felt free to leave the house. Chet armed himself with several apples and stuffed a few biscuits into his pockets in case he should be overcome by hunger in the course of the morning.

As they drew near the corner laundry where the sign of Sam Lee still swung over the door, Frank remarked that it would do no harm to remind Louie Fong of the laundry they had left with him the previous afternoon.

"He might have it ready for us today after all," suggested Joe.

The door of the shop was closed. This was unusual because the day was warm. Frank tried the door, but it was locked. There was no sign of life around the place.

"That's queer." he said. "I never heard of a laundry closing up in the middle of the week."

"I guess you'd better say goodbye to all your shirts," said Chet.

It was evident that the place was deserted. Louie Fong might be merely taking a day's holiday or he flight have closed up the place and departed from Bayport forever. There was no notice on the door to indicate the reason for this sudden cessation of business.

"That's a fine kettle of fish," said Chet Morton. "Chinaman fightee at night. Closee laundlee next day. This whole business gets mysteriouser and mysteriouser."

As no good would be served by staring at the locked door, the boys moved on. Inside of a few minutes they were within sight of the docks.

"I wonder what we'll learn here," said Joe.

Chet took an apple from his pocket, polished it on his sleeve, and destroyed half of it at one bite.

"Probably nothing," he mumbled. But he was wrong.

CHAPTER VII

A MESSAGE FROM HOME

Constable Con Riley was an important man that morning. As he strode solemnly back and forth on the steamship dock he represented the law in all its majesty. Also, he represented Information. Everyone who came to the wharf that day stopped to get a first-hand account of the dramatic doings of the previous night. News of the fight among the Chinamen had spread swiftly throughout Bayport.

Riley, his hands clasped behind his back, his chest out and his chin in the air, was even more dignified than usual. He was a very diligent constable, was Riley-a diligent man who took himself seriously. The unfortunate fact that he was so thick-headed had made him the despair of his superiors.

He had been a patrolman on a downtown beat but a pickpocket had stolen his handcuffs and nightstick. So Constable Con Riley had been placed on traffic duty, where nobody could steal anything from him.

On traffic duty he had given the Mayor of Bayport a ticket without that gentleman deserving one. The Mayor had taken the matter up with the Chief, and as a result the worthy Riley had been transferred to the docks, where it was assumed that he could do no possible harm.

When he saw the Hardy boys and Chet Morton approaching him this morning he frowned. He knew them of old. Chet Morton had knocked off his helmet with a snowball the previous winter. The Hardy boys had solved some of his best cases before he could get really started on them and had made him look foolish more than once.

"Good morning, Mr. Riley," the trio said sweetly.

"Mornin'. Mornin'," grunted the policeman, with the air of a man with weighty problems on his mind.

"I hear you broke up a big fight last night, Constable," said Chet.

Riley glanced at him suspiciously. Chet had a reputation as a jokesmith.

"Well now, and I wouldn't say I exactly broke up the fight," said Riley. "As a matter of fact, I was home in bed. I ain't on night duty. But if I had been here," he declared pompously, '' that fight would have been busted up a lot sooner than it was, let me tell you."

"You missed the fight?" said Joe. "That's too bad. We came down because we thought you'd be able to tell us all about it."

"Well!" said Riley. "And can't you ask me? Just because I wasn't here–worse luck–doesn't mean I don't know all the details."

"We're in luck, fellows," said Chet. "Constable Riley is going to tell us the details. You didn't get here until it was all over, did you, Constable?"

"None of your cheek, now," said Riley. "I didn't get here until this mornin', because I'm on day duty as I said."

"I'll bet you were glad of that. What with people being stabbed and dumped into the water it wouldn't have been very comfortable on night duty," said Chet. Frank nudged him to be quiet.

"From what I can learn," said Riley with a severe glance at Chet, "the whole business was a food."

"A what?" said Frank, puzzled.

"A food. One of them foods among Chinamen. You know."

"Like chop suey?" inquired Chet, interested.

"A food, I said,'' declared Riley. '' A battle. A war. A food.''

"A feud!" exclaimed Joe.

"What were they fighting about?" asked Chet.

"Nobody knows," Riley replied. "The way this here battle last night started, it seems there were some Chinamen down here on the dock waitin' for the boat to come in. You were here, I remember."

"We saw them," said Frank.

"Well, I went off duty at midnight and they were still here. Still hangin' around. Said they were just waitin' for another boat to come in. I had no fault to find with that, so I went."

"Just in time," murmured Chet.

"And the minute I'm out of the way, trouble starts, of course. Another Chinaman came down to the dock and picked a quarrel with one of the fellows who was here already. So then he went away–"

"Which Chinaman?" asked Chet.

"The second Chinaman."

"Which one was that? The one who was here first?"

"No," spluttered Riley. "The second Chinaman was the one who had the row with the first Chinaman. He got here second."

"The first one?"

Constable Riley flushed.

"I'm tellin' this story," he said darkly. "The second Chinaman went away but along about three o'clock in the morning he came back with some more Chinamen."

"And the others were still here?"

"Still here. Still waitin' for another boat, they said. And when the other Chinamen landed here it wasn't two shakes of a lamb's tail before they were fightin' like cats.

"They were fightin' all over the place and the night man in the steamship office put in a call for the police but it was all over before they could get here. One Chinaman was lyin' on the dock with a knife in him, and another was swimmiri' around in the water, half drowned. So they pulled the one out and sent the other to the hospital and not a word can they get out of him about how it happened or who done it."

"Who did it," corrected Chet.

"That's what they can't find out," exploded Riley. "I've just told you, you numbskull, that he won't tell them who done it."

''Sorry. My hearing isn't what it used to be.''

"It never was," growled Riley.

"What was the Chinaman's name?" asked Frank.

"Tom Wat."

"Tom Wat!" exclaimed Joe. "Why, we know him. He works in that restaurant down on Pine Street. At least, he used to work there. Quiet little fellow."

"Well," grunted Riley, "he was mighty nearly quieted for good."

"And none of the Chinamen were arrested?" asked Joe.

"They were all gone except the man in the water and the lad with the knife in his shoulder," said Riley. "You can't arrest a man for swimmin' around the dock at three o'clock in the morning, or for gettin' a knife stuck in him, can you?"

"It would be most unjust," agreed Chet solemnly.

Having received this account of the battle, the boys thanked Constable Riley warmly and went on over to the ticket office of the steamship company. They knew the agent in charge.

"Hello, fellows," he said breezily, when they came up to the window. "What can I do for you? Where do you want to go? New York, Boston, Halifax, New Orleans, Cuba, Bermuda–"

"Week-end jaunt to China will do me," said Chet.

"Don't talk about China," said the agent. "I've heard enough about the Chinese today to last me a lifetime."

"Were you on duty during the row last night?" asked Frank.

"No, I was home and in bed, thank goodness."

"Then you wouldn't know if a young man named Pebbles left Bayport on the two-thirty boat?"

"I wasn't here, but I know he didn't. The night man told me no one left Bayport on that boat. He might have gone on one of the steamers this morning, though, "What does he look like?"

The boys described Sidney Pebbles to the best of their ability. The agent shook his head.

"He didn't show up here this morning. That is, he didn't buy a ticket."

The result of their inquiry had been unsatisfactory. They knew that Sidney Pebbles had not bought a boat ticket, but that he might have left Bayport by steamer just the same.

"What's the idea?" asked the agent curiously. "Doing some detective work?"

"We were just wondering where he had gone," replied Frank evasively.

"I could ask the boat captains. What's the name again? Pebbles. They might remember."

They thanked the agent and drifted disconsolately out of the office. Constable Riley was standing at the edge of the dock contemplating the horizon.

They heard the strident honk of an automobile horn. With a crash and a roar a car shot down from the roadway onto the dock. Constable Riley jumped and nearly toppled into the water. The ancient vehicle skidded and jolted to a stop.

At the wheel was Jerry Gilroy, and wedged in the seat beside him were Phil Cohen and Tony Prito. All three were chums of Chet Morton and the Hardy boys.

"Call for the Hardy boys! Call for the Hardy boys!" chanted the trio, as the old car steamed and trembled as if on the verge of a complete breakdown.

"What's the matter?" asked Frank.

"You're wanted at home," said Tony Prito.

"We called around to see you and a nurse said to look you up and tell you that you were wanted at home right away," explained Phil.

"We got scared," Jerry explained, "when we saw the nurse. Is someone ill?"

"I thought your folks were all away," added Tony with concern.

"She didn't say who was ill," said Phil, referring to the attendant, "but she said excitedly, 'Find Joe and Frank and bring them home at once!' "

"I stepped on the gas, and believe me, we've been doing some speeding," exclaimed Jerry. "Glad we found you. Hop in!"

The Hardy boys scrambled into the rear seat, and the old auto gave a great leap as the driver let in the clutch. Joe and Frank looked at each other, worry written on their faces.

''Goodnight!'' gasped Joe. "I hope nothing more has happened to Aunt Gertrude!"

CHAPTER VIII

ORRIN NORTH'S STORY

Jerky gilboy's venerable junk-heap broke its own speed record that morning after the Hardy boys had jumped into the rear seat. With a tremendous uproar of back-firing and clatter of loose mudguards it jolted back up High Street.

Both Frank and Joe were alarmed over the news they had received. Their first thought was that Aunt Gertrude had taken a turn for the worse. They reflected wretchedly that they should not have left the house at all. When the car reached the house they hastily bade goodbye to their chums, leaped out of the car and rushed up the walk.

However, when they ran into the hall they found Mrs. Cody emerging placidly from the living room.

"How is she?" gasped Frank.

"Your aunt?" said Mrs. Cody. "Oh, she's sleepin' as peaceful as a lamb. Don't worry your heads about her as long as I'm here."

"Then why did you send for us?"

Mrs. Cody looked blankly at them through her spectacles.

"I did send for you, didn't I?" she said.

''Yes. Why did you want us?" asked Frank.

"I'm blessed if I can remember," she said simply. "I know there was something, but it seems to have slipped my mind. Let me see–"

The good woman pursed her lips, tapped her chin with her forefinger and stared intently at the ceiling as she tried to remember why she had sent the urgent message. She was prompted by an impatient cough that sounded sharply from beyond the drawing-room door.

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "I remember now. If he hadn't coughed I declare I think I'd have forgotten all about him. There's a man in there. He wants to see you," and, greatly pleased with herself at this triumph of memory, Mrs. Cody went on upstairs.

When Frank and Joe went into the drawing-room they found a highly excited and greatly agitated man awaiting them. They recognized him as Orrin North, a wealthy steamship owner who lived in Lakeside not far from Bayport.

Orrin North was a big, burly, broad-shouldered man with a coarse, red face, clumsy hands and a stubborn, obstinate chin. He was fond of saying that he was a self-made man for he had risen to power and wealth by his own efforts. A fisherman's son, he had worked hard and long until he had bought a boat of his own. From that, by his own ruthless efforts, he had gained control of a small fleet of vessels. In the course of years he had become wealthier and it had been hinted that not all his riches had been honestly earned. In middle life he had bought the fleet of a bankrupt trading company, and by business methods which were not above a suspicion of shadiness he had throttled competition and added to his fleet until he was now one of the most powerful men in the state.

This was the man, then, who sat impatiently in the Hardy home. Frank and Joe were so astonished that they could scarcely speak.

"Are you Fenton Hardy's sons?"

"Yes, Sir," said Frank.

"My name's North. Orrin North. Where is your father?"

"He is on a trip just now, Mr. North," said Frank. "We really don't know just where he is."

The man muttered something under his breath. He brought a huge fist crashing down upon the table.

"I've got to get in touch with him," he rasped. "Right away."

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"It ain't impossible," roared North in an ugly manner. "Don't tell me your father didn't leave his address. You can reach him if you want to. Tell him Orrin North wants him back in Bayport at once."

The boys did not like their caller's domineering manner. They had heard many stories of his cruel, scheming and unscrupulous nature.

" I have told you the truth, Mr. North," said Frank calmly.

The man rose suddenly from his chair and strode nervously about the room.

"I've got to see him!" he shouted. "Do you heart I've got to see him at once. It's important. I can't be kept waiting like this. I'm not used to it."

Frank shrugged.

"We don't know where our father is. Unless you can locate him yourself I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

North glared at him.

"So! I'll have to wait, eh? Well, let me tell you this, young feller. Orrin North don't wait for nobody."

"Perhaps," suggested Joe mildly, "if you'll explain your business we may be able to help you."

The shipowner laughed contemptuously.

"You!" he said. "A couple of boys! I don't tell my business to babies."

"In that case," observed Frank acidly, "you are wasting your time talking to us. Good morning, Mr. North."

He opened the drawing-room door as if to show the burly visitor out. At once Orrin North became calmer.

"Don't be in such a rush," he said. "Mebbe i spoke a little too fast. After all–" he sat down again, "after all," he muttered, "you may be able to help me."

"We'll be glad to do what we can," Frank assured him.

North grunted doubtfully. "You're sure your father isn't in Bayport?" he said.

"I imagine we would know about it if he came back," smiled Joe.

"Then how," roared North, "does it happen that I got those papers in the second mail this morning with a Bayport postmark on the envelope? How does it happen? Answer me that!"

"What papers?" asked Frank.

North drew a bulky envelope from his pocket and tapped it with a stubby forefinger.

"These! Papers in an important case your pa is handling for me. Every one of 'em came back to me this morning. In the second mail. If your pa didn't send 'em, then who did? And why?"

Frank and Joe looked at each other. Papers!

Mailed in Bayport! Instantly their minds flashed to the papers missing from Fenton Hardy's pockets.

"Why, that's strange," said Frank. "We had a burglary here last night and some of Dad's papers were stolen. Those may have been among them."

"But no one knew about these papers," roared North. "I gave them to your father on the quiet."

"And they were mailed to you this morning?"

"You heard me," growled North.

He thrust the envelope over to Frank. "Look at that," he said, indicating the address and the postmark. "Mailed here in Bayport. To my address in Lakeside."

Eagerly the boys examined the envelope. The address was typewritten. The postmark showed that the letter had been mailed in Bayport at eight o'clock that morning. It would reach Lakeside in the second morning mail, as Orrin North had said.

"Perhaps this throws some light on the burglary," mused Frank. "These must be the stolen papers. But why would Sidney Pebbles–"

"Who?" shouted Orrin North, his face dark with anger and astonishment.

"Do you know him?" asked Frank quickly.

"Sidney Pebbles? I should say I do know him. But what has he to do with this!"

"He stayed here last night as our guest," Joe explained. "We met him down at the dock and he missed his boat so we asked him to spend the night here. When we woke up this morning we found he had disappeared. And papers were missing from Dad's pockets."

"Sidney Pebbles–stayed here–ran away–papers missing–" stammered North. "I don't believe it."

"What do you know about Pebbles?"

"I don't know much about him," declared North, "but I'm sure he ain't a crook. Not that young feller. He works in Lakeside. I’ve seen him often."

"Works in Lakeside?" exclaimed the Hardy boys. Nothing that Sidney Pebbles had said on the previous night had indicated that he lived anywhere near Bayport.

"Sure. He works at a roadhouse up the river. Chinese joint."

This was another shock. It seemed to fit in neatly with the other pieces of the jigsaw puzzle the mystery presented. The boys were greatly excited now. They were positive that some sinister connection existed between Sidney Pebbles and the Chinamen on the dock.

"But nobody can ever tell me that Sidney Pebbles swiped them papers," declared Orrin North firmly. "I don't know the feller real well but I'm sure he ain't a crook. Besides, there wouldn't be no sense to it. Why would he steal them papers and mail them to me? And how would he know about 'em in the first place?"

"On the other hand," Frank pointed out, "we know he was here and we know he cleared out of the house before we were up and we know that the papers are missing from the guest room. Someone left footprints underneath one of the downstairs windows, too."

"They weren't Pebbles's footprints, then," grunted North. "I don't believe he had anything to do with it. Anyway, I don't care. The papers ain't stolen. I've got 'em right here. The point is this: What am I goin' to do with 'em? They're mighty important and I gave 'em to your pa so he could handle this big case for me. What am I goin' to do? Wait till your pa comes back? Turn the papers over to somebody else? I'm left stranded."

"I think," said Frank, "that you'd better wait until Dad comes back."

"I can't wait," howled North.

"In that case perhaps you'd better turn the case over to someone else. If Dad left the papers in one of his coat pockets it must have meant that he couldn't handle the affair until he came back from his trip, anyway."

"There's sense to that," grunted North.

"But we'd like to find out why Pebbles took them–if he did take them."

"I'll fix him if he took 'em. I'll have him fired from his job. I'll have him thrown into jail. If he knows what's in them papers–"

A sudden thought evidently flashed through Orrin North's mind for his eyes glowed with a dangerous light. His fists clenched.

"If he knows what's in them papers and means to try and gouge some money out of me," he rasped, "he'll wish he'd picked on somebody else. He'll wish he'd never been born!"

If the shipowner snatched up the envelope and thrust it back into his pocket. Then he grabbed his hat from the table. He was an ugly, formidable figure as he towered above the boys in the room.

"Nobody plays them games on Orrin North and gets away with 'em," he snarled. "I've crushed too many men in my time."

"Where can we find Sidney Pebbles?" asked Frank.

"Come to Lakeside. Come to my office tomorrow and I'll tell you where to find him," said North. "If it's the same man–which I doubt–we'll settle up with him. My office at ten o'clock."

"We'll be there," they promised.

"All right. And if you have any word from your father, give me a call on the telephone."

Orrin North jammed his hat down about his ears, picked up his heavy stick and strode out of the room. The boys showed him the way out, and with a muttered word of goodbye he clumped off down the walk.

CHAPTER IX

LOUIE FONG IS ANGRY

Although the Hardy boys felt that they had made great progress in the mystery by reason of the important news they had learned from Orrin North, they were more puzzled than ever when the shipowner left them.

" I can't understand why a man should steal papers and mail them right back to the owner," said Joe. "It seems a crazy stunt to me."

"It may not be as crazy as it looks," rejoined his brother. "Maybe Sidney Pebbles is a blackmailer. For all we know, there may be information in those papers that might hurt Orrin North. Remember, he said he gave them to Dad on the quiet. They were confidential. Once the papers were mailed back to the owner no one could prove that Pebbles stole them. And if he read them he would have the information and he might try to blackmail North on the strength of it."

"Mr. North suggested something of the sort himself."

"That may be the explanation of the whole affair. Yet it's strange that Mr. North seems so sure that the Sidney Pebbles he knows can't be the thief."

"Well," Joe said, "for that matter we're not sure that the Sidney Pebbles we know was the thief. If he didn't make those footprints under the window, then there was someone else."

"It's enough to make a fellow's head swim," Frank remarked. "We should know more about it tomorrow. Odd, isn't it, that this fellow Pebbles works at a Chinese place?"

"It all seems to come back to Chinamen every time," his brother admitted.

The boys made no further progress on the case that day, nor were they successful in their efforts to locate Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. They sent several messages to places where they understood their parents were to stop, but had received no replies as yet.

Dr. Bates called that evening to see Aunt Gertrude, who was still weak and ill but had been resting well and had shown some improvement under the care of Mrs. Cody. That motherly lady had taken full charge of the house and the boys were spared the bother of preparing meals. What was more, they escaped the toil of washing dishes.

"Clear out of my kitchen," she ordered cheerfully when they offered to help. "I'm running this house until your aunt is on her feet again, poor darlin'. Just let me manage things my own way and we'll all be satisfied."

"It suits me," declared Joe, "right down to the ground."

"There's something I meant to ask you," she said. "Where are all the fresh towels and pillow-slips and the like?"

"They're at the laundry," the boys told her. "They would have been ready today but there's a new laundryman on the job and he isn't very obliging. Besides, his place was closed today."

"If you don't get them tomorrow," said Mrs. Cody grimly, "tell me, and I'll fix him."

She sat down at the kitchen table and began to read her fortune in the tea-leaves in her cup. It appeared that Mrs. Cody was superstitious and that she firmly believed that the future could be foretold by this method. She giggled delightedly as she informed the boys that the cup promised her that she would be invited to a big party within the week and that there was to be a parcel in the mail for her within the next few days.

Then she frowned.

"What's this? What's this?" muttered the good woman. "Trouble, as sure as you're born. Oh, mercy, why did I have to read my cup this night? There's enough trouble without knowing about it before it comes."

"What kind of trouble is it to be, Mrs. Cody?" asked Frank, who did not believe in teacup reading.

She turned the cup to the light.

"There's a letter C here," said Mrs. Cody tensely. "You can notice it as plain as day. Now what could that mean? Trouble dealin' with the letter C? And it's hangin' right over us. My, my–I don't like this at all, at all."

"Chinamen," muttered Joe.

"What's that?" asked Mrs. Cody.

"Nothing," said Joe, and they made their escape from the kitchen.

"I wonder if there is anything in this fortune-telling stuff after all?" said Frank, as they were preparing for bed.

"If trouble is going to come it will come, and that's all there is to it," replied Joe philosophically. "We just have to be ready for it."

Next morning after breakfast they set out for Louie Fong's laundry for the purpose of claiming the week's washing. They had determined, if they found the place still closed, to report the matter to the police.

But there was no need of that. The establishment was a scene of thriving activity. Steam issued in a cloud from the front door, and when the boys stepped inside the evil face of Louie Fong popped up from behind the counter like a jack-in-the-box.

"Hullo! You come fo' laundly. No got," he said sharply.

"What's the idea?" demanded Frank.

"Solly. No got. Tomolla, mebbe."

"Tomorrow! That's another day lost," complained Joe. "Why weren't you working yesterday? That's why we can't have our laundry today."

''No work yes'day," said Louie Fong. ''Beeg Chinese hoi'day."

The Hardy boys doubted this. Sam Lee had always given notice when he intended to observe a holiday, and they could not recall that he had ever closed his laundry in the middle of summer.

"All right," sighed Frank. He leaned against the counter, in no hurry to leave. "You didn't close up on account of the battle down on the docks, did you?"

"Beeg fight, eh? Fella get stab. Good. He look fo' tlouble."