Orrin North explains

So abrupt, so unexpected was the appearance of the Chinaman that the Hardy boys were taken completely by surprise. They dared not move, yet they were sure they had been seen.

Either that, or the mysterious stranger had made some noise that had attracted Louie Fong's attention. The Chinaman stood on the threshold looking out into the night. Frank and Joe waited in an agony of suspense.

The stranger, whoever he was, kept cool. He did not reveal his presence by a sound. He flattened himself against the side of the garage and remained as motionless as a statue.

Presently Orrin North appeared in the doorway behind the Chinaman. The two talked in low tones for a moment as they came out of the building. North reached inside the door and switched out the light. As the door slammed, a lock clicked.

"All right then," Orrin North said clearly, "I'll see you tomorrow."

North went back toward his office, while Louie Fong came directly across the yard toward his car. His shoes made no sound; he was as quiet and sinister as a cat.

Even yet the Hardy boys were uneasy. They were not convinced that the Chinaman had not seen them. They knew he was sly and quick and that even now his keen eyes might be watching them as they crouched in the shadow beneath the fence.

However, Louie Fong went directly to his automobile and stepped inside. The engine throbbed. The car backed slowly out into the main road.

Frank gripped Joe by the wrist and pointed toward the garage. The shadowy figure by the wall was melting into the gloom. The stranger vanished without a sound.

They waited until they heard Louie Fong's car speeding away, then they slipped out of the courtyard and ran back to their own roadster. There was no sign of the car that had brought the mysterious stranger to the scene. Frank wrenched open the door of the roadster. Then he gasped.

"Where's Tom Wat?"

The roadster was deserted. Tom Wat had disappeared. Joe uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Maybe Louie Fong found him!"

There was a sudden rustling among the bushes at the roadside. A figure emerged from the ditch. To their relief they saw it was none other than Tom Wat.

"Me hide," he explained laconically.

"Boy, you gave us a scare," said Joe. "We thought he had kidnaped you."

They scrambled into the car and drove down the road about half a mile. Then Frank brought the roadster to a stop.

"What next?" he said.

"What's your suggestion? Back to Bayport?"

"We haven't accomplished much yet."

"I think we've learned plenty," said Joe. "We know that Orrin North and Louie Fong have some business that brings them together secretly at night. And we know that someone else is interested enough to spy on them."

"Yes, we found out that," Frank agreed, "but are we any better off? The whole business is more mysterious than ever."

"That's true enough."

"We came out here to speak to Orrin North. As far as I can see there's no reason why we shouldn't go ahead with our program."

"I wish," muttered Joe, "I knew what he and Louie Fong were talking about. Tom, did you ever hear that North and Louie Fong were mixed up in any business affairs?"

Tom Wat could not enlighten them. The boys thought that the little man had his own suspicions as to the nature of the dealings between the pair but that he was afraid to voice them. Tom Wat's obvious terror of Louie Fong impressed them with the fact that in the sinister Chinaman they were dealing with a dangerous and powerful antagonist.

"Let's drive back to the office," suggested Frank. "He won't know we've already been near the place."

"All right!"

Frank turned the car about and they drove back. But the office was in darkness. They were too late. Orrin North had departed.

"Gone home for the night," said Joe.

"There's no law against going to his house, wherever that is. We'll go downtown and ask Bomeone to tell us the way."

An obliging constable on Lakeside's main street told them that Orrin North lived out in the country.

"He has a homestead about two miles out of town," said the officer. "As a matter of fact, I think he's just gone out there. His car passed this way a few minutes ago."

Orrin North's idea of "homesteading" was evidently very modern. His huge stone residence was really a luxurious country home and the driveway leading from the main road was flanked by trim hedges and well-kept grounds.

"There must be money in the shipping business," commented Frank as they drove up to the house.

They left Tom Wat in the car and went up to the door. A maid answered the bell.

"Mr. North just came in," she told the boys. "What names shall I give?"

They told her and she went away, returning a few minutes later to say that Mr. North would see them. The girl ushered them into a comfortable library. The books were arranged so neatly upon the shelves, however, that the boys doubted if Orrin North ever bothered to read any of them. He was smoking as he read his newspaper. The man looked up, scowling.

"Can't spare you much time," North growled. "Just got in after a hard day's work. What is it now?"

"We haven't been able to locate Dad yet," Frank informed him.

"Blast the luck! I don't see how any man can go away and leave his business in such shape that no one knows what's what. I know I couldn't afford to do it. Well, if you can't get in touch with him, there's only one thing for me to do. I'll have to get someone else to handle the business for me."

"We have taken care of some of Dad's cases for him at other times when he has been away," ventured Joe.

Orrin North laughed shortly.

"Must have been mighty small ones," he grunted.

"We were thinking," said Frank, "that if you would tell us just which case Dad was working on, we might be able to help you.''

"Listen!" said North scornfully. "When I asked your pa to take hold of this matter I was hirin' an expert detective, see? Not a couple of kids. You don't think I'm goin' to pay him to work for me and have him turn the business over to his youngsters, do you?"

"We're not saying we can do as well as Dad or anywhere nearly as well," returned Frank with spirit. "But we're not amateurs entirely. He has taught us a good deal. At least we can look after his interests until he returns."

"Nope!" snapped North. "If your pa doesn't come back in a day or so I'm going to hire me another detective. This case is too big for kids."

"Why not tell us what it's all about? We may be able to suggest something."

"Oh, so far as that goes, I don't mind telling you what it's about. But you won't be able to help me any, I promise you that."

"We can try," said Joe.

"The situation is this," said North. "I've got enemies who are tryin' to ruin my reputation."

"How?"

"By accusin' me of smuggling, blast it!" he roared, pounding the table with his fist. "Me! Me that's never had a black mark against my name since I went into the shipping business. That's what it's about."

"What sort of smuggling?" asked Frank.

Orrin North leaned forward.

"Chinamen!" he rasped.

"You're accused of smuggling Chinamen!"

"That's right. You know there's a heavy head tax on every Chinaman that comes into the country. There's good money to be made by any man who can smuggle 'em in. And that's what they're sayin' about me. They say I'm doin' a regular business of it."

"Who accuses you?" asked Frank.

"Plenty of people," returned the ship owner vaguely. "There's been hints gone in to the Department of Immigration. There was an inspector here just the other day askin' me questions. Smugglin' Chinamen!" he snorted. "Furthest thing from my mind. I'm an honest man. I make enough money in honest trade without turning crooked. I don't have to go into that game to make money."

"But no definite charge has ever been laid against you," Frank pointed out.

"Of course not. And why? Because they haven't got any evidence against me, that's why. And they never will have. But these rumors are enough to blacken my good name. They hurt my reputation in shippin' circles. Within the past couple of weeks I've lost two good customers. Don't care to give their trade to a man suspected of smugglin', they said."

"Who is behind the rumors?" asked Joe.

"I wish I knew," fumed Orrin North. "I've got my suspicions. I've got rivals in the shipping business who would be glad to steal trade away from me if they could. And they're doing it, all on account of these smugglin' stories."

''And what did you want Dad to do for you?"

"Why, to protect my interests, of course!" exclaimed Orrin North. "I employed him in self-defence. If these enemies of mine are trying to get the authorities after me and ruin me, why I've just got to fight fire with fire. I said I'd hire the best detective I could get. Chinamen are bein' smuggled in along this coast. I know that. We all know it. If your pa could find out who is really doin' the smugglin' it would clear my reputation. That's why I hired him."

"Had he done any work on the case before he went away?" Joe asked.

"How do I know?" demanded North. "Matter of fact, I don't think he did a tap of work on it. Never told me a thing. I tell you I'm mighty tired of the way he acted in this business. If these rumors keep up I'll find myself forced into a big court case to protect myself and it'll cost me a fortune."

He got up from his chair and stamped up and down the room.

"I'll be ruined if I don't put a stop to them stories," he raged, "and the only way to stop 'em is to find out who is doing this smugglin'. Now," he said, grinning scornfully at the boys, "do you think you can take up a job that your pa has run away from? Matter of fact, I think he found it was too big for him and just went away so he wouldn't have to admit he was licked."

Frank bit his lip. He did not care to hear these reflections on his father's ability, but he knew he must control his temper.

"I don't think Dad ran away from the case," said Frank. "In fact, I'm sure he didn't. There is some other explanation. If you'll let my brother and me look after things until he comes back you won't have any cause to regret it."

"No! No!" declared North. "This isn't a case for youngsters. If it's too big for your pa it's miles too big for you. Eun along home, now. It's late and I want to go to bed."

Thus dismissed, the Hardy boys left the brusque mannered ship owner. They were crestfallen at the curt reception their offer of help had been accorded. Nevertheless, they had made some progress.

"We got what we came after," Frank reminded his brother. "We know the case Dad was working on, at any rate."

"And somehow," muttered Joe, "I don't like the looks of that case. What do you think of it yourself?"

"It strikes me," replied Frank seriously, ''that Orrin North isn't quite as honest as he pretends to be."

"Where there is smoke there is fire."

"If people accuse him of smuggling Chinamen into the country they must have some grounds for the rumors. Of course, it may be as he claims. He may have enemies who are trying to ruin him."

"I don't trust him," declared Joe firmly.

"I wish Dad would come back. We could talk things over with him."

They found Tom Wat waiting for them in the car, but on the way home told him nothing about their interview with Orrin North. As they came within sight of their house on High Street Joe suddenly slapped his knee and exclaimed:

"I have an idea!"

CHAPTER XVIII

BACK TO THE LAUNDRY

Joe’s idea was simple. It was, in fact, that they return to the garage back of Orrin North's office the next day to see if they could find some clue to the identity of the mysterious stranger.

"The ground in that yard was soft," Joe pointed out. "We may be able to find his footprints."

"What if Mr. North sees us hanging around his garage?" Frank objected.

"He won't find us. Not if we go early enough."

"There may be some truth in that story about smuggled Chinamen. The fact that North is mixed up with Louie Fong is suspicious."

"Perhaps that stranger was one of Mr. North's enemies," suggested Joe.

"Trying to get evidence against him. It's not unlikely. In any case, your idea is worth following up. I'd like to know who that stranger was."

They decided to set the alarm for four o'clock, since they were eager to make their investigations at the North garage at a time when they would not be disturbed. At that early hour none of the office employees would be on the scene and it was highly improbable that the boys would be noticed by anyone.

Tom Wat returned to his room on the third floor of the house. He came in unobserved, for Nurse Cody and Aunt Gertrude were asleep.

Promptly at four o'clock the shattering clamor of the alarm clock awakened the boys. It was summer time and dawn came early so there was plenty of light for their morning journey.

"Can't wait for breakfast," decided Frank as they hurriedly dressed. "We'll make a quick run out to Lakeside, look around and then hurry back."

"I'll bring along a tape measure. If we find any footprints we'd better keep a record of them."

They went quietly down the stairs. In the second floor hall they listened for a moment at the door of Aunt Gertrude's room. They heard only the regular, muffled snores of the nurse.

"We'll be back before they know we've gone," whispered Frank.

They slipped out of the house and crossed the dew-drenched grass in the clear, crisp ah of morning.

"All clear so far," laughed Joe, as they scrambled into the car. In a few minutes they were speeding swiftly out of Bayport.

They met only a few milk wagons and market trucks on the road at that hour and when they reached Lakeside they found the street near the North office deserted, as they had expected. They parked the car and made their way quickly into the yard where they had hidden the previous night.

They wasted no time in exploring the place, but made their way at once toward the garage. The ground, as Joe had recalled, was soft. Frank stooped down, examining the soil at the place where the mysterious stranger had crouched beneath the window.

"What more could we want?" he exclaimed softly.

He pointed to the earth at his feet. There, clear and distinct, was the print of a man's shoe. Further on, along the side of the garage, they found other similar footmarks.

Joe whipped out the tape measure. Swiftly he took measurements and jotted down the figures on the back of an envelope. On a sheet of paper he drew a rough diagram of the mark. Frank, in the meantime, made an investigation of the ground nearby on the chance that the stranger might have dropped something that would afford a more tangible clue.

"Just the footprints," he reported when he came back a moment later.

"Better than nothing," commented Joe. "Let's get out of here before someone sees us."

They hastened away and within a few minutes were speeding back to Bayport. It was not quite five o'clock when they were safely back in their own room, the car was back in the garage and not another soul had been the wiser about their adventure.

"I have a hunch about these footprints," said Joe, opening the drawer of the writing desk in their room. "They seem familiar, somehow." He took out the sheets upon which had been recorded the tracings and measurements of the footprints they had found under the window on the morning after the disappearance of Sidney Pebbles. "We'll just check up on these."

The boys bent over the desk as Joe laid the papers side by side. They consulted the figures. Suddenly Frank slapped his brother on the back.

"Why–they're the same!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly the same."

"Then the man who left the footprints under the window was the same man who spied on Orrin North and Louie Fong last night!"

"According to the footprints. Of course, we can't be sure. But the evidence is fairly clear."

"I should say it is," declared Frank.

"Sidney Pebbles, the First?"

"Or the Chinaman who might have come into the house when Aunt Gertrude was lying on the couch. Maybe he wasn't a dream."

Their discovery was important. Yet it was very tantalizing. If they could only learn the identity of the stranger who had crouched beside North's garage they would probably know the identity of the stranger who had left the footprints under the window. That knowledge would go a long way toward clearing up the mystery. But they seemed as far away from solving the problem as when they had started.

"We'll just have to keep plugging away," declared Frank. "In all the other mysteries we tackled we had plenty of setbacks. Then something usually happened to straighten everything out, and all the points that had puzzled us became as clear as day."

"What's the next stop, then?"

"Louie Fong's laundry."

Joe was thoughtful.

"I don't think we'll get much information there. Louie Fong is too careful."

"We'll take Tom Wat with us. In disguise. If he hears any Chinese talk he'll be able to interpret it. We have to go there for the laundry in any case. After breakfast we'll drop in at Louie Fong's place."

"I'll bet Tom Wat will just about cheer out loud when he hears that," grinned Joe. "He isn't any more afraid of Louie Fong than he is of a rattlesnake."

After a while the boys heard Nurse Cody moving about downstairs so they went to the kitchen, trying to look like lads who had just awakened after a long night's sleep.

"How are you this morning, Mrs. Cody?" they greeted her.

Mrs. Cody looked up from the stove.

"Tolerable," she said. "Just tolerable. Of course, when a body doesn't get her rightful sleep it's not to be expected that she'll go hopping and skipping about and whistlin' like a bird in the morning."

"Didn't you sleep well?" asked Frank. He wondered if their early morning departure had awakened the nurse.

"Not a wink did I sleep the livelong night," she assured them mournfully. "That is, not more than to doze off for a few minutes now and then."

The boys, remembering the snores they had heard from beyond the bedroom door, were of the private opinion that Nurse Cody had slept much better than she imagined.

"And when I did sleep," she continued, "I dreamed. I dreamed continual. About cats."

"You dreamed about cats?" said Joe.

"Cats. And it's a bad sign. It means that there's trouble hangin' over the house. I never knew it to fail. Last time I dreamed about cats, do you know what happened? My cousin's brother-in-law, out in Seattle, fell off the back porch and broke his leg. That's what it means to dream about cats."

She shook her head solemnly.

"How is Aunt Gertrude this morning?" inquired Frank.

"She had a good night. Her nerves are in bad shape yet, though. She was asking about you lads. Better go up and see her."

The boys went upstairs and found their aunt awake and muttering to herself as she tossed restlessly on the bed.

"Hello, Aunt Gertrude!" exclaimed Frank cheerfully. "You look as fit as a fiddle this morning. Do you think you'll be getting up today?"

"I'm not as fit as a fiddle!" snapped the patient. "And if I'm up within the month I'll be lucky. This place will go to rack and ruin now that I'm laid up, I suppose."

This was more like the old Aunt Gertrude. That she could summon sufficient strength to be irritable was a sure sign that she was recovering rapidly.

"Straighten your necktie, boy!" she barked at Joe. "Unless I'm here to look after you I'll warrant you go around looking like a savage. And you, Frank–when did you shine your shoes last?"

Frank looked guiltily at the offending footwear. Traces of the muddy clay from the yard back of North's office were plainly visible on his shoes.

"Why–yesterday," he said meekly.

"I don't believe it. You get busy with the brush and blacking, young man, or I'll make it hot for you. Oh dear, oh dear! If I could only get better. My poor nerves!"

"Didn't you sleep well?" asked Joe.

"As well as might be expected," she snapped. "Which means I didn't sleep a wink."

"Mrs. Cody said she didn't sleep a wink, either,'' observed Frank. '' You must have had a long night's talk."

"None of your impudence! How can a person sleep when she sees a Chinaman every time she closes her eyes? How can she? I can't get that terrible dream out of my mind."

"You mean the one about the man with the knife?" asked Joe.

"Now what other dream could I mean? At that, I'm not sure if it was a dream or not. It was so vivid that it might be true. I can’t get that man's terrible face out of my mind for a minute. I keep thinking there's a Chinaman right in this house."

The boys thought of Tom Wat in the upstairs room.

"You boys have been up to something!" said Aunt Gertrude sharply. "Don't tell me you haven't. I can tell by your faces. What is it? What mischief have you been up to now?"

"None at all," said Frank.

"Hmmph! You would say that, of course. Well, I'll hear all about it as soon as I'm well again, never fear. Run along now."

"Aunty," said Joe, "can you remember the young fellow who got you the drink of water on the boat? Can you recall what he looked like?"

"Sidney Pebbles," prompted Frank.

"Sidney Pebbles!" retorted Aunt Gertrude. "Who's he? I don't know any Pebbles." She laughed shortly. "He isn't the only pebble on the beach. Ha! Ha!"

Aunt Gertrude seemed to think she had achieved an excellent joke and laughed so heartily that she was almost in a good humor.

"No," she told them, "I can't remember any of the people on the boat. The whole trip seems like a trance. I can't recall what anyone looked like. It gives me a headache to try to think."

Pettishly, she dismissed them, so the boys went downstairs and had breakfast. Mrs. Cody edified them by reading her teacup, in which she saw a great variety of interesting events, which included a journey across water, a meeting with a dark man, a procession-whether wedding or funeral she wasn't sure-an accident, several dozen letters and a warning against going for airplane flights. Afterward, when she had brought breakfast to Aunt Gertrude and was relating all these wonders out of the one teacup, the boys slipped upstairs to Tom Wat's room.

"Quick!" urged Frank. "Hop into the girl's clothes. We're going to call on a friend of yours."

Tom regarded the disguise without enthusiasm.

"Where we go?" he asked.

"Never mind. Make yourself beautiful."

Submissively, the Chinaman donned the girl's outfit, powdered his nose and completed the various details of his disguise. Joe made a dash down the stairs and returned with the report that Aunt Gertrude and the nurse were engaged in a lengthy argument as to whether certain tea leaves predicted a great catastrophe or a small legacy. The coast being clear, they went quietly downstairs and got out of the house without being seen.

"Where we go now?" repeated Tom Wat, who was getting suspicious.

"Come with us and see," said Frank.

He knew there would be violent objections on the part of their "girl friend" if Tom Wat knew that their destination was Louie Fong's laundry.

CHAPTER XIX

THE TRAP-DOOR

They were almost at the laundry before Tom Wat realized their intention.

"No!" he exclaimed, holding back. "Me no go in there. Velly bad place now."

Frank held the Chinaman firmly by the arm.

"You're a girl now, remember," he said. "If you keep quiet they'll never suspect. Come along."

Joe opened the door. Tom Wat was thrust across the threshold before he could object further. Once inside the door he realized that it would be useless to resist, so he made himself as inconspicuous as possible in a corner.

There was no one behind the counter. The laundry was dark for the window-blinds were drawn, but from beyond the new partition the boys saw the gleam of an electric light.

They heard voices from behind the half wall. The boys, however, could not understand what was being said for the unseen occupants of the laundry were talking in Chinese.

One voice they recognized. It startled them.

It was the voice of Sam Lee–the gentle old Chinaman who had previously owned the shop.

Evidently the men in the back room were too engrossed in their conversation to hear the entry of the boys. No one came out to the counter.

Sam Lee was evidently excited. His voice was high and shrill. He talked volubly. Then another voice broke in. It was the voice of Louie Fong, smooth and sinister, deadly with menace. He said only a few words and then Sam Lee broke into excited speech again.

"What are they saying?" whispered Frank to Tom Wat.

"Sam Lee askee why Louie Fong make plenty changes in laundly," replied the Chinaman in a low voice.

Suddenly Frank nudged his brother.

"Look!" he exclaimed.

Into the gloomy area behind the counter emerged a gaunt, gray shadow. It was a dog, a huge Russian wolfhound. The boys recognized the animal at once.

It was the beast that had attacked them when they were hiding in the bushes near "Lantern Land." The animal paid them scant attention, however, merely nosing about the back of the laundry, then padding silently behind the partition once more.

The boys were startled by this discovery. It was evident that the dog belonged to Louie Fong. Its appearance here was almost conclusive proof that Louie Fong had indeed been the man who had hurled the knife at Tom Wat.

The conversation back of the partition was becoming more lively. Shrill voices were raised in angry argument. Tom Wat was listening intently, a puzzled frown upon his face.

"Louie Fong say he fix Sam Lee," he whispered to Frank.

They heard Sam Lee's voice, angry and excited. Suddenly the voice ended in a choking cry. There was a scuffle, then someone crashed against the partition. They heard a snarl from the huge dog. There were noises of a struggle beyond the wall. Suddenly the gleam of electric light from the back of the laundry disappeared.

Tom Wat slipped swiftly toward the door. He opened it and gestured urgently to the boys, who followed him out into the street.

Tom Wat walked rapidly away. He was shaking with fear. As for the Hardy boys, they did not know what to think.

"What happened?" asked Frank, grabbing the Chinaman by the arm. "What did Louie Fong say?"

Tom Wat was almost too terrified for speech. After a while, however, he blurted out:

"Mebbe Louie Fong killee Sam Lee."

"You think Louie has murdered him?" gasped Joe.

"Much talk. Sam Lee velly mad. Louie Fong tell him shut up. Mebbe Sam Lee dead now. Velly bad man, Louie Fong."

The boys were aghast. They did not know whether to go back to the laundry or to notify the police. Joe was in favor of the latter course.

"For all we know," he said, "Sam Lee may have been murdered. We ought to tell an officer right away."

Tom Wat objected to this vigorously. He did not want to be mixed up in the affair. If Sam Lee was murdered and the police arrested Louie Fong his own life would be in grave danger, he told them.

"After all," reflected Frank, "we aren't sure. If we bring the police into this and there is nothing wrong, it will spoil everything."

They turned and looked back toward the laundry.

"I wish we knew what happened back of that partition," muttered Joe. At that moment the door of the shop opened, and a man stepped out. The boys stared in amazement. It was none other than Sam Lee. The old Chinaman came out onto the pavement, looked around, thrust his hands into his pockets and shuffled off down the street.

"Come on!" said Joe. "Let's go and ask him what happened."

But Frank had another plan.

"Louie Fong may be watching," he said. "If he sees us talking to Sam Lee he'll be suspicious. You trail him, Joe, and when you're out of sight of the laundry you can talk to him."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I want to find out what's going on in that place."

Joe was dubious.

"I think that laundry is a good place to leave alone," he said. "However, you're the doctor. I'm going after Sam Lee."

He strode away and hurried after the Chinaman.

"What you do now?" asked Tom Wat nervously.

"We're going back there."

Again Tom Wat objected. He was greatly shaken by the fright he had received and although the appearance of Sam Lee, safe and sound, had served to quiet his fears he did not view with delight the prospect of again entering the building. Frank, however, explained that they would merely go in and ask for the washing.

"I'll ask Louie Fong if he has seen Sam Lee lately. I wonder what he'll say."

Reluctantly, Tom Wat agreed to go with him.

He made no secret of the fact that the expedition was against his better judgment.

They approached the building once more and went inside. Again, however, the place seemed to be deserted. Louie Fong did not come to the counter. There was no sign of the huge dog. The place was in absolute silence.

A thought flashed into Frank's mind. Perhaps Louie Fong had been the victim of the quarrel following the argument between the two Chinamen. Perhaps he had been attacked by Sam Lee.

He rapped sharply on the counter. There was no answer.

"Louie!" he shouted.

Still no answer. He turned to Tom Wat.

"That's queer," said Frank.

Tom Wat's eyes were round with fear. He expressed the thought that had been in Frank's mind.

"Mebbe Louie Fong dead!" he gasped.

With that he turned, wrenched open the door and bolted out of the shop. He ran out into the street and headed for the Hardy house as if the terrible Louie Fong were at his heels.

Frank did not follow. Having gone this far he was not prepared to give up. He wanted to know what had happened behind the partition.

Frank knocked on the counter again.

''Louie Fong!" he shouted. ''Are you there, Louie Fong?"

He heard only the echo of his own voice. Frank called again and when there was still no response he went toward the little door at the side of the counter, unfastened the catch and stepped inside.

Quietly, he made his way toward the partition. If anyone came in he could truthfully say that he had come for the laundry and that when no one appeared to serve him he had gone back to investigate.

Frank came around the partition into the little room at the back. But he did not find Louie Fong. He saw only a wooden table and two chairs. He spied a door, however, which evidently led into premises at the back of the establishment.

Frank hesitated a moment. Should he go on?

He tried the door. It was not locked, and swung silently open. He peeped into the room beyond. It, too, was deserted. The place was plainly furnished with a small stove, a table, a cot and a few chairs, and had evidently been Sam Lee's kitchen and living quarters.

Frank was puzzled. He could not believe that Louie Fong had gone away leaving the laundry unlocked and deserted.

"Louie Fong!" he called out again.

Still there was no answer.

He was tempted to go back, yet the mystery of the place intrigued him. He had a vague impression that he could hear voices in the distance. There was another door but he was sure it opened on the lane at the back of the laundry.

However, he decided to investigate it, so stepped toward the door.

Then suddenly he felt himself falling. The floor had opened beneath his feet. Frank uttered a loud cry. He strove wildly to retain his balance. But he had stepped directly upon a trap-door that fell open beneath his weight

He plunged into the darkness beneath.

CHAPTER XX

SAM LEE'S STORY

As Joe Hardy hurried down the street in pursuit of Sam Lee he thought it would be an easy matter to overtake the old Chinaman. When he came to the end of the block, however, he looked vainly in all directions without catching.sight of Sam Lee. The man had disappeared.

"He must be able to make himself invisible," said Joe in chagrin, for he knew Sam Lee had not had time in which to walk the length of the next block. Yet the old fellow had vanished as if the earth had swallowed him up. There was no one in sight but a small boy sitting on the curb.

"Did you see a Chinaman come this way?" Joe asked the youngster.

The boy looked up. He pointed to a nearby lane.

Joe dashed down the narrow thoroughfare. It struck him then that Sam Lee was afraid of being followed and was trying to shake off any possible pursuit.

He did not see his quarry in the lane but when he came out into the next street he caught a fleeting glimpse of the old Chinaman just disappearing around the corner. Sam Lee was headed toward the docks.

Joe quickened his pace, then broke into a run. At the corner he was in time to see Sam Lee near the waterfront. The old fellow had evidently concluded that he had eluded any possible pursuit by now, for he was shuffling along at an ordinary gait. Joe hurried up behind him.

"Sam Lee!" he said softly.

The old man turned quickly. There was a frightened light in his eyes, but when he recognized Joe Hardy he looked relieved.

"Hello!" he said. "How are you, boy?"

Sam Lee had been in the laundry business in Bayport for years. He spoke good English with only a trace of an accent.

"What's the matter, Sam? Have you sold your shop? We miss you."

"Yes," he said. "I do not run the laundry any more. I have rented it."

"To Louie Fong?"

"Yes. To Louie Fong."

"He's a queer customer, that fellow," said Joe. "I don't think he's a laundryman any more than I am. What's behind this business, Sam Lee?"

"You ask questions," said Sam Lee thoughtfully. "Why?"

"Look here, Sam," replied Joe. "You've known me for a long time. You know you can trust me. I've been acquainted with you for a good many years, too. What made you quit the laundry business so suddenly without saying a word to anyone?"

Sam Lee was silent for a moment.

"Louie Fong wanted to rent my place. He offered me a good price. I took it. That is all."

"There's more to it than that, Sam. You can't fool me. Frank and I have been trying to get some information about this Louie Fong. He's mixed up in some queer business. What do you know about it?"

Sam Lee looked cautiously about.

"It is dangerous for me to talk about Louie Fong," he answered.

"What connection," asked Joe abruptly, "has Louie Fong with Orrin North?"

Sam Lee's eyelids flickered. He could not conceal his surprise at this question.

"How do you know," he asked, "that Louie Fong and Mr. North are working together?"

"I'm sure that something queer is going on but I don't know what it is."

"It is not my affair," returned Sam Lee. "I am an honest man."

"Then it's a dishonest business that they're in?" said Joe quickly.

Sam Lee saw that he had given himself away. But he was discreet.

"It is not my affair," he repeated.

"And yet you rent your laundry to Louie Fong?" insisted Joe.

"I could not help that. Louie Fong is a cruel man, a hard master. If I do not do as he says–it would mean trouble," and the gentle old Chinaman shrugged his shoulders eloquently.

Joe remembered what Orrin North had said about the accusations levelled against him. He hazarded a question.

"Are Louie Fong and Orrin North smuggling Chinamen into the country?"

Sam Lee started. He looked hastily around, as if fearful that someone might have overheard Joe's remark.

"Who told you that?" he demanded quietly.

"Never mind. But I want to know more about it. Is that the game they're in?"

"I may speak safely? You will tell no one that you talked to me?"

"Of course,'' Joe assured him. ''Everything is in confidence."

"Louie Fong is indeed in league with Orrin North," he admitted. "They are smuggling Chinamen into the country. Louie Fong pays North to bring them here in his ships. These men think they will make their fortunes once they are in America. But when they reach here they find that they are the slaves of Louie Pong."

"How is that?"

"It is very simple," continued Sam Lee. "These Chinamen know they have not entered the country according to law. They know that they will be deported if they are found out. They are afraid of that. When they are taken off the ships they are sent at once to Louie Fong. He finds work for them. But always he demands part of their wages."

"Until they have paid what they owe him for bringing them into the country?"

Sam Lee smiled bitterly.

"They would save money if they paid the head tax in the first place. They always keep handing part of their wages to Louie Fong. Year after year."

"But that's sheer blackmail!" exclaimed Joe in amazement at this story of cold-blooded extortion.

"If they object, if they do not pay-then the authorities receive word to investigate them. Then they are deported. But they do not refuse to pay."

Joe realized that he had stumbled upon a secret of tremendous importance. Orrin North and the rascally Chinaman were leagued in a great scheme of smuggling and blackmail in which they mercilessly exploited the poor coolies who fell into their clutches. Orrin North, then, was really guilty of the very crime of which he claimed he had been unjustly accused.

With a shock Joe realized why his own father had been employed by Orrin North to investigate the rumors of smuggling. Fenton Hardy was merely being used as a foil in case the authorities should investigate. Joe saw that his father had been skillfully trapped into becoming an unwitting assistant of criminals. With Fenton Hardy ostensibly working to run down the smugglers on behalf of Orrin North the authorities would take North's innocence for granted. Fenton Hardy's reputation for honesty would take care of that.

But if the truth came out–what then? His father's reputation would be ruined. It would be held that he had been a mere tool of the smuggling gang. The more he considered it the more Joe saw that the situation was serious. With all his heart he wished he could get in touch with his father before anything further developed.

Sam Lee touched him gently on the arm.

"You will tell no one you were talking to me?" said the Chinaman.

"My brother. But no one else."

"I am in hiding. No one must know I have been in Bayport."

"Where are you hiding, Sam? Where can I find you if I want to get in touch with you?"

"Up the river." Sam Lee then described to Joe the location of the refuge he had chosen. "Should you need me," he said, "you can find me there. I will help you if I can."

"You don't like Louie Fong, then?"

Sam Lee's face hardened.

"I should like to see him thrown in jail," he returned. "He is a cruel man. But I dare not fight against him myself. He would kill me."

"And Orrin North?"

"He would not kill. But he is a bad man. He should be in jail, too."

"And that's where he'll land if Frank and I have anything to say about it," declared Joe, as he thought of the dangerous position into which his father had evidently been maneuvered.

Then he remembered Tom Wat. The plight of the little Chinaman was a constant source of worry as long as he remained in the Hardy home. Joe knew that as soon as Aunt Gertrude was able to be up and about again it would be only a matter of time before the presence of the secret guest would be discovered.

"Do you know Tom Wat?" he asked.

"Yes," said Sam Lee, "I know him well. Like me, he does not like Louie Fong."

"Louie Fong has tried to kill him. Twice. He is hidden at our house."

"Ah?" said Sam Lee in surprise.

"We won't be able to keep him there much longer. You say you have a good hiding place up the river. Now, how about taking Tom Wat up there with you? He'll be safe enough then."

Sam Lee considered the matter.

"Tom Wat is a good boy," he said. "If you can send him to me I will see that he shares my hiding place."

"That's fine!" exclaimed Joe, greatly relieved. "Frank and I will see that he is taken to your secret house as soon as possible. It's mighty good of you, Sam."

"Friend must help friend," murmured Sam Lee, as he turned to go. "We shall meet again, boy. I have told you where I may be found. I have told you what I know about Louie Fong. I trust you."

"You won't regret it, Sam Lee," Joe assured him warmly.

CHAPTER XXI

PERIL UNDERGROUND

When he crashed through the hidden trapdoor Frank Hardy plunged into the basement beneath. He was stunned by the impact of his fall but he was not knocked unconscious. For a while he lay sprawled on the floor, trying to recover his breath.

Then he sat up, felt his bruises and satisfied himself that no bones were broken. He was badly shaken. It was a miracle, he told himself, that he had not broken his neck.

But Frank was not yet out of the woods. He could see the opening in the floor above but it was beyond his reach. When he looked around the gloomy little cellar into which he had tumbled he saw nothing that would help him reach the trap-door.

He picked himself up and began to explore the underground room. He had gone hardly three steps before he stumbled against an object on the floor.

Frank started back in astonishment. A human figure lay among the rubbish at his feet.

Frank knelt down. In the dim light he could just distinguish the man's face. It was that of Louie Fong!

His first thought was that the evil man was dead. The prone figure did not stir. With a shock he remembered the sounds of struggle behind the partition. Had Sam Lee murdered Louie Fong?

Then he heard a deep groan. Louie Fong's lips twitched. He stirred slightly.

Frank withdrew into the dark shadows of the cellar.

Louie Fong groaned again. His eyes opened. He lay there for a while, then sat up painfully and rubbed his head. He had either been dealt a severe blow on the head or else he had been knocked senseless by his fall through the trapdoor. He was groggy.

At last the Chinaman struggled to his feet. He muttered to himself, still rubbing his head. Unsteadily, he lurched across the cellar. Then he tugged at an iron ring set into the wall.

Frank had noticed this ring but had paid scant attention to it. It had not struck him that it might indicate an exit.

Louie Fong drew the ring toward him, and silently part of the wall gave way. A door swung slowly open and revealed a dim passage beyond.

The Chinaman stumbled down the passage.

He was so groggy, however, that he did not shut the door behind him. Swiftly Frank followed.

The passage was so dark that the boy had little fear of being seen, but he kept at a respectful distance behind. The Chinaman reached a flight of stairs and ascended.

Frank was puzzled. He knew that the laundry was only a small building. This passage doubtless led beneath the adjacent lot. Then he remembered that there was an empty store beside the laundry. This, doubtless, was the place to which the alley would open.

Louie Fong went up the stairs, opened another door and went on. Frank followed in the semi-darkness, and reached the doorway in time to see the Chinaman enter a room, which was furnished in Oriental style. There were a few screens, a hanging lantern, a mirror upon the wall. Beyond the room was a half-open door, through which Frank could hear a confused murmur of voices.

Louie Fong stood at the door for a moment, peering into the room beyond. Then he turned, and looked at himself in the mirror. Frank saw that he was badly battered. The Chinaman had a black eye and there was a big bruise on his forehead.

The Chinaman studied his reflection in the glass. Then, instead of going into the other room he stepped toward a side door, opened it and disappeared.

Frank hesitated. Should he follow Louie Fong, or should he make an investigation of that other room?

It occurred to him that the Chinaman did not want to face the others because of his battered appearance. Frank stepped in quietly. Then he heard a familiar voice.

"Come on, now! Kick in with that money, every man of you. Ten dollars each."

The voice was that of Orrin North!

"Ten dollars each and I want it right away," North's voice continued. "If I don't get it you'll find yourselves in jail. And then you'll be packed back to China in a hurry."

A whimpering voice replied:

"Tendolla' all I got."

"What's that to me?"

There was a gabbled mutter of protest in Chinese. Another voice said:

"Why don't you leave them alone, North? They've already paid you. Why make them cough up more?"

"You mind your own business," snarled North. "I'm running this show."

Frank crept forward, and peered into the next room.

There were a dozen men in the place. Three Chinamen sat at a table with two sailors. Over in a corner crouched a group of frightened coolies, wretchedly clad. It was evident that they had just disembarked. Orrin North towered over them, his red face brutal, his hand extended.

"Hurry up!" he rasped. "Ten dollars from each of you. If you don't want to go back to China you'd better hand it over."

Meekly, one of the coolies took a few worm bills from his pocket and gave them to the ship owner. The others, muttering their objections, followed suit.

"That's better," growled North, stuffing the money into his pocket. "You'll work harder if you haven't any money to start with."

He laughed callously and strode over to the table, where he sat down. The coolies eyed him, frightened.

"Well," declared Orrin North, rubbing his hands briskly, "that's a good day's work."

"You shouldn't have taken all their money," grunted one of the sailors.

"Why not?" barked North. "I was lucky to get in here before Louie Fong got at them. He'd have taken it if he'd got to them first, you can depend on it."

He chuckled.

"Mighty good joke on Louie," he said complacently.

"I wonder where Louie is, anyway," asked the sailor. "It ain't like him to stay away so long."

"It cost him fifty bucks and serves him right," laughed North.

"You're smart, Mr. North," said the other tailor admiringly.

"Of course I'm smart," agreed North. "I'm a rich man and you don't get rich unless you're smart, let me tell you. And you don't stay long in this smuggling game unless you're mighty smart. But I've got that all fixed up. There's only one man could trip me up and I have him out of the way."

"Who's that?"

"Fenton Hardy."

"The detective!"

"Some detective," laughed North. "Why, say–as a detective, this fellow Hardy is a joke. I've got him helping me and he doesn't know it. And besides, he's out of town. Things can move nicely now. I think I'm clever to get a famous fellow like that out from under my nose."

He laughed, slapping the table. The sailors, who were evidently in his employ and fearful of offending their master, laughed also. The Chinamen said nothing.

"Yes, sir," declared North, "it takes a clever man to outwit Fenton Hardy and the government all at the same time."

Suddenly Frank became aware that he was not the only watcher. Partly hidden by some paper flowers on the opposite wall he noticed a narrow slit in the woodwork.

Beyond this slit he saw a pair of eyes! The eyes were fixed intently on Orrin North.

''Yep!'' gloated the ship owner. ''It takes a smart man to beat me at this game. How long would Louie Fong last without me? Why, he wouldn't last a minute. Who thought of freezing Sam Lee out of the laundry and putting Louie in there? Why, it was me."

"That was a good stunt, all right."

"And who thought of buying this empty store and fixing up a passage to the laundry? Me, again. The police wouldn't get wise to this place in a hundred years."

Suddenly one of the Chinamen leaned across the table, and spoke sharply to Orrin North. With a mutter of alarm the man swung around in his chair. He looked directly toward the slit in the wall. He saw the eyes!

North's hand flew to his pocket. He wrenched out a revolver, raised it and fired. Instantly the room was in an uproar. The two sailors sprang up from their chairs. The coolies gabbled in terror. The other Chinamen rushed for the door.

"A spy!" roared North. He fired again. But the mysterious eyes had vanished.

"Come on!" shouted one of the sailors. "We'll catch him outside."

''No!" yelled North. ''We can't have everybody running out of here. The police would get wise. I'll go myself."

He strode across the room, wrenched open a door and disappeared. Frank was afraid the search might result in his own discovery, so he leaped quickly toward the door through which Louie Fong had vanished. Fortunately it was not locked. He opened it and ran out.

It opened on a short, dark hall. Frank sped through the gloom, raced to the door at the end of the hall, flung it open. He found himself outside.

There, huddled in a heap at the bottom of the step he found Louie Fong. The Chinaman lay unconscious.

Frank knelt down and shook the prostrate figure. The man opened his eyes and muttered something in a dull voice.

Was Louie Fong the man who had been spying through the slit in the wall? And had Orrin North shot him?

Frank dragged the Chinaman to his feet. Louie Fong was scarcely able to stand.

At that moment Joe dashed around the corner of the building.

"What's the matter?" he gasped. "I went back to the laundry and you weren't there. I heard shots." Then he saw the Chinaman.

''Louie Fong,'' said Frank swiftly. ''Quick! Help me get him out of here. He's been shot or slugged. Hurry."

Without another word Joe grabbed the Oriental by the arm. They hustled him around the side of the store and out into the alley at the back. Frank was in momentary fear lest they run into Orrin North, but the ship owner's search had evidently taken him to the other side of the building.

"Where shall we take him?" asked Joe.

"Down to the garage. Let's put him in our car," snapped Frank. "He's so groggy he doesn't know what he's doing."

By making Louie Fong a captive, reflected Frank, they would gain great headway in their campaign against the smuggling ring. And, whatever had happened to him, the Chinaman scarcely seemed to be in his right senses. He staggered and would have fallen if they had not been holding him by the arms.

Fortunately they met no one in the alley. It ran parallel to High Street and brought them to the rear of their own garage. They hustled Louie Fong into the building.

"Let's look him over and see if he'd wounded," Frank suggested. "Orrin North shot at a man who was watching through the….

"Orrin North!" exclaimed Joe in astonishment. "Where did all this happen?"

"I'll tell you later. I've had some adventures since you left me."

"And I've picked up some information."

Louie Fong sagged suddenly. He had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Though he was not wounded, they found a huge bump on his head, and Frank judged that this was the cause of his condition.

"Sam Lee must have walloped him on the head and shoved him into the cellar. He came to, all right, but he went under again," said Frank. "Here, we'll put him in the car."

They hoisted the limp figure into the roadster.

"But who was the peeping stranger?" exclaimed Frank in bewilderment.

CHAPTER XXII