Free A Figure in Hiding by Franklin W. Dixon

number. “Hmm. I wonder ...”
    Frank dialed Information and asked for the number of Izmir Motors in Ocean City. It checked with the number on the pad!
    â€œNow we’re getting some place!” Joe exclaimed. “Let’s hop over to Ocean City right away!”
    The boys caught a bus which dropped them not far from the repair garage. They got their car and drove to Izmir Motors.
    This time, the Hardys walked straight through the showroom to Sykes’ office. His face seemed to turn a shade paler as he caught sight of the brothers. He gave them a smile, took off his glasses, and began polishing them nervously.
    â€œCome in, boys! ... Please sit down.”
    Frank and Joe were struck by his change in manner.
    â€œI suppose you’ve heard what happened to us the other night,” Frank said coolly.
    â€œWhy, yes—yes, I did. The police informed me. A terrible thing! It upset me very much.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell us that was your boss’s car when we gave you the license number?” Joe demanded.
    Sykes looked embarrassed. “Believe me, I didn’t know. Our office only keeps a record of the licenses of salesmen’s cars and demonstrators—and Mr. Izmir wasn’t here at the time.”
    â€œYou sure weren’t very cooperative.”
    â€œTo tell the truth, I’d had a call about you two fellows,” Sykes said sheepishly.
    â€œWhat sort of a call?” Frank asked.
    â€œAn anonymous phone tip the previous afternoon—Wednesday, that is. It was a man’s voice. He warned me that two young fellows might drop in, trying to trace a license number. He said you were really a pair of gyps—shakedown artists. You were just setting things up to make a fake accident claim against a car owned by someone connected with Izmir Motors.”
    Joe gave the sales manager a scornful look. “You didn’t even try to get his name?”
    Sykes shrugged. “He hung up before I could ask. But I was still on my guard when you two walked in. Naturally I wasn’t going to go out of my way to help you.”
    â€œWell, maybe you can help us now,” Frank said. “Have you ever heard of a man named Lambert—or Spotty Lemuel?”
    The sales manager shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”
    â€œHere’s a picture of him.” Frank held out a photograph, borrowed from Mr. Hardy’s files.
    Sykes looked at it and again shook his head. “Never saw him in my life. Why?”
    â€œBecause he’s mixed up in the case we’re working on,” Frank said, “and we have proof that he called Izmir Motors three times recently.”
    Sykes seemed startled and offered to check the firm’s file of customers and prospects. But he soon came back and reported that his clerks could find no record of either name.
    â€œWe’d better speak to Mr. Izmir,” Frank said.

    The savage guard dogs raced toward them!
    Sykes gulped. “Uh—I’m afraid that’s impossible. He’s not here.”
    Joe started to ask where they could get in touch with him, but Frank quickly interrupted and said they would call back later. When they got outside, Frank explained, “I figured it might be better if Sykes didn’t know our next move. He might tip off Izmir we’re coming.”
    â€œQuick thinking,” Joe approved. “Maybe we can catch the boss man when he’s not expecting us.”
    The boys checked Malcolm Izmir’s name in a phone directory and drove to his home address. This proved to be a palatial walled estate in the hills overlooking Ocean City. Joe jabbed the gate bell repeatedly, but no one answered.
    â€œYou game to go over the top?” he asked Frank.
    Frank sized up the situation warily. “Okay. At least we can find out if he’s home.”
    The boys shinned directly over the gate.
    â€œGood thing we didn’t try climbing the wall,” Joe