Free Too Many Traitors by Franklin W. Dixon

her, Joe."
    "We can trust her," Joe said. "Look at how she's helped us so far." But doubt was creeping into his voice. The sails on the boat had shifted, and the boat picked up speed, cruising away from them. Had she seen them, he wondered. Had she told the captain to leave them adrift there? It was the only explanation he could think of.
    "Look!" Frank said excitedly. "It's turning." The wind had caught the sails and was moving the sailboat rapidly back toward them. "I take it all back," he told Joe. "Elena's great."
    Ropes were tossed down as the sailboat cruised past them, and the Hardys grabbed the ropes and tied them around their waists. One by one they were pulled onto the deck, and Joe smiled at Elena as he rose.
    "You were lucky the little lady saw you, boys," said one of the men who had brought them aboard. He was tall and red-faced, and his voice had a familiar twang. "And here we thought she was fooling us when she said some fellow Americans needed a ride. You oughtn't to have been late though. Made her look like a liar."
    "Sorry about that. We ran into a little trouble. You're Texan?" Joe asked, unable to believe his ears. "I'm Joe, and this is my brother, Frank."
    Frank nodded and peeled off his wet shirt.
    "Sam," the Texan replied. He pointed to a rugged-looking man at the wheel. "That's Jimmy Luke. You boys easterners, hey? Well, I guess not everyone can be born lucky. You better get out of those wet clothes. The sun'll dry them out by the time we hit Malaga, and there are some swim trunks in the hold you can wear in the meantime."
    "Thanks," Frank said. "When do you expect we'll reach Malaga?" He and Joe walked toward the hold.
    "A couple hours at the rate we're going," Sam replied. "You all just relax and enjoy yourselves, y'hear?"
    "Thanks again," Joe said. "We really appreciate this."
    Sam winked. "Think nothing of it. What are countrymen for, right?" As the boat straightened out its course, he called after the Hardys, "But the next time you go swimming, you ought to dress for it."
    "Is there something wrong?" Elena asked Frank as they climbed onto the pier at Malaga. Frank had been frowning.
    "I'd still like to know how the cops knew to expect us at the harbor," he said. "You never explained that."
    "I cannot explain," Elena said desperately. "I had nothing to do with it. You must believe me."
    "We do," Joe said, stepping between her and his brother. "Inspector Melendez probably notified every cop on the Costa del Sol to be on the lookout for us. All it would have taken was for one to spot us. For all we know, they think we're in Algeciras by now, just as we planned."
    "Look, I'm sorry," Frank said to Elena. "But this is a life-or-death situation. We can't afford to ignore all the possibilities."
    "I forgive you." But Elena's voice trembled as she spoke. She pressed close to Joe, and he put a comforting arm around her. "I only wanted to help."
    "You have," Joe said, and he glowered at Frank. "A lot. If that's settled, we'd better figure out where we go from here."
    "The bus," Frank said, and both Joe and Elena stared at him in surprise. "We're running out of money," he explained, "so we'd better get to the hotel and try to get our travelers' checks. It'll be risky, but if the police are convinced we're on our way to Africa, security might be lax."
    "Plus," Joe said, "if Martin really gave us something, it's got to be in our stuff. I think the only way we're going to crack this thing open is to find the information. So where do we catch a bus?"
    "Right this way," Elena said.
    After a slow, crowded ride back into central Malaga, they arrived in front of their hotel.
    "It's quiet," Joe said as he stepped off the bus. "Too quiet. It might be a trap."
    "No," said Elena. "Siesta time. It's customary during lunch for the stores to close up. Everyone goes home to eat and sleep. The hotel should be just as quiet."
    They reached the front door and Frank looked in. In the lobby three people sat in armchairs, reading