Free The Firebird Rocket by Franklin W. Dixon

woke him up and told him what had happened. He was just about finished when the telephone rang. Joe picked it up.
    He heard a muffled voice say, “If you want information on Dr. Jenson, be at the Botany Bay Coffeehouse in King’s Cross in one hour!”

CHAPTER X
    A Spy in the Crowd
    â€œWHO are you and how will we know you?” Joe asked.
    â€œI’ll know you, and that’s all that matters.” The phone went dead. Joe relayed the message to Frank and Chet.
    â€œSounds like a trap,” he added. “Probably another one of our shadow’s tricks.”
    â€œI think we should chance it,” Frank said. “We don’t have any other leads in the case.”
    There was a knock on the door. Frank walked over to it and asked, “Who is it?”
    â€œPonsley.” It was their friend’s familiar voice. Frank let him in and brought him up-to-date on the latest news.
    â€œSuppose,” Ponsley said, “I go along and trail behind you. If the crooks gang up on you, I’ll call for help.”
    â€œGreat idea!” Joe said. “How about you, Chet?”
    Chet was awake by now, and felt better. “Of course, I’m coming, too,” he said.
    â€œWait a minute,” Frank objected. “I think it will be better if we split forces. You stay here, Chet, and if we’re not back in an hour, alert the police. If you come along, they might get all of us and no one would know we’re missing.”
    â€œOkay,” Chet agreed readily. The thought of being caught did not appeal to him at all. Ponsley looked a bit doubtful, too, but did not retract his offer.
    The three left, and just before the hour was up, the Hardys entered the Botany Bay Coffeehouse, a popular gathering place for Australians of all types from Sydney businessmen to shop girls, office workers, and people in the arts. Like most Aussies, they seemed to have a sun-tanned breezy look about them that the boys liked. Over coffee and tea, a babble of cheerful voices could be heard.
    Frank and Joe sat down at a table in a corner and ordered coffee. They surveyed the room without spotting a familiar face until Ponsley walked in. He took a table on the opposite side of the room, winked to indicate that he was keeping them under surveillance, and told a waitress to bring him a pot of tea.
    â€œYou’re right on time,” a voice said at Frank’s elbow. “You must be interested.”
    It was the porter from the hotel Dr. Jenson had stayed in!
    The man sat down and accepted a cup of coffee. “Look, mates,” he said in a low tone, “I know about Dr. Jenson. I opened the door for him and the two blokes who were with him. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was drugged. When they pushed him into the car, he began to struggle. I went out to see what was going on, and I heard him mutter something.”
    â€œWhat was it?” Frank asked eagerly.
    â€œHe said ‘Alice Springs’ just before they slammed the door and drove off!”
    â€œWhy didn’t you mention this before?” Joe inquired.
    â€œI told the manager. He said he didn’t want any trouble, and that I might have made a mistake. That’s why I couldn’t tell you at the hotel that I recognized Jenson’s photo. After thinking it over, I thought you should know that he wasn’t drunk. He was drugged!”
    The porter drained his coffee cup and, after accepting some money from Frank in payment for his information, he rose to his feet. He was due back at the hotel and strode off. The Hardys stared at each other in consternation.
    Joe broke the silence. “Now we know what Al S stands for. Alice Springs! She must be the leader of the kidnap gang. Maybe she’s holding Jenson a prisoner right now here in Sydney!”
    â€œJoe, Alice Springs isn’t a person. It’s a place—a town way off in the Outback in the middle of the country. Jenson left a message