Free The Hidden Harbor Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon

Joe and Chet stepped into the light. “You saw Mr. Blackstone strike Professor Rand, and you saw us come to ask about it. We know there’s something peculiar going on, and we are trying to find out what it is.”
    â€œI’m not talking to you.” The thin old man’s eyes flashed in sudden anger. “You’ve got no business here. Timmy!” He turned to the lad. “Did you show these folks where to find me?”
    An eye and a forehead peered around a cask. “No, Grandpa,” came Timmy’s small voice.
    â€œYou come on out here,” Grover ordered. “We’ve been found. There’ll be a heap of trouble for you and me now.”
    â€œWe’re sorry,” Frank said kindly, as the little boy crept timidly to his grandfather’s side. “We don’t intend any harm. I don’t think you realize how important it is for us to talk to you. Somebody’s been trying to kill us, or at least scare us off this case. Professor Rand might tell us why, but he has evidently disappeared. Unless you help us, we haven’t a chance of straightening things out.”
    As briefly as possible, Frank explained to the elderly retainer why the boys had come to Larchmont. While he spoke, the old servant watched him closely. The anger faded from his eyes, and the lines of his face deepened with concern.
    â€œI just knew, if they started that feud up again there wasn’t any good going to come of it!” Grover sighed. “All right, sir, I’ll tell you folks what I can. I don’t like trouble. The faster everything’s cleared up, the happier lots of folks will be.”
    â€œDid Mr. Blackstone send you here to hide from us?” Joe queried.
    â€œYes, sir, he did,” Grover admitted. “From Mr. Worth, too. And he sent Miss Shringle some money to go off and visit her relatives.”
    â€œSo you were here the whole time, instead of in Chicago,” Joe continued.
    â€œMr. Blackstone wanted me to go out there,” Grover admitted. “But when a body gets as old as I am, he’s kind of scared to ride in trains or airplanes way off a thousand miles away from where he’s been living all his life. So I said I’d keep snug in this beverage room, instead. I suppose you guessed this is the old plantation kitchen passage. Both sides of the family know about it.”
    â€œYou’ve been with the Blackstones a long time?” Chet spoke up.
    â€œAll my life, sir. My father served the Blackstones, and his father did, too. Used to be a grand family, way back.”
    â€œBut why did this Mr. Blackstone make you hide out?” Joe prompted. “Because we’d ask you about the quarrel we saw?”
    â€œYes. The two gentlemen are fighting over that pond again. But somehow they don’t want people to know they’re fighting over it. Soon as Mr. Blackstone hit Mr. Rand with that vase, I switched off the lights—in case somebody was watching.”
    â€œBut how did you cover it up so fast?” Joe wondered.
    â€œOh, Mr. Blackstone and I carried Professor Rand into the next room. Then we swept the broken pieces of the vase under a rug. Mr. Blackstone put on his relaxing jacket and set that twin vase on his desk. He opened up his book. Then I went and let you boys in.”
    â€œProfessor Rand’s all right, then?” Frank inquired.
    â€œYes, he came round after an hour, mad as a wet hen. Couldn’t complain much though, because they didn’t want to attract anybody’s attention about their arguing over the land. After Professor Rand left, Mr. Blackstone said that he wanted me to go to Chicago for a while.”
    â€œDo you know where the professor is staying?” Frank asked.
    Grover shrugged. “If he’s gone, I don’t know where he’s keepin’ himself. Timmy, have you seen Mr. Rand around lately?”
    â€œNo, Grandpa,” replied the lad meekly. With round eyes,