Free The Missing Chums by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

from Northport the day of the bank robbery. Is he linked with both cases? And is his pal Sutton? And where do the fights at Shantytown fit in?”
    â€œThat’s for us to find out,” Frank said determinedly. “Especially since the answer might lead us to Chet and Biff. We’re pretty sure they were in Shantytown—since we found Chet’s gorilla mask off the coast there, and his sleeve was picked up behind Sutton’s shack.”
    The excitement suddenly faded from Joe’s face. “Maybe our hunches are on the wrong track. After all, Fizzle could be sold in other places besides Northport—and we have no proof the bald guy left the bottle in the Sleuth.”
    â€œDon’t be a pessimist,” Frank begged. “Remember what Dad says: ‘Persistence is just as important as cleverness in detective work.’ ”
    â€œYes, and a little luck helps, too. Don’t worry. It’s just that we have so many mysteries to solve. Which one do we tackle next?” The ringing of the telephone interrupted. Frank answered.
    â€œGlad to find you home,” came Chief Collig’s familiar voice. “Maybe you can help me. We have a man down here—been brought in for stealing. He seems to think you and Joe can clear him.”
    â€œJoe and I?” repeated Frank, astonished. “Why ... what’s his name? What does he look like?”
    â€œHe’s a big, strong fellow—a stevedore. Calls himself Alf.”

CHAPTER XI
    Midnight Caller
    â€œALF Lundborg a thief!” Frank exclaimed. “I can’t believe it! We’ll be right down, Chief Collig,” he promised.
    â€œI don’t buy it,” Joe said flatly as they started out. “What’s the pitch?”
    Frank shrugged and hurried off to inform his mother of the errand, while Joe locked the laboratory. Then the brothers rushed downtown on their motorcycles to Chief Collig’s office.
    â€œWhere’s Alf?” asked Joe, looking around as he entered.
    â€œWe’re holding him in a cell until I talk to you boys,” the officer explained.
    â€œHe’s the man we told you about yesterday,” Frank reminded the chief. “The one who helped us in Shantytown. If it hadn’t been for him, Sutton would have cracked my skull with a blackjack.”
    â€œI remember,” the chief replied. “Sutton’s the cause of his arrest.” Before the surprised boys could speak, he added, “I’ll let Lundborg tell you himself.” Over his intercom he ordered the suspect brought in.
    â€œI don’t believe Alf’s a thief,” Frank said.
    â€œBut he does have a record for petty theft and disturbing the peace,” Chief Collig said soberly. “That makes it look bad for him.”
    â€œHow long ago was that?” Joe asked.
    â€œAlf’s last brush with the law was five years ago,” Collig replied. “He claims he was just a wild kid at the time.”
    The door opened and Alf stood on the threshold. His giant frame almost hid the sergeant behind him. When he saw the Hardys, his troubled face lighted up instantly.
    â€œI knew you fellows wouldn’t let me down,” he burst out. “Tell the chief I didn’t take it!”
    â€œTake what, Alf?” said Frank.
    â€œThe police found a transistor radio in my knapsack,” the big man explained, “but I didn’t put it there!”
    â€œSutton reported it stolen,” the officer said. “We sent out Lieutenant Daley to investigate, and he found it in Lundborg’s bag.”
    â€œIs Lieutenant Daley still here?” Frank asked. “Would you have him come in?” Collig nodded.
    A few minutes later a tall, thin-faced officer entered. He and the Hardys had known one another for years and exchanged greetings. “Lieutenant Daley,” Frank said, “when you were hunting for the radio who suggested that you look in Alf’s