Free The Shore Road Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

for sure he’s in league with Birnham—and not just for farm work. That sword cane didn’t look very innocent.”
    â€œBut good for puncturing tires!” Joe added, remembering the flats reported on some cars near the stolen ones.
    In Bridgewater the brothers stopped at a drugstore, had lunch, then purchased a town map which also had a list of the hotels in the immediate area. They were fewer in number than those in Bayport. The Hardys checked all but two in an hour. At this point, they entered one at the east end of town. The desk clerk immediately recognized Slagel’s picture.
    â€œYes, he checked in today. Name of Wright. He just dropped his things off, then asked directions to the telegraph office.”
    Frank and Joe headed for the office a block away. Inside, a woman behind a typewriter affirmed the fact that a Slagel had sent a message out, though she was not permitted to divulge its contents.
    As the boys walked away, Frank said, “Joe, sometimes when a person sends a telegram, he makes a draft of it first.” He saw a wastebasket beneath a writing counter and hurried over. It took him only a second to find a torn piece of yellow paper with Slagel’s name at the bottom. When he found the second half, the boys left the office excitedly. Outside, they pieced the halves together and read the message:
    MORE NERVE NOW. TRYING FOR 8-CYLINDER STOCK. TAKING CARE OF TWO FRIENDS. ATTEND TO THEM WHEN JOB DONE IN WEEK OR SO. EXPECT YOU FOR SHIPMENT TOMORROW.
    The message was addressed to Carlton Melliman in New York City.
    â€œCarlton Melliman-C. M.,” Joe mused. “Frank! He must be our mysterious visitor who wouldn’t give his name. And the ‘8-cylinder’ busi. ness—that cinches Slagel’s connection with the Shore Road gang!”
    Frank nodded. “It fits. I wonder how Melliman figures in. ‘Two friends’ might refer to Mr. Dodd and Jack, which gives us only a week before—We’re going to have to work fast!”
    â€œIf we only knew what this ‘shipment’ is and where it’s going,” Joe murmured.
    The Hardys stopped at an outside phone booth and Frank dialed his home. Mrs. Hardy answered. “I’m glad you called,” she said. “Your father phoned a little while ago, and gave me a list of things for you boys to look up in his file—information to help him on his case. He’s going to call back tonight at ten for your data.”
    â€œWe’re on our way,” Frank assured her.
    When they reached home, the brothers washed and changed, then started work. Among the items their father had requested were the first dates of manufacture of various foreign weapons and ammunition, as well as serial numbers for certain guns made abroad.
    The job took most of the afternoon. The boys had almost finished when Frank exclaimed, “Joel Remember? The grenade and those machine-gun bullets were of foreign make.”
    â€œSure enough! You think they have a connection with Dad’s arms-smuggling case?”
    â€œPossibly, since we’re pretty sure they were used by thieves.”
    After supper Frank and Joe handed Mrs. Hardy the data they had compiled and asked her to relay it to their father. “We’ll get back to our case now, Mother,” Joe explained. “Please give Dad our regards.”
    The boys had decided to cycle along Pembroke Road. Seeing nothing suspicious, they returned to Shore Road. As they approached the intersection, the sun was setting. There was no traffic.
    â€œLet’s cruise south,” Frank proposed.
    â€œRight.”
    The young sleuths turned onto Shore Road, with Joe in the lead. Some distance along they had reached a section of the road with a sheer drop to the left and a steep rocky formation on their right, when Joe happened to glance back out to sea. He gave a start, then beckoned Frank to turn around. When they were facing north, Joe pointed toward a high