Free Mystery of Smugglers Cove by Franklin W. Dixon

much time to waste,” Joe spoke up. “Do you know where Nitron goes when he comes to Egret Island, Junior?”
    â€œI once heard him mention a hill at the head of the cove, past a tall palm tree, and beyond a pond.”
    â€œAll right,” Frank said. “Joe and I’ll go and see whether we can find out anything. If the smugglers come back, just tell them we went into the woods for some coconuts, okay?”
    â€œOkay!” Junior declared. “And if you can get us all out of this racket and save our skins, I’ll never do anything illegal again!”
    Joe grinned. “We’ll take you up on that!”
    Moments later the Hardys were pushing through the undergrowth at the head of the cove. They followed a trail of broken branches and footprints in the sandy ground where the smugglers obviously had passed. The path slanted upward. Soon the boys found themselves at the top of the hill.
    â€œThere’s the palm tree,” Joe declared, pointing. “But I don’t see a pond.”
    â€œOnly one thing to do,” Frank decided. He took off his jacket and shoes, got a grip on the tree with his hands and feet, then worked his way up until he could grab the fronds and survey the area.
    â€œThere it is,” he called out. “And a barn’s on the other side. That might be the place we’re looking for. ”
    He slid down the tree and put his shoes and jacket on again. The boys went to the pond, circled around it, and stopped at a clump of scrubby trees. Through the branches they could see a long wooden barn one story high with a loft above. Dense black smoke poured from the chimney.
    â€œSomebody’s home,” Frank muttered.
    They slipped stealthily through the bushes until they stood at the side of an open window. Cautiously they peered in.
    The first thing they saw was a blazing furnace in the middle of the room. Steam poured out of its vents. Molten metal dripped into a cast-iron ramp and from there into a cast-iron vat.
    A barrel filled with lumps of lead stood on one side of the furnace, a container holding slag on the other. Ladles, scoops, and tongs lay on the floor. On the wall hung a table of astrological signs, and nearby an illustration of the planets circling the sun. Across the sun the word GOLD was written in large letters.
    â€œI don’t believe this!” Joe whispered. “It looks like the lab of a mad scientist!”
    An old man was standing near a table holding a test tube containing a golden liquid from which wisps of white vapor drifted upward. With his other hand he tugged his long white beard. He wore a golden robe dotted with black stars, and a tall hat in the shape of a cone.
    â€œGold, show thyself!” he intoned as he gazed at the test tube.

    â€œHe’s an alchemist,” Frank muttered.
    The old man set the test tube in a rack and walked to the furnace. He picked up a small ladle and, muttering to himself, looked at the molten metal dripping into the vat. Then he pushed the ladle into a pocket of his robe.
    A younger man wearing ordinary clothing came in from the back room. “Professor Viga, Nitron and his men are waiting in the woods outside.”
    â€œTell them to come into the back room, Myer. We can talk there,” the alchemist replied. Then both men left the lab and closed the door behind them. Silence fell, except for the sputtering of the furnace.
    â€œIf we go inside,” Joe suggested, “we might be able to eavesdrop.”
    Frank nodded. “Let’s climb through the window.” Grasping the frame with both hands and kicking off with his feet, he vaulted up. Then he swung his legs through the window and let himself down gently. Joe followed.
    The Hardys moved quickly toward the other side of the lab, stepping over odd gadgets and geometrical forms made of wood, metal, and stone.
    â€œThese are supposed to give you voodoo powers,” Joe whispered, pointing to a number of