Free What Happened at Midnight by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

snapped.
    â€œYou’ll move now! This is my table you’re sittin’ at, and I mean to have it!”
    The young sleuths were infuriated by the intrusion. Unknowingly the man was putting them in a difficult position. If they stood up to walk to another table, Chris would surely spot them and might escape before the police arrived! If they remained where they were, they probably would be discovered, since the incident was beginning to attract attention.
    Frank signaled a waiter standing nearby.
    â€œWhat’s the trouble, Mr. Melvin?” he asked.
    â€œThese kids are sittin’ at my table,” Melvin protested. “Make‘em move!”
    The waiter looked uneasy. “I can’t ask these young men to move, Mr. Melvin. They were here first.”
    â€œAin‘tIagood customer of this restaurant?”
    â€œYes, indeed. But there are plenty of other tables, sir. If you don’t mind—”
    â€œI do mind. These boys can get outta here or I won’t come back to this restaurant again!” Melvin shouted.
    Frank saw that Chris and his friend had turned and were looking in the Hardys’ direction. At once Chris spoke to the sharp-featured man, who nodded. Then both darted toward the kitchen door and disappeared through it.
    Joe said to the waiter, “We’re not afraid of this fellow, but we’ll leave just to save trouble.”
    The boys got up. Melvin, breathing defiance and declaring that no person could sit at his table and get away with it, promptly sat down in the seat Frank had just vacated.
    Joe dashed to the back of the restaurant and whirled into the kitchen. Chris and his friend were not in sight, but a back door was open and Joe assumed the men had ducked outside and up a delivery alley to the street. He hurried back into the restaurant.
    Frank had hastened to the cashier’s desk and paid the boys’ check. Then he ran up the front steps and into the street. The police had not arrived.
    Joe joined his brother. “Chris left by the back door,” he said. “He should be coming up that alley.” When the two men did not put in an appearance, he added, “You stay here, Frank. I’ll run down.”
    Joe returned in a short time. “Come on!” he cried, and explained that the alley joined another one that led to the busy street beyond. They followed it to the sidewalk, which was teeming with pedestrians. Chris was not in sight.
    â€œWe’ve really lost him this time,” Joe commented in disgust.
    â€œI have an idea,” Frank said. “Let’s walk along this street in opposite directions for about ten or twelve blocks. I’ll head downtown, you uptown. There’s a slight chance one of us might spot Chris.”
    â€œBut he might have gone cross town,” Joe argued.
    â€œYou’re right. But what have we to lose?”
    â€œOkay, Frank, I’m game. But there’s just one hitch. If I should see Chris, how do I let you know and vice versa?”
    Frank looked around and pointed to a public-telephone booth. He walked over and jotted down the number.
    Rejoining his brother, he said, “We’ll meet back here in half an hour. However, if one of us gets back and the other isn’t here, I say stay by the phone and wait for a call.” He handed Joe a copy of the number and took one himself.
    â€œHere’s hoping!” Joe declared with a grin as the boys went their separate ways.
    Frank walked along slowly, dividing his attention between weaving among pedestrians and searching for his quarry. When he had covered nearly fifteen blocks, Frank decided to work his way back on the opposite side of the street.
    He stopped for a moment at an amusement arcade to watch the people playing the various coin-operated machines.
    As Frank was about to continue walking, his eyes widened in surprise. Toward the rear of the arcade a big fair-haired man was engaged in conversation with three