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CHAPTER 18. The Crash






 

“SOMEBODY’s hurt! ” said Frank. “Come on! Let’s get Joe and Biff.”

He and Chet climbed to the top of the cliff, where their companions were waiting.

“Any sign of Johnny? ” Joe asked anxiously.

Frank shook his head and breathlessly told about the wrecked ice-yacht.

“We’ll find the nearest spot we can to climb down, ” said Joe.

Frank took the lead. The foursome, their flashlights turned on, plodded through the deepening dusk and wind-whipped snow. Finally Frank stopped at the far end of the cliff, where the terrain sloped more gently. “I think we can make it here.”

The descent seemed interminable, since the boys had to wind their way round boulders, high drifts, and in and out of thickly growing pines. At last they reached the shore and stepped onto the ice. Facing into the screaming wind, they headed towards the wrecked boat.

As the boys drew near the scene, Joe shone his beam on the tilted hull and yelled, “It’s the Hawk! ”

“Who’s the man? ” Biff called as the others rushed up.

“Hanleigh! ” Frank exclaimed with surprise.

As the Hardys and their friends carefully freed the man, he regained consciousness. Groaning loudly, he clutched his right leg. It did not appear broken, so the Hardys helped him to his feet. Hanleigh took a few steps, then insisted he was in too much pain to walk.

“I think it’s just a wrenched muscle, ” Frank muttered to Joe. “But give me a hand and we’ll carry him.”

Making a chair of their hands, Frank and Joe transported their heavy burden to the cabin, where they settled him on the sofa. Hanleigh grimaced with pain as Biff pulled off his boot. “I know my leg is broken, ” he complained bitterly. “And I nearly froze to death out there! ”

“You had no qualms about leaving Joe to freeze in the snow this afternoon, ” Frank said.

Hanleigh’s only response was a prolonged groan.

“Why’d you take the Hawk out in this storm? ” Joe asked. “You must have been desperate to pay us another visit! And in a stolen boat at that.”

“I only borrowed that old boat, ” Hanleigh growled.

“We know that isn’t true, ” Frank retorted.

Hanleigh raised his head to glare at the boys. “Cut it out! ” he snarled. “Can’t you see I’m in terrible pain? You’d better get me to a doctor fast! ”

“That’s out of the question, ” Frank said, “until the storm lets up.”

The boys exchanged uneasy glances. They realized that the violence of the storm also made it impossible to search for Johnny Jefferson.

“Hanleigh, ” Joe said sharply, “it’s high time you levelled with us. Have you seen Johnny Jefferson on this island? ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frank described the boy. “Now what about it? Have you seen him? ”

“No, ” barked Hanleigh. “I’ve seen nobody, but–“ He broke off and looked uneasy.

“But ghosts? ” Joe asked with a grin.

“You think it’s funny? You’ll find out! ”

“We’ve already caught the spook in the attic, ” said Biff. “It was the wind blowing over a lemonade bottle.”

At the look of astonishment on Hanleigh’s face, the boys laughed. “Let me alone! ” he burst out. “I don’t want to talk.”

He would say no more, but ate greedily of the hearty supper which Chet prepared. He maintained a stubborn silence, refusing to answer further questions put to him by the young sleuths.

The Hardys learned nothing from him about his interest in the fireplace or his meetings with Yussef. The boys noticed, however, that his eyes travelled frequently to the chimney.

Finally the injured man fell into a deep sleep. “At least he can’t escape, ” Joe remarked. “Too bad we can’t get some information out of him.”

“There’s one thing we can do, ” Frank said in a low tone. “Break that code.”

The boys hurried into the kitchen, and Joe closed the door. They settled down at the table with pencil and paper, the notebook turned open to the page bearing the cryptic letters. Soon all four became oblivious to the storm’s increasing fury as they concentrated on the task.

Suddenly Frank exclaimed, “I think the first and second words are ‘Cabin Island’! ”

“How can you tell? ” Chet asked.

“The number of letters are the same, ” Frank pointed to the HJOSW and SHRJWN of the code.

“Look. The words cabin and island both contain A, I, and N. So, the letter J stands for A, S for I, and W is N.”

“Terrific! ” Joe exclaimed. “Then, H is C, O is B, R equals L, and N stands for D.”

“Let’s try to find the key, ” said Frank. “I’ll set up the alphabet.” The others watched intently as he wrote: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

JOHN S R W H

“John Sparewell! ” Joe burst out. “But what does H stand for? ”

“Houseman, maybe, ” Frank replied. “Try that. There’s a comma in the cipher, ” he added. “It may stand for R.”

“John Paul Sparewell, Houseman, ” Joe read. “That’s the key. Now substitute those letters for the ones in the code.”

Frank printed rapidly and held up the result: HJOSW SHRJWN HLSEWPA RPAO

CABIN ISLAND CHIMNEY LEFT

A, EWO WSWP APPO LSUL

FRONT NINE FEET HIGH

“We’ve got it! ” Joe shouted exultantly.

“But, ” said Biff, “we’ve gone over all the chimney stones.”

“Remember, there’s an inner lining, ” Frank pointed out. “As soon as the fire dies down, we’ll check.”

“You think Hanleigh deciphered the code? ” Chet asked.

“No, ” Frank replied. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so eager to recover the notebook.”

“I’d still like to know how he got his hands on it, ” said Biff. “Did he steal it from John Sparewell? ”

“I don’t know, ” Joe replied, “but I vote we zero in on the medals pronto.”

The boys’ discussion was broken off by a signal for silence from Frank, who pointed to the door.

From the other side came the sound of creaking of floorboards. Swiftly the Hardys scooped up the notebook and the papers and hid them in a cupboard. Then Frank and Joe went over and pushed open the door a crack.

They peered out and saw Hanleigh limping to the fireplace. He pulled aside the guard from the fire, now burning low, took a poker and thrust it up inside the chimney.

“Bet he was eavesdropping, ” Joe muttered.

“Well, the code directions won’t do him much good without tools, ” said Frank, and stepped into the living room.

“Looking for something, Mr. Hanleigh? Glad to see your leg is better.”

The big blond man wheeled, his face purple with rage. “I’m sick of being hounded by you pests. I’ll fix you–“

Hanleigh lunged forward, brandishing the poker, but tripped on a rug and went sprawling. The poker flew from his hands. Quickly Frank retrieved it.

“I wouldn’t try that again, ” Joe said in warning tones as Chet and Biff rushed in.

Scowling, Hanleigh dragged himself over to the sofa and sank down heavily. “All right, all right. I was just going to stir up the fire, ” he mumbled. “It’s cold as an iceberg in here.”

The boys had to agree, because the wind had risen to great velocity and gusts shook the cabin. Icy draughts seeped beneath the outside door and the windows were half covered by driving snow.

“Maybe I’d better stoke the fire, ” Chet said.

Joe nudged him. “Later. We have something to do first.”

Chet grinned. “That’s right. Well, I can turn out a snack, anyway. That’ll warm us.”

The stout boy headed for the kitchen, but the next instant stopped in his tracks as a shrieking blast of wind struck the front window full force.

With a loud crash the entire pane shattered inwards. The freezing wind roared inside, knocking over all the oil lamps. Fire flared along the spilled fuel and Joe leaped forward, flailing at the flames with his parka.

Hanleigh rolled off the couch as his terror-stricken voice shrilled through the darkness. “Get me out of here! The whole place is going to collapse. I’ll be killed! ”

 






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