Quotes from Franklin W. Dixon

Within half an hour Frank was guiding their convertible through the crowded streets of the grimy waterfront section of Southport. Reaching Dock Street, Joe began to look at the house numbers. "There it is!" he exclaimed. "Pull up, Frank." Twenty-four Dock Street was a ramshackle tenement. As the boys walked through the open front door, a stocky man dressed in dirty work clothes brushed rudely by them into the hallway.

flashes almost blinding in their intensity.

Oh yes?" Chet retorted. "Hop over to the Bayport Soda Shop with me, and I'll show you what I'm investing in—a year's supply of the biggest banana splits you ever saw!

After a long nap, the Americans spent the rest of the afternoon watching preparations for the fiesta. They helped set up large wooden tables on the patio. Bananas, oranges, limes, and avocados were heaped on some of the tables. Food that was cooking gave off tantalizing odors. "This will be a gastronomic adventure!" Chet exclaimed as he viewed the preparations hungrily.

Joe grinned. "We might never get Chet to leave this place!" Guests from the village began coming shortly after sunset. As the festivities got underway, torches were lighted to illuminate the area. One man arrived leading a bull and put it in the corral. Many of the younger villagers swarmed around the enclosure to see it.

My life is a walled city from which I must flee; This must my prison be-- So long as I am me.

building that served as a cantina and general store. There were no villagers in sight.

Big stone house," Joe answered. "Slate roof. Stands back from the road a way. Nobody's been living there for some time, though." "You're observant," the banker commented. For a moment he was silent, as if trying to make a decision. He pulled nervously at his hatbrim. "Okay, boys," he said finally. "You want to be detectives. Take a look around there on your hike.

Joe explained that every once in a while he and Frank went down to Rocco's fruit store to act as clerks while the owner went home to supper.

With a hasty farewell to Aunt Gertrude, the four pals set out. Brisk walking brought them swiftly out of town on the Shore Road, which followed horseshoe-shaped Barmet Bay. Looking back, they could see the docks of the harbor. Some distance ahead of them was the bridge which spanned the mouth of Willow River where it emptied into the bay.

Something down there move!

In another five minutes they reached a tiny village which consisted of a general store, a garage, a church, and a few homes. Frank parked the car. "Peaceful-looking place," he remarked. "I wonder if we'll find a clue here.

The boys enjoyed a hearty meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and asparagus. While eating, they related the day's events. Then Frank announced that they were going out to do a little more sleuthing after dinner. "I declare," Aunt Gertrude said, sniffing. "I don't know what's happening to this generation. Never get proper sleep. They'll all be nervous wrecks before they're thirty.

Major Applegate, an eccentric, retired old Army man who had made a fortune by lucky real-estate deals. Years

Acting as if there were no problems on their minds, Frank and Joe strolled along whistling. Once they joined a group of people who were watching a sidewalk merchant. The man was demonstrating little jumping animals. Frank and Joe laughed as they bought a monkey and a kangaroo. "Iola and Callie will get a kick out of these," Joe predicted.

Come on to the Hot Rocket," Chet said, "and I'll stand treat for hamburgers and malts." Joe looked at his brother in surprise and burst out laughing. "Wow! We don't get an offer like that every day! It's a deal, pal!

More cautiously than ever, the Hardys approached the old mansion. The house, covered with fading clapboards, was fronted by a low veranda and topped off with turrets and decaying latticework. Ragged clumps of shrubbery grew close to the walls.

Everybody ragged Chet Morton about his bone-rattling car. But he wheeled it around the busy streets of Bayport, and boasted a good safety record, partly because pedestrians and motorists who heard him coming got out of the way.

balls. Those, and the stacked rifles, may have referred to the

Frank and Joe were mystified as they drove away from the Haley Building. Both boys would have liked to go out in their boat to sift through their thoughts in the fresh salt air and sunshine. Since the Sleuth was not yet repaired, they settled for a drive to the harbor. The Napoli was moored at the dock. Tony was touching up worn spots with varnish, while Chet Morton lolled on a thwart, practicing knots. Frank and Joe strolled out to chat with them.

Frank said. He kept the convertible at a steady pace and they reached Taylorville at twelve o'clock. The town was a fair-sized one, and the streets swarmed with cars and people during the lunch-hour rush.

A few minutes later the Hardys and Chet were heading for Larchmont. The car crossed a crystal-clear brook winding through a shady stand of pines set back on a knoll. "Stop!" ordered Chet. "Here's the place for our submarine sandwiches." Laughing, the boys parked off the road and got out. Soon they were sprawled on the soft pine needle carpet of the grove, where they could just see the sunlight flashing on the front of the convertible.

A short time later the convertible pulled into the driveway of the Hardys' large, pleasant house on a tree-shaded street. The boys jumped out and hurried inside. Fenton Hardy, a tall, rugged-looking man, was in the dining room having a cup of coffee. Seated at the table with him were Mrs. Hardy and the boys' Aunt Gertrude, his unmarried sister. The detective greeted Frank and Joe with a warm smile. "Sit down, boys, and I'll tell you what this case is all about.

Joe had vanished!