Quotes About Mystery

Franklin W. Dixon

As Frank opened the door, four laughing young people burst into the Hardy home. In the lead was Iola Morton, Chet's sister, with Callie Shaw and Helen

Aunt Gertrude sputtered indignantly as Frank and Joe hurried away without waiting for any pie à la mode. They jumped into their convertible and followed Chet's jalopy. Dusk was falling as the four friends pulled up near the cove. An old, rather battered-looking coupé was parked among the trees.

enough so that by scrambling over its bow one could land on the tumbled heaps of rocks and boulders just beneath the opening. "Let's take a look," he said eagerly. "Jerry, will you hold the boat here?" "Sure. Go ahead." Within a few minutes the others were climbing up the boulders toward the cave mouth. Presently they vanished into the dark interior.

Frank parked the car at a drugstore and the two boys hurried to a telephone booth inside. Leafing through the Bayport directory, they soon found the attorney's residential listing.

They drove around to the north shore, and presently came upon two large stone pillars covered with vines. The name MEAD was carved on one. As they turned into the driveway, Joe said, "The place looks deserted to me." A short distance ahead of them was a clump of trees, around which the driveway wound to the stone mansion. The imposing house at the end of the deeply rutted and overgrown road stood about two hundred feet from the water, commanding an unobstructed view of Barmet Bay.

Ten o'clock the next morning found the Hardy boys on the sidewalks of downtown Bayport. They were on their way to police headquarters to check on any new developments in the harbor mystery. It was a hot, sunny day. Already the stores were lowering awnings over their display windows.

The three boys passed the big house, now dark and silent once more, and walked down the driveway. "That place gives me the willies," muttered Chet, as Frank closed the gate. "I still have the creepy feeling that somebody's in there, watching everything that goes on.

The Hardys started down the street. They had gone only three blocks when their chubby friend Chet Morton jumped out of a yellow sedan which stopped briefly and then went on. He was munching an apple. "Hi, fellows," he greeted them. "I was on my way to your house. Phil gave me a ride. Going anywhere special?" "Well, sort of," Joe replied. "Why?" "Put it off," Chet insisted importantly. "I've got something to show you.

Full of anticipation about their new mystery, the Hardys drove directly to their tree-shaded house at the corner of High and Elm streets.

Joe came down to join Chet Morton, who sat at the car's wheel. "Where to?" he asked.

Not until after supper were the Hardys able to drive out to the Batter estate. The high, gabled mansion loomed starkly against the sky, silvered by moonlight. A broken porch rail and dark, blank windows gave it a sinister look. "Spooky-looking layout," Joe muttered. "It's a cinch no one's taking care of the place.

Franklin W. Dixon

Frank glanced at his wristwatch. "Sufferin' snakes! We're almost late for class!" With a roar of exhaust, the convertible headed for Bayport High School. Not until they returned home that afternoon were the Hardys able to resume work on the code message.

Frank and Joe were taken aback. But they were even more nonplused when their caller suddenly burst into tears!

dark eyes. His brow was furrowed in a deep scowl, but in a flash he assumed

After explaining that they would try to find a glove of similar manufacture, Frank and Joe left.

Just then a car pulled up in front of the house with a squeal of tires and a series of loud backfires. "Don't tell me—let me guess. It's Chet Morton," said Frank.

The boys hurried to the Hardys' convertible. A red glow of sunset suffused

By now the speedy craft was far out on the broad bay. The water had grown choppy and was turning from green to steely gray. In the distance the boys watched a cluster of white sails skimming before the breeze.

Nice lines," commented Joe. "Pass close to her, will you, Frank?" Quietly, with her engine throttled down, the motorboat drew abreast of the larger vessel. It was now dusk and a light shone in her cabin from which came the sound of activity. Frank gazed in admiration at the tall masts and shipshape rigging.

The Hardys and Chet hastened out into the chilly air. The lighted windows of the house became eerie rectangles of hazy yellow in the drifting mist as the trio skirted the dense bushes edging the lawn.

FRANK and Joe Hardy clutched the grips of their motorcycles and stared in horror at the oncoming car.

After stopping in the house for lemonade with the girls and to pick up Chet's wallet, the three boys piled into the convertible and drove off. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the novelty shop on King Street. A bell tinkled as they walked in and Mr. Bivven, the squat, baldheaded proprietor, came out of the back room to greet them. He beamed at the trio across the counter. "Something you'd like, boys?