The Arctic Patrol Mystery Read Free

out, followed by his driver. Patrolman Riley leaped from the other car.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Collig asked crisply. He was a portly, middle-aged man, a close confidant of the Hardys.
    â€œA kidnap attempt,” Frank said.
    â€œHere’s the one we caught!” Tony said. “The other two got away.” He pulled the man to his feet. He was thin and of medium height with sunken cheeks and bulging eyes. Tony’s hand twisted the thug’s shirt front, until the man winced.
    â€œWho are you?” Tony demanded.
    â€œAnd your pals?” Joe added.
    But the captive would not talk.
    â€œWe probably have a file on him,” Chief Collig said. He handcuffed the prisoner and turned him over to Riley. Then he went to his car and radioed headquarters. Returning, the police chief stated, “We’ll search for the other two men, don’t worry.”
    â€œThanks,” Frank said, and the young people went back to their party.
    After refreshments, Frank and Joe dropped Callie off, then drove home. Mr. Hardy was not back yet, and Frank told their mother what had happened.
    He had just finished when the lights of the detective’s car swept the front windows as it pulled into the driveway. Mr. Hardy entered through the back door, looking serious.
    When he heard about the kidnapping attempt, he shook his head. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this whole nasty business.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Dad,” Joe said. “We can take care of ourselves.”
    Mr. Hardy seemed lost in thought for a moment, then asked, “Anyone telephone while I was gone?”
    â€œNo, dear,” his wife replied, but added quickly, “Oh, yes, someone did call. Gertrude thought it was a joke.”
    Mr. Hardy glanced at her in alarm. “Where was the call from?”
    â€œThe White House—at least that’s what the girl said.”
    The detective gave a low whistle and shook his head again.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Dad?” Frank asked sympathetically. He had never seen his father so dejected.
    The detective managed a smile and looked at his sons. “I can’t tell you now,” he said. “Later, perhaps.” He gave each boy a pat on the back, then climbed the stairs to his study.
    Frank and Joe went to bed, wondering what it was all about. A little later they heard their father go to his bedroom and then make a telephone call on the upstairs hall extension. He spoke in low tones and they could not hear what he was saying.
    In the middle of the night, both boys were awakened by Mr. Hardy’s footsteps going downstairs. Joe leaped up and opened the door a crack. He heard his father greet two men in whispered tones. Then he led them upstairs to his study.
    â€œHoly crow!” Frank whispered. “This is regular cloak-and-dagger stuff, Joe!”
    â€œYou can say that again!”
    They returned to bed and slept fitfully until morning. At breakfast no mention was made of the mysterious callers.
    Finally Mr. Hardy said, “Boys, I’m going on a special mission to Texas. There’s something I want to give you to take to Iceland.”
    Frank and Joe followed him to his study. He unlocked one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out what looked like a small transistor radio.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Joe asked.
    â€œIt’s the latest in decoders,” Mr. Hardy replied, “and it works on the decibel principle.”
    He explained that the high peaks of sound in any conversation were the keys to the code. “Once you have established these,” he said, “the message can be decoded by using this special book.”
    He reached down again and handed Frank a small black codebook and a miniature tape recorder. “The recorder can be attached to a telephone or radio,” he concluded.
    Father and sons went over the principles of the decibel machine. When they had finished, the detective said, “Boys, you must