Franklin Dixon - The House on the Cliff

on the cliff," Frank declared.

"What I've been wondering," said Joe, "is where those two motorboats came from that day Jones was

attacked. We didn't see them out in the ocean earlier-at least not both of them."

"That's right. They could have come right out from under the cliff."

"You mean, Frank, there might be a secret harbor in there?"

"Might be. Here's the way it could work. Dad suspects smugglers are operating in this territory from a

base that he has been unable to find." Frank spread his arms. "The base is the old Pollitt place! What

more do you want?"

"But the house is on top of a cliff."

"There could be a secret passage from the house to a hidden harbor at the foot of the cliff."

"Good night, Frank, it sure sounds reasonable!"

"And perhaps that explains why the kidnapers got away with Jones so quickly on Saturday. If they left

the Kane farmhouse just a little while before we did, we should have been able to get within sight of their

car. But we didn't."

"You mean they turned in at the Pollitt place?"

"Why not? Probably Jones is hidden there right now."

"And maybe Dad too," Joe cried out excitedly.

"That's right. I'm against just sitting and waiting for the state troopers to find him. How about asking Tony

if he will lend us his motorboat, so we can investigate the foot of that cliff?"

"I get you!" Joe agreed enthusiastically. "And if we pick up any information we can turn it over to the

State Police and they can raid the Pollitt place!"

CHAPTER X

A Watery Tunnel

WHEN the brothers arrived home Frank and Joe assured their mother that the State Police would soon

find Mr. Hardy. Some of the anxiety left her face as she listened to her sons' reassuring words.

When she went to the kitchen to start preparations for supper, the boys went to phone Tony Prito. After

Frank explained their plan to him, he agreed at once to let them use the Napoli, provided they took him

along.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," he said. "But I can't go until afternoon. Have to do some work for my

dad in the morning. I'll meet you at the boathouse at two o'clock."

"Swell, Tony. I have a job of my own in the morning."

Chet called a few minutes later. As Frank finished telling him about the plan, he whistled.

"You fellows have got your nerve all right. But count me in, will you? I started this thing with you and I'd

like to finish it. We've got to find your father!"

After Chet had said good-by, Joe asked his brother, "What's on for the morning?"

"I want to go down to the waterfront and talk to Pretzel Pete again. He might have another clue. Also, I

want to find out when the Marco Polo is due back here."

Joe nodded. "I get it. You think something may be going on then?"

"Right. And if we can find Dad and lead the Coast Guard to the smugglers before the boat docks-"

"Brother, that's a big order."

By nine o'clock the following morning Frank and Joe were down at the Bayport docks. Pretzel Pete was

not in evidence.

"We'd better be cagey about asking when the Marco Polo's coming in," Frank cautioned. "The smugglers

probably have spies around here and we'd sure be targets."

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.

"Say, Frank, here comes Pretzel Pete now!" Joe whispered.

The Hardys went up the street, saying in a loud voice in case anyone was listening, that they were hungry

and glad to see Pete.

"Nobody can make pretzels like yours," Joe exclaimed. "Give me a dozen. Two for my mouth and ten for

my pockets."

As Pretzel Pete laughed and pulled out a cellophane bag to fill the order, Frank said in a whisper, "Heard

anything new?"

"Not a thing, son." Pete could talk without moving his lips. "But I may know something tomorrow."

"How come?"

"The Marco Polo's docking real early-five A.M. I heard Ali Singh is one of the crew. I'll try to get a line

on him."

"Great! We'll be seeing you."

The boys moved off, and to avoid arousing any suspicion as to why they were in the area, headed for a

famous fish market.

"Mother will be surprised to see our morning's catch," Joe said with a grin as he picked out a large

bluefish.

The brothers did not discuss the exciting information Pretzel Pete had given them until they were in the

safety of their own home. Then Joe burst out, "Frank, if the Marco Polo gets offshore during the night, it'll

have to lay outside until it's time to dock!"

"And that'll give those smugglers a real break in picking up the stolen drugs!" Frank added. "Maybe we

should pass along our suspicions to the Coast Guard."

"Not yet," Joe objected. "All we have to go on is Pretzel Pete's statements about Ali Singh. Maybe we'll

learn more this afternoon and then we can report it."

"I guess you're right," Frank concluded. "If those smugglers are holding Dad, and find out that we've

tipped off the Coast Guard, they'll certainly harm him."

"You have a point."

When Frank and Joe reached the Prito boat-house at two o'clock, Tony and Chet were already there.

Tony was tuning up the motor, which purred evenly.

"No word from your dad yet?" Tony asked. The Hardys shook their heads as they stepped aboard.

The Napoli was a rangy, powerful craft with graceful lines and was the pride of Tony's life. The boat

moved slowly out into the waters of Barmet Bay and then gathered speed as it headed toward the

ocean.

"Rough water," Frank remarked as breaking swells hit the hull. Salt spray dashed over the bow of the

Napoli as it plunged on through the white-caps. Bayport soon became a speck nestled at the curve of the

horseshoe-shaped body of water. Reaching the ocean, Tony turned north. The boys could see the white

line of the shore road rising and falling along the coast. Soon they passed the Kane farm. Two miles

farther on they came within sight of the cliff upon which the Pollitt house stood. It looked stark and

forbidding above the rocks, its roof and chimneys silhouetted against the sky.

"Pretty steep cliff," Tony observed. "I can't see how anyone could make his way up and down that slope

to get to the house."

"That's probably why nobody has suspected the place of being a smuggling base," Frank replied. "But

perhaps when we look around we'll find an answer."

Tony steered the boat closer toward the shore, so that it would not be visible from the Pollitt grounds.

Then he slackened speed in order that the sound of the engine would be less noticeable, and the craft

made its way toward the bottom of the cliff.

There were currents here that demanded skilful navigation, but Tony brought the Napoli through them

easily, and at last the boat was chugging along close to the face of the cliff.

The boys eagerly scanned the formidable wall of rock. It was scarred and seamed and the base had been

eaten away by the incessant battering of waves. There was no indication of a path.

Suddenly Tony turned the wheel sharply. The Napoli swerved swiftly to one side. He gave it power and

the craft leaped forward with a roar.

"What's the matter?" Frank asked in alarm.

Tony gazed straight ahead, tense and alert. Another shift of the wheel and the Napoli swerved again.

Then Chet and the Hardys saw the danger. There were rocks at the base of the cliff. One of them, black