Franklin Dixon - The House on the Cliff

the advantage of a surprise attack. Malloy had had no time to collect his wits.

Frank and Joe watched the battle in an agony of suspense. If only they could join the fight! Mr. Hardy

still had the advantage, for he could breathe better than his opponent. But suddenly Malloy managed to

raise himself to his knees. He reached for the revolver at his hip.

"Look out, Dad!" Frank hissed. "He's got his gun!"

Quick as a flash the detective landed a blow on the guard's jaw. Malloy blinked and raised both hands to

defend himself as he fell to the ground. Mr. Hardy darted forward and pulled the revolver out of the

man's side pocket.

"No funny business!" the detective told him in a low voice.

Without being told, Malloy raised his hands in the air. He sat helplessly on the floor, beaten.

"He's got a knife too, Dad," Joe said quietly. "Watch that."

"Thanks, Joe," his father replied. Then, motioning with the pistol, he said, "All right. Let's have the knife!"

Sullenly the guard removed the knife from its leather sheath at his belt and handed it to Mr. Hardy.

Frank and Joe wanted to shout with joy, but merely grinned at their father.

Still watching Malloy, the detective walked slowly backward until he reached Joe's side. Without taking

his eyes from the smuggler, he bent down and with the knife sliced at the ropes that bound his son.

Fortunately, the knife was sharp and the ropes soon were cut.

"Boy, that feels good, Dad. Thanks," Joe whispered.

He sprang from the chair, took the knife, and while his father watched Malloy, he cut Frank's bonds.

"Malloy," Mr. Hardy ordered, "come over here!"

He motioned toward the bed and indicated by gestures that the smuggler was to lie down on the cot.

Malloy shook his head vigorously, but was prodded over by Joe. The guard lay down on the cot.

The ropes which had held Mr. Hardy had not been cut. Quickly Frank and Joe trussed up Malloy just as

their father had been tied, making certain that the knots were tight. As a final precaution they pushed in

the gag which was slipping and with a piece of rope made it secure.

The whole procedure had taken scarcely five minutes. The Hardys were free!

"What now?" Frank asked his father out of earshot of Malloy. "Hide some place until the Coast Guard

gets here?" Quickly he told about Tony and Chet going to bring the officers to the smugglers' hide-out.

"But they should have been here by now," Joe whispered. "They probably haven't found the secret door.

Let's go down and show them."

This plan was agreed upon, but the three Hardys got no farther than the top of the first stairway when

they heard rough, arguing voices below them.

"They can't be Coast Guard men," said Mr. Hardy. "We'll listen a few seconds, then we'd better run in

the other direction. I know the way out to the grounds."

From below came an ugly, "You double-crosser, you! This loot belongs to the whole gang and don't you

forget it!"

"Listen," said the second voice. "I don't have to take orders from you. I thought we was pals. Now you

don't want to go through with the deal. Who's to know if we got ten packages or five from that friend o'

Ali Singh's?"

"Okay. And the stuff'll be easier to get rid of than those drugs. They're too hot for me. Snattman can burn

for kidnapin' if he wants to-I don't."

The voices had now become so loud that the Hardys did not dare wait another moment. "Come on!" the

boys' father urged.

He led the way back to the corridor and along it to the door at the end. Suddenly Frank and Joe noticed

him falter and were afraid he was going to faint. Joe recalled that his father had had no food except the

candy bar. Ramming his hands into his pockets, he brought out another bar and some pieces of pretzel.

Quickly he filled both his father's hands with them. Mr. Hardy ate them hungrily as his sons supported

him under his arms and assisted him to the door.

As Frank quietly opened it, and they saw a stairway beyond, the detective said, "These steps will bring

us up into a shed near the Pollitt house. There's a trap door. That's the way Snattman brought me down.

Got your lights? We haven't any time to lose." Mr. Hardy seemed stronger already. "I'll take the lead."

As they ascended, Frank and Joe wondered if they would come out in the shed where they had seen the

man named Klein picking up small logs.

When the detective reached the top of the stairs he ordered the lights out and pushed against the trap

door. He could not budge it.

"You try," he urged the boys. "And hurry! Those men we heard may discover Malloy."

"And then things will start popping!" Frank murmured.

The boys heaved their shoulders against the trap door. In a moment there came the rumble of rolling logs.

The door went up easily.

Frank peered out. No one seemed to be around.

He stepped up into the shed and the others followed.

The three stood in silence. The night was dark. The wind, blowing through the trees, made a moaning

sound. Before the Hardys rose the gloomy mass of the house on the cliff. No lights could be seen.

From the direction of the lane came dull, thudding sounds. The boys and their father assumed the

smugglers' truck was being loaded with the goods which were to be disposed of by the man named

Burke.

Suddenly the Hardys heard voices from the corridor they had just left. Quickly Frank closed the trap

door and Joe piled up the logs. Then, silently, the Hardys stole out into the yard.

CHAPTER XVII

Hostages

LITHE as Indians the three Hardys hurried across the lawn and disappeared among the trees. They

headed for the road, a good distance away.

"I hope a bus comes along," Frank said to himself. "Then we can get to a phone and report-"

His thought was rudely interrupted as the boys and their father heard a sound that struck terror to their

hearts-the clatter of the logs tumbling off the trap door!

An instant later came a hoarse shout. "Chief! Red! The Hardys got away! Watch out for them!"

"He must be one of the men we heard coming up from the shore," Joe decided. "They must have found

Malloy trussed up!"

Instantly the place became alive with smugglers flashing their lights. Some of the men ran from the truck

toward the road, shouting. Others began to comb the woods. Another man emerged from the trap door.

He and his companion dashed to the ocean side of the house.

Two burly smugglers flung open the kitchen door and ran out. One shouted, "They ain't in the house!"

"And they're not down at the shore!" the other yelled. "I just talked to Klein on the phone down there."

"You guys better not let those Hardys get away!" Snattman's voice cut through the night. "It'll be the pen

for all of you!"

"Fenton Hardy's got a gun! He took Malloy's!" came a warning voice from the far side of the house. The

two men who had gone to the front now returned. "He never misses his mark!"

When the fracas had started, the detective had pulled his sons to the ground, told them to lie flat, face

down, and not to move. Now they could hear the pounding steps of the smugglers as they dashed among

the trees. The boys' hearts pounded wildly. It did not seem possible they could be missed!

Yet man after man ran within a few yards of the three prone figures and dashed on toward the road.

Presently Mr. Hardy raised his head and looked toward the Pollitt mansion.

"Boys," he said tensely, "we'll make a run for the kitchen door. The men won't expect us to go there."

The three arose. Swiftly and silently they crossed the dark lawn and slipped into the house. Apparently