When Mr. Prito pulled up outside the house, Frank had all he could do to wait patiently for his friends to open the door and let him and Joe out.  The frenzied urgency that had gripped him in the old house on the cliff was trying to break free; Dad needed help.  Now they were so close to being able to tell the people who could give it that any delay seemed unbearable. 

The silence had lasted until they were about halfway home; while pausing at a stoplight- an intolerable nuisance- Mr. Prito had made a remark about the sad state of the boys’ clothes.  The foursome had taken turns interrupting each other to explain how they’d gotten caught in the storm and taken shelter in the old house.  Mr. Prito had scolded some about that, but calmed when Frank said that he figured being inside a stone house was a better risk than being on a wooden porch during a lightning storm.

“Yeah, and that tree got hit, too,” Joe had added.  “I thought we’d be next!”

“If it was stone, that wasn’t so bad, then,” the big man had conceded.  “And I take the point about the lightning, there were some nasty hits in that whole area.”

“And we didn’t wanna be going through the woods, they always say stay away from trees,” Chet chimed in. 

“’Sides, if we hadn’t gone in, we wouldnt’ve heard about Mr. Hardy,” Tony ventured.

“Also true,” Mr. Prito had replied, and said nothing more.  Frank wondered briefly if he believed them or not, and that made him wonder if the agents would, either.  The thought added even more strain to his patience and he had gnawed on his damp knuckle until Joe reached over and pulled his hand away from his mouth.

Now, as he squirmed out of the truck and dropped to the wet pavement, Frank’s feet seemed to take over and he raced up to the front door as fast as he could go.  The strange car in the driveway indicated that the agents were still there, relieving one anxiety.  If they’d left, things would be even more complicated, and take longer.  But they were there; when he burst into the house, the man and woman both turned in shock, starting up from the couch with expressions of alarm.

“Goodness, Frank, what- oh, my stars, just look at you!” Aunt Gertrude exclaimed from the big chair.  “And Joe too-”

“We know where Dad is!” Frank burst out.  “W-we were caught in the storm and we went into an old house- the one up Shore Road, out near the cliffs- and there were men in it, and they have Dad there!”

“And they’re hurting him,” Joe added fearfully from behind him.  “They won’t give him anything to eat or drink and they said he’s tied up and some other guy is beating him up a lot!  And- and they said they’ll kill him!”

The agents looked at each other, sinking back down onto the sofa.  “Boys,” the woman began.  “I realize you want to help, but playing games like this-”

“It’s not a game!” Frank shouted, his fear and anger breaking loose.  “They said they’d cut his throat!”

The man’s eyes widened, and then he turned to Mom, who was standing on the stairs.  Frank hadn’t seen her at first.  “Mrs. Hardy, have you been discussing the situation with-” he began in an annoyed tone.

“You think I’d tell my boys something like that?” Mom snapped back, interrupting him.  Frank, usually offended by interruptions, was glad of that one.

“Eavesdropping,” the woman said dismissively.

“The man who’s going to do it is called Knight,” Joe said tautly, and the man’s head snapped back around.  “The one in prison, who they want to get freed, they said his name is McConnell.”

“That guy who tried to kidnap Joe is- is- Lowrey,” Frank added swiftly, feeling a surge of gratitude towards his brother for thinking of this proof.  “And they aren’t going to get him out, they’re going to leave him, said they don’t need him, he’s too dumb.  One of them has a really high sort of nosy voice, and he’s scared of Knight.  The other has a low voice and he- he was thinking about going into some town close by to get more beer- there’s beer cans all over the place but he wants more.”  The boy paused for breath, trembling. 

“They kept talking about Dad- first they called him ‘Hardy’ and then they called him ‘Mister Snoop,’ and said how their supplies were low and how they’d be even lower if they had to feed Dad.  And- and they made a bet about how he’d ask for food sometime today, ‘cause he’d already asked for water and they- they wouldn’t give him any!”  Joe’s voice shook.  “And Knight’s getting mad, he knows all that talk about exchanging McConnell for Dad is just a- a-”

“Stalling tactic, that’s what they called it, and Knight’s taking it out on Dad- like punching him!”  Frank stopped, gulped, and looked at his mother, who was pale.  The agents looked at each other again, both frowning; the woman nibbled on her lower lip.

“I don’t know-” the man began hesitantly.  “Raiding the place on the say of a couple kids?”

They aren’t going to do anything- just sit there thinking we’re liars- making it all up-! Frank’s temper ignited.  “If those fiends kill our Dad,” he growled, his hands clenching, “it’ll be your fault, because you wouldn’t believe us and get him out of danger- even though you were positive you’d find him and get him back safely!”

Aunt Gertrude seemed to snap out of a trance and stood up.  “You think Frank and Joe don’t recognize their own last name when they hear it?” she demanded icily.  “You keep insisting these men and Fenton are somewhere in Bayport, that they couldn’t possibly have gotten away.  And now these two bring you a lead- what better possible place to hide than an abandoned old house, far from the city?  If you had even an ounce of faith in your own assertion, you’d act immediately on any possible lead!  Even if it did turn out to be a false one, it would at least eliminate one hiding place!  And you call yourselves professionals,” she concluded scathingly.  “Well, if you won’t act, the local police will.  I will go and inform Chief Collig personally-”

The man leapt to his feet, reaching out as though to stop Gertrude from leaving the room.  “That won’t be necessary,” he said quickly.  “We’ll send a squad out at once to investigate.  Tell me again where this place is?”

“You better hurry, they’re leaving in a day or two,” Joe said bleakly.  “The house is way out Shore Road, past all the other old ruins and down the right-” he paused.

“Yeah, the right fork of the road,” Frank agreed, struggling to reign in his temper.  His aunt’s staunch defense of them had helped; it was good to know she, at least, didn’t think they were stupid babies pretending to know something important.  “Towards the ocean- a dirt road, it’s really narrow and foresty and then it clears a little and there’s cliffs.  It’s a stone house with a rock roof and a porch.”

“Just the three of them?” the woman asked crisply, also standing.

Frank nodded, not trusting himself to say any more.  The man pulled out a small radio from his pocket and started giving orders, brushing past the boys as he went to the front door.  The woman followed and, seconds later, a stillness settled over the house.

“Boys, you- you’re sure?” Mom asked at last, breaking the silence.  She was still standing on the stairs, her hand at her throat and her face very white.

“Laura, don’t be foolish,” Auntie said sharply.  “Frank and Joe are observant, intelligent boys.  They know how important this is, and they know how to pay attention.  Fenton knew it too, or he would never have started training them.”

Mom nodded slowly and let her hand drop, taking a deep breath.  “You two look like you could use a bath and a change of clothes,” she said suddenly, as if she’d just noticed how wet and messy they were.  “Frank, you can use the bathroom in our bedroom while Joe uses the hall one, if you want.”

Frank hesitated, glancing behind him as he heard the agents’ car pull out of the driveway.  “We...can’t we-?”

“No,” Mom cut him off.  “You can’t go along with the agents.  They won’t take you, and it will be far too dangerous for me to allow it, even if they did.  Those men are probably armed and someone may end up getting hurt, or worse.”

As long as it’s not Dad, Frank thought grimly, then realized that was why Mom looked the way she did and had asked that question.  She wanted Dad to be found, but she didn’t want him to be in so much danger that getting him free might get him hurt.  He traded a glance with Joe, who was suddenly wide-eyed with comprehension.

“Okay,” he murmured, and started towards the steps.  He could hear Joe padding squishily along behind him and noticed with a sort of abstract shock that his knees were shaking as he moved.  That had never happened before, and it made climbing the stairs quite peculiar.  He was pleased, in a distant sort of way, when Mom stopped him partway up and put her hand under his chin to lift his face for a kiss.  Then he resumed climbing, wondering how long it would be before they knew what was going on.

***

An hour later- clean and warm in fresh jeans and shirt- Frank Hardy padded sockfooted downstairs.  His hair was still damp and his sneakers were going to take a while to dry, but he felt a lot better.

Joe was already at the table, eating a bowl of Auntie G’s chili.  He, too, was clean and changed, looking much better than the dripping ragamuffin he’d been when they got home.  He gave Frank a strained smile as the older boy sat down, then drank some milk and chewed on a Saltine cracker. 

“You look much more presentable,” Auntie commented, setting a half-full bowl of wonderful-smelling chili and a small plate of crackers before Frank.

“Thanks.  Did- is there-”

“No word yet.  Knowing that lot, they probably got lost,” Gertrude sniffed.  “I should have called the police after all.”

Frank sighed and dipped out a portion of chili with a cracker, only to have a spoon held up in front of him.  Taking it, he started eating.  His stomach was very hungry, but his mind didn’t seem to want to let him eat anything.  Joe was feeling the same way, if his unusual slowness was any indication. 

After they had both eaten enough to please their aunt, the boys cleared their bowls and then staked out the living room.  Frank managed to read some of the paper- the comics page- but Joe simply flopped on the floor beside the sofa, on his stomach, and waited with his eyes fixed on the front door.  Another hour crawled past ever so slowly.  The worst part of it, Frank thought as he lay on the sofa, having dropped a pillow down to Joe, is that we don’t know how long we’ll have to wait!  What if Dad isn’t home for dinner, or by bedtime, or...?

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway made both boys sit up quite suddenly.  Joe leaned against the sofa cushions; Frank gripped his brother’s chilly hand tightly.  Maybe it was just the agents again.  Would they have taken Dad to the hospital?  Or maybe he was...dead...  Or had the criminals gotten away, taking Dad with them?  Would the agents think they’d made it all up?  Would Mom?

The door opened and two men- neither of them the man from before- helped a third man into the house.  The two were in windbreakers and jeans; the third-

Frank scrambled up from the sofa and flung himself at a battered, exhausted, sick-looking Fenton Hardy.  Joe was almost as fast; their arms wrapped around their father almost simultaneously.

“Oh, boys...” Their father’s voice was weak and hoarse; he sank to his knees and clutched them both close to him.  He smelled of dust and old beer, sweat and cigarette smoke, but neither boy could let go; they wouldn’t’ve dreamed of it. 

“Dad, Dad,” Frank heard his brother whispering.

“Oh, my boys,” Dad repeated shakily.  “Thank you.  Thank you- Joe, Frank- the agents- they said you told them where to find me.”

Frank heard Joey sniffling, felt tears burn his throat as he looked up into his father’s bruised face.  “They hurt you,” he whispered, anguished.

“They would’ve done worse if it weren’t for you two,” Fenton told him directly, weakly.  “You boys got me out of the tightest spot I’ve ever been in.  I was starting to think...”  The detective shook his head and didn’t finish.  Slowly, he struggled back to his feet.  The men who’d helped him into the house moved forward, but it was Frank and Joe who clung to their father and supported him as he stumbled to the couch and sat down.  “Laura...?”  Their mother’s name came out in a sigh.

“Mooooommm!” Joe shouted at the top of his lungs.  Frank winced, but Dad smiled faintly.  Seconds later, their mother’s footsteps hurried down the stairs.  She paused partway, her hand going to her mouth, and then raced down the last six stairs in two steps and across the living room in three.

“Fenton- oh God- love-”

“I’m all right, Laurie,” Dad murmured as Mom sank down on the sofa beside him.  “I’m all right.  Tired, bruised, hungry, but essentially sound.  The most dangerous of the spies is dead and the other two are under arrest, so we’re safe now.  Just...need some time to rest and relax.”  He sighed and reached up to touch Mom’s hair as she put her arms around him.

Frank, wondering at his own skipping mind, suddenly looked around for Aunt Gertrude.  His eyes found her standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her eyes; after a moment she disappeared into the kitchen.  Frank thought he heard her mutter something about ‘hospital’, but was distracted when the two government men moved closer.  “If you’re settled now, sir, we’ll be on our way,” one of them said politely.

Dad nodded.  “Thank you for everything,” he answered as Mom sat back and sniffed a few times. 

“You sure you don’t want to go by the hospital, sir?”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be calling our family doctor in about fifteen seconds,” Mom assured them, her voice thick.

“Then you’re too late, Laura; I just did,” Aunt G said firmly, walking into the living room with a glass of water.  “Drink that, Fenton, you look like a ghost.  Dehydrated, no doubt.  And you tell those agent superiors of yours,” she added to the startled men, “that the next time someone drops a lead in their laps, they’d do well not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”  Having made this perplexing remark, she stalked back to the kitchen. 

The agents traded a confused glance, much as Frank and Joe had just done, then bid the Hardys a brief, “Bye now, take care.”  They quickly let themselves out before Gertrude could come back and deliver another lecture.

Or so it looked to Frank, who’d done the same thing himself often enough in the past month.

***

By suppertime, a semblance of normalcy had descended on the Hardy household.  Doctor Bates had arrived, checked Dad out and agreed that though he was dehydrated and malnourished, he didn’t require hospitalization.  Dad, having drunk some beef broth and milk, had been helped up to his bedroom and gone to sleep. 

Everyone was tiptoeing quietly around when they moved now, but the only one who was moving much was Aunt Gertrude.  She kept whisking between the kitchen and dining room as she prepared a quick supper.  Mom had planted herself in the big chair and Frank and Joe sat by her feet, one on each side but close enough to touch each other.  “Mom,” Joe asked after a while.

“Yes, honey?” 

“You were gonna explain stuff after the agents left.”  Now that Dad was home and safe, Joe’s curiosity was stirring again.

“Oh, yeah,” Frank agreed, looking up.  “Espionage- spies, right?”

“It was your father’s last case, when he was away for so long,” Mom explained.  “He was helping the government catch a man who had made himself very useful and friendly to the Vice President.  What the Vice President’s security didn’t catch, at first, was that the man- McConnell- was using his position to learn about top-secret things and sell them to various governments.  Then one of the governments paid him to try and get the Vice President to do certain things.  It didn’t work, but McConnell was persistent and was starting to persuade him with lies and false information- right up until he was caught by your father.  Most of the people McConnell was working with got caught too, but those three- and that one in jail who tried to catch Joe- were part of the gang.  They wanted McConnell set free, or if not that, they wanted to make sure that when he went on trial, your father wouldn’t give his evidence.”

“So first they tried to catch Joe to make Dad not testify, and when that didn’t work they got Dad instead,” Frank murmured.  Joe hunched his shoulders to stifle a shiver, but Frank noticed, for he squeezed Joe’s arm.

“That’s it.  That’s why he was away last month, and why he didn’t say anything about it when he got back.  Fenton’s not supposed to talk about government cases, but I insisted that the agents tell me,” Mom explained.  “You two aren’t supposed to know, either, but since those people were planning to kidnap one or both of you- and tried to- I think you have the right to know what it was about.  But you’re not to tell anyone, ever.”

“Chet and Tony were with us,” Joe remarked thoughtfully.

“And Tony told Mr. Prito some of it, to explain,” Frank added.

“I’ll talk to them about it,” their mother replied quietly.  “Now, what about setting the table?  I think supper’s almost ready.”

Both the boys obediently got up; Frank, being taller, got down the plates and glasses as usual, while Joe got out placemats and silverware.  “Is Dad gonna come down?” he asked, turning to look at Mom.

“Probably not.  I’ll take something up to him when he wakes up.”

Joe nodded and frowned a little as he counted out forks and knives.  It was good that everything was getting back to normal now, good that Dad was safe and would be all right.  The bad guys were caught, and the stupid agents had finally condescended to listen to them.  The storm was over.  And he hadn’t worried about his eyes all day. 

But all the same, it certainly had been interesting!  Scary and dangerous and spooky, but Joe thought he might not mind doing it again.  Not now that he knew he wouldn’t be struck by lightning or swept away in the creek...and that Dad would be okay-

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” Frank ordered, poking him in the back.  “I can’t put the plates on till the placemats are there.”

Joe blinked, made a face at his older brother- who grinned at him and pronounced it ‘cute’- then gathered up the placemats, and went out to set the table.

*** END ***