added.
"On second thought, maybe we'll call." With a laugh and a quick goodbye Frank hung up and raced back to the car.
***
In minutes Frank and Joe had returned to their house. They barged through the front door to see Mr. Hardy pacing the living room floor. Aunt Gertrude stood to the side, her face creased with concern. Biff, Chet, and Phil were nowhere to be seen.
"There's got to be a way to find her," he said without losing a step. "There was only about an hour between the time they took her and the time they called. They couldn't have gone far; my guess is they're still near Bayport."
"Dad," Joe said, "we found out the name of the guy who followed us. It's Todd Brewster, and he lives in Marfield."
Mr. Hardy stopped pacing. He cocked his head, deep in thought. "The name doesn't ring a bell, but it's a lead, and a strong one. One of us should go stake him out."
"I'll do it," Frank said.
"Good," Mr. Hardy replied. "I want to stick around to see if I can dig up anything about any newcomers in Bayport."
Joe was fiddling with the nautical rope, which Mr. Hardy had brought into the living room. "I'll check out the harbor area. Maybe they're hanging out down there."
"There's one problem," Frank said. "I know it's a rented car, I know we shook off a tail in Springfield, but they know we're here now. What if I'm followed to Massachusetts?"
Fenton nodded gravely. "I'll take care of it." He pulled a fistful of change out of his pocket and quickly examined it. "The phone company's going to love us today. Be back in a minute."
When Fenton Hardy returned from his drive to the pay phone he was carrying a sheet of paper with a hand-drawn map. He thrust it toward Frank. "Here's the way you'll get to Marfield. It's basically small highways all the way, with a couple of detours onto roads. Whatever you do, don't deviate from this route."
"Right," Frank said.
"And be sure to check in with Winthrop tomorrow."
"Right," Frank said again. He folded the map and put it in his pocket. After a quick goodbye he ran out to the car, armed with a cold soda and a couple of sandwiches that Aunt Gertrude had slipped him.
It was going to be a long ride.
Halfway through Connecticut Frank was slowed down by a major accident and sat in traffic for over an hour while it was cleared. Following the route his father had given him, Frank had wound his way through the centers of many small towns.
Now Frank felt his eyelids getting heavy. The night's sleep at the Marfield Motor Hotel had obviously not been enough. He lifted his directions to eye level and stole a quick glance. He was to take the next exit and snake around a tiny town called Devaron, then get back on the highway at the next exit.
A tiny voice inside him grumbled that the trip would have been much faster if he had been able to stick to the highways.
Resignedly, he took the Devaron exit and made his way along a narrow, unlit road through a forest. On the winding turns his headlights shone white against the many tree trunks and bushes. Farther along there were clusters of small houses. Moments later the building gave way to forest again, and Frank realized he had gone through the town already. Below him weeds peeked out of the ruts. He felt as if no one had driven this way in months.
As the road straightened out he found himself hoping for an all-night gas station or convenience store where he could pick up something to drink. Maybe around the next bend?
Frank sped into the next turn faster than he had intended. The curve continued for more than 150 degrees. His tires screamed as the car listed to the left.
When the road finally straightened out Frank was only riding two wheels - both on the left side. The first thing he saw in his headlights was four people, all dressed in blue, diving for the side of the road. Then he saw the flashing lights.
Frank's foot hit the brake as the car fell back on four wheels. He registered that there was something ahead of him, blocking his way. As
"On second thought, maybe we'll call." With a laugh and a quick goodbye Frank hung up and raced back to the car.
***
In minutes Frank and Joe had returned to their house. They barged through the front door to see Mr. Hardy pacing the living room floor. Aunt Gertrude stood to the side, her face creased with concern. Biff, Chet, and Phil were nowhere to be seen.
"There's got to be a way to find her," he said without losing a step. "There was only about an hour between the time they took her and the time they called. They couldn't have gone far; my guess is they're still near Bayport."
"Dad," Joe said, "we found out the name of the guy who followed us. It's Todd Brewster, and he lives in Marfield."
Mr. Hardy stopped pacing. He cocked his head, deep in thought. "The name doesn't ring a bell, but it's a lead, and a strong one. One of us should go stake him out."
"I'll do it," Frank said.
"Good," Mr. Hardy replied. "I want to stick around to see if I can dig up anything about any newcomers in Bayport."
Joe was fiddling with the nautical rope, which Mr. Hardy had brought into the living room. "I'll check out the harbor area. Maybe they're hanging out down there."
"There's one problem," Frank said. "I know it's a rented car, I know we shook off a tail in Springfield, but they know we're here now. What if I'm followed to Massachusetts?"
Fenton nodded gravely. "I'll take care of it." He pulled a fistful of change out of his pocket and quickly examined it. "The phone company's going to love us today. Be back in a minute."
When Fenton Hardy returned from his drive to the pay phone he was carrying a sheet of paper with a hand-drawn map. He thrust it toward Frank. "Here's the way you'll get to Marfield. It's basically small highways all the way, with a couple of detours onto roads. Whatever you do, don't deviate from this route."
"Right," Frank said.
"And be sure to check in with Winthrop tomorrow."
"Right," Frank said again. He folded the map and put it in his pocket. After a quick goodbye he ran out to the car, armed with a cold soda and a couple of sandwiches that Aunt Gertrude had slipped him.
It was going to be a long ride.
Halfway through Connecticut Frank was slowed down by a major accident and sat in traffic for over an hour while it was cleared. Following the route his father had given him, Frank had wound his way through the centers of many small towns.
Now Frank felt his eyelids getting heavy. The night's sleep at the Marfield Motor Hotel had obviously not been enough. He lifted his directions to eye level and stole a quick glance. He was to take the next exit and snake around a tiny town called Devaron, then get back on the highway at the next exit.
A tiny voice inside him grumbled that the trip would have been much faster if he had been able to stick to the highways.
Resignedly, he took the Devaron exit and made his way along a narrow, unlit road through a forest. On the winding turns his headlights shone white against the many tree trunks and bushes. Farther along there were clusters of small houses. Moments later the building gave way to forest again, and Frank realized he had gone through the town already. Below him weeds peeked out of the ruts. He felt as if no one had driven this way in months.
As the road straightened out he found himself hoping for an all-night gas station or convenience store where he could pick up something to drink. Maybe around the next bend?
Frank sped into the next turn faster than he had intended. The curve continued for more than 150 degrees. His tires screamed as the car listed to the left.
When the road finally straightened out Frank was only riding two wheels - both on the left side. The first thing he saw in his headlights was four people, all dressed in blue, diving for the side of the road. Then he saw the flashing lights.
Frank's foot hit the brake as the car fell back on four wheels. He registered that there was something ahead of him, blocking his way. As
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