Mystery of Smugglers Cove by Franklin W. Dixon

not being followed.
    Ships at the docks were being loaded and unloaded by longshoremen, while businessmen were listing cargoes. Sailors were strolling ashore on leave, and visitors walked around, watching the picturesque scene.
    â€œAct natural,” Frank warned his companions. “Our story is, we’ve got a valuable cargo and are looking for a buyer, okay?”
    â€œWe’ll talk about it,” Joe added, “and just hope someone’ll hear us and want to make a deal.”
    â€œWhen we get a bite,” Biff suggested, “let’s say we have electronic calculators to sell. I hear that’s the hottest thing going right now.”
    The four coordinated their strategy and then mingled with the buzz of activity on the waterfront. They strolled along talking loudly about the valuable cargo they had to sell. A number of sailors, longshoremen, and businessmen turned to listen, but no one said anything.
    Finally the boys halted at the end of the harbor. They found a bench, dropped their duffel bags, and sat down to discuss their next move.
    â€œLet’s try the coffee shops and restaurants,” Frank proposed. “Places where sailors hang out when they’re ashore.”
    The others agreed, but as they were about to move, Joe heard a rustling in the bushes behind them. Whirling around, he saw a man staring at them through the branches.
    The stranger realized he had been seen and let the twigs snap back into place. Joe leaped up and rushed through the bushes, followed by the others.
    The fugitive hurried across a footpath beyond the dock area. Reaching the nearest building, a restaurant, he ran through the back door. Joe followed, brushing between the stoves and carving blocks, scaring the chef and his cooks who were preparing meals.
    The stranger careened through the swinging door into the dining room. He raced between the tables, pushed the headwaiter to one side, and went through the revolving door. He passed the front window and vanished.
    Joe came next, but by now the headwaiter stood in his path with upraised hands. Frank, Chet, and Biff stopped behind Joe.
    â€œJust what do you think you’re doing?” the man demanded.
    â€œWe’re chasing a suspect,” Joe explained.
    The headwaiter turned pale. “Did he take the cash in the till?”
    â€œNot yet, but he might if we don’t catch him. He’ll get away if you don’t let us through!” Joe said desperately.
    The man stepped to one side. “Go ahead! If he’s taken any of the silver, I’ll bring charges against him!”

    The boys pushed out onto the sidewalk and looked down the street. But the eavesdropper was nowhere in sight.
    â€œWhat rotten luck!” Joe lamented. “Who do you think he was?”
    Frank shrugged. “Maybe he heard us talking before and was curious.”
    â€œIf he wanted to make a deal, he wouldn’t have taken off,” Biff pointed out.
    â€œTrue,” Frank admitted. “But from what I could see, he was a very straight-looking guy. Had a camera around his neck. Perhaps a young reporter after a big story. When we all jumped up and tried to get him, he scrammed.”
    Joe nodded. “I don’t believe Tom, Fatso, or Morphy would recognize us in these outfits. So they didn’t send him to spy on us.”
    â€œAnd we weren’t followed after we put on our beards and stuff,” Chet added.
    They returned to the bench on the waterfront and were about to pick up their duffel bags when they heard another noise in the bushes.
    â€œSh!” Frank whispered. “There he is again. This time let’s split up and see if we can trap him between us.”
    Quickly Biff and Chet circled around the clump of bushes. When they were lost to view, Frank and Joe walked straight toward the point from where the noise had come. Just then a figure became visible behind some branches. The four friends converged on the stranger in a flash