Mystery of Smugglers Cove by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

and pinned him to the ground.
    â€œAll right, smarty!” Chet grated. “We’ve got you this time!”
    â€œWho’s Smarty?” their captive asked. Just then the boys realized that he was not the man who had eavesdropped on them before.
    â€œSomeone spied on us a few minutes ago. We thought you were the same guy,” Frank explained.
    â€œWell, I’m not. I wanted to talk to you about the goods you mentioned down by the waterfront. Maybe we could do some business, I figured. Instead, I get pounced on!”
    Warily the four Bayporters released their captive, who got to his feet. He was about their own age and wore sailors’ clothing.
    â€œSorry if we made a mistake,” Frank said. “What’s your name?”
    â€œJunior Seetro. I couldn’t talk to you earlier because there were too many people around. But I know when sailors act the way you do, they’ve got hot goods to sell, so I’ve been following you. Want to discuss it?”
    â€œSure,” Joe replied. “Over here, Junior.”
    He led the way back to the bench. There was no one else within earshot.
    â€œI saw the guy who was eavesdropping on you before,” Junior volunteered. “Looked like a real boy scout. I’d have chased him, too. Now tell me, what’ve you got?”
    â€œElectronic calculators,” Frank replied.
    Junior nodded. “I know someone who buys that stuff. He’ll pay top dollar. Want to meet him?”
    â€œWhy not?” Biff said casually.
    â€œOkay. Hang around while I make a phone call.” Junior Seetro went to a phone booth nearby, talked for a few minutes, then returned to the bench.
    â€œIt’s all set,” he announced. “We can go in my car.”
    He led the way to an old, gray Cadillac in the waterfront parking lot. Frank and Joe looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Were they walking into a trap? Frank felt it would be worth taking the risk because they outnumbered Junior four to one. He nodded slightly, then the boys put their duffel bags into the trunk and got in the car. Seetro took the wheel and drove about ten miles to a cottage in the woods. It stood in a cove, concealed by trees and thick undergrowth. A boat about fifty feet long was tied to one of the trees.
    Junior opened the door and everyone entered except Biff, who felt it was safer for one of them to stay outside. A table in the corner of the front room revealed a collection of valuable objects, including a set of gold candlesticks and two silver pitchers.
    Joe nudged his brother. “Maybe that’s the stuff stolen from Raymond Wester’s house in Bayport!” he whispered.
    â€œBut I don’t see the missing portrait,” Frank whispered back.
    Junior had gone to the foot of the stairs and called out, “Mr. N., we’re here!” He returned to the group and added, “You’ve come straight to the top. This man handles most hot cargoes around here.”
    The same thought flashed through the boys’ minds. Would they meet Ignaz Nitron? Biff had heard the conversation through a crack in the door and came in, feeling safe enough to leave his post as guard. He was just in time to see a muscular man with a shock of black hair descending the stairs. Instead of a greeting, he glared at the boys. “You wanted to see me?” he asked gruffly.
    â€œWe have a cargo to sell,” Frank spoke up. “Junior thought you might be interested.”
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œSailors. My name’s Frank, and these are Joe, Biff, and Chet. We’ve been working on different merchant ships, mostly out of the West Coast. We picked up this shipment—”
    â€œHow do I know I can trust you?” the man grumbled.
    Frank decided to take a chance. “You don‘t,” he replied brazenly, “but we heard you were the guy to see.”
    â€œWhere are the calculators?” he