The Hidden Harbor Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

return.
    New customers paused at the entrance to the tilted chamber. With one desperate heave, the flat-faced man shoved the boys aside and fled.

    â€œLook out!” Frank yelled. “He has a knife!”
    Recovering, Frank, Joe, and Chet plunged into a dark passage in pursuit. Excited screaming reached their ears from the blackness ahead. Suddenly they found themselves clambering on hands and knees, for the passage now sloped sharply upward. Above them appeared a round hole with the bright daylight showing beyond.
    â€œIt’s the exit with the steep chute!” Joe warned. “Hurry!”
    Suddenly the short, pudgy figure of a woman teetered in the opening at the top of the slide.
    â€œOh, oh!” she shrieked in terror. “Please, somebody please help me!”
    Just ahead of the boys the hoarse-voiced man climbed into the light. Hastily he dived for the chute, knocking the frightened woman off balance, and going ahead of her. With a scream, she too began to slide down backward.
    Frank, quick as lightning, stretched forward, grabbed the woman, and hauled her back to safety.
    â€œWhere’s the man?” Joe asked, reaching the top.
    â€œJust went down,” Frank answered.
    Immediately Joe, followed by Chet, whisked down the chute to continue the chase.
    â€œ I can’t do that!” sobbed the woman.
    â€œIt’s all right, Miss Shringle,” Frank said soothingly. “You are Miss Shringle?” She nodded, as he went on, “There must be a stairway nearby.”
    As other customers pressed behind them, the boy detected a camouflaged door just beside him. He guided the shaken seamstress through it onto a well-lighted flight of steps. They led down behind the façade of the building.
    As Frank, supporting Jenny, returned to the boardwalk, Joe, Chet, and Bart Worth hurried up. “Lost that big guy in the crowd,” Joe reported. “How’s Miss Shringle?”
    â€œShe’ll be all right,” Frank assured them as he led Miss Shringle to a bench.
    â€œYes, yes—thank you so much,” the seamstress mumbled. But she avoided meeting their eyes—especially Bart Worth’s.
    â€œWhy did you run away from me, Jenny?” he asked presently.
    The woman folded her hands in her lap and stared ahead. “Because—because I’m not allowed to speak to anyone now.” She spoke the words defiantly, but there was fear in her voice.
    â€œNot allowed by whom?” the editor prompted. “Did you come here only to visit your cousin?”
    The seamstress shook her head emphatically.
    â€œIs it Blackstone—something to do with the rumors you told me about?”
    The woman simply pressed her lips together in stony silence.
    â€œAll right. Have it your way.” Bart sighed. “If you want to freshen up, we’ll wait and drive you back to your cousin’s.”
    Miss Shringle nodded and hurried off.
    â€œAnyway, we’ve learned something,” Frank pointed out, “just from the questions she won’t answer. We know she’s trying to keep certain information from us.”
    â€œYes. The name Blackstone is the signal for Jenny to clam up completely,” Joe remarked.
    â€œDid you notice her dress?” Frank went on. “It was new—nothing like the ‘best dress’ her neighbor described. The same with her handbag and hat. Somebody paid her to get out of Larchmont and keep still!”
    â€œBlackstone,” Worth put in with satisfaction. “It must mean he knows my story can be proved!”
    Riding back to her cousin’s with them, Jenny Shringle preserved an obstinate silence.
    â€œJenny, you’ve got to understand how serious this is,” the editor pleaded. “Professor Rand disappeared right after these boys saw Blackstone strike him during an argument.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Frank said. “Yet, when we brought back the police for a search of