The Secret of the Old Mill by Franklin W. Dixon

excitedly.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    Mr. Hardy drove to a boathouse at the far end of the dock area and parked. He then invited the others to follow him. He walked to the door of a boathouse and unfastened the padlock.
    Frank and Joe held their breaths as Mr. Hardy swung back the door. For a moment they stared inside, speechless with delight. Finally Joe burst out, “Exactly what we had hoped for, Dad!” and put an arm affectionately around his father.
    â€œWhat a beauty!” Frank exclaimed and wrung Mr. Hardy’s hand.
    Rocking between the piles lay a sleek, completely equipped motorboat. It nudged gently against clean white fenders as the waves from the bay worked their way under the boathouse door.
    The boys’ mother exclaimed in delight, and even Aunt Gertrude was duly impressed by the handsome craft.
    â€œThis is the same model we saw at the boat show,” Joe said admiringly. “I never thought we’d own one.”
    â€œShe even has the name we picked out,” Frank observed excitedly. “The Sleuth!”
    Shiny brass letters were fitted on the bow of the boat, with the port of registry, Bayport, underneath them.
    Mr. Hardy and his wife beamed as their sons walked up and down, praising every detail of the graceful new craft. It could seat six people comfortably. The polished fore and aft decks carried gleaming anchor fittings, and the rubbing strakes were painted white. The Sleuth seemed to be waiting to be taken for a run!
    â€œMay we try her out now, Dad?” Joe asked.
    â€œOf course. She’s fueled up.”
    Aunt Gertrude shook her head. “The Sleuth’s an attractive boat, all right. But don’t you two start doing any crazy stunts in it,” she cautioned her nephews. “And be back for supper.”
    When the adults had left, Frank and Joe climbed aboard and soon had the Sleuth gliding into the bay. The boys had no difficulty operating the motorboat. They had gained experience running their friend Tony Prito’s boat, the Napoli, which had similar controls.
    Taking turns at the wheel, the brothers ran the boat up and down the bay. “Terrific!” Joe shouted.
    Frank grinned. “Am I glad we stuck to our agreement with Dad, and saved up to help buy this!”
    For some time the boys had been putting money toward a boat of their own into a special bank account. Mr. Hardy had promised that when the account reached a certain sum, he would make up the necessary balance.
    Now, as the Sleuth knifed through the water, Frank and Joe admired the way the stern sat down in the water when the boat gathered speed. Joe was impressed with the turning circle and the fact that no matter how sharp the twist, none of the spume sprayed into the cockpit.
    â€œWait until Tony and Chet see this!” Joe exclaimed, when they were pulling back toward the boathouse.
    â€œSpeaking of Tony—there he is,” Frank said. Their dark-haired classmate was standing on the dock, shouting and waving to them.
    Joe, who was at the wheel, brought the Sleuth neatly alongside. He turned off the engine as Tony rushed up.
    â€œDon’t tell me this dreamboat is yours?” he demanded in amazement.
    â€œNothing but,” Joe said proudly.
    Tony and the brothers inspected the boat carefully, comparing her various features with the Napoli. They lifted the battens from the Sleuth’s cowling and admired the powerful motor underneath.
    â€œShe’s neat all right,” said Tony. “But I’ll still promise you a stiff race in the Napoli!”
    â€œWe’ll take you up on it after the Sleuth’s broken in,” Joe returned, laughing.
    Tony became serious. “Say, fellows, something happened today in connection with my dad’s business that I want to tell you about. Your mother said you were down here,” he explained.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Frank asked.
    Tony’s father was a building contractor and also had a