Footprints Under the Window

Table of Contents

 

 

A plot to steal a top-secret instrument vital to the United States space program poses a challenging case for Frank and Joe Hardy. The whereabouts of their famous detective father is a mystery, so Frank and Joe are on their own to foil the plotters.

After rescuing a South American stowaway who mutters a cryptic warning about “Footprints,” then flees, the boys learn they are up against a ruthless espionage ring. The next day Frank and Joe discover that documents belonging to Mr. Hardy are missing, and, noting strange footprints under a window, they suspect the stowaway.

The young detectives' search for the diabolical mastermind of the “Footprints” spy ring takes them on a flight to a group of islands off the coast of South America. Here they risk the wrath of a cruel dictator, and also make a grisly discovery deep in the jungle.

During a spine-chilling vigil in a cemetery, followed by entrapment in the flooded compartment of a wrecked ship, the courage and resourcefulness of the Hardys and their pal, Chet Morton, are tested to the utmost.

Hardy Boys fans will find this exciting tale crammed with suspense, intrigue, and action.

“Th-the tomb door! It's opening!” Chet gasped

Copyright
©
1993, 1965, 1960, 1933 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset Group, New

eISBN : 978-1-101-12758-2

eISBN : 978-1-101-12758-2

 

 

 

“FRANK—I've never seen so many guards at Micro-Eye beforel And that steel wire fence is new. Think something is up?”

Blond, seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy, at the convertible's wheel, had stopped for a red light. His brother, dark-haired and a year older, peered out at Bayport's sprawling photographic plant.

“Must be a special project,” Frank suggested.

The traffic light showed green and the Hardys' car moved past the block-long complex of buildings. Three uniformed guards were inspecting a departing Corporated Laundries truck at the gate.

Frank whistled. “Micro-Eye must be working on something that's top secret,” he said. “I wonder if Dad knew about it before he left—” Frank broke off as the boys approached the rear of the main plant. A man was crouched on the outside of the fence. He was trying to cut through it with a pair of powerful shears!

“Joe! Stop!”

Joe instantly braked. Even before the car screeched to a halt alongside the curb, Frank had opened his door. He jumped out and sped toward the crouching figure. Joe swiftly followed.

“Guards!” Frank shouted.

Startled, the broad-nosed, stockily built man whirled to his feet, then glanced quickly back at the alerted guards. The next instant he hurled the shears directly at Frank.

“Look out!” Joe yelled in horror.

His brother ducked as the lethal blades spun crazily past, missing his head by inchesl Frank and Joe sprinted in pursuit of the fleeing man. A guard's voice rang out.

“Stop him!”

But the fugitive was darting across the street, heedless of the heavy traffic. When the boys reached the other side, Joe spotted their quarry leaping into a black sedan a block away. It roared off in a cloud of gas fumes.

“Did you get the license?” Frank panted.

Joe shook his head. “There was another man at the wheel and the motor was running.”

Three security guards ran up to the Hardys.

“We certainly owe you boys our thanks,” a tall, round-faced officer said, holstering his pistol. “Confidentially, it's internal security that seems to be our problem.”

“You mean there's a security leak at Micro-Eye?” Frank asked as the group walked back toward the main gate.

“We have reason to think so,” a burly guard replied, “despite the careful screening and clearance of all plant workers.”

Two other guards had already retrieved the wire cutters but admitted they probably had no fingerprints, since the man had worn gloves. At the Micro-Eye guardhouse Frank and Joe gave a detailed description of the escaped man, who had sideburns and a dark complexion.

“He may be foreign-born,” Joe remarked.

At this, the round-faced officer glanced at the other guards, then turned to the Hardys. “We already suspect that aliens who entered the country illegally are operating in this area. Your description may be a great help to us.”

“You mean—spies?” Frank inquired.

The officer nodded, but did not reveal any more details. He thanked the boys for their vigilance, then the Hardys returned to their car and headed homeward.

“Spies!” Joe exclaimed. “Just our luck to let one get away! He had some nerve, trying to cut through the fence in broad daylight.”

Frank grinned. “Maybe we can pick up another clue for Micro-Eye.”

A sharp eye for clues came naturally to the brothers. They were sons of Bayport's renowned private detective, Fenton Hardy, formerly of the New York police force. Joe was impetuous by nature, Frank more deliberate. Ever since solving the mystery of
The Tower Treasure,
they had helped their father track down criminals and proven their courage and abilities as independent sleuths. Recently they had faced a dangerous challenge in a case known as
While the Clock Ticked.

“Too bad Dad isn't here,” Joe said. “He'd certainly be interested in what happened at Micro-Eye.”

“Yes. His new case really must be hush-hush. He didn't even leave an address.”

The car turned into the drive of the Hardys' attractive, tree-shaded house at the corner of High and Elm streets. The boys lugged two huge boxes of groceries into the kitchen.

“Whew! I'll be glad when Mother gets back!” Joe exclaimed. “We keep running out of everything.”

Mrs. Hardy was away visiting relatives, and was expected to be gone for two weeks.

“I wonder how Aunt Gertrude's enjoying Rio,” Frank mused. Their peppery maiden aunt, Mr. Hardy's sister, had been in South America since earlier in the summer.

“Brazil will never be the same again,” Joe quipped, “but I can't wait until she's back. If I have to live through any more of your cooking—”

Frank laughed, and went for the mail. He returned with a stack of envelopes. “Guess we can't forward these to Dad.” He held out four letters addressed to their father.

There was also a blue envelope for the boys. When Frank read the enclosed note, his hand flew to his head.

“What's the matter?” Joe asked in alarm.

“It's from Aunt Gertrude! She says she'll arrive in Bayport on the
Dorado
in eight days. This is postmarked eight days ago!”

“Today!” Joe groaned. “And this place looks as if a hurricane hit it!”

Frank phoned the North Lines office and learned that the
Dorado,
a freighter, was due to dock early that evening. “Joe! The dishes and beds! Where's the furniture polish? If Aunty finds the house in this shape, we'll really get a lecture!”

The whisk of brooms, the whirring of the vacuum, and the clang of pots and pans filled the air as the boys feverishly cleaned the house from attic to basement.

“Well, that should do it.” Frank sighed as the exhausted pair sat down to a light supper. But suddenly Joe jumped up.

“The laundry! There must be a mountain of it upstairs in the hall closet!”

The boys charged up the stairs and gathered the crumpled garments and linen. While Joe tied it up, Frank checked his father's closet and removed two pair of slacks which needed cleaning. As he did so, Frank noticed some papers bulging from the inside pocket of one of Mr. Hardy's suit coats.

“Looks as if Dad forgot these,” he called. “Hope they weren't important. Say, we've only ten minutes before the cleaner closes!”

“We can go from there to the pier.”

Frank drove into town and parked in front of Corporated Laundries' large new shop which handled dry cleaning.

As Joe ran in with the bundle, a burly, middle-aged man pushed ahead of him to the counter.

“I want these shirts done special. Charge it to my account,” he announced loudly.

“Yes, sir, Mr. North!” said the clerk, a thin, man with bushy eyebrows. But the overbearing customer had already stalked outside. Joe left his bundle, then rejoined Frank.

“Some nerve!” Joe growled. “Orrin North just elbowed me out of the way in there,” he told his brother as they headed toward the Bayport waterfront. “Even if he does own a shipping line, he could use some manners!”

“They say his passenger business isn't doing so well these days,” Frank said. Both boys knew North as a prominent Bayport resident who prided himself on being a successful man.

When the Hardys reached the waterfront, Frank parked at the North Lines pier where the
Dorado
would dock. The customs area bustled with officials. At several piers the boys noticed watchful plainclothesmen.

“There must be something to what that Micro-Eye guard said about illegal immigrants,” Joe observed.

“A person would have to be pretty clever to get through all these precautions,” Frank said. He turned to a customs inspector and learned that the
Dorado
was expected in an hour. The man added that the ship was taking very few passengers these days.

“I guess Aunt Gertrude was lucky,” Joe said. “What say we take a spin in the
Sleuth?
We can watch the
Dorado
coming in and still be back here by the time she docks!”

“Good idea!”