What Happened at Midnight

Table of Contents

 

 

FRANK and Joe Hardy receive an unusual assignment from their detective father. They are to “break into” the house of a Bayport neighbor, Malcolm Wright, and retrieve a top-secret invention that the scientist had hidden in his study before leaving for California. The invention is in danger of being stolen, and the boys race against time to beat the thieves at their own game.

But the young detectives soon discover that they are involved in a mystery far greater in scope than just retrieving the invention. Their investigations put them on the trail of a dangerous gang of jewel thieves and smugglers. When Joe is kidnapped, this incident starts Frank off on a chase that almost ends disastrously for him and his pals.

The exciting capture of several members of the gang during a stormy night on Barmet Bay and a perilous encounter with the insidious Anchor Pete concludes one of the most complicated cases of the Hardys' career.

The subway train rapidly gained on them!

Copyright © 1995, 1967, 1959, 1931 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07625-5

2008 Printing

CHAPTER I

“WHAT an assignment! And from our own Dad!”

Joe Hardy grinned at his brother Frank as the two boys slipped into ripple soled shoes and put on dark jackets.

“First time we've ever been asked to play burglar,” Frank answered with a chuckle.

A few days before, their father, an ace detective, and Malcolm Wright, an inventor, had left for California to hunt for Wright's valuable stolen antique plane. Because they would be delayed in returning, the inventor had requested the brothers to “break into” his home and retrieve a top-secret invention before thieves took it.

“A little second-story work around midnight,” Joe mused, “and all because Mr. Wright left his keys inside the house and locked everything but that one bedroom window with a broken lock.”

“The invention must be something super or Dad and Mr. Wright wouldn't have asked us to guard it with our lives,” Frank remarked. “I wonder what it is.”

“Dad gave us permission to find out. Say, suppose we can't locate that secret compartment we think is in Mr. Wright's desk before those thieves arrive?” Joe asked. “I wish Dad could have given us all the details before the call was cut off and we couldn't get it back.”

Joe, who had blond hair, was a year younger than his dark-haired, eighteen-year-old brother Frank. Both had solved many mysteries, some of them for their father.

Fenton Hardy had told the boys on the telephone that just before Mr. Wright had left Bayport, where they all lived, he had been threatened by a mysterious gang. They had learned about the invention from a worker in a factory that had made some of the parts. He had breached the confidence placed in him.

The caller had told Mr. Wright that if he did not voluntarily turn over his invention before a certain time, “visitors” would come for it. The date they had set was the following day!

“Mr. Wright didn't have time to put the invention in a safe-deposit box, so he hid it in his study,” Fenton Hardy had said. “He's afraid the thieves may break into his house, so he has alerted the police to be there tomorrow morning. But he's worried and he wants you boys to get the small box containing the invention before then. Don't leave it at our house when you're not there. Keep it with you at all times but well hidden.”

Frank and Joe relayed the conversation to their pretty, understanding mother, and to Aunt Gertrude, their father's maiden sister who lived with them. She was inclined to be critical of her nephews involvement in detective work.

Instantly she said, “Be burglars! The idea! Why, suppose you fall off that house—I”

“Gertrude,
please!”
Mrs. Hardy broke in. “Don't even mention such a possibility. I know the boys will be careful.”

“Of course,” said Joe. “Let's go, Frank!”

The brothers hurried to the garage where their shiny convertible gleamed in the light of a street lamp on the corner of High and Elm streets. Frank took the wheel and drove to within a block of Mr. Wright's rambling, old-fashioned house. The boys walked to it and were glad to see that the building stood in deep shadows.

They reconnoitered the grounds in silence. No one was around. Finally Frank whispered, “I guess our best bet to the second floor is that trellis. It looks sturdy. We'll go across the roof over the kitchen door and edge around to the unlocked window.”

“I'll stay close by and hold onto your legs until you make it,” Joe answered.

They followed each other up the trellis and crossed the narrow roof. Fortunately there was not much pitch to it. Joe crouched and grasped his brother's right leg.

“All set,” he announced in a whisper.

Frank stretched over to the window ledge but could not reach the top of the sash to raise it.

“Give me a push upward,” he murmured to Joe, who hoisted his brother until his fingers reached the top of the sash.

The window lifted easily. Frank pulled himself sideways through it. “Your turn, Joe.” He reached out and grasped his brother's outstretched hands.

Joe, a little shorter than Frank, found he could not reach the window without swinging precariously in space. If Frank couldn't hold his brother's weight, he would be dragged outside. Both boys would plunge to the ground!

“No use being silly about this,” Frank said. “I'll open the rear door for you.”

Joe was about to climb down the trellis when a strong light suddenly lit the area.

“A car!” Frank exclaimed as the driver beamed a searchlight on their side of the street. “Maybe the thieves are in it! Duck!”

Frank quickly closed the window, while Joe flattened himself face down on the roof. He did not stand up until the area was in darkness again. Then he hurried down the trellis and through the rear door.

“Duck!” Frank exclaimed. “Maybe the thieves
are in that car!”

“Close call!” said Frank.

Joe nodded. “I thought maybe it was a police car, but I guess not. It had no revolving top light.”

His brother agreed. “I'm sure Mr. Wright's enemies are casing this place!”

“Yes. And they'll probably be back soon! We'd better get moving.”

Holding their flashlights low to the floor, the boys sped up the stairs and found Mr. Wright's study. A large walnut desk stood in the center of the room. Frank and Joe walked to the front of it, where there were drawers to left and right of the wide kneehole.

“The secret compartment may be in one of them,” Joe suggested.

“They're not locked,” Frank whispered in amazement.

The boys searched diligently, lifting aside letters and other papers. They found nothing.

“Now what?” Joe asked.

Frank had an idea. “I'll look in the kneehole while you hunt for movable panels on the outside of the desk.”

Again there was silence as the two boys began to finger the woodwork. Minutes went by, then Joe said, “I've found something that moves.”

Frank crawled out and watched as his brother slid open a panel, revealing a long, narrow space.

“Anything in it?” Frank asked.

Joe beamed his flashlight inside. A look of disappointment came over his face.

“Nothing,” he announced. “There might have been at some time, though.”

“You mean the invention?”

“Maybe. How are you making out?”

“Something in the kneehole looks suspicious,” Frank answered.

Just then the boys heard the crash of glass and immediately clicked off their flashlights. Someone had broken a windowpane, and at this moment was no doubt reaching inside for the lock. Any minute one or more men might mount the stairs and enter the study!

The boys looked for a hiding place. There were no draperies, sofa, or large chairs, and no closet.

“Let's hide in the kneehole,” Frank whispered, “then use our hand signals.”

Some time before this, the Hardys had devised a series of hand-squeeze signals. One hard squeeze meant, “Let's attack!” Two indicated caution. Long, short, long meant, “We'd better scram.” An ordinary handshake was, “Agreed.”

“If there aren't more than two men, let's attack,” Joe said in a barely audible tone.

“Okay.”

Quickly the two crawled into the kneehole and pulled the desk chair into place. The boys were well hidden when they heard footsteps on the stairs, then voices.