CHAPTER II

Strange Doors

frank and Joe stared at Chief Collig.

"John Mead is dead? But we saw-" Frank began.

"I don't care what you saw," the officer replied impatiently. "All I know is that John Mead and his chauffeur were killed in an automobile accident five years ago. No one else lived in the house."

"Perhaps a son-" suggested Joe.

"Didn't have any children. John Mead was a bachelor. At least, that's what I heard at the time. The former chief here might have known more about him, but he's dead too."

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. While waiting for Collig to finish speaking, Frank and Joe discussed the strange situation. If no one lived at the Mead house, who was the man they had met on the road?

"Gosh, maybe he's a burglarf" said Joe in a hoarse whisper.

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"He certainly didn't look like one."

"No, he didn't. But Dad says some of the meanest crooks are the most innocent-looking ones."

"That's right," Frank agreed. "Say, what do you think that fellow John Mead meant about a light in the house? If nobody's lived there for five years, the current would be turned off."

" 'The plot thickens,' " Joe quoted, his blue eyes lighting up with the thought of mystery. "Well, dead men don't make requests to have their lights turned off, and neither do ghosts. A very live man asked us to do this, and I'm going to find out why."

When a Hardy said that, one could be certain he would let nothing stop him from carrying out his purpose. It was because of this that father and sons had brought many a cunning criminal to justice. Even Mr. Hardy's sister, the boys' Aunt Gertrude, who visited them frequently and unexpectedly, had unearthed valuable clues for them. Mrs. Hardy, helpful in many ways, accepted it all philosophically, and secretly was very proud of her family.

Though only of high school age, Frank and Joe had been helping Fenton Hardy in his detective work ever since he had left the New York Police Force and come to practice privately in Bayport, a city of some fifty thousand inhabitants. Frank was tall, dark and keen-minded like his father. Joe, a year younger and blond like his mother, liked to get things done in a hurry.

Several times the boys had uncovered mysteries of

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their own, such as the baffling Tower Treasure and the recent Short-Wave Mystery, which they had solved to the complete satisfaction of their famous father. Now it began to look as if Frank and Joe had stumbled upon another mystery.

As soon as Chief Collig finished his telephone conversation, the boys told him in more detail about their meeting with the man who called himself John Mead. The Chief listened to their story, then smiled patronizingly.

"I'm inclined to think the fellow was having some fun at your expense," he said. "Ten to one, the key you say he gave you won't fit any lock at the Mead house."

Frank and Joe winced under the officer's implication. Collig might be right, at that. And then, too, the man on the road, learning who the boys were, might have been urging them on for some reason. But why?

"Sorry to upset your chance at a mystery," the Chief went on. He coughed a bit pompously.

Frank was nettled, but said evenly, "I don't believe Mr. Mead was trying to fool us. Anyway, we'd like to get into the house and see if there is a light burning. Dad thought we ought to take an officer along when we go there."

The Chief thought it would be a waste of time to send a man from his force on such an errand; still, he recalled, the Hardys had saved his skin on several occasions. Maybe he had better cooperate with

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them. Collig turned to his telephone and dialed a number. A moment later he spoke gruffly into the transmitter:

"Wake up!-What's that?-It's early?-Never mind that. It won't hurt you to get up now. Listen, Riley, the Hardy boys want your help."

Riley! The slow-witted policeman who had been demoted for letting himself be robbed by a thief he had caught! Frank and Joe looked at each other, then nodded in agreement. They could talk Riley out of any objections he might have!

"Make it snappy!" Collig ordered his patrolman. "Frank and Joe will pick you up in their car. And don't be late reporting back here!"

Before the boys' "Thank you, Chief" had echoed through the room, they were at the door and hurrying down the steps of the police station. Ten minutes later Frank brought the roadster to a stop in front of Patrolman Riley's house. Joe leaped out and rang the bell.

He expected the patrolman to answer it at once, but Riley was in no hurry. He was annoyed at having been awakened before it was time for him to go on duty and, furthermore, he had not forgotten some jokes the Hardys and other boys had played on him. Riley finished shaving, then came to the door in his bathrobe just as Joe rang the bell again.

"You've got to wait till I eat," he said glumly. "And my wife's out."

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Joe groaned. Did they have to delay while Riley cooked his breakfast? Joe stepped into the hall.

"Riley," he said, "something big's going to break. You want to be in on it, don't you?"

"You mean it?"

"Listen, Riley, there's a swell fortuneteller downtown. She'd tell you in a minute you'd be in line for a promotion if you could nab a crook."

"Crook? You want me to nab a crook?"

"Sure."

"Where is he?"

Joe was trying hard not to laugh. "If I knew, would I be here after you?"

The whole thing was over Riley's head. He could think of no answer, so he said:

"I got to eat first!"

"I'll fix some food for you," Joe offered, hoping to get action. "You go upstairs and put on your uniform."

He urged the policeman toward the stairs and then hurried to the kitchen. On a table stood a plate of food covered by a napkin. Evidently Mrs. Riley had left it there for her husband. Beside it was a can of powdered coffee. In a few moments Joe had a kettle of water boiling, and made a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Riley!" he called.

The patrolman appeared, still grumbling about having to get on the job ahead of his scheduled time. Nevertheless, he ate with relish and followed Joe to

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the street. Frank called to them to hurry, for he felt twenty minutes of valuable time had been lost. He drove as fast as the law allowed, and soon they were on a highway leading east from Bayport.

"Where we goin'?" Riley finally asked.

"To the Mead house," Frank replied.

"Never heard of it. Is that where the crook is?"

Joe, who was sitting between Riley and Frank, nudged his brother.

"I didn't say there's a crook at the Mead house. But you never can tell."

Riley fingered his night stick nervously as Frank turned into a driveway. No house was visible, but Frank had called attention to the single word mead carved on one of the stone pillars at the entrance. A short distance ahead was a heavy growth of trees, around which the driveway wound to the stone mansion. The house stood about two hundred feet from the water, commanding an unobstructed view of Barmet Bay.

"Ain't nobody here," remarked Riley, noting the closed shutters and uncut, weed-grown lawn. "Guess I'll sit in the car," he yawned. "You fellows go in if you want to."

"Not alone," said Frank firmly. "Law wouldn't allow it. Come on!"

The three got out of the roadster. Riley wanted to know which was the front of the house. "Looks to me like the back's the front," he smirked.

"Guess you're right," grinned Joe. "And maybe

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if the crook comes out the front door, he'll run backward and you can catch him!"

Riley's jaw dropped. "Eh, what's that?"

Joe did not attempt to explain. He hurried to catch up to Frank, who had taken the large key from his pocket. Reaching what appeared to be the main entrance to the house, the older boy stopped and stared in amazement.

"There-there's no knob on the door!"

Joe ran forward. "That's funny. Why, Frank, there's not even a keyhole!"

By this time Riley had lumbered up to them. After the boys had pointed out their discovery, he too stared in disbelief.

"But it ain't true," he said. "There never was a door without a knob."

"Except a swinging door," said Frank. "Maybe this is that kind." He pressed against it hopefully, but it did not budge.

Riley pushed back his cap and scratched his head. "Queerest thing I ever saw." He peered intently at the heavily carved oak door. "Not a sign of a keyhole nowhere." Then he muttered again, "But it ain't true! It ain't natural!"

"Let's look at the other doors," suggested Frank, putting the key back into his pocket.

The Mead mansion had four outside doors, one on each side of the building. All were ornate, but like the main door had no visible knob, lock, or keyhole. Frank took Joe aside.

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"What do you think now?" he asked. "Who was the fellow we met on the road? And what's this key he gave us?"

Joe shook his head. "Maybe Collig was right. That man John Mead probably was just taking us for a ride. You remember he said we might have trouble getting in."

Frank was thoughtful. He had glanced up at one of the shuttered windows, and noticed that it appeared to be without hinges or fasteners.

"It looks as if the architect who designed this place didn't like hardware," he remarked. "Perhaps there's a keyhole hidden in the design on the doors. Let's examine them more carefully."

"You start," Joe replied. "I want to run down to that boathouse and look it over. Seems like a pretty nice one from here."

He hurried along a narrow path that led from the mansion to the boathouse. A tangle of bushes and large overgrown flower beds indicated that the grounds of the Mead home once had been beautiful. Now they were badly neglected.

The boathouse was locked. Its side door had no knob, keyhole, or other means of opening it. The two windows had closed shutters like those on the house.

"Wonder if there's a boat inside," Joe mused.

There was no way to find out except by swimming under the large rolling door on the waterside.

At this moment there came an insistent honking.

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Joe ran back to find Riley with his hand glued to the horn.

"Got to go," he announced.

"But we haven't been in the house," objected Frank, who had not yet found a keyhole concealed in the carving on the main door.

"You ain't likely to, either," the patrolman grinned. He had forgotten about the crook he had thought he might catch and so win a promotion. Instead, he was enjoying the joke on the Hardy boys. "No, you ain't goin' to get in, and I got to report at Headquarters. So come along!"

Frank and Joe were not ready to leave. To abandon a mystery before they had hardly started on it was unheard of. But they had no alternative, so reluctantly they got into the roadster and headed back to Bayport.

Stopping at Headquarters to let Riley off, the boys were surprised to see their father coming down the steps. They waited to tell him about the strange doors at the Mead mansion, whose owner was reportedly dead.

"Most unusual," he commented. "We'll certainly have to look into the matter. No knobs or keyholes, eh?" He gazed into space for a moment, then added, "Let's talk it over later. Right now I'd like to borrow your car. Mine's being repaired at the Acme garage, and I must see a man over in Hen-tyville right away."

Frank and Joe got out and started for home on

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foot. Frank suggested they take a short cut that brought them to the back yard of their property. Suddenly Frank caught Joe's arm and whispered:

"Look!"

"What's up?"

Frank pointed. Crouching at the back door of the Hardy home was a man apparently picking the lockl