CHAPTER VI

A Worried Locksmith

chet morton enjoyed the effect of his bombshell for several seconds before revealing anything more. Whenever he could tell the Hardys something they had not found out already, he felt it was a great victory for him.

"You're sure John Mead's alive?" Frank asked, unbelieving.

"Sure am," Chet insisted. "On my way over here I had a hunch, so I stopped at the power company and asked if they have an account for John Mead. They do!"

Before Frank and Joe could think of anything to say to this surprising announcement, the doorbell rang. Frank went to answer it. To his surprise he saw his Aunt Gertrude standing on the porch. Since his relative had a key to the house, he wondered why she had not let herself in.

After opening the door, Frank submitted to a brushing kiss, and took his aunt's suitcase. Miss

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Hardy glared at it for a couple of seconds. Frank wondered why. He could not see that any damage had been done to the suitcase which might have upset his aunt.

"That's the cause of all my trouble," she said, pointing at the bag with her umbrella. "I wish I'd never started out."

"Did something happen?" Frank asked her.

"Did something happen? A great deal! Where is everybody?" Without waiting for an answer, the unpredictable woman went on, "They're still at the breakfast table, I'll be bound." She strode into the dining room and greeted the others. "Laura, how do you stand it to have meals at all hours? Well, things will be different, now that I'm here."

Frank, Joe, and even Chet knew this only too well. Aunt Gertrude, though she loved her famous brother's family, always made a point of trying to improve their habits during her visits to the Hardy home. Her methods were apt to be dictatorial, and the boys had had difficulties with her too often for comfort.

Mrs. Hardy smiled. "It'll be nice to have your help, Gertrude," she said. "Tell us, how did you get here? We would have come for you if we had known your plans."

"It would have been better if you had," said Miss Hardy. "Then my keys wouldn't have been stolen."

Urged to tell what had happened, the maiden lady went on to say that she had decided suddenly to come to Bayport. She had telephoned to the Hardy home

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several times, only to get a busy signal. Impatient, Miss Hardy had taken a bus to Bayport, and driven up from the terminal in a taxicab.

"After I got in the taxicab, I noticed my keys were gone-every one of them," Miss Hardy explained.

"You lost them?" said Joe.

His aunt gave the boy a withering look. "I? Not Gertrude Hardy. And they wouldn't have been stolen out of my purse if it hadn't been for that suitcase of mine."

She explained that a clumsy fellow, who was getting off the bus, had tripped over her suitcase, fallen into her lap, and knocked her purse to the floor. He had apologized profusely and had helped her pick up the contents of her pocketbook.

"Later I discovered my keycase was gone," Aunt Gertrude finished the story. "He stole it! I know it!"

"But why would anyone want your keys?" Joe asked.

Aunt Gertrude glared at the boy. "Why, indeed? Well, that case contained the keys to my suitcase and a lot of other things."

"But you have your suitcase," Mrs. Hardy said kindly. "Is it locked?"

Her sister-in-law admitted it was. "And now I can't open it. Frank, Joe, I want you to take my bag downtown right away and have another key made for it."

"We'll go to Ben Whittaker's," offered Frank.

"Now mind you, don't let him snoop inside,"

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Aunt Gertrude ordered. "Or you, either. Go on now, and don't be long. There are some things in the bag I want to hang up before they have a million wrinkles in them."

Chet had not eaten all he would have liked to, but he thought it wise to leave with the boys. Any moment now, Miss Hardy might start trying to reform his eating habits!

When the three friends arrived at Whittaker's shop, they found the locksmith in a state of anxiety.

"Just the people I want to see!" he cried out. "Boys, Mike Matton hasn't come back. I phoned his house, and they told me that he's moved! Nobody knows where he's gone!"

Frank and Joe were not surprised to hear this, but they were astonished at Ben Whittaker's next announcement. A large quantity of expensive hardware had been taken from the shop!

"Of course you suspect Mike?" Joe asked.

"I'm forced to," the elderly locksmith admitted. "But that's not the worst of it. My reputation is at stake. For forty years I've been in business and no one has ever questioned me before!"

"Is someone doing so now?" Frank asked.

Old Mr. Whittaker nodded. "Mrs. Eccles phoned a few minutes ago. When I told her I couldn't return her antique lock, she was very angry and threatened to notify the police. Why, that's what you do with a common thief!"

Frank suggested that perhaps the woman would

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think things over, and realize Mr. Whittaker was not responsible for the loss of her valuable lock. To take the worried locksmith's mind off his troubles, Frank showed him Aunt Gertrude's suitcase, and asked him to make a key for it. With deft fingers the elderly man set about the task. After trying his master keys on the bag, he adjusted his machine to the proper pattern, and clamped in a blank to cut. As the locksmith worked, Frank asked him if he knew John Mead.

"I did," Mr. Whittaker replied. "Nice man. Too bad he died."

Chet jumped. "What's that you said, sir? I mean, you're sure?"

"We were told that John Mead was still living," Frank explained.

Ben Whittaker shook his head. "I know better," he said.

"Please tell us about him," Frank requested.

"I know very little about him, except that at one time he was a partner in a big hardware concern in New York," the Bayport locksmith revealed. "Mr. Mead once laughingly told me he had vowed many years ago to build himself a house without a single lock or keyhole when he was ready to retire. Said he had become so tired of looking at locks he never wanted to see another one in his whole life!"

Ben Whittaker went on to say that he had spent several very pleasant evenings with the retired hardware manufacturer discussing locksmithing prob-

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lems. John Mead had been extremely clever and inventive, but perhaps a little eccentric. He had never mentioned having any family, and no will had been found after his death. So far as Whittaker knew, no one had claimed the estate.

"Don't any of the doors inside the house have locks on them?" Chet asked in awe.

"Yes, but they have all been concealed," Ben Whittaker replied. "Well, Frank, here's the suitcase key. Try it out."

The Hardy boy inserted the key in the lock. It fitted perfectly. Joe, who had gone to the rear of the shop, now returned with a telephone directory in his hand. Grinning, he pointed to a certain page and read aloud:

" 'John Mead. 22 Beach St.' Guess that's your man, Chet."

Chet Morton was crushed for a moment. Then he said hopefully that it was possible this was the man the Hardy boys had met on the road.

"Why don't you go over to Beach Street and find out?" he urged.

"Not a bad idea," Frank agreed. "Tell you what. Suppose you and Joe do that while I take Aunt Gertrude's suitcase home. I'll meet you at Main and Beach in half an hour with the roadster."

"Okay." Chet felt better. The boy was sure he was about to solve one of the Hardys' mysteries; in fact, he was so sure of it, he stepped along more jauntily than usual. "It's swell to get a mystery

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ft cleared up, isn't it, Joe?" he asked enthusiastically. ''Makes a fellow feel good."

Ten minutes later the two boys paused in front o{ 22 Beach Street, then mounted the steps. Joe rang the bell, and a pleasant-looking woman opened the door.

"Is Mr. Mead at home?" Joe inquired.

"No, not at the moment. I'm Mrs. Mead. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," Joe replied, smiling. "Have you a recent photograph of your husband?"

"So that's it! You're a photographer," Mrs. Mead said. "Well, we don't want any pictures taken!" She started to close the door.

"Oh, that's not it!" cried Chet. "Joe here just wants to look at your husband's picture. Maybe he knows him. And if he doesn't, then the key isn't yours."

The woman looked blankly at Chet. Whatever was this boy talking about? Joe laughed, explaining that he wanted to find out if the John Mead who lived there was the one he was looking for.

"But, Joe, you said the one you're looking for is dead," Chet interrupted.

Mrs. Mead's face turned pale. Then she asked quickly if something had happened to her husband.

"Oh, I didn't mean to say that," Chet apologized hurriedly. "Joe, you tell her what I mean."

The Hardy boy straightened matters out, and at last poor Mrs. Mead understood why they had come.

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She showed them a photograph of her husband, and Joe shook his head. This was not the man from whom he and Frank had received the key.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Mead," Joe said. "Well, we'll run along."

On the way back to the corner of Main and Beach streets, Chet was silent for several minutes. His great idea had fallen completely flat. Under such circumstances the only thing that could revive his spirits was food. Now, as they passed a bakery window, Chet's eyes fell upon a tray of doughnuts. He remembered that he had been unable to finish his good breakfast at the Hardy home.

"Say, Joe," he called suddenly, "we ought to stock up a bit for the job we have to do."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there's no telling how long we'll have to work, nor how far we may have to go to find the man who sold me the dory," Chet explained. "So-let's get a few doughnuts in here, and maybe a pie------"

"There's a better bakery in the next block," Joe told his chum, urging him along. "And anyhow, Frank may be waiting."

At the corner stood a covered truck, the rear of which was open. As the boys came abreast of it, Chet let out a yelp.

"It's-it's my man!" he cried. "That truck driver! He's the fellow who sold me the boat!"

The two boys raced into the street and pulled themselves up onto the back of the truck just as the

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traffic light changed. But Chet and Joe had not reckoned with an unseen possibility. Before they could get their balance, a giant figure suddenly arose from the floor of the dark interior, and two huge fists swung toward them.

An instant later Joe and Chet, powerless to defend themselves, were knocked to the pavement!