the young boy on the bicycle was directly in its path.
"Look out!" the Hardys yelled at him.
CHAPTER II
Trailing a Detective
THE BOY on the bicycle heard the Hardys' warning just in time and swerved away from the on-
rushing car. He skidded and ran up against the curb.
The momentum carried the boy over the handlebars. He landed in a sitting position on the
pavement, looking dazed.
"That driver must be out of his head!" Joe yelled as he, Frank, and Chet dashed over to the boy.
The sedan continued its erratic path, and finally, with brakes squealing and horn blaring,
slammed into the curb. It had barely missed a parked car.
By now the Hardys and Chet had reached the boy. He was still seated on the sidewalk, holding
his head.
"Are you all right?" Frank asked, bending down. The boy was about fourteen years old, very thin and tall for his age.
"I-I think so." A grateful look came into the boy's clear brown eyes. "Thanks for the warning, fellows!
Whew! That was close!"
Frank and Joe helped him to his feet. A crowd had gathered, and the Hardys had a hard time
keeping the onlookers back. Just then the driver of the sedan made his way through the throng.
He was a middle-aged man, and his face was ashen and drawn.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! My brakes wouldn't hold. Are you fellows all right?" The driver was frantic with worry. "It happened so fast-I-I just couldn't stop!"
"In that case, you're lucky no one was hurt," Frank said calmly.
The Hardys saw a familiar uniformed figure push through the crowd toward them.
"What's going on?" he demanded. He was Officer Roberts, a member of the local police department and an old friend of the Hardys. The driver of the car started to explain, but by this time he had become so confused, his statements were incoherent.
"What happened, Frank?" Officer Roberts asked.
Frank assured him no one was hurt, and said that apparently the mishap had been entirely
accidental, and the only damage was to the boy's bicycle. The front wheel spokes were bent,
and some of the paint was scratched off the fender.
The car driver, somewhat calmer now, insisted upon giving the boy five dollars toward repairs.
"I'll phone for a tow truck," Joe offered, and hurried off to make the call while Officer Roberts got the traffic moving again.
After the garage truck had left with the sedan, and the crowd had dispersed, the boy with the
bicycle gave a sudden gasp.
"My envelope!" he cried out. "Where is it?"
The Hardys and Chet looked around. Joe was the first to spot a large Manila envelope in the
street near the curb. He stepped out and picked it up. "Is this yours?" he asked.
"Yes! I was afraid it was lost!"
As Joe handed over the heavy, sealed envelope, he noticed that it was addressed in bold
printing to Mr.
Victor Peters, Parker Building, and had Confidential marked in the lower left-hand corner.
The boy smiled as he took the envelope and mounted his bicycle. "Thanks a lot for helping me, fellows.
My name is Ken Blake."
The Hardys and Chet introduced themselves and asked Ken if he lived in Bayport.
"Not really," Ken answered slowly. "I have a summer job near here."
"Oh! Where are you working?" Chet asked.
Ken paused a moment before replying. "At a place outside of town," he said finally.
Although curious about Ken's apparent evasiveness, Frank changed the subject. He had been
observing the bicycle with interest. Its handlebars were a different shape from most American
models. The handgrips were much higher than the center post and the whole effect was that of
a deep U.
"That's a nifty bike," he said. "What kind is it?"
Ken looked pleased. "It was made in Belgium. Rides real smooth," Then he added, "I'd better get back on the job now. I have several errands to do. So long, and thanks again."
As Ken rode off, Joe murmured, "Funny he's so secretive about where he lives and works."
Frank agreed. "I wonder why."
Chet scoffed. "There you go again, making a mystery out of it."
Frank and Joe had acquired their keen observation and interest in places and people from their father, one of the most famous investigators in the United States.
Only recently, the boys had solved The Tower Treasure mystery. Shortly afterward, they had
used all their ingenuity and courage to uncover a dangerous secret in the case of The House on the Cliff.
"Come on, you two," Chet urged. "Let's get my microscope before anything else happens."
They had almost reached the Scientific Specialties Store when Joe grabbed his brother's arm
and pointed down the street.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "There's Oscar Smuff. What's he up to?"
The other boys looked and saw a short, stout man who was wearing a loud-checkered suit and
a soft felt hat. Chet guffawed. "He acts as if he were stalking big game in Africa! Where's the lion?"
"I think"-Frank chuckled-"our friend is trying to shadow someone."
"If he is," Chet said, "how could anybody not know Oscar Smuff was following him?"
Oscar Smuff, the Hardys knew, wanted to be a member of the Bayport Police Department. He
had read many books on crime detection, but, though he tried hard, he was just not astute
enough to do anything
right. The boys had encountered him several times while working on their own cases. Usually
Smuff's efforts at detection had proved more hindrance than help, and at times actually
laughable.
"Let's see what happens," said Joe.
In a second the boys spotted the man Oscar Smuff was tailing-a tall, trim, well-dressed stranger.
He carried a suitcase and strode along as though he was going some place with a firm purpose
in mind.
The boys could hardly restrain their laughter as they watched Smuff's amateurish attempts to
put into action what he had read about sleuthing.
"He's about as inconspicuous as an elephant!" Chet observed.
Smuff would run a few steps ahead of the stranger, then stop at a store window and pretend to
be looking at the merchandise on display. Obviously he was waiting for the man to pass him,
but Smuff did not seem to care what kind of window he was looking in. Joe nudged Frank and
Chet when Oscar Smuff paused before the painted-over window of a vacant store.
"Wonder what he's supposed to be looking at," Chet remarked.
Smuff hurried on, then suddenly stopped again. He took off his jacket, threw it over his arm,
and put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
"Get a load of his tactics now!" Joe laughed. "He's trying to change his appearance."
Frank chuckled. "Oscar's been studying about how to tail, but he needs a lot more practice."
"He probably suspects the man has contraband in his suitcase," Joe guessed, grinning.
The tall stranger suddenly turned and looked back at Smuff. The would-be detective had
ducked into a doorway and was peering out like a child playing hide-and-seek. For a moment
Smuff and the stranger stared at each other. The man shrugged as though puzzled about what
was going on, then continued walking.
Smuff kept up his comical efforts to shadow his quarry, unaware that the boys were following
him. Near the end of the block, the man turned into a small variety store and Smuff scurried in after him.
"Come on!" said Joe to Frank and Chet. "This is too good to miss."
The boys followed. Oscar Smuff was standing behind a display of large red balloons. He was so
intent on his quarry that he still did not notice the Hardys and Chet.