CHAPTER XI

The Eavesdroppers

"are you joking?" Joe asked. "Spike Marlin. Turn it around and you get marlinespike, the tool used in rope splicing."

"It struck me the same way," Captain Flint replied. "But that's what he said his name was."

"Fine alias for a guy with a sense of humor," Frank said, and asked the captain where Marlin was from or where he was going. Flint did not know. "Was there anything unusual about him, anything that might help us to identify him?" Frank asked.

"Not much. His clothes were worn, but pretty nondescript. I did notice an anchor tattoo on the back of his left hand. He might have been a seaman, but I wouldn't swear to it."

"Those are pretty good clues," Joe said. "Thanks a lot."

The boys left to scan the area, trying to pick up Tim Varney's trail. They had no luck, so they

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returned to Mrs. Snow's in the late afternoon. After supper they headed back to the seaport.

They searched in seamen's meeting houses and in cheap restaurants, and questioned proprietors of stores and clerks at hotel desks. But their efforts were fruitless. Several persons readily admitted to knowing Varney, but no one had seen him for the last few days or knew where he might be found.

Finally the trio stopped at a drugstore and ordered sodas.

"Boy, these are really good!" Joe said after the first cooling gulp.

"Good! My friend, they're superb!" Chet responded. He finished his soda before the Hardys were halfway done and ordered another. After the gurgling sound of the straw reaching bottom, Chet gave the Hardys a plaintive look. "Fellows," he said, "it's not that I'm trying to get out of work or anything, but these sodas are the best I've ever tasted."

"What are you trying to say, Chet?" Joe asked.

The chubby boy wore a sheepish expression. "Well, if you guys think you might be able to do without me for a while, I'd sure like to stick around and do some real justice to that artist who makes these ice-cream dreams."

"Look, Chet," Joe said. "We were planning on having you lead us in a couple of double-time laps around the block."

Chet raised his hands in mock horror, and

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Frank added, "Okay. If we run into any trouble, we'll come back and get you. Otherwise plan on meeting us here in an hour."

Frank and Joe left the drugstore and continued their search. Darkness was falling and the moon was visible only as a dim, thin crescent above a layer of black wind-driven clouds.

"Do you think Tim Varney has gone into hiding?" Joe asked.

"It's a possibility. I- Wait a minute! Over there by the grocery store, Joe!"

Joe squinted against the blackness, focusing his eyes on the figure that was moving furtively along the other side of the street. "That's our man, all right."

"Into this doorway, quick," Frank said. "Give him a chance to get a bit of a lead, then we'll follow him."

Varney glanced nervously around, as if to make sure that he was not being followed. After a moment he shrugged and hurried on. When he was half a block away, Frank and Joe stepped out of the doorway. They tailed the man through a labyrinth of twisting streets until he arrived at a clapboard shack close to the waterfront. Varney paused, looked around him, then pulled open the door and went inside.

Frank and Joe pressed against the side of a warehouse, watching. "What do you think we should do now?" Joe asked.

94 Mystery of the Whale Tattoo

"Well," Frank said, "there was no light when he entered, and he still hasn't turned one on. It's my guess that he's waiting for somebody. I think we should stick tight and see what happens."

"Okay."

After fifteen minutes Joe grew restless and began to fidget, when Frank suddenly whispered, "Something's moving off to the side of the shack."

Joe looked. Two dark forms-one of them much larger than the other-were approaching the ramshackle structure. They made their way to the door, then rapped on it with four sharp knocks. The door opened and they stepped inside. Moments later a weak light appeared behind the covered windows.

The boys crouched low and covered the distance between the shack and the warehouse at a half-run. A thin wedge of light knifed through a crack on the side of the door. The Hardys each pressed an eye to the opening.

Inside, three men were pacing about. One of them strode close to the door. Instantly Frank and Joe recognized him as the hulking man who had been in the red coupe with Varney and the blonde.

"Hey, Mug!" came Varney's voice.

The big man turned. "What?"

The boys could not make out Varney's next sentence. A higher voice said, "Wish we could get

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this job finished." Frank and Joe strained for a look at the speaker. Moments later they succeeded, when a youth about their own age, slightly built and with sandy hair, stomped angrily past the door, snarling the name "Hardy."

"There's nothin' you can do, Baby Face!"

"Well, I don't like sittin' around, Mug," replied the blond youth hotly. "There's no sense talkin' any more. Let's get out of this hole."

He strode toward the door, barely giving Frank and Joe time to scoot around the corner of the shack. The light went out, the door slammed shut, and the three vanished into the darkness.

Frank peered around the corner in time to see two headlights wink on, a motor start, and a car pull away.

"Nuts, we can't follow them," he muttered.

Joe grabbed his arm. "Remember that night I saw someone lurking near the phone booth at the carnival?"

"Yes."

"Well, that fellow Baby Face is the one I saw hanging around there."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "This gets more interesting-and complicated-every moment."

"There's no doubt that Varney was trying to split your skull on the whaler," Joe said. "But just what do you think is this job they're talking about?"

96 Mystery of the Whale Tattoo

"I don't know. It could be connected with the stolen whale, or it might have something to do with Dad's case."

"Or both cases, for that matter," Joe added.

"Right, but remember we still don't have one shred of positive proof. Originally we thought the whale had been stolen by someone from the carnival. Now suddenly we find this fair-haired guy was at the carnival, which, while not ruling out the carnival people, seems to imply a bigger gang. Also there's that postcard signed Beluga that was mailed from here."

"And once we got to Mystic," Joe said, "we started running into seamen who are involved-Tim Varney and Whitey Meldrum. The gang Dad is after is made up of seamen. Wow! What a mess! Frank, I think we should get the police to arrest these guys right now."

"No good, Joe. There's nothing they can be charged with-at the moment."

"Varney tried to smash you with that whalebone!"

"He could claim it was an accident, and we couldn't prove otherwise."

"Well, I still think we should get them while we have the chance," Joe said.

"They'd only be set free ten minutes after the police brought them in," Frank countered, "and besides, they're not sure how much we know

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about them. We'd be tipping our hand. Come on. Let's investigate this shack!"

They walked in. Joe struck a match and lit the wick of the old-fashioned lamp.

Two things instantly captured their attention-a woman's blond wig and a souvenir cane from Solo's Super Carnival!