The Melted Coins Read Online Free Page A

said.
    â€œOkav, fellows, I’ll be seeing you.” Rod gave each a finger-crushing handshake and departed.
    In mock horror, Chet pried one finger from the other. “That guy thinks he’s holding a wrench,” he complained. “Well, when are we leaving?”
    Joe suggested the next morning and added, “It’s not far from Hawk Head. Perhaps we can stop and say hello to the Rideaus.”
    â€œGood thought. They invited us for dinner!”
    The next day when the boys were checking out of the motel, the manager said, “I have a letter for Chet Morton.”
    Looking pleased, the stout boy took the envelope and opened it. As he studied the letter, his chin fell. “From Zoar College,” he said and read it to the Hardys:
    â€œâ€˜Dear Mr. Morton: On checking your credentials we find that you are ineligible for the Zoar College summer course.’ ”
    Enclosed with the note was Chet’s money. “What a rotten trick!” he grumbled. “What do you make of this?”
    â€œI told you before I thought the whole thing was fishy,” Frank replied. “Anyway, you got your money back.”
    â€œIt’s strange that they sent it in cash,” Joe remarked. “Let’s go see this Zoar College when we get upstate New York.”
    â€œOkay. Before we leave, I think we ought to call home,” Frank said.
    While Joe paid the bill, he put in a call to his father, giving him a quick rundown on what had happened. When Mr. Hardy heard the name Magnitude Merchandising Mart he let out a low whistle.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Dad? Do you know that outfit?” Frank asked.
    â€œI’ve heard about it and it bears some investigating.”
    â€œConnected with your mail fraud case?”
    â€œYes, Frank. But keep it under your hat for the time being at least. You fellows may have handed me a good lead.”
    The detective wished his sons luck in the Spoon Mouth case, but warned them to be careful. “I suggest you leave Cleveland immediately,” he concluded.
    â€œWe intend to, Dad. In fact we’re on our way now,” Frank told him and hung up.
    Ten minutes later they were rolling along the highway out of Cleveland, enjoying the morning sunshine. Chet luxuriated in the back seat, taking in the beauty of the countryside. He happened to glance behind him.
    â€œOh, no!” he moaned. “There’s Creepy again!”
    â€œThe office boy? Are you sure?” Frank asked, looking into the rear-view mirror.
    He slowed down and the trailing car did likewise. The cat-and-mouse game lasted for miles. Then, slowed nearly to a stop by two passing trucks, Creepy tailgated, touching his front bumper to the rear of the convertible.
    â€œHope he doesn’t play any hot-rod tricks,” Joe said.
    Chet turned around, shook his fist, and shouted, “Get off our backs, Creepy!”
    With traffic flowing again, their pursuer poured on the gas, pushing the Hardys’ car ahead. Frank knew this could easily throw them out of control. He accelerated, but still Creepy’s car bore hard against the convertible.
    As their back end slewed around, the pillar of an overpass loomed in front of them. Frank’s expert driving prevented a head-on crash, but the convertible sideswiped the concrete and came to a grinding halt.
    Creepy’s car flashed by and was lost in the traffic ahead. Moments later a police car, siren wailing, drove up and stopped. The officer was polite but firm. After examining Frank’s license, he said, “Looks as if you fellows were hot-rodding along here.”
    â€œWe weren’t,” Frank protested, and told what had happened.
    â€œOne of your buddies playing footsy with you?” the officer asked.
    â€œHe wasn’t our buddy!” Joe said hotly.
    The officer half smiled, indicating he did not believe their story. He proceeded to write out a summons.
    â€œHere,” he said, handing it to