The Secret Panel Read Online Free

through his pockets.
    Joe stared at his brother anxiously. Finally he said, “Maybe you left it at home.”
    â€œNo. I wish I had,” Frank answered, giving a groan. “I guess it fell from my pocket when we dived out of Chet’s boat.”
    â€œWell, it probably doesn’t belong to the Mead doors, anyway,” Joe said.
    â€œJust the same, I wish I hadn’t lost it,” Frank muttered.
    â€œI’d like to see those doors,” Chet announced. “Let’s tie up and have a look.”
    Joe cut the motor and allowed the Sleuth to drift to shore. Here he made it fast to the dock adjoining the Mead boathouse. The boys got out and walked to the side door.
    â€œWow!” Chet exclaimed. “This really is a mystery! Even the boathouse door has no keyhole or knob.”
    â€œWait until you see the mansion,” Joe said with a grin. “Come on!”
    The Hardys led the way and their friend looked in bewilderment at the heavily carved rear door.
    â€œAre they all this fancy?” he wanted to know.
    â€œYes. Each has a different design, though,” Frank replied.
    â€œAnd none has any apparent way to get in,” Joe added. “Queer, eh?”
    As the boys rounded the house to inspect the front entrance, they heard a car coming along the driveway. Frank and Joe thought it might be the man who called himself John Mead, so they waited. But the car was not Mead’s. Before the boys could get a look at the driver he backed around the curve and turned back.
    â€œWell, what do you make of that?” cried Joe.
    â€œEither somebody lost his way, or didn’t want to meet us,” Frank replied.
    He ran forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the car’s license plate, but it was almost out of sight. When it reached the highway, it roared off in the direction of Bayport.
    Frank glanced at his watch, noting the time for possible future reference. “Four-thirty,” he stated.
    â€œOh, oh,” Chet cried, “I’m supposed to meet my mother at five downtown!”
    The three boys hurried to the boathouse and jumped into the Sleuth. Frank sent it skimming across the water, and ten minutes later they alighted in Bayport.
    After housing the Sleuth, the trio got into Mr. Hardy’s car and Frank took Chet to the place where he was to meet his mother. Luckily Mrs. Morton was not waiting yet.
    Chet jumped out and waved good-by. “See you tomorrow, fellows. And don’t forget to work on my case!”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Frank called out to his friend, then headed home.
    Mrs. Hardy, a slim, attractive woman, was in the kitchen mixing batter for popovers, and from the oven came the appetizing aroma of roast beef.
    â€œSmells good,” Frank said, grinning. “Where’d you learn to cook?”
    â€œThat’s my secret,” his mother replied with a smile.
    â€œSpeaking of secrets,” Joe began, “I wish you wouldn’t keep so many to yourself.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Mrs. Hardy was puzzled.
    The boys told her of the man who had been about to change the back-door lock, and that they had stopped him.
    â€œWell, I’m certainly glad you did!” their mother exclaimed. “There must be a mistake. I didn’t phone Ben Whittaker.”
    â€œWe didn’t think you had,” replied Frank. “Let’s go right down there and find out what that guy Batton is up to. Come on, Joe.”
    â€œOkay, but be back in time for dinner.”
    â€œWe will.”
    A few minutes later Frank and Joe parked in front of Ben Whittaker’s store. He was just closing the shop, but smiled at the boys as he let them in.
    â€œHas Mike Batton gone for the day?” Frank asked.
    â€œYes. In fact, he didn’t come back here after he went out on some errands a few hours ago.”
    â€œMr. Whittaker,” Joe asked, “have you found Batton to be entirely honest?”
    The locksmith