The Secret Panel Read Online Free Page A

looked startled. “Why—ah—yes,” he answered. “What’s on your mind, boys?”
    They told the elderly man about finding his assistant changing the back-door lock on the Hardy house without authorization.
    Mr. Whittaker looked concerned and went immediately to his desk.
    â€œHere’s the order,” he said, holding up a pad.
    â€œMay I see it?” Frank asked.
    Whittaker handed him the pad. Written on it was “Hardy—back-door lock” and under it “Mrs. Eccles.” Frank suggested that the locksmith call Mrs. Eccles to see if she had left an order to have her lock changed.
    Mr. Whittaker apprehensively made the call. His expression became more grave as he spoke with Mrs. Eccles. When he finally hung up, he said in a weary voice:
    â€œShe’s very upset. She never ordered any lock-work either, but her lock was changed while she was out shopping. And when she returned, two hundred dollars was missing from her desk drawer!”
    Mr. Whittaker paced up and down, completely baffled. “I can’t understand it. Batton came with excellent references.”
    â€œHow long has he worked here?” Frank asked.
    â€œI hired him just about a week ago. Needed help badly and—” The man’s voice trailed off.
    â€œWhere does he live?” Joe asked.
    â€œIn a boardinghouse on Dover Street. I’ll call him.”
    The woman who answered the phone said Batton was out and had left word he would not be back until late that evening.
    The locksmith looked strained and tired, so the boys left. “We’ll call you if we hear anything, Mr. Whittaker,” Frank said. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
    â€œYes. My employee is a thief,” Mr. Whittaker said sadly and locked the shop door. “Thanks, boys.”
    Both Frank and Joe felt uneasy as they drove home, and were more suspicious of Batton than before. One mistake might happen, but hardly two of the same kind. And what about the money?
    â€œWhat I can’t understand,” said Joe, “is this. If Batton is a thief, why did he pick our house? The Eccles are pretty wealthy, but we’re not.”
    â€œIt’s a puzzler, all right,” Frank agreed. “I’m still inclined to think that Batton never intended to put a new lock on our door; he just planned to get into the house. But why? In any event, he covered himself nicely with that false order on the phone pad.”
    When the boys reached home they learned that Mr. Hardy would not return until the next morning. Mrs. Hardy and her sons sat down to dinner and during the meal Frank and Joe told her everything that had happened that day.
    â€œLooks as if you have two or three mysteries on your hands,” their mother said with a smile when they had finished their report. “Which one will you work on first?”
    â€œAll of them at once,” Joe replied with a grin.
    â€œSometime tomorrow,” Frank said, “I want to dive for that lost key. I meant to ask Mr. Whittaker if he knew anything about the Mead place, but didn’t have the heart to. He was so upset.”
    â€œYou have another big day ahead of you,” Mrs. Hardy said. “Better go to bed early.”
    Frank and Joe followed her advice, and their mother also retired at ten o’clock. It was past midnight that she was awakened by the doorbell.
    She called out to the boys, who had heard it too and had come from their room. “I’ll see who it is,” Joe offered, putting on his robe and bedroom slippers.
    As he spoke, the bell rang again. This time the caller kept a finger on the button. Frank and Joe hurried downstairs.
    Mrs. Hardy was right behind them and warned the boys to be cautious. Before opening the door, Frank snapped on the porch light and looked out the glass panel.
    Joe peered over his shoulder. “Do you know her?” he asked his brother, pointing to the visitor.
    Frank shook his