“I think the best thing we can do, Joe, is to go right back to Bayport and let dad know about this.”
“Good idea. We can’t do anything by staying here.”
“You boys said yesterday that your name was Hardy, eh?” said the farmer. “Ain’t any relation to Fenton Hardy, are you?”
“He’s our father.”
“The detective?”
The Hardy boys nodded assent.
“Good!” exclaimed Kane. “You go right back and tell him about this. If any one can get to the bottom of this affair it’s him. I hate to see them rascals getting away scot-free.”
Frank and Joe bade good-bye to the farmer and his wife and returned to their motorcycles. They promised to call again at the Kane farm as soon as they had any further information, and Mr. Kane, in turn, gave his promise to notify them if there were any further trace of the kidnappers or of the mysterious Jones.
When they returned to Bayport the boys lost no time in reaching home. Fenton Hardy was enjoying one of his rare afternoons of leisure in reading, but he put his book aside when the boys rushed into the library.
“Did Mr. Jones talk?” he asked quickly, seeing by their expressions that something unusual had happened.