"We've seen 'em before. They were in the boat the day we were looking these two birds over," he remarked, gesturing toward Chet and Biff.
"What's your names?" demanded Pete gruffly.
The Hardy boys glanced at one another. Their captors were not yet aware of their identity and they did not know whether to admit it or not. Frank resolved on silence as the best course.
"Find out!" he retorted.
An ugly look crept into Red's face.
"Is that so?" he snarled. "Won't talk, eh? I'll soon make you talk."
He leaned forward and wrenched open Frank's coat. Frank's wrists were handcuffed and he was helpless to resist. Red pulled him roughly to one side and groped in the inner pocket of the coat. There was a rustle of paper and he withdrew two or three letters. Frank bit his lip in exasperation. He had forgotten about the letters and he knew that any hope of concealing his identity was now lost.
The red-headed man brought the letters over to the fire and squinted at the addresses. His eyes opened wide; his jaw dropped.
"Frank Hardy!" he gasped.
"What?" demanded one of the other men.