The boys needed no further urging. Within a few seconds they were scrambling for their caps, within the minute they were racing down the front steps, and soon they were hastening toward Barmet Bay.
In preparation for the arrival of the motorboat they had rented a boathouse on the southern shore of the bay, at the foot of the street on which they lived. During the week, Mr. Hardy had obtained the key from them on some pretext, but they had thought nothing of it. Now everything was clear.
"The boat must have arrived here during the week and he had it taken to the boathouse without telling us about it," said Frank.
"I guess he was afraid we wouldn't do much studying for the rest of the week if we knew it was there."
"I guess we wouldn't have, either."
When they reached the boathouse they could hardly contain themselves in their eagerness to see if the boat had indeed arrived. Frank inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. They stepped inside.
There, rocking gently in the waves, was a long, graceful craft, white with gilt trimmings, a motorboat that gave an immediate impression of strength and power without the sacrifice of graceful lines. There was a flag at the bow and at the stern; the fittings glistened; the seats were upholstered in leather, and across the bow was the name of the boat in raised letters: SLEUTH. The name had been chosen by the Hardy boys previous to the purchase of the craft and after much argument.
"She's a beauty!" breathed Frank in deep admiration.
"I'll say!"
"The smoothest looking boat on the bay!"