"Who?"
"Them Hardy boys. The pair that followed me yesterday."
"What?"
"It's them. The very same spyin' pair of brats." A rough hand seized Frank's shoulder and swung him around. "I'd know them anywhere. Fenton Hardy's kids."
The name of Fenton Hardy made a distinct impression on the gang. There were mutterings of anger and fear.
"The detective's boys, eh?" growled one. "What are you doin' here, boys?"
"That's for you to find out," replied Frank shortly.
"Is that so? Well, you've got no business here. You know that, don't you?"
"Your own business here doesn't seem any too lawful."
"Never mind about us. You come spyin' around here and you've got to expect to take the consequences. What'll we do with 'em, Gus?"