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quietly. He had seen their chums returning from the neighborhood of the yacht, so he realized that there was no further danger from the fire.

"I must be in Bayport to-night," gasped the woman. "I must go there to see Fenton Hardy—the detective."

Then she collapsed weakly, her eyes closed, and she was a dead weight in Joe's arms. She had fainted.

The Hardy boys looked at one another in astonishment.

"She wants to see dad!" exclaimed Frank incredulously.

It was a strange coincidence that they, of all people, should have rescued her when she was on her way to see their father.

Fenton Hardy had many clients, some of whom came long distances to consult him. He was one of the greatest private detectives in the country and his fame was widespread. He had been for many years on the New York force and had finally achieved his ambition of setting up an agency of his own. He had moved to Bayport, on the Atlantic coast, with his family and his success had been immediate. He had successfully handled many difficult cases and his services were much in demand.

Frank and Joe Hardy, his sons, were anxious to follow in their father's footsteps, in spite