Hardy boys by any means. They were still suspicious of their passenger, the more so now that he used force to induce them to take him to Bayport.
"I'd like to get that gun away from him," whispered Frank, as he bent over the wheel.
"Not much chance. He's watching us too closely."
"Trying to fix up some plot to get hold of this revolver?" asked the stranger. "You needn't bother. I hold the whip hand here."
"We know it," retorted Frank. "But wait till we get to Bayport."
The motorboat raced on down the bay. The storm clouds that had been collecting all morning now hung heavily in the sky. The bay was sullen and slate-colored, and a heavy sea was running. White caps broke on the surface of the water.
"Looks like a storm," Frank muttered. "Perhaps it's just as well we didn't turn back."
A streak of lightning split the sky; it was followed by a distant rumble of thunder. The Sleuth was riding the waves well, but there was a rocking motion that could not be avoided. The boat swayed from side to side as it plunged on.
After about five minutes Frank glanced behind.
