HARDY BOYS: 17. THE SECRET WARNING

CHAPTER 1.TROUBLE!

Tap! Tap! Tap!

"It's a mystery to me," said Joe Hardy as he worked over the engine of the Sleuth,"what it is that puts this motor out of order all the time."

"If we were in Dad's shoes, we'd have the case cleared up at once," replied his brother Frank, referring to their father, Fenton Hardy, well-known detective.

"And speaking of shoes, I'll bet you don't know which is the heaviest pair of shoes in the world."Chet Morton, their stout chum, who was propped comfortably against a bulkhead while
the brothers worked over their motorboat, grinned good-naturedly.

"Maybe Frank means mine!" he drawled.

"I'm sure I don't know," admitted Joe.

"I'm afraid you both flunk the examination," declared Frank. "No, Chet's shoes are not the heaviest in the world unless they happen to weigh thirty-two pounds apiece."

The other two whistled in surprise.
"Thirty-two p--pounds apiece!" exclaimed Chet. "Whew! Must be made for dinosaurs!''

"If you weren't one of the best students in Bayport High I'd say you're a bit daffy," saidJoe, giving his brother a playful push.

"Even a circus fat man doesn't wear such heavy shoes."

Frank was obviously enjoying the stir he had created in the little group.
"No," he said, "the people who wear thirty-two pound shoes aren't dinosaurs and they aren't circus fat men. They're divers. Deep-sea divers."

Chet scratched his tousled head thoughtfully. "That's right," he exclaimed.

"I remember reading about them somewhere."

"But you don't remember just what or where," taunted Joe.

"Frank, where did you learn
so much about divers all of a sudden!"
His brother carefully scraped some carbon from a spark-plug.

"Fellow I met yesterday in the barber shop told me a lot about deep-sea diving for sunken treasure. Said he was a diver himself. His shoes have to be weighted down with lead to keep him upright underwater and what's more, he has to carry eighty pounds of lead weights over his shoulders;one on his back, the other on his chest to steady him under the surface."

"Say, I'd like to meet that fellow!" exclaimed Joe. "Who is he, anyway?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Frank, who had happened to glance up, caught his brother's arm.

"Look, Joe, there he comes now along the dock. Yes, it's the same man!"
Joe saw a tall, lanky figure sauntering along the wooden walk in their direction.

"You chaps wait here a minute," Frank suggested. "I'll speak to him."
He jumped to the pier just as his new acquaintance arrived at the Sleuth's mooring cleat.

"Why, hello there!" greeted the newcomer affably. "Aren't you the chap I met yesterday in the barber shop?"

"I certainly am, Mr.-----"

"Perry," finished the other, smiling agreeably. "Roland Perry. Fine-looking boat you have there. Is it yours?"

"My brother Joe and I own it. Joe," he called, "this is Mr. Perry, the diver I told you about. And this is Chet Morton," he added.

The stranger climbed down into the boat and shook hands with the boys. Then he seated himself astride an old box.

"We'll be through in a few minutes, Mr. Perry," said the older Hardy boy as he turned to replace a cleaned spark-plug.
"I've been telling my brother and Chet about the thirty-two pound shoes you said divers have to wear."