"Let's go up there!" urged Frank, grabbing Joe's arm.

As quickly and quietly as possible, the boys scaled the hill in back of Hank's cabin and hurried along the ridge trail toward the graveyard.  When they reached the edge of the clearing, Frank and Joe paused in the shelter of the trees.

The night was moonless but the northern lights made great colored streaks across the sky.  In a back corner of the cemetery, the brothers spotted a tall, thin figure.

"Probably the person who signaled with the blue light!" Joe whispered.

Crouching low, the young detectives crept through the broken fence.  They moved forward soundlessly to a large stone monument and knelt behind it.  The Hardys wished they could get closer to the man, but that gravestone was the only one large enough to afford them cover.

The man paced about restlessly, stamping his feet and huddling his shoulders for warmth.  Presently the boys heard the sound of footsteps in the front of the cemetery.  A second figure, big and bulky, approached the first.  The newcomer's cap was pulled low, and his face appeared to be muffled for protection against the bitter cold.  He took up a position with his back turned to the two brothers.

As the thin man spoke, Frank and Joe strained their ears to hear above the roaring of the wind.  They were able to catch only a part of the conversation.

"... Big Al's plenty mad," the first man was saying.  "He gave me special orders for you tonight, Slip Gun."

The big man was silent, apparently waiting for the speaker to continue.

"He wants you to keep the Hardy boys bottled up in town," the thin man went on.  "Also, be sure to tip him off on every move they make."

The other man's muffled response was drowned by the wind.  Evidently he had asked a question.

"No luck yet," the tall figure declared. "He'd better forget... that special business... it's hopeless... meeting day after tomorrow... wants... the usual stuff."

"Where?"