"Miss - oh, miss!" Frank called through the door.  He had caught a glimpse of the secretary's face.  It was tense and frightened.  Frank sensed that something was wrong.  "You must let us in.  We've come from Mrs. Grafton!"

Behind the door, the secretary seemed to hesitate.  "How can I be sure of that?"

"Call her on the phone.  Mention Frank and Joe Hardy!"

For about five minutes the boys waited in the hall.  At last the door opened.  The secretary, an intelligent, pretty young woman, seemed calm now.  Before speaking, however, she locked the door.  No one else was there and a tiny sign on her desk gave the girl's name as Miss Everett.

"I should have known by looking at you boys that you're all right," she apologized.  "But those other men who were here this morning asking about Mr. Grafton gave me such a fright I don't trust anybody.  I'm afraid to leave the door unlocked!"

"What other men?  Not the police!" Joe broke in.

"Oh, no.  Two big, rough-looking men.  They weren't dressed very well and they talked - you know - like thugs.  I wouldn't have let them in, except they said they were hunting for Mr. Grafton, so I thought they might be private detectives."

"Hunting for Mr. Grafton?" The Hardy boys exchanged looks of surprise.

"Yes.  Then, as soon as they were in, they got rough and made me show them Mr. Grafton's letters and records!"  The pretty girl pointed to bruises on her wrists as evidence.

"They wouldn't have acted tough if they were on the up-and-up," Joe said indignantly.  "Did you call the police?"

Miss Everett shook her head.  "The men said they'd make me sorry if I breathed a word about them to anybody!"

"It must be the same gang that's been bothering us," Joe deduced.

"Maybe," his brother returned thoughtfully.  "But why are these two looking for Grafton if as we suspect, they may be holding him?  Could another gang be trying to get him away from the ones who have him?"