# The House on the Cliff/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II
The Storm
That shriek was the most fearful and uncanny sound the boys had ever heard. There was a diabolical malignance about it, like the scream of some blood-thirsty animal, yet there was no mistaking the fact that it was uttered by a human being.
As the quavering notes died away, the bare walls of the old house flung back the echoes so that the shriek seemed to be repeated again and again, but on a smaller scale.
The boys stared at one another, aghast. For a moment they were dumbfounded. Then Jerry muttered:
"I'm getting out of here!" and with that, he started for the door.
"Me too!" declared Biff Hooper, and Chet Morton followed him as he rushed for the doorway.
"What's the big idea?" asked Frank, standing his ground. "Let's stay and find what this is all about."
​Joe, seeing his brother remain where he was, made no move to follow the others, although it was plain that the weird shriek had unnerved him.
"You can stay," flung back Jerry. "I'm not. This place is haunted, and I don't mean maybe!"
The three boys hastened through the doorway out into the hall and lost no time in regaining the front yard. Frank and Joe Hardy listened to their retreating footsteps. Frank shrugged his shoulders.
"I guess it gave them a pretty bad scare," he said to his brother. "We may as well go with them."
"I guess so," replied Joe, greatly relieved. They were alone in the gloomy and deserted old house, and as they stepped into the hallway Joe cast a cautious glance up the stairway. But there was nothing to be seen. The upper floor was veiled in shadow. The house was in silence that seemed even heavier than before.
When the two Hardy boys got outside they found the others waiting for them in the shelter of some trees about a hundred yards from the house. The three were discussing the strange occurrence in excited tones, and when the Hardy boys came up to them Jerry said:
"I don't have to be convinced any further. ​The place is haunted, sure. No other way to explain it."
"There's not much sense in running away from a sound," remarked Frank lightly. "If we had seen something, it might be different. I don't believe in ghosts and I'd like to get to the bottom of this. It's foolish to run away. Let's go back."
Chet Morton and Biff Hooper looked a trifle ashamed of themselves because of their precipitous flight from the house while the Hardy boys had remained.
"I got the scare of my life," Chet confessed. "Just the same, I'm game to go back if you want to."
"How about you, Biff?"
Biff Hooper scratched his head reflectively. "I'm none too anxious to go back in there again," he admitted. "Not that I'm scared, of course!" he added hastily. "But I don't see where we'd learn anything, anyway."
"Well, Joe and I are going back. That's settled," declared Frank. "We want to get to the bottom of this mystery."
"Mysteries are your meat!" observed Biff. "Well, when you come to think of it, this is a good chance for a little detective work."
He alluded to the fact that the Hardy boys were amateur detectives of some renown in Bayport. They came by their gift naturally, ​for their father, Fenton Hardy, had been for years on the detective staff of the New York police. Of late years he had been living in Bayport conducting a private detective service of his own with great success. He was known from one end of the country to the other as an exceptionally brilliant investigator.
Frank and Joe Hardy, his sons, were ambitious to follow in their father's footsteps, although their mother wished them to prepare themselves for medicine and the law respectively. But the lure of Fenton Hardy's calling was persistent, and the two boys were bent on proving to their parents that they were capable of becoming first-class detectives.
They had given proof of this already by helping their father in a small way on a number of cases, but their first big success had been achieved when they solved the mystery of a jewel and bond robbery from Tower Mansion in Bayport. The story of this has been related in the first and preceding volume of this series, "The Hardy Boys: The Tower Treasure," wherein was recounted how the Hardy boys solved the mystery of the robbery when the Bayport police and even Fenton Hardy himself were baffled.
"I'd rather tackle a good mystery than eat," laughed Frank. "And here is one right to hand. Let's go back."
​Biff Hooper did not care to seem guilty of cowardice by staying behind while his companions returned to the house, and he was on the point of a reluctant consent when the matter was suddenly solved for them all by a downpour of rain.
Storm clouds had been gathering in the sky for the past hour and there had been dull rumblings of thunder. Now an uneasy wind stirred the branches of the trees and rustled dismally among the undergrowth. There was a spatter of raindrops, and then the storm broke in abrupt violence. Rain poured down in sheets.
"The motorcycles!" cried Frank.
Turning up their coat collars, the boys ran through the thick grass until they reached the place where their machines had been parked.
"I saw an old shed near the house," called out Joe. "We can put the bikes under cover."
There was an abandoned wagon shed near the rear of the house, and toward this refuge the lads trundled the heavy motorcycles. Although the shed was almost falling to pieces, the roof was still in fairly good condition and the machines were safe from the downpour.
"Come on," said Frank, when the motorcycles had been placed under cover. "Let's go back into the house."
He led the way, running across the open ​space from the shed, through the driving rain, and Joe followed. The others, after a moment of hesitation, came after them.
The back door of the house was open and the lads ran up the steps into the shelter of the building. They were in a room that had evidently been used as a kitchen, and although rain came in slanting streaks through the open windows, the glass of which had long since been shattered, they were at least sheltered from the downpour that had assumed redoubled violence. The rain drummed on the roof of the old house and poured from black skies on the near-by wagon shed. Thunder rolled and rumbled threateningly, and every once in a while a sheet of lightning tore a band of lurid light across the gloom.
Chet took off his cap, which was drenched, and tried to dry it out. The others stood by the window, looking out at the terrific downpour.
Then came the second shriek!
It rang out suddenly, at a time when none of the lads was talking and it was a replica of the first—a quavering, long drawn out yell, that seemed to freeze the blood in their veins.
No sooner had it died away than there came a terrific clap of thunder, and then the rain seemed to beat down on the roof of the old house in a frenzy.
​In the gloomy, dusty kitchen, the boys stared at one another.
Frank broke the silence.
"I'm going to find out about this!" he declared firmly, striding over to the door that led to the interior of the house.
"Me too," said Joe.
Taking heart by the Hardy boys' example, the others crowded at their heels.
Frank flung open the door and strode into the room beyond. It was a very gloomy chamber, for the one window was boarded up, but when their eyes became accustomed to the meager light the boys saw that a door on the far side of the room led into a hallway. It was evidently not the hallway that they had already been in at the front of the house, but presumably one that led to a side door.
"Nothing here," said Frank. "I'd like to find those stairs. That yell came from the upper part of the house."
The boys made their way across the room. Outside they could hear the sweep of the rain and the steady rumblings of the thunder, for the storm was now at its height. Through the chinks of the boards over the window they could occasionally see the lurid glare of lightning.
Suddenly there was a blast of wind that seemed to shake the entire house. A sharp, ​violent noise immediately behind them made every boy jump with surprise.
They wheeled about.
The door behind them had been blown shut. Biff Hooper, who was nearest, grasped the knob and tried to open it. He wrenched and tugged at the door, but it remained obstinate.
"We're locked in!" he muttered.
"We can get out, all right," said Frank. "There must be a door in this side hall."
He walked across the room and entered the hallway.
At the same instant a maniacal howl rang through the old house. The hollow echoes magnified its volume.
A flash of lightning illuminated the startled faces of the five boys. With one accord they rushed into the hallway. It was a narrow place, heavy with dust, and their feet thudded heavily on the mouldy flooring.
Crash!
At the far end of the hall they had a glimpse of falling plaster that fell in a great heap to the floor. A dense cloud of dust arose and filled the narrow chamber.
"Run for your lives!" yelled Frank.
But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than there came a ripping, crackling sound from overhead. Immediately above them, a large part of the ceiling, disturbed no ​doubt by the vibrations of their feet as they ran into the hall, had given way. A wide crack that showed in the plaster quickly became wider, and then, with a terrific roar, half the hall ceiling came tumbling down upon the lads.
They were buried in dust and lathes and plaster that came upon them in such an avalanche that they were thrown to the floor. The splintering of wood and ominous crackling that followed, indicated that more of the ceiling was about to go, and then came a roar even louder than the first, as another avalanche of débris rolled down upon them.
Was the Polucca house falling in?