The Hardy boys rushed into the next room. There an unexpected sight met their eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Kane were seated in chairs in the middle of the room. They were unable to move, unable to speak, scarcely able to make a struggle. The farmer and his wife were bound and gagged, tied to their chairs! CHAPTER VIII THE STOLEN WITNESS Swiftly, the Hardy boys rushed over to Mr. and Mrs. Kane and began to release them. The farmer and his wife had been trussed up by strong ropes and they had been so well gagged that they had been unable to utter a sound. It was only a matter of a few minutes, however, before their bonds were loosened and the gags removed. “Thank goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Kane, with a sigh of relief, as the gag was taken away. Her husband, spluttering with rage, rose from his chair and hurled the ropes to one side. “What happened?” asked the boys, in amazement. For a moment Mr. and Mrs. Kane were unable to give a coherent account of their experience, owing to the strain they had undergone, but at last the farmer stumbled over to the window and pointed down the shore road. “They went that way!” he roared. “That way! Follow them!” “Who?” “The rascals that tied us up. They took Jones away with them.” “Kidnapped him?” “Yes—kidnapped him! There were four of them. They broke in here and tied up my wife and me. Then they went upstairs and carried Jones away with them. They dumped him into an automobile and made a getaway.” “Four men!” “Four of the ugliest looking scoundrels you ever laid eyes on.” “How long ago?” asked Frank quickly. “They didn’t leave ten minutes ago. If you had been here just a few minutes earlier you would have met the whole crowd of them.” The farmer was angry and excited. “But there’s time yet. You can catch ’em. They went down the shore road.” “Come on, Joe!” shouted Frank. “Let’s chase them. They’ve kidnapped Jones.” Joe needed no urging. The Hardy boys left the farmer and his wife rubbing their chafed wrists and ankles and hastened out of the house over to their motorcycles. Within a few seconds the staccato roar of the powerful machines broke out on the still air, and then they went rocking and swaying down the lane out on to the shore road. “Some high-handed proceeding, I’ll say,” yelled Frank, to make himself heard above the roaring of the motorcycles. “Those rascals ought to be in prison,” returned his brother. The boys followed in the direction the farmer had indicated. Frank then recollected that just before they had turned in toward the Kane farm he had seen a cloud of dust down the main road, evidently caused by a speeding automobile, but he had thought nothing of it at the time, for traffic along the shore highway occasioned no comment, especially on Sunday. “If we had only been a little earlier!” he groaned.