A week went by, a week in which the Hardy boys and their chums again wrestled with refractory Latin phrases and geometrical problems, as the examinations drew near. There was little time for fun, even outside school hours. The boys were all overcome by that helpless feeling that comes with the approach of examinations, the feeling that everything they had ever known had somehow escaped their memory and that as fast as they learned one fact they forgot another. But the week was over at last and on Saturday morning Fenton Hardy looked up from his newspaper with a quiet smile. "What's the program for to-day?" he asked of his sons. "Nothing in particular," said Frank. "I was thinking I'd dig into the Latin for an hour or so, although I'm so sick of the sight of that book that I'd like to throw it out the window." "I'm away behind in my algebra," spoke up Joe. "But it's too nice a day to study. Anyway, I've been working hard all week." "Perhaps if you went down to the boathouse you might find something there," suggested their father casually. The boys stared incredulously. Then they gave a simultaneous whoop of delight. "You don't mean to say the motorboat is here?" exclaimed Frank. Their father had taken charge of the buying of the motorboat for them. They had not expected that the craft would arrive until the start of the summer holidays. Fenton Hardy merely smiled and turned to the financial page. "It mightn't be a bad idea to go down to the boathouse anyway," he said. The boys needed no further urging. Within a few seconds they were scrambling for their caps, within the minute they were racing down the front steps, and soon they were hastening toward Barmet Bay. In preparation for the arrival of the motorboat they had rented a boathouse on the southern shore of the bay, at the foot of the street on which they lived. During the week, Mr. Hardy had obtained the key from them on some pretext, but they had thought nothing of it. Now everything was clear. "The boat must have arrived here during the week and he had it taken to the boathouse without telling us about it," said Frank. "I guess he was afraid we wouldn't do much studying for the rest of the week if we knew it was there." "I guess we wouldn't have, either." When they reached the boathouse they could hardly contain themselves in their eagerness to see if the boat had indeed arrived. Frank inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. They stepped inside. There, rocking gently in the waves, was a long, graceful craft, white with gilt trimmings, a motorboat that gave an immediate impression of strength and power without the sacrifice of graceful lines. There was a flag at the bow and at the stern; the fittings glistened; the seats were upholstered in leather, and across the bow was the name of the boat in raised letters: _SLEUTH_. The name had been chosen by the Hardy boys previous to the purchase of the craft and after much argument.