While the Clock Ticked Quotes

“The Hardys and Chet hastened out into the chilly air. The lighted windows of the house became eerie rectangles of hazy yellow in the drifting mist as the trio skirted the dense bushes edging the lawn.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“The three boys passed the big house, now dark and silent once more, and walked down the driveway. “That place gives me the willies,” muttered Chet, as Frank closed the gate. “I still have the creepy feeling that somebody’s in there, watching everything that goes on.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Joe came down to join Chet Morton, who sat at the car’s wheel. “Where to?” he asked.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“When the brothers reached home, Aunt Gertrude was on the phone talking with Chet. “Here they come now,” she said. “But no sleuthing this afternoon. Our grass is high enough to turn a herd of cows into, and the flower beds are full of weeds. Frank and Joe aren’t going off this property until the place looks respectable again.” As Miss Hardy turned the phone over to Frank, she gave him a look which plainly meant, “No arguments!” For this reason dusk was falling before the two detectives were free to leave. As the street lights winked on, a ten-year-old car pulled up in front of the Hardys’ house. Flashlights in hand, Frank and”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Ten o’clock the next morning found the Hardy boys on the sidewalks of downtown Bayport. They were on their way to police headquarters to check on any new developments in the harbor mystery. It was a hot, sunny day. Already the stores were lowering awnings over their display windows.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Four Bigloo Igloos,” ordered Chet, when the waitress came over. “But there are only three of you, sir,” the waitress protested. “Four sundaes, miss,” Chet repeated grandly. “Never fear—we shall dispose of them!” The waitress shrugged and went off. The place was filled with people on their lunch hour, and there was a lively hubbub. A juke box was playing continuously”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Suddenly both Hardys noticed that Chet’s attention had been diverted. He stared longingly ahead. “What’s so interesting?” Joe asked. “Don’t pass it,” pleaded Chet. “Pass what?” “That milk bar up there. They serve a terrific sundae, covered with whipped cream, cherries, and nuts. It’s called a Bigloo Igloo. Come on, fellows. It’s lunchtime.” “Okay.” Frank laughed. The yellow convertible turned in and stopped before the little white building. Soon the boys were seated together in a booth.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Mr. Nichols chuckled. “When Ma gets to going, I say to myself, ‘Henry, buckle your seat belt!”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Frank said politely, “We came to ask about your car.” “Don’t drive those machines myself,” Mr. Nichols piped up. “I drove a team of horses and did some harness racing.” Mrs. Nichols interrupted proudly, “Boys, I drive the car.” “How do you like your Meteor Special?” Joe asked her. “Rides nice. And it’s fast. I love a speedy car!” Frank and Joe were amused by the couple, but did not smile. “Do a lot of driving?” Frank asked. “Well, shopping downtown, and to church.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Good afternoon, boys!” called an old man seated in a rocking chair on the front porch. “Hot weather.” “Sure is,” Frank agreed. “Are you Mr. Nichols?” “Yes sirree.” The old man was very thin and weak looking, but his light-blue eyes were lively. “I’ve been Henry Nichols seventy-nine years, now; eighty next April. Never minded it either, ‘cept when I was young. Then I used to wish I was somebody famous—” “Henry!” called a voice just inside the screen door. “That’s enough!” A small, white-haired woman stood there. “What is it you boys want?”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“astern of them. They could see the big ships in their piers, and over on the right, the wide mouth of Willow River, with the bridge crossing it.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Joe opened the throttle with a roar. The trim craft lifted her head and sprang forward. Twin arcs of white spray fell away from her bows. Heavy suds churned at her stern. The whole bay was bathed in bright moonlight. Far ahead they could make out the black line of rock marking the edge of the harbor, and the open gap revealing its entrance from the ocean. A short distance from shore lay the imposing white hulk of the Sea Bright, a passenger vessel which had just come from the Far East. Here and there floated buoys marking the channel for the ocean-going freighters. As the boys advanced, the whole harbor spread out”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“In a short time the boys arrived at the waterfront. At least half a dozen freighters were tied up at the long piers that extended like fingers into the waters of Barmet Bay. In front of one vessel huge piles of freight were stacked on the dock in the glare of floodlights. The ship’s cranes were busily swinging more cargo onto the pier. “Must be a rush job,” Frank commented as he parked the car. The boys walked over to watch. There was a cool breeze from the sea and the tangy smell of salt water in the air.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“The two cars drove to the Morton farm, about a mile outside Bayport. Several other cars were parked there already. The Hardys’ friends marched the brothers into the house.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“What do you mean—can’t! What are you fellows up to? Callie, Frank says he can’t come!” Through the back window of the jalopy, Frank caught sight of the sparkling brown eyes and pretty face of his favorite date, Callie Shaw. “Don’t give us that!” Phil Cohen, another friend, stuck his head above the old car’s roof on the other side. “What’ll we do?” Frank asked his brother. “Joe, Iola Morton’s expecting you!” Tony shouted coaxingly. “We’ll go,” Joe decided. “But we can’t stay long.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“bark of an air horn. An old jalopy drew up beside the Hardys. “Get a load of the fancy machine!” shouted a familiar voice. The face of Tony Prito, a high school friend, grinned at them. Another pal, Jerry Gilroy, seated at the wheel of the jalopy, added, “Nothing like this old crate.” The brothers grinned back, “Where’re you all heading?” Joe asked. “Party, over at Chet Morton’s. Tried to get you. Your line was busy. Come on!” Tony urged. “Can’t,” Frank called over.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Darkness found Frank backing the boys’ convertible out the Hardy driveway. Five minutes later they had stopped for a traffic light on the main street of Bayport. Suddenly there was the roar of another engine, a rattle of tin, the raucous”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Say, cut it out!” Chet bellowed. “I have half a mind not to give you fellows any lunch at all!” “Ho! Now you want us to starve!” Biff laughed as he and the Hardys lifted out succulent sandwiches, a jar of home-preserved peaches, a gallon Thermos of chilled milk, and slabs of chocolate cake. “Lucky for you, Chet,” Joe teased, “you brought enough so there’s some food left for you.” The heavy-set boy, though pretending indignation, settled down to enjoy his share of the lunch. Then the Hardys and Biff followed Chet’s example and took a nap after the hearty meal. “Not a bad idea,” Joe murmured as he dozed off.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“But at last, when Frank, Joe, and Biff had agreed, by a wink at one another, that the proper time for lunch had come, they simply jumped into a ditch at the side of the road. “Chow time!” “But …” Chet stammered. “There’s no water!” Biff pointed to a trickle in a culvert nearby. “Well, there’s no shade!” Chet argued. Joe grinningly indicated a tree twenty feet away. “And under this bank, it’s not even really sunny!” Chet pointed out. “Just right.” Frank chuckled and dug into Chet’s knapsack.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Another half hour went by. Chet sighted a clear stream, flashing in the sun, pouring through a green meadow. “There!” he exclaimed in triumph. “Uh-uh!” said Joe, poker-faced. “No shade. I can’t eat in the blazing sun. Hurts my digestion.” “Oh-h,” the stout boy moaned, but proceeded doggedly ahead. Presently the woods closed in on both sides, and the road crossed a small creek. “Now?” Chet sighed hopefully. “No.” Frank shook his head. “Oh-h! Now why?” “Too many trees. No sun. Can’t eat without a little sun.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“But Chet was now scanning the countryside. The boys had left the estates behind. A heavily wooded hill rose up on their right. A field of fresh-cut, drying hay fell away on the left. At the bottom of the field a huge oak tree spread its shading limbs invitingly. “Now there is the place for both,” Chet said. “First our lunch. Then, refreshing sleep—before our walk home.” Frank, Joe, and Biff looked at one another, eyes twinkling. There remained a full hour until lunchtime! “No,” said Biff. “Thumbs down.” “Why?” Chet pleaded. “No water. What’s a picnic without water?”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“With a hasty farewell to Aunt Gertrude, the four pals set out. Brisk walking brought them swiftly out of town on the Shore Road, which followed horseshoe-shaped Barmet Bay. Looking back, they could see the docks of the harbor. Some distance ahead of them was the bridge which spanned the mouth of Willow River where it emptied into the bay.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Big stone house,” Joe answered. “Slate roof. Stands back from the road a way. Nobody’s been living there for some time, though.” “You’re observant,” the banker commented. For a moment he was silent, as if trying to make a decision. He pulled nervously at his hatbrim. “Okay, boys,” he said finally. “You want to be detectives. Take a look around there on your hike.”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked

“Mr. Dalrymple smiled faintly, then gave the boys a swift, penetrating look. “Like to follow in your world-famous dad’s footsteps, eh—be detectives yourselves, would you?” His keen eyes took in the hiking boots and khaki outfits they wore. “Fine summer morning for a hike.” He added abruptly, “Which direction are you taking?” Before either boy could answer he went on: “Try Shore Road, past the harbor. Turn off and follow Willow River Road out into the country.” “Why?” Frank queried, intrigued. “You’ll pass the old Purdy place. Know the one I mean?”
― Franklin W. Dixon, While the Clock Ticked