MR. HARDY INVESTIGATES
The Hardy boys looked at one another in growing excitement.
"What ought we do about it?" asked Joe.
"I'm going to tell dad what we've found."
"But didn't he say he would be working the case on his own and that we
would be opposition?"
"This is different. We have a real clue here, but we don't know how to
use it. You can bet dad will know what to do. He'll act fairly with us.
If it leads to anything, he'll see that we get credit for what we've
done."
"I guess you're right, Frank. This is a little too big for us to handle
ourselves. But imagine finding that wig! What luck!"
"There's nothing else around, is there? Let's look."
Although the Hardy boys scoured the woods in that vicinity thoroughly,
they found nothing more. But the wig, the hat and the coat gave promise
of interesting developments. Frank hunted through all the pockets of
the coat in the faint hope of finding something that would identify the
previous wearer, but in this he was disappointed.
So they went back to the abandoned road and remounted their
motorcycles, returning to Bayport with the articles they had found in
the woods.
Their disappointment had turned to jubilation, for now they felt that
they were definitely on the trail of the mysterious man in the red
wig, and while ostensibly there was no connection between this fellow
and the thief who had robbed Tower Mansion, Frank had, as he said, "a
hunch" that the auto thief and the robber of the mansion were one and
the same man.
"If we ever lay our hands on the man who stole Chet's roadster I'm sure
we'll have gone a long way toward solving the Tower affair," said Frank
to his brother. "I may be wrong, but I have an idea that the fellow was
a professional crook who first set out to rob the steamboat office.
Then, when he was frightened off, he hung around the city and waited
his chance to rob Tower Mansion."
Mr. Hardy was still in the library when the boys returned home. The
great detective was frankly surprised when his sons again entered the
room, and he looked up with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eyes.
"What! More clues!" he exclaimed. "Surely not so soon."
"You bet we have more clues!" exclaimed Frank eagerly. "And real clues
this time. We're going to turn them over to you."
"But I thought the two of you were working on this case in your own
way. Remember, I'm the opposition."
"Well, to tell the truth, we don't know just what to do with what we've
found," admitted Frank. "And, anyway, we know you'll be fair with us,
so it doesn't matter. Look!"
And with that he tossed the red wig on the table. He kept the coat and
hat behind his back.
Fenton Hardy leaned forward quickly and picked up the wig with an
inquiring glance at his sons.
"So!" he murmured. "You found the wig?"
He examined it intently. Then he opened a drawer of his desk and
produced the fragment of wig that the boys had found in the smashed
car by the road. This he applied to a torn part of the wig itself. It
fitted perfectly.
"It's the wig all right," he declared, looking up. "Where did you find
it? By the smashed car?"
"No. Hidden in the bushes near the place where Chet's roadster was
found."
Mr. Hardy whistled solemnly.
"Good work." He turned the wig over and over in his hands, carefully
examined it under a microscope, and then tossed it back on the desk.
"There aren't so many wigs sold that one can't trace them," he
observed. "This happens to be made by a small company that doesn't turn
out a great many wigs in a year. It's a sort of side line with them."
"How can you tell?"
"There's a little mark on the inside that distinguishes the
manufacturer. Just a trademark--hardly noticeable."
"And we found these as well," said Frank, handing over the coat and hat.
Mr. Hardy's eyes opened wide.
"Well, well!" he exclaimed. "You _have_ been busy, haven't you?"
"They were all hidden in the same place."
"And well hidden, too, I'll warrant."
"We were sure there must be clues of some kind around that car, so we
searched every inch of the woods roundabout."
"Good!" said Mr. Hardy approvingly. "You didn't miss any chances. I'm
not saying these clues will lead to the capture of the fellow, but they
will go a long way toward finding him."
"What should we do with them?"
Mr. Hardy looked up at his sons and smiled.
"Well, you've shared your clues with me, so I suppose I may as
well share some of my experience with you. What do you say if I go
to the city and try to trace up some of these labels? This hat, for
instance--" and he picked it up from the table, examining the band
intently. "There is a label here. Of course, the hat may have been sold
a long time ago, and it isn't likely that the man who sold it would
remember who bought it. But there is always the chance that the store
may not be far from where the fellow lives. You get my idea? And the
coat, too. If we can find any trace of who bought the wig we may be
able to connect up the other things as well."
"Gosh, I never thought of that!" admitted Frank.
"It's a slim chance, but, as I said before, we can't afford to overlook
any chances. I'll take them to the city and see what I can do. It may
mean everything and it may mean nothing. Don't be disappointed if I
come back empty-handed. And don't be surprised if I come back with some
valuable information."
Mr. Hardy tossed the wig, the coat and the hat into a club bag that
was standing open near his desk. The great detective was accustomed
to being called away suddenly on strange errands, and he was always
prepared to leave at a moment's notice.
"Not much use starting now," he said, glancing at his watch. "But I'll
go to the city the first thing in the morning. In the meantime, don't
rest on your oars, as the saying is. Keep your eyes and your ears open
for more clues. The case isn't over yet by any means."
Mr. Hardy picked up some papers on his desk, as a hint that the
interview was over, and the boys left the library. They were in a state
of high excitement, for they were confident now that they had made
valuable progress in the case and they were sure that if the wig and
the garments could be of any use at all toward locating the crook, Mr.
Hardy would be the man to use them.
When they went to bed that night they could hardly sleep, so elated
were they over their discovery near the abandoned roadway.
"He must have been a pretty smart crook," murmured Joe, after they had
talked long into the night. "That idea about the wig was clever. I'll
bet he was an experienced guy!"
"The smarter they are, the harder they fall," replied Frank. "It's the
experienced crook that the police always look for. If this fellow has
any kind of a record at all it won't take long for dad to run him down.
I've heard dad say that there is no such thing as a clever crook. If he
was really clever he wouldn't be a crook at all."
"Yes, I guess there's something in that, too. But it shows that we're
not up against any ordinary amateur. This fellow must be a slippery
customer."
"He'll have to be mighty slippery from now on. Once dad has a few clues
to work on he never lets up till he gets his man."
"Well, let's hope he gets this one. He'll think a lot more of us as
detectives if he does." And with that, the boys fell asleep.
When they went down to breakfast the following morning they found that
Fenton Hardy had left for New York on an early morning train.
The Hardy boys went to school, but all through that morning they could
scarcely keep their minds on their work. Their thoughts were far
afield. They were wondering how Fenton Hardy was faring on his quest in
New York and it was not until after Frank had drawn a reprimand from
one of his teachers because he absent-mindedly answered, "Red wig,"
when asked to name the capital of Kansas that they settled down to work
and tried to put the affair of the wig and the abandoned clothes from
their minds.
Slim Robinson was at school that day, but after four o'clock he
confided to the Hardy boys that he was leaving.
"It's no use," he said. "Father can't keep me in school any longer
and it's up to me to pitch in and help the family. I'm to start work
to-morrow for a grocery company."
"And you wanted to go to college!" exclaimed Frank. "It's a shame,
that's what it is!"
"Can't be helped," replied Perry, with a grimace. "I can consider
myself lucky I got this far. I guess I'll have to give up all those
ideas now and settle down to learn the grocery business. There's one
good thing about it--I'll have a chance to learn it from the ground up.
I'm starting in the delivery department. Perhaps in about fifty years
I'll be head of the firm."
"You'll make good at whatever you tackle," Joe assured him. "But I'm
sorry you won't be able to go through college as you wished. Don't give
up hope yet, Slim. You never know what may happen. Perhaps they'll find
the fellow who _did_ rob Tower Mansion."
Both boys wanted to tell their chum about the clues they had discovered
the previous day, but the same thought was in their minds--that it
would be unwise to raise false hopes. It would go much harder with
Perry, they knew, if he began to think the capture of the thief was
imminent, only to have the hope dashed to earth again. So they said
good-bye to him and wished him good luck. Perry tried hard to be
cheerful, but his smile was very faint as he turned away from them and
walked off down the street.
"Gosh, but I'm sorry for him," said Frank as they went home. "He
was such a hard worker in school and he counted so much on going to
college."
"We've just _got_ to clear up the Tower robbery, that's all there
is to it!" declared his brother.
"Perhaps dad is back by now. There's a train from New York at three
o'clock. Let's hurry home and see."
But when the Hardy boys arrived home they found that their father had
not yet returned from the city.
"We'll just have to be patient, I guess," said Frank. "No news is good
news."
And with this philosophic reflection the Hardy boys were obliged to
comfort themselves against the impatience that possessed them to learn
what progress their father was making in the city toward following up
the clues they had given him.