Rival Detectives
“MAYBE,” Frank said with a grin, “Dad will take us into his camp when he sees these!”
“Just a minute,” Joe spoke up. “I thought we were rivals now, and you and I have to solve this mystery alone to earn the reward.”
Frank held up a man’s battered felt hat and an old jacket. “If these belong to that thief, I think we’ve earned the money already!”
He felt through the pockets of the jacket, but they were empty. “No clue here,” he said.
“This hat has a label, though-New York City store,” said Joe.
“And the coat, too,” Frank added. “Same shop. Well, one thing is sure. If they do belong to the thief, he never meant to leave them. The labels are a dead giveaway.”
“He must have been frightened off,” Joe concluded. “Maybe when he found that Chet’s jalopy was gone, he felt he’d better scram, and forgot the coat and hat.”
“What I’d like to know,” Frank said, “is whether some hairs from that red wig may be in the hat.”
Joe grinned. “Bright boy.” He carried the hat to a spot where the sunlight filtered down through the trees and looked intently at the inside, even turning down the band. “Yowee! Success!” he yelled.
Frank gazed at two short strands of red hair. They looked exactly like those in the wig which the boys had found.
Joe sighed. “I guess we’ll have to tell Dad about this. He has the wig.”
“Right.”
Frank and Joe hurried home, clutching their precious clues firmly. Mr. Hardy was still in his study when his sons returned. The detective looked up, frankly surprised to see them home so soon. There was the suspicion of a twinkle in his eyes.
“What! More clues!” he exclaimed. “You’re really on the job.”
“You bet we have more clues!” cried Frank eagerly. He told the boys’ story and laid the hat and jacket on a table. “We’re turning these over to you.”
“But I thought you two were working on this case as my rivals.”
“To tell the truth,” said Frank, “we don’t know what to do with the due we’ve found. It leads to New York City.”
Mr. Hardy leaned forward in his desk chair as Frank pointed out the labels and the two strands of red hair.
“And besides,” Frank went on, “I guess the only way to prove that the thief owns these clothes is by comparing the hairs in the hat with the red wig. And Joe and I don’t have the wig.”
With a grin the detective went to his files and brought it out. “Chief Collig left this here.”
The strands of hair were compared and matched perfectly!
“You boys have certainly made fine progress,” Mr. Hardy praised his sons. He smiled. “And since you have, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Chief Collig asked me to see what I could figure out of the wig. He says there’s no maker’s name on it.”
“And there isn’t?” Joe asked.
His father’s eyes twinkled once more. “I guess Collig’s assistants weren’t very thorough. At any rate, I discovered there’s an inner lining and on that is the maker’s name. He’s in New York City and I was just thinking about flying there to talk to him. Now you boys have given me a double incentive for going.”
Frank and Joe beamed with pleasure, then suddenly their faces clouded.
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Hardy asked them.
Joe answered. “It looks as if you’re going to solve the case all alone.”
“Nothing of the sort,” the detective replied. “The person who bought the wig may not have given his name. The hat may have been purchased a long time ago, and it isn’t likely that the clerk who sold it will remember who bought it. The same with the jacket.”
Frank and Joe brightened. “Then the case is far from solved,” Frank said.
“All these are good leads, however,” Mr. Hardy said. “There is always the chance that the store may not be far from where the suspect lives. Though it’s a slim chance, we can’t afford to overlook anything. I’ll take these articles 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, coat, and hat into a bag that was standing open near his desk. The 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 first thing in the morning. In the meantime, you boys keep your eyes and 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 study. They were in a state of high excitement when they went to bed that night and could not get to sleep.
“That thief must be pretty smart,” murmured Joe, after they had talked long into the night.
“The smarter crooks are, the harder they fall,” Frank replied. “If this fellow has any kind of a record, 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 amateur. This fellow is 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.”
“And don’t forget us,” said Joe, yawning. With that the boys fell asleep.
When they went down to breakfast the following morning Frank and Joe learned that their father had left for New York on an early-morning plane. Their mother remarked, “I’ll be so relieved when he gets back. So often these missions turn out to be dangerous.”
She went on to say that her husband had promised to phone her if he wasn’t going to be back by suppertime. Suddenly she added with a tantalizing smile, “Your father said he might have a surprise for you if he remains in New York.”
Mrs. Hardy refused to divulge another word. The boys went to school, but all through the morning could scarcely keep their minds on studies. They kept wondering how Fenton Hardy was faring on his quest in New York and what the surprise was.
Slim Robinson was at school that day, but after classes he confided to the Hardys that he was leaving for good.
“It’s no use,” he said. “Dad 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 tomorrow at a supermarket.”
“And you wanted to go to college!” exclaimed Frank. “It’s a shame!”
“Can’t be helped,” replied Perry with a grimace. “I consider myself lucky to have stayed in school this long. I’ll have to give up all those college plans and settle down in the business world. There’s one good thing about it-I’ll have a chance to learn supermarket work from the ground up. I’m starting in the receiving department.” He smiled. “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 planned. Don’t give up hope yet, Slim. One never knows what may happen. Perhaps the thief who did rob Tower Mansion will be found.”
Frank and Joe wanted to tell Slim about the clues they had discovered the previous day, but the same thought came into their minds-that it would be unfair to raise any false hopes. So they said good-by 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 down the street.
“I sure feel sorry for him,” said Frank, as he and Joe started for home. “He was such a hard worker in school and 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.
As they neared the Hardy home, the boys’ steps quickened. Would they find that their father had returned with the information on the identity of the thief? Or was he still in New York? And were they about to share another of his secrets?