III
A Shady Trio
“I am sure my man is in Chicago. I know for a fact that he went West, and the Windy City would naturally be his hiding place.”
Fenton Hardy tapped the library table reflectively with a pencil. Mrs. Hardy put aside the magazine she had been reading.
“Are you going to follow him?”
“I’ll trail him right to the Pacific Coast if necessary.”
Frank and Joe Hardy, who had been standing by the window, disconsolately watching the rain streaking down the pane, looked around.
“Who is he, dad?” asked Frank.
“One of the cleverest and most daring bank robbers in the country. I’ve been after him for almost a year now and it’s only been within the last few weeks that I’ve ever come anywhere near catching him.”
“What’s his name?”
Fenton Hardy laughed. “I’ve made you curious, eh? Well, this chap has about a dozen names. He has a new alias every week, but so far as the police are concerned he’s known as Baldy Turk, because he’s as bald as an egg. He and his gang held up a bank in a small New Jersey town about a month ago and got away with over ten thousand dollars in broad daylight. That’s how I managed to get trace of him again. Even the police didn’t know Baldy Turk was mixed up in the affair because he was wearing a wig that day, but he double-crossed one of the members of his gang out of his share in the loot.”
“And that fellow told the police,” ventured Joe.
Mr. Hardy shook his head.
“Not the police. He didn’t dare go near them because he was wanted for two or three robberies himself. But he came to me and tipped me off as to where Baldy Turk could be found. He wanted revenge. I went to New York, where Baldy was in hiding; but evidently some of his friends knew I was on his trail and he disappeared before I could lay my hands on him.”
“Where did he go then?” asked Frank, with interest.
“He hid out on Long Island for a while, but I managed to pick up the trail again and went after him, but he was too smart for me. He got away in a fast automobile and took a couple of shots at me in the bargain. I managed to get the number of the car and traced it to Manhattan and later found that Baldy Turk had left the East altogether. He bought a ticket to Cleveland, doubled back to Buffalo and managed to shake me off.”
“What makes you think he is in Chicago?”
“Because another member of his gang went to Chicago just a week ago. So I imagine Baldy Turk was to meet him there. In any case, Chicago is a thieves’ paradise, so it seems logical that Baldy Turk would make for there.”
“And you’re going after him! Gee, I wish I could go,” declared Joe.
Fenton Hardy smiled.
“It’s no job for a boy,” he said. “Baldy Turk is a bad man with a gun. If I ever do find him it will take some maneuvering to get the handcuffs on him, I’ll tell you.”
“You’ll be careful, won’t you, Fenton,” said Mrs. Hardy anxiously. “I’m always frightened whenever I know you’re after one of these desperate criminals.”
“I’ll be as careful as I can, Laura,” promised her husband; “but in my business I have to take chances. Baldy Turk knows I’m after him and he doesn’t mean to be caught if he can help it. He or any of the men in his gang would shoot me on sight. There’s a standing reward of five thousand dollars out for Baldy and, besides, the Bankers’ Association have promised me a handsome fee if I can get him behind the bars and break up the gang.”
“I won’t rest easy in my mind until you’re back home safe,” Mrs. Hardy declared.
“Don’t worry about me,” replied her husband, going over to her and patting her shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get back safely all right, and Baldy Turk will be in jail if I have to chase him all over the States. The boys will look after you while I’m away.”
“You bet we will!” Frank promised.
“I’m sorry it keeps you from going on that motorboat trip with Chet and Biff,” Mr. Hardy remarked. “Perhaps you can arrange another jaunt after I come back.”
“We’re not worrying about that, dad. We don’t mind staying at home.”
“That’s the spirit,” approved their father.
“When do you leave?” Frank asked.
“I’m waiting for a letter from a friend of mine in Chicago. If he writes as I expect he will write, I should be away by the day after tomorrow.”
“Then let Baldy Turk watch his step!” observed Joe.
“We’ll both have to watch our step,” answered Mr. Hardy, smiling. “If I don’t get him, he’ll probably get me.”
“Well, I’m betting on you.”
Mrs. Hardy shook her head doubtfully, but said nothing. She knew that her detective husband had escaped death at the hands of desperate criminals many times in the course of his career and there seemed to be no reason why he should not bring Baldy Turk to book just as he had captured many other notorious criminals in the past; but this time she had a vague premonition of danger. She knew that her husband would laugh at her fears if she expressed them, so she remained silent.
The rain had stopped, as Frank noticed when he glanced out the window again.
“It’s clearing up. What say we go out for a spin, Joe?”
“Suits me.”
“Let’s go.”
“Don’t be late for supper,” warned Mrs. Hardy, as the boys started out the door.
“We’ll be in time,” they promised, and the door closed behind them.
The Hardy boys went out to the shed where they kept their motorcycles. Both Joe and Frank had machines, given to them by their father, and in
