“We aren’t snooping,” said Frank quietly. “We are looking for a man who has disappeared from Bayport.”
“Humph!” grunted the woman.
“What makes you think he might be around here?” asked the redheaded man.
“He was last seen in this neighborhood.”
“What’s his name?”
“Hardy.”
“What does he look like?”
“Tall and dark. He was wearing a grey suit and a grey cap.”
“Ain’t been nobody around here since we moved in,” said the redheaded man gruffly.
“No, we didn’t see him,” snapped the woman. “You boys had better go and look somewhere else.”
There was nothing to be gained by arguing with the unsociable trio, so the boys started to leave. But Frank, who had edged close to the open door during the course of the conversation, had glanced into the kitchen and something had caught his eye.
It was a gray cap, hanging on a peg!
XII
Pointed Questions
Frank thought quickly. He must ascertain the truth!
The cap, he was almost sure, was the one his father had worn on the morning he had left home. But he wanted to look at it closely, because he knew he might be mistaken and that it would not do to make any accusations unless he were sure of his ground.
“I’m very thirsty,” he said quickly. “Do you mind if I have a drink?”
Redhead and the woman looked at one another without enthusiasm. It was plain that they wished to get rid of their visitors as soon as possible. But they could not refuse such an innocent and reasonable request.
“Come into the kitchen,” said Redhead grudgingly.
This was just what Frank wanted. He followed the man into the kitchen of the Polucca place. Redhead pointed to a water tap. A dipper was hanging from a nail nearby.
“Go ahead,” he grunted.
Frank went over to the tap and as he did so he passed the cap on the peg. He took a swift look at the cap.
He had made no mistake. It was his father’s.
Then he received a shock that almost stunned him. For a second he almost stopped in his tracks, but then he recollected himself and moved mechanically on toward the tap.
He had seen bloodstains!
On the lower edge of the cap were three large stains, reddish in color. They could have been made by nothing but blood.
In a daze, Frank turned on the water, filled the dipper and drank. At last he turned away, conscious that Redhead had been eyeing him carefully all the time.
“Thanks,” he said, and again cast a glance at the peg.
The cap was gone!
Redhead had undoubtedly snatched it away and hidden it. Frank gave no sign that he noticed anything amiss, and walked out of the kitchen into the yard, where he rejoined the others.
“I guess we may as well be going,” he said.
“You might as well,” snapped the woman. “There’s been no strangers around here.”
“We’re sorry we troubled you,” said Joe. “Goodbye.”
Redhead grunted a curt farewell. The woman and the other man said nothing as the boys turned away and retraced their steps out to the lane. For a while they walked on in silence and then, when they were out of sight of the house, Frank turned to the others.
“Do you know why I went into the kitchen?” he asked.
“Why?” they demanded eagerly, and Joe put in:
“I thought there was something fishy about the way you asked for that drink. What did you see?”
“I saw dad’s cap hanging on a peg!”
This caused an immediate sensation. Phil Cohen whistled in amazement.
“Then he has been here! They were lying!”
“Are you sure it was dad’s cap?” asked Joe.
“Positive. I’d recognize it anywhere. And more than that, there were bloodstains on it.”
“Bloodstains!”
Frank nodded.
The boys looked at one another in silence.
“This is serious,” declared Joe finally. “We can’t let them get away with this.”
“I’ll say we can’t,” agreed Chet. “Let’s go back.”
“I was going to argue it out right there and then, but I thought I’d better tell the rest of you first so that you’d know what it was all about,” Frank explained.
“He may have been—” Joe left the sentence unfinished.
“He may have been murdered,” said Frank firmly. “And we’re going to find out about it.”
“What do you think we’d better do?”
“I think we’d better go back and tell them we saw that cap and ask how it got there. That’ll force a showdown. They don’t like us any too well as it is, so we won’t have to be over polite to them.”
The boys held a council, and it was unanimously agreed that the matter should not be dropped. Each was of the opinion that the trio now occupying the house on the cliff were far from savory and that the fact of Fenton Hardy’s cap being seen in the kitchen was a clue of first-rate importance.
“He snatched the cap away when my back was turned,” went on Frank.
“That shows there is something wrong,” Chet affirmed. “We’ll go back and tackle him right away.”
“No time like the present. Let’s go.”
The boys accordingly started back down the lane toward the house. When they emerged into the yard again they found the two men and the woman standing together by the shed, talking earnestly. The boys were almost up to them before the woman caught sight of them and spoke warningly to the redheaded man.
“What do you want now?” demanded Redhead, in a surly manner, as he advanced.
“We want to know about that cap in the kitchen,” said Frank firmly.
“What cap? There’s no cap in there.”
“There isn’t now—but there was. It’s a grey cap and it was hanging in there when I went in for a drink.”
“I don’t know anythin’ about no cap,” persisted Redhead.
“Perhaps you want us to ask the police up to help us find out,” put in Tony Prito cheerfully.
Redhead glanced meaningly at the woman. The other man stepped forward.
“I know the cap he means,” he said. “It’s mine. What about it?”
“It isn’t yours, and you know it,” declared Frank. “That cap belongs to
