It was a big job.
Efforts to trace the purchaser of the hat and coat were fruitless. The search ended at a secondhand store where the owner vainly tried to sell Mr. Hardy a complete outfit of clothing at a bargain, but could not or would not remember who had bought the coat from him. He sold so many coats, and at such bargains, that he could not remember the customers who came into his store. Mr. Hardy was forced to retire, defeated.
The predominating quality of the detective’s character was patience. When he found that he could not trace the thief through the wig, the hat or the coat, he doggedly set to work trying to trace the man who had broken into the dressing room of the actor, Morley, and this, in spite of the fact that the police had already given up that case as hopeless.
Then, in his spare time, Mr. Hardy spent hours at police headquarters, poring over records, searching for particulars of hundreds of redheaded criminals.
It was over a week before he found what he wanted and it came from a chance note at the bottom of a police description of a thief who was at that time out on parole. But when Fenton Hardy saw the note he knew he had stumbled on the clue he needed. And he smiled grimly.
“It won’t be long now,” he remarked, in the popular phrase of the day, as he went back to his hotel.
XIII
In Poor Quarters
In the meantime, the Hardy boys were finding the suspense almost unbearable. They had expected that their father would be away but a day at the most, but when two days dragged by, then three, and finally an entire week, without word from Mr. Hardy further than a brief note from New York stating that he was well and that the case was not as easy of solution as he had hoped, they became depressed.
“If Dad can’t get the thief, no one can,” declared Joe, with conviction, “and I’m beginning to think that even Dad is falling down in this affair.”
“Better wait till he admits it himself,” suggested Frank. “Although I don’t mind telling you I’m not very hopeful myself.”
Frank’s preoccupied air had not gone unobserved. Callie Shaw had noticed his abstraction. More than once, when she had smiled pleasantly at him as they met one another in the hallways or in the classroom at the high school, he had merely nodded moodily. Callie was too sensible to be hurt by this, but she wondered what was worrying Frank. So one afternoon, when they happened to leave school together, she taxed him with it.
“What’s on your mind, Frank?” she asked gaily. “You’ve been going around looking like a human thundercloud for the last week.”
“Who, me? I didn’t notice,” returned Frank heavily.
“Yes, you!” she replied, mimicking his lifeless tone. “You used to be full of fun. What’s the matter? Can’t I help?” She glanced up at him eagerly.
Frank shook his head.
“No, you can’t help, Callie. It’s about Slim.”
“Slim Robinson! Oh, yes! Wasn’t that too bad?” said Callie, with quick sympathy. “He had to leave school. They tell me he’s working.”
“In a grocery.”
“And he was so anxious to be a lawyer!”
“I was talking to him this morning. He pretends he likes the work he’s at, but I could tell he wishes he could get back to school again. I’m real sorry for him. And all on account of that confounded Tower robbery!”
“But nobody really believes Mr. Robinson did it!”
“Of course not. Nobody but Hurd Applegate. But until they find who did take the stuff, Mr. Robinson is out of a job and nobody will hire him.”
“Isn’t that too bad? I’m going over to see Paula and Tessie and Mrs. Robinson tonight. Where are they living?”
Frank gave Callie the address. Her eyes widened.
“Why that’s in one of the poorest sections of the city! Frank, I had no idea it was that bad!”
“It is—and it’ll be a lot worse unless Mr. Robinson gets work pretty soon. Slim’s earnings aren’t nearly enough to keep the family yet.”
“Isn’t there any chance that Mr. Robinson will be cleared?”
“That’s what’s worrying me. Dad is working on the case.”
“Then why should you worry?” said Callie triumphantly. “Why, that means it’ll be all cleared up. Your father can do anything!”
“I used to think so, too. But he seems to be stuck, this time.”
“What’s the matter?”
“He went to New York almost a week ago with some clues that Joe and I were certain would clear up the affair, and so far we haven’t heard from him, only to know that the case was harder than he expected.”
“But he hasn’t given up, has he?”
“Well—no—”
“Then what are you worrying about, silly? If your father had given up the case there would be something to worry about. If he is still working on it there’s always hope.”
They walked on in silence for a while.
“Let’s go out to see the Robinsons,” Callie said suddenly.
“I’ve been intending to go, but—I sort of—well—you know—”
“You thought it might embarrass them. Well, it won’t. I know Paula and Tessie well, and they’re not that kind. They’d appreciate a friendly visit.”
Frank hesitated. He had the natural shyness of his age and he felt awkward about visiting the Robinsons in their new home, for he knew they were now in reduced circumstances and might not wish their former friends to see them in their present plight. But Callie’s words reassured him.
“All right. I’ll go. We can’t stay long, though.”
“We can’t. I must be back in time for supper. We’ll just drop in on them so they’ll know we haven’t forgotten all about them.”
“I thought you were going over to see them tonight?”
“I was, but I’ve changed my mind. I want you to come with me now.”
Frank hailed a passing street car bound for the section of the city in which the Robinsons lived and they got
