“Haven’t we tried?”
“Yes, but we can try some more. We’ve just got to clear Mr. Robinson. And there’s only the one way. We must find the loot!”
It was a dull, gloomy day, indicative of rain, and this did not add to the boys’ spirits.
To ease their feelings the brothers took a walk, and quite unconsciously their steps took them in the vicinity of Tower Mansion.
“Let’s have a squint at the old place from the outside,” suggested Joe.
“Don’t let Adelia see you, or she’ll come after you with a broomstick,” chuckled Frank. “Gee, but she’s a tartar!”
They walked into the grounds. It was growing darker now and they easily made their way among the trees and bushes to the vicinity of the rambling mansion. They gazed up at the old tower questioningly.
“Some puzzle,” was Frank’s comment. “Will the case of The Tower Treasure ever be solved?”
“Search me!” was his brother’s slangy answer. “Perhaps—oh, Frank, look!” he added suddenly.
He was gazing at the upper windows of the old stone tower. He had seen a strange flash of light. Now this flash was followed by another.
“That’s queer,” muttered Frank. “What can it mean?”
The light disappeared, then of a sudden it flashed out and downward in the direction of the lads.
“Must be looking for us!” gasped Joe, and started to get behind a bush.
“It’s Adelia—and she has a big flashlight,” came, a moment later, from Frank. “What do you know about that!”
“She’s looking for the treasure herself!” cried Joe. “Huh! And after all she said about our looking being nothing but foolishness!”
They saw the woman gaze out of the window for a few seconds. In one hand she held the flashlight. For a moment she turned the light into her own face, and the boys saw there a look of utter disgust.
“Didn’t find it, I’ll bet a cookie!” chuckled Joe.
“Come on—let’s get away before she spots us,” returned his brother, and they were soon on their way.
As they walked home, Joe and Frank talked the matter over. They smiled when they thought of the eccentric woman up in that dusty old tower, but their minds soon went back to Slim and the troubles of the Robinson family.
“We’ve got to find that loot!” declared Frank emphatically. “No matter where that tower treasure is, we’ve got to find it!”
“Got to—but can we?”
“We simply have to, I tell you!”
XXI
A New Idea
A week passed, and still the loot was not recovered.
Mr. Robinson had been held for trial at an early court session. The general opinion in Bayport was that he would be sentenced to imprisonment. The fact that he still refused to tell where he had got the nine hundred dollars so near the time of the robbery, weighed heavily against him.
Fenton Hardy was downcast. It was the first case of its kind that he had been unsuccessful in solving completely, and although he was satisfied that he had done good work in tracking down Red Jackley and getting the confession, the result had scarcely been worth the effort.
Chief Collig and Detective Smuff were complacent. They made no effort to conceal their critical opinions of the great detective, who had taken so much time trying to solve the mystery, when the real thief was right under his nose all the time.
“I told you so,” was the burden of Chief Collig’s song of triumph. “I knew all the time that Robinson was the man. I arrested him right after the robbery, but they all said it couldn’t be him. So I let him go. But I knew all the time it couldn’t be anyone else. Ain’t that so, Smuff?”
And the loyal Smuff would dutifully chime in with, “Yes, chief. We have to hand it to you. You had the right man all the time.”
“I guess these professional detectives won’t think they’re so smart after all, eh, Smuff?”
“No, you bet they won’t. We can still teach ’em a thing or two.”
“I’ll say we can, Smuff. I’ll say we can.”
These stories, naturally enough, reached the ears of Fenton Hardy and the Hardy boys and they felt keenly the arrogant superiority displayed by the Bayport police officials. But they said nothing, suffering their defeat in silence.
On the following Saturday, Frank and Joe decided to take an outing.
“I want to get out of this city for a few hours,” said Frank. “We’ve been so busy worrying about the Tower Mansion case that we’ve forgotten how to play. Let’s take the motorbikes and go out for a run.”
“Good idea!” his brother replied. “Mother will make us up some lunch.”
Mrs. Hardy, who was in the kitchen with the cook, smiled when they made known their request. Fair-haired and gentle, she had been tolerantly amused by her sons’ activities in the Tower affair, but she was glad to see them return to their boyish ways.
“You’ll be getting too grown-up altogether,” she had said to them a few days previously. And now, when they said they were going on a day’s outing with the motorcycles, she hastened to prepare a substantial lunch for them.
“We’ll be back in time for supper, mother,” Frank promised. “We’re just going to follow the highway along the railroad. After that we may cut across country to Chet’s place, and then home.”
“Take care of yourself,” she warned. “No speeding.”
“We’ll be careful,” they promised, as Joe stowed the lunch basket on the carrier of his machine. Then, with a sputtering roar, the motorcycles sped out along the driveway and soon the boys were on the concrete highway leading out of the city.
In a short time they had reached the outskirts of Bayport, and then they turned west on to the State highway that ran parallel to the railway tracks. It was a bright, sunny spring morning, and the highway was not congested with traffic.
Freight trains shunted back and forth on the railway tracks below the embankment, and now and then a passenger train steamed by, trailing a cloud of black smoke. Like most boys, Frank and
