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?
CHAPTER X
A Sleuthing Trip
FRANK and Joe's first stop was the Hardy garage. Looking in, they saw that
only Mrs. Hardy's car was there. Their father had taken his sedan to the
airport and not brought it back.
'Dad's not home!' Joe cried excitedly. 'Now we'll hear what the surprise
is.' Dashing into the kitchen, he called, 'Mother!'
'I'm upstairs, dear,' Mrs. Hardy called back.
The boys rushed up the front stairway two steps at a time. Their mother met
them at the door of their bedroom. Smiling broadly, she pointed to a packed
suitcase on Frank's bed. The boys looked puzzled.
Next, from her dress pocket, Mrs. Hardy brought out two plane tickets and
some dollar bills. She handed a ticket and half the money to each of her sons,
saying, 'Your father wants you to meet him in New York to help him on the
case.'
Frank and Joe were speechless for a moment, then they grabbed their mother
in a bear hug. 'This is super!' Joe exclaimed. 'What a surprise!'
Frank looked affectionately at his mother. 'You sure were busy today-getting
our plane tickets and money. I wish you were going too.'
Mrs. Hardy laughed. 'When I go to New York for a week end I want to have
fun with you boys, not trot around to police stations and thieves' hide-outs!'
she teased. 'I'll go some other time. Well, let's hurry downstairs. There's a
snack ready for you. Then I'll drive my detective sons to the airport.'
In less than two hours the boys were on the plane to New York City. Upon
landing there, they were met by Mr. Hardy. He took them to his hotel, where
he had engaged an adjoining room for them. It was not until the doors were
closed that he brought up the subject of the mystery.
'The case has taken an interesting turn, and may involve considerable
research. That's why I thought you might help me.'
'Tell us what has happened so far,' Frank requested eagerly.
Mr. Hardy said that immediately upon arriving in the city he had gone to the
office of the company which had manufactured the red wig. After sending in
his card to the manager he had been admitted readily.
'That's because the name of Fenton Hardy is known from the Atlantic to the
Pacific!' Joe interjected proudly.
The detective gave his son a wink and went on with the story. ' 'Some of our
customers in trouble, Mr. Hardy?' the manager asked me when I laid the red
wig on his desk.
' 'Not yet,' I said. 'But one of them may be if I can trace the purchaser of this
wig.'
'The manager picked it up. He inspected it carefully and frowned. 'We sell
mainly to an exclusive theatrical trade. I hope none of the actors has done
anything wrong.'
' 'Can you tell me who bought this one?' I asked.
' 'We make wigs only to order,' the manager said. He pressed a button at the
side of his desk. A boy came and departed with a written message. 'It may be
difficult. This wig is not a new one. In fact, I would say it was fashioned about
two years ago.'
' 'A long time. But still-' I encouraged him,' the detective went on. 'In a few
minutes a bespectacled elderly man shuffled into the office in response to the
manager's summons.
' 'Kauffman, here,' the manager said, 'is our expert. What he doesn't know
about wigs isn't worth knowing.' Then, turning to the old man, he handed him
the red wig. 'Remember it, Kauffman?'
'The old man looked at it doubtfully. Then he gazed at the ceiling. 'Red
wig-red wig-' he muttered.
' 'About two years old, isn't it?' the manager prompted.
' 'Not quite. Year'n a half, I'd say. Looks like a comedy-character type.
Wait'11 I think. There ain't been so many of our customers playin' that kind
of a part inside a year and a half. Let's see. Let's see.' The old man paced up
and down the office, muttering names under his breath. Suddenly he stopped,
snapping his fingers.
' 'I have it,' he said. 'It must have been Morley who bought that wig. That's
who it was! Harold Morley. He's playin' in Shakespearean repertoire with
Hamlin's company. Very fussy about his wigs. Has to have 'em just so. I
