Free The Tower Treasure by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

replied, and Joe added, “Tomorrow we’ll try to find out the name and address of the thief through his coat and hat?”
    â€œRight,” the detective said.
    The Hardys enjoyed the performance of The Merchant of Venice with Mr. Morley as Launcelot Gobbo, and laughed hilariously at his comedy and gestures.
    The next morning the detective and his sons visited the store from which the thief’s jacket and hat had been purchased. They were told that the styles were three years out of date and there was no way to tell who had bought them.
    â€œThe articles,” the head of the men’s suit department suggested, “may have been picked up more recently at a secondhand clothing store.” The Hardys thanked him and left.
    â€œAll this trip for nothing.” Joe gave a sigh.
    His father laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “A good detective,” he said, “never sighs with discouragement nor becomes impatient. It took years of persistence to solve some famous cases.”
    He suggested that their next effort be devoted to doing some research in the city’s police files. Since Mr. Hardy had formerly been a member of the New York City detective force, he was permitted to search the records at any time.
    Frank and Joe accompanied him to headquarters and the work began. First came a run-down on any known New York criminals who used disguises. Of these men, the Hardys took the reports on the ones who were thin and of medium height.
    Next came a check by telephone on the whereabouts of these people. All could be accounted for as working some distance from Bayport at the time of the thefts, with one exception.
    â€œI’ll bet he’s our man!” Frank exclaimed. “But where is he now?”

CHAPTER XI
    Anxious Waiting
    THE suspect, the Hardys learned, was out of prison on parole. His name was John Jackley, but he was known as Red Jackley because when caught before going to prison he had been wearing a red wig.
    â€œHe lives right here in New York, and maybe he’s back home by this time,” Joe spoke up. “Let’s go see him.”
    â€œJust a minute,” Mr. Hardy said, holding up his hand. “I don’t like to leave Mother alone so long. Besides, in this type of sleuthing three detectives together are too noticeable to a crook. This Jackley may or may not be our man. But if he is, he’s probably dangerous. I want you boys to take the evening plane home. I’ll phone the house the minute the thief is in custody.”
    â€œAll right, Dad,” his sons chorused, though secretly disappointed that they had to leave.
    When they reached home, Frank and Joe learned that their mother had been working on the case from a completely different angle. Hers was the humanitarian side.
    â€œI went to call on the Robinsons to try to bolster their spirits,” she said. “I told them about your trip to New York and that seemed to cheer them a lot. Monday I’m going to bake a ham and a cake for you to take to them. Mrs. Robinson isn’t well and can do little in the kitchen.”
    â€œThat’s swell of you!” Frank said admiringly. “I’ll go.”
    Joe told them he had a tennis match to play. “I’ll do the next errand,” he promised.
    Monday, during a change of classes, Frank met Callie Shaw in the corridor. “Hi!” she said. “What great problem is on Detective Hardy’s mind? You look as if you’d lost your best criminal!”
    Frank grimaced. “Maybe I have,” he said.
    He told Callie that he had phoned home at noon confidently expecting to hear that his father had reported the arrest of the real thief of the Applegate money and the exoneration of Mr. Robinson. “But there was no word, Callie, and I’m worried Dad may be in danger.”
    â€œI don’t blame you,” she said. “What do you think has happened?”
    â€œWell, you never can tell when