Mr. Applegate took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. He stared at the boys suspiciously for a few moments. Then he called out:
“Adelia!”
From the dim interior of the hallway a high feminine voice answered.
“What do you want?”
“Come here a minute.”
There was a rustle of skirts, and Adelia Applegate appeared. A faded blond woman of thin features, she was dressed in a fashion of fifteen years before, in which every color of the spectrum fought for supremacy.
“What’s the matter?” she demanded. “I can’t sit down to do a bit of sewing without you interrupting me, Hurd.”
“These boys want to look through the old tower.”
“What for? Up to some mischief?”
Frank and Joe feared she would not give her consent. Frank said quietly, “We’re doing some work for our dad, the detective Fenton Hardy.”