on the inside of the tips. At last he shook his head.
“A smooth job,” he observed. “The thief must have worn gloves. All the fingerprints in the room, Mr. Applegate, seem to be yours.”
“No use looking for fingerprints or any other evidence!” Mr. Applegate barked impatiently. “It was Robinson, I tell you.”
“Perhaps it would be a good idea for me to ask him a few questions,” Mr. Hardy advised.
Mr. Applegate rang for one of the servants and instructed him to tell the caretaker to come to the library at once. Mr. Hardy glanced at the boys and suggested they wait in the hallway.
“It might prove less embarrassing to Mr. Robinson that way,” he said in a low voice.
Frank and Joe readily withdrew. In the hall they met Mr. Robinson and his son Perry. The man was calm, but pale, and at the doorway he patted Slim on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Everything will be all right.” With that he entered the library.
Slim turned to his two friends. “It’s got to be!” he cried out. “My dad is innocent!”