Frank patted his friend on the shoulder. “Brace up, pal,” he advised. “It looks discouraging just now, but I’m sure your father will be able to clear himself.”
“I- I’ll have to tell Mother,” stammered Slim. “This will break her heart. And my sisters-“
Frank and Joe followed the boy down the hallway and along a corridor that led to the east wing of the mansion. There, in a neat but sparsely furnished apartment, they found Mrs. Robinson, a gentle, kind-faced woman, who was lame. She was seated in a chair by the window, anxiously waiting. Her two daughters, Paula and Tessie, twelve-year-old twins, were at her side, and all looked up in expectation as the boys came in.
“What news, son?” Mrs. Robinson asked bravely, after she had greeted the Hardys.
“Bad, Mother.”
“They’re not-they’re not-arresting him?” cried Paula, springing forward.
Perry nodded wordlessly.
“But they can’t!” Tessie protested. “Dad couldn’t do anything like that! It’s wrong-“
Frank, looking at Mrs. Robinson, saw her suddenly slump over in a faint. He sprang forward and caught the woman in his arms as she was about to fall to the floor.
“Mother!” cried Slim in terror, as Frank laid Mrs. Robinson on a couch, then he said quickly to his sister, “Paula, bring the smelling salts and her special medicine.”