“You remember us, don’t you?” Frank asked politely. “We’re Mr. Hardy’s sons.”
“Fenton Hardy, the detective? Oh, yes. Well, what do you want?”
“We’d like to look through the old tower, if you don’t mind. We have a clue about the robbery.”
“What kind of clue?”
“We have evidence that leads us to believe the jewels and bonds were hidden by the thief in the old tower.”
“Oh! You have evidence, have you?” The elderly man peered at the boys closely. “It’s that rascal Robinson, I’ll warrant, who gave it to you. He hid the stuff, and now he’s suggesting where you might find it, just to clear himself.”
Frank and Joe had not considered the affair in this light, and they gazed at Mr. Applegate in consternation. At last Joe spoke up.
“Mr. Robinson has nothing to do with this,” he said. “The real thief was found. He said the loot was hidden in the old tower. If you will just let us take a look around, we’ll find it for you.”
“Who was the real thief?”
“We’d rather not tell you, sir, until we find the stolen property, then we’ll reveal the whole story.”