"No, Sam. They told me up at headquarters that all of the three former criminals one of the detectives mentioned, were nowhere near New York, so far as they could learn."
"Then if they haven't been near this city, that supposition of theirs falls through," was Tom's comment. "What do they propose to do next?"
"I don't think they know. Anyway, they didn't give me any satisfaction;" and, hanging up his hat, Dick sank into an office chair, looking much downcast.
Several days had passed, and during that time the Rover boys had done their best to get further clews concerning the robbery. From an old man who kept an apple stand near the entrance of the building, they had learned that the strange fellow who had been seen by Kittie Donovan was a man of perhaps forty years of age, with a clean-shaven face. But more than that the street merchant was unable to say.
"And there are thousands of men in New York City who are about that age and who have clean-shaven faces," had been Sam's comment on learning this. "That clew won't get us anywhere. Now, if the fellow had limped, or had a crooked nose——"
"Sure! And a false tooth with two spots of gold and a diamond in it, and all that sort of thing," Tom had broken in. "Say, Sam, what do you want, some clews made to order?" and he had laughed grimly.
"I must confess, I am at my wits' end," said Dick.
"What did Mr. Powell have to say about it?" questioned Tom, for he and Sam had been out hunting for clews when the lawyer had called.
"What could he say? He wasn't here when the bonds were taken. He asked me about our other investments; and he said if we got into any financial difficulties through this loss, he would aid us all he could."
"Bully for Songbird's uncle!" cried Sam. "He's as generous as Songbird himself."