When they reached home Frank told his father about Pollie Shaw and handed over the counterfeit bill.
"So they're dealing in fifties now!" exclaimed Fenton Hardy, as he looked at the money.
"Do you think it's made by the people who turned out that bad five that we got stung on?" Joe asked.
Mr. Hardy drew a magnifying glass from his vest pocket and make a close scrutiny of the bill. "It seems to have been printed on the same press but I'm not sure," he announced at last. "These things are so cleverly done that it would take an expert to notice any differences." He proceeded then to examine the five dollar bill, comparing it closely with the fifty, and at last he put the glass back into his pocket.
"I'm practically certain that these bills were issued from the same press. The paper seems to be of the same kind, just a shade lighter than the paper used in genuine money, and there are certain little differences in the engraving that are almost identical on each bill. Miss Shaw won't mind if I keep this, will she?" he asked Frank.
"She asked me to give it to you."
"I'll send both these bills to an expert in the city and we'll get his opinion on it."
Mrs. Hardy, a pretty, fair-haired woman, sighed.
"I'm sure I don't know what the world's coming to," she said, "when men will make bad money and know that poor people are going to lose by it. It's a shame."
"There's nothing some of them won't stop at when it comes to filling their own pockets," declared her husband. "But perhaps when the expert sends me his report on these bills I'll have something more to work on. If it turns out that there is one central gang circulating this money we'll all have to be on the lookout."