"Has your father—discovered anything—yet, Frank?" asked Mrs. Robinson hesitantly.
"I'm sorry," admitted Frank. "We haven't heard from him. He's been away in New York following up some clues. But so far there's been nothing. Of course, it isn't often he falls down on a case."
"We hardly dare hope that he'll be able to clear Mr. Robinson. The whole case is so mysterious."
"I've given up thinking of it," Tessie declared. "If it is cleared up, all well and good. If it isn't—we won't starve, at any rate, and papa knows we all believe in him."
"Yes, I suppose it doesn't do much good to keep talking about it," agreed Mrs. Robinson. "We've gone over it all so thoroughly that there is nothing more to say."
So, by tacit consent, the subject was changed, and for the rest of their stay Frank and Callie chatted of doings at school. Mrs. Robinson and the girls invited them to remain for supper, but Callie insisted that she must go. When they left they promised faithfully to pay another visit in the near future. Only once again was the subject that was nearest their hearts brought up, and that was when Mrs. Robinson drew Frank to one side as he was leaving.
"Promise me one thing," she said. "Let me know as soon as your father returns—if he has any news."
"I'll do that, Mrs. Robinson," agreed the boy. "I know what this suspense must be like for you."
"It's terrible. But as long as Fenton Hardy is working on the case I'm sure that it will be cleared up if it is humanly possible."
And with that, the matter rested. Callie was unusually silent all the way home. It was evident that she had been profoundly affected by the change that the Tower Mansion mystery had caused in the lives of the Robinsons. Naturally sympathetic and tender-hearted, she felt keenly the injustice of it all, and she realized even more than Frank what it had meant to Mrs. Robinson and the girls to move from their comfortable home in the Mansion to the squalid and distant part of the city in which they now lived.