with a sigh.
"Cheer up, Chet," Frank said, as they walked back to the house. "That
spare tire may turn out to be a clue in this case."
When the boys entered the kitchen again, they were met with anxious
inquiries from Callie and Iola.
"What in the world were you doing-dashing out of here without a word?"
Callie asked in a shaking voice.
"Yes, what's going on? You had us frightened silly," Iola joined in. "First
Chet gets a threatening phone call, and then suddenly all three of you run out
of the house like madmen!"
"Calm down, girls," Frank said soothingly. "I saw a prowler, and we were
looking for him, but all we found was this!" He tossed the gray wig onto a
chair in the hall.
Suddenly there was a loud wail from Chet. "My Welsh rabbit! It's been
standing so long it will be ruined!"
Iola began to giggle. "Oh, you men!" she said. "Do you suppose Callie and I
would let all that good cheese go to waste? We kept that Welsh rabbit at just
the right temperature and it isn't spoiled at all."
Chet looked relieved, as he and the others took their places at the table.
Although there was a great deal of bantering during the meal, the
conversation in the main revolved around Chet's missing jalopy and the thief
who evidently wore hair disguises to suit his fancy.
Frank and Joe asked Chet if they might take along the gray wig and examine
it more thoroughly. There might be some kind of mark on it to indicate either
the maker or the owner. Chet readily agreed.
But when supper was over, Callie said to Frank with a teasing gleam in her
eyes, "Why don't you hot-shot sleuths examine that wig now? I'd like to
watch your super-duper methods."
"Just for that, I will," said Frank.
He went to get the wig from the hall chair, and then laid it on the kitchen
table. From his pocket he took a small magnifying glass and carefully
examined every inch of the lining of the wig.
"Nothing here," he said presently.
The hair was thoroughly examined and parted strand by strand to see if there
were any identifying designations on the hair piece. Frank could discover
nothing.
"I'm afraid this isn't going to help us much," he said in disgust. "But I'll show
it to the different wig men in town."
As he finished speaking the telephone rang and Iola went to answer it. Chet
turned white and looked nervous. Was the caller the man who had threatened
him? And what did he want?
Presently Iola returned to the kitchen, a worried frown on her face. "It's a
man for you, Chet. He wouldn't give his name."
Trembling visibly, Chet walked slowly to the telephone. The others followed
and listened.
"Ye-yes, I'm Chet Morton. N-no, I haven't got my car back."
There was a long silence, as the person on the other end of the line spoke
rapidly.
"B-but I haven't any money," Chet said finally. •"I_ Well, okay, I'll let you
know."
Chet hung up and wobbled to a nearby chair. The others bombarded him with
questions.
The stout boy took a deep breath, then said, "I can get my jalopy back. But
the man wants a lot of money for the information as to where it is."
"Oh, I'm glad you're going to get your car back! Callie exclaimed.
"But I haven't got any money," Chet groaned.
"Who's the man?" Frank demanded.
There was another long pause before Chet answered. Then, looking at the
waiting group before him, he announced simply, "Smuff. Oscar Smuff !"
His listeners gasped in astonishment. This was the last thing they expected to
hear. The detective was selling information as to where Chet would find his
missing jalopy!
"Why, that cheap so-and-so!" Joe cried out angrily.
Chet explained that Smuff had said he was not in business for his health. He
had to make a living and any information which he dug up as a detective
should be properly paid for.
Frank shrugged. "I suppose Smuff has a point there. How much does he want
for the information, Chet?"
"His fee is twenty-five dollars!"
"What!" the others cried out.
After a long consultation it was decided that the young people would pool
their resources. Whatever sum they could collect toward the twenty-five
dollars would be offered to Oscar Smuff to lead them to Chet's car.
"But make it very plain," Frank admonished, "that if it's not your jalopy
Smuff leads us to, you won't pay him one nickel."
Chet put in a call to Smuff's home. As expected, the detective grumbled at the
offer of ten dollars but finally accepted it. He said he would pick up the boys
in half an hour and take them to the spot.
About this time Mr. and Mrs. Morton returned home. Chet and Iola's father
was a good-looking, jolly man with his son's same general build and coloring.
He was in the real-estate business in Bay-port and ran the farm as a hobby.
Mrs. Morton was an older edition of her daughter Iola and just as witty and
lighthearted. But when she learned what had transpired and that her son had
been threatened, she was worried.
"You boys must be very careful," Mrs. Morton advised. "From what I hear
about Smuff, this red-haired thief could easily put one over on him. So watch
your step!"
Chet promised that they would. "Good luck!" Callie called out, as Smuff
beeped his horn outside the door. "And don't be too late. I want to hear the
news before I have to go home."
Frank, Joe, and Chet found Smuff entirely uncommunicative about where
they were going. He seemed to enjoy the role he was playing.
"I knew I'd be the one to break this case," he boasted.
Joe could not resist the temptation of asking Smuff if he was going to lead
them to the thief as well as to the car. The detective flushed in
embarrassment and admitted that he did not have full details yet on this part
of the mystery.
"But it won't be long before I capture that fellow," he assured the boys. They
managed to keep their faces straight and only hoped that they were not now
on a wild-goose chase.
Twenty minutes later Smuff pulled into the town of Ducksworth and drove
straight to a used-car lot. Stopping, he announced, "Well, here we are. Get
ready to fork over that money, Chet."
Smuff nodded to the attendant in charge, then led the boys down a long aisle
past row after row of cars to where several jalopies were lined up against a
rear fence. Turning left, the detective finally paused before a bright red car.
"Here you are!" said Smuff grandly, extending his right hand toward Chet.
"My money, please."
The stout boy as well as the Hardys stared at the jalopy. There was no
question but that it was the same make and model as Chet's.
"The thief thought he could disguise it by painting it red," Smuff explained.
"Is that your guess?" Frank asked quietly.
Oscar Smuff frowned. "How else could you figure it?" he asked.
"Then there'll be yellow paint under the red," Frank went on. "Let's take a
look to make sure."
It was evident that Smuff did not like this procedure. "So you doubt me,
eh?"
he asked in an unpleasant tone.
"Anybody can get fooled," Frank told him. "Well, Chet, let's operate on this
car."
The detective stood by sullenly as Frank pulled out a penknife and began to
scrape the red paint off part of the fender.
CHAPTER V
The Hunt Is Intensified
"HEY!" Oscar Smuff shouted. "You be careful with that penknife! The man
who owns this place don't want you ruinin' his cars!"
Frank Hardy looked up at the detective. "I've watched my father scrape off
flecks of paint many times. The way he does it, you wouldn't know anybody
had made a mark."
Smuff grunted. "But you're not your father. Easy there!"
As cautiously as possible Frank picked off flecks of the red paint in a spot
where it would hardly be noticeable. Taking a flashlight from his pocket, he
trained it on the spot.
Joe, leaning over his brother's shoulder, said, "There was light-blue paint
under this red, not yellow."
"Right," Frank agreed, eying Smuff intently.
The detective reddened. "You fellows trying to tell me this isn't Chefs
jalopy?" he demanded. "Well, I'm telling you it is, and I'm right!"
"Oh, we haven't said you're wrong," Joe spoke up quickly. Secretly he was
hoping that this was Chet's car, but reason told him it was not.
"We'll try another place," Frank said, straightening up, and walking around
to a fender on the opposite side.
Here, too, the test indicated that the car had been painted light blue before
the red coat had been put over it.
"Well, maybe the thief put blue on and then red," said Smuff stubbornly.
Frank grinned. "We'll go a little deeper. If the owner of this establishment
objects, we'll pay for having the fenders painted."
But though Frank went down through several layers of paint, he could not
find any sign of yellow.
All this time Chet had been walking round and round the car, looking intently
at it inside and out. Even before Frank announced that he was sure this was
not the missing jalopy, Chet was convinced of it himself.
"The Queen had a long, thin dent in the right rear fender," he said. "And
that seat cushion by the door had a little split in it. I don't think the thief
would have bothered to fix them up."
Chet showed his keen disappointment, but he was glad that the Hardys had
come along to help him prove the truth. But Smuff was not giving up the
money so easily.
"You haven't proved a thing," he said. "The man who runs this place
admitted that maybe this is a stolen car. The fellow who sold it to him said he
lived on a farm outside Bayport."
The Hardys and Chet were taken aback for a moment by this information.
But in a moment Frank said, "Let's go talk to the owner. We'll find out more
about the person who brought this car in."
The man who ran the used-car lot was very cooperative. He readily answered
all questions the Hardys put to him. The bill of sale revealed that the former
owner of the red jalopy was Melvin Schuster of Bayport.
"Why, we know him!" Frank spoke up. "He goes to Bayport High-at least,
he did. He and his family moved far away. That's probably why he sold his
car."
"But Mr. Smuff said you suspected the car was stolen," Joe put in.
The used-car lot owner smiled. "I'm afraid maybe Mr. Smuff put that idea in
my head. I did say that the person seemed in an awful hurry to get rid of the
car and sold it very cheap. Sometimes when that happens, we dealers are a
little afraid to take the responsibility of buying a car, in case it is stolen
property. But at the time Mr. Schuster came in, I thought everything was on
the level and bought his jalopy."
Frank said that he was sure everything was all right, and after the dealer
described Melvin Schuster, there was no question but that he was the owner.
Smuff was completely crestfallen. Without a word he started for his own car
and the boys followed. The detective did not talk on the way back to the
Morton farm, and the boys, feeling rather sorry for him, spoke of matters
other than the car incident.
As the Hardys and Chet walked into the Morton home, the two girls rushed
forward. "Did you find it?" Iola asked eagerly.
Chet sighed. "Another one of Smuff's bluffs," he said disgustedly. He handed
back the money which his friends had given to help pay the detective.
Frank and Joe said good-by, went for their motorcycles, and took Callie
home. Then they returned to their own house, showered, and went to bed.
As soon as school was over the next day, they took the gray wig and visited
Schwartz's shop. The owner assured them that the hair piece had not come
from his store.
"It's a very cheap one," the man said rather disdainfully.
Frank and Joe visited Flint's and Ruben Brothers' shops as well. Neither
place had sold the gray wig. Furthermore, neither of them had had a
customer in many weeks who had wanted a red wig, or who was in the habit
of using wigs or toupees of various colors.
"Today's sleuthing was a complete washout," Joe reported that night to his
father.
The famous detective smiled. "Don't be discouraged," he said. "I can tell you
that one bit of success makes up for a hundred false trails."
As the boys were undressing for bed later, Frank reminded his brother that
the following day was a school holiday. "That'll give us hours and hours to
work on the case," he said enthusiastically.
"What do you suggest we do?" Joe asked.
Frank shrugged. Several ideas were brought up by the brothers, but one
which Joe proposed was given preference. They would get hold of a large
group of their friends. On the theory that the thief could not have driven a
long distance away because of the police alarm, the boys would make an
extensive search in the surrounding area for Chet's jalopy.
"We'll hunt in every possible hiding place," he stated.
Early the next morning Frank hurried to the telephone and put in one call
after another to "the gang." These included, besides Chet Morton, Alien
Hooper, nicknamed Biff because of his fondness for a distant relative who
was a boxer named Biff; Jerry Gilroy, Phil Cohen, and Tony Prito. All were
students at Bayport High and prominent in various sports.
The five boys were eager to co-operate. They agreed to assemble at the
Hardy home at nine o'clock. In the meantime, Frank and Joe would lay out a
plan of action.
As soon as breakfast was over the Hardys told their father what they had in
mind and asked if he had any suggestions on how they might go about their
search.
"Take a map," he said, "with our house as a radius and cut pie-shaped
sections. I suggest that two boys work together."
By nine o'clock his sons had mapped out the search in detail. The first recruit
to arrive was Tony Prito, a lively boy with a good sense of humor. He was
followed in a moment by Phil Cohen, a quiet, intelligent boy.
"Put us to work," said Tony. "I brought one of my father's trucks that he
isn't going to use today." Tony's father was in the contracting business. "I
> can cover a lot of miles in it."
Frank suggested that Tony and Phil work together. He showed them the
map, with Bayport as the center of a great circle, cut into four equal
sections.
"Suppose you take from nine o'clock to twelve on this dial we've marked.
Mother has agreed to stay at home all day and act as clearing house for our
reports. Call in every hour."
"Will do," Tony promised. "Come on, Phil. Let's get going!"
The two boys were just starting off when Biff and Jerry arrived at the Hardy
home on motorcycles. Biff, blond and long-legged, had an ambling gait, with
which he could cover a tremendous amount of territory in a short time. Jerry,
an excellent fielder on Bayport High's baseball team, was of medium height,
wiry, and strong.
Biff and Jerry were assigned to the section on the map designated six to nine
o'clock. They were given further instructions on sleuthing, then started off on
their quest.
"Where's Chet?" Mr. Hardy asked his sons. "Wasn't he going to help in the
search?"
"He probably overslept. Chet's been known to do that," Frank said with a
grin.
"He also might have taken time for a double breakfast," Joe suggested.
Mrs. Hardy, who had stepped to the front porch, called, "Here he comes
now. Isn't that Mr. Morton's car?"
"Yes, it is," Frank replied.
Chet's father let him off in front of the Hardy home and the stout boy hurried
to the porch. "Good morning, Mrs. Hardy. Good morning, Mr. Hardy. Hi,
chums!" he said cheerily. "Sorry to be late. My dad had a lot of phoning to do
before he left. I was afraid if I'd tried to walk here, I wouldn't have arrived
until tomorrow."
At this point Mr. Hardy spoke up. "As I said before, I think you boys should
work in twos. There are only three of you to take care of half the territory."
The detective suddenly grinned boyishly. "How about me teaming up with one
of you?"
Frank and Joe looked at their dad in delight. "You mean it?" Frank cried
out. "I'll choose you as my partner right now."
"I have a further suggestion," the detective said. "It's not going to take you
fellows more than three hours to cover the area you've laid out. And there's
an additional section I think you might look into."
"What's that?" Joe inquired.
"Willow Grove. That's a park area, but there's also a lot of tangled
The Tower Treasure thb-1 Page 3
