“Then you may never be able to get a confession from him.”
Fenton Hardy shrugged. “I may be able to. If Jackley regains consciousness and knows he’s going to die, he may admit everything. I intend to see him in the hospital and ask him about the Tower robbery.”
“Is he far away?”
“Albany. I explained my mission to the doctor in charge and he promised to telephone me as soon as it was possible for Jackley to see anyone.”
“You say he used to work near here?” Joe asked.
“He was once employed by the railroad, and he knows all the country around here well. Then he became mixed up in some thefts from freight cars, and after he got out of jail, turned professional criminal. I suppose he came back here because he is so familiar with this area.”
“I promised to call Mrs. Robinson,” Frank spoke up. “Okay to tell her about Jackley?”
“Yes, it may cheer her up. But ask her not to tell anyone.”
Frank dialed the number and relayed part of his father’s story. The accused man’s wife was overwhelmed and relieved by the news, but promised not to divulge the information. Just as Frank finished the call, the doorbell rang. Frank ushered in the private detective Oscar Smuff.
“Your pa home?” he asked.
“Yes. Come in.” Frank led the way into the living room.
Smuff, although he considered himself a top-notch sleuth, stood in awe of Fenton Hardy. He cleared his throat nervously.
“Good afternoon, Oscar,” said Mr. Hardy pleasantly. “Won’t you sit down?”
Detective Smuff eased himself into an armchair, then glanced inquiringly at the two boys. At once Mr. Hardy said, “Unless your business is very private, I’d like to have my sons stay.”
“Well, I reckon that’ll be all right,” Smuff conceded. “I hear you’re working on this Applegate case.”
“Perhaps I am.”
“You’ve been out of town several days,” Smuff remarked cannily, “so I deduced you must be workin’ on it.”
“Very clever of you, Detective Smuff,” Mr. Hardy said, smiling at his visitor.
Smuff squirmed uneasily in his chair. “I’m workin’ on this case too-I’d like to get that thousand-dollar reward, but I’d share it with you. I was just wonderin’ if you’d found any clues.”
Mr. Hardy’s smile faded. He said, with annoyance, “If I went away, it is my own business. And if I’m working on the Tower robbery, that also is my business. You’ll have to find your own clues, Oscar.”
“Well, now, don’t get on your high horse, Mr. Hardy,’ the visitor remonstrated. “I’m just anxious to get this affair cleared up and I thought we might work together. I heard you were with the officers what chased this here notorious criminal Red Jackley.”
Mr. Hardy gave a perceptible start. He had no idea that news of the capture of Jackley had reached Bayport, much less that his own participation in the chase had become known. The local police must have received the information and somehow Smuff had heard the news.
“What of it?” Mr. Hardy asked in a casual way.
“Did Jackley have anything to do with the Tower case?”
“How should I know?”
“Wasn’t that what you were workin’ on?”
“As I’ve told you, that’s my affair.”
Detective Smuff looked sad. “I guess you just don’t want to cooperate with me, Mr. Hardy. I was thinkin’ of goin’ over to the hospital where this man Jackley is and questionin’ him about the case.”
Mr. Hardy’s lips narrowed into a straight line. “You can’t do that, Oscar. He isn’t conscious. The doctor won’t let you see him.”
“I’m goin’ to try. Jackley’ll come to some time and I want to be on hand. There’s a plane at six o’clock, and I aim to leave my house about five-thirty and catch it.” He thumped his chest in admiration. “Detectives don’t have to show up for a plane till the last minute, eh, Mr. Hardy? Well, I’ll have a talk with Jackley tonight. And I may let you know what he says.”
“Have it your own way,” said Mr. Hardy. “But if you take my advice you’ll not visit the hospital. You’ll just spoil everything. Jackley will talk when the times comes.”
“So there is somethin’ in it!” Smuff said triumphantly. “Well, I’m goin’ over there and get a confession!” With that he arose, stumped out of the room, and left the house.
CHAPTER XIII
Teamwork
AFTER Smuff left the house, Mr. Hardy sat back with a gesture of despair. “That man,” he said, “handles an investigation so clumsily that Red Jackley will close up like a clam if Smuff manages to question him.”
At that moment the telephone rang. The boys listened excitedly as Mr. Hardy answered. “Hello. . . . Oh, yes, doctor. ... Is that so? . . . Jackley will probably live only until morning? ... I can see him. . . . Fine. . . . Thank you. Good-by.”
The detective put back the receiver and turned to the boys. “I’ll take that six-o’clock plane to Albany. But if Smuff goes too, it may ruin everything. The Albany police and I must question Jackley first.”
“When’s the next commercial flight after six?” Joe asked.
“Seven o’clock.”
“Then,” said Frank, “Smuff can take that one and question Jackley later. Come on, Joe. Let’s see what we can do to help Dad!”
“Don’t you boys do anything rash,” their father warned.
“We won’t.”
Frank led the way outdoors and started walking down the street.
“What’s on your mind?” Joe asked as they ! reached the corner.
“We must figure out how to keep Detective Smuff in Bayport until seven o’clock.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll find a way. We can’t have him bursting into that hospital room and spoiling the chance of Dad’s getting a confession. Smuff might ruin things so the case will never be solved.”
“You’re right.”
The brothers walked along the street in silence. They realized that the situation was urgent. But though they racked their brains trying to think of a way to prevent Detective Smuff from catching the six-o’clock plane, it seemed hopeless.
“Let’s round up our gang,” Joe suggested finally. “Perhaps they’ll have some ideas.”
The Hardys found their friends on the tennis courts of Bayport High.
“Hi, fellows!” called Chet Morton when he saw
Frank and Joe approaching. “You’re too late for a game. Where’ve you been?”
“We had something important to do,” Frank replied. “Say, we need your help.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Tony Prito.
“Oscar Smuff is trying to win that thousand-dollar reward and get himself on the Bayport police force by interfering in one of Dad’s cases,” Frank explained. “We can’t tell you much more than that. But the main thing is, we want to keep him from catching the six-o’clock plane. We-er- don’t want him to go until seven.”
“What do you want us to do?” Bill Hooper asked.
“Help us figure out how to keep Smuff in Bay-port until seven o’clock.”
“Without having Chief Collig lock us up?” Jerry Gilroy put in. “Are you serious about this, Frank?”
“Absolutely. If Smuff gets to a certain place before Dad can, the case will be ruined. And I don’t mind telling you that it has something to do with Slim Robinson.”
Chet Morton whistled. “Oh, ho! I catch on. The Tower business. If that’s it, we’ll make sure the six-o’clock plane leaves here without that nutty detective.” Chet had a special dislike for Smuff, because the man had once reported him for swimming in the bay after hours.
“So our problem,” said Phil solemnly, “is to keep Smuff here and keep out of trouble ourselves.”