“Maybe. Maybe. But I’m telling you it was a hoax.”
“I’ll believe that only if I don’t find anything inside or outside either tower,” Mr. Hardy declared, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Well, come on, let’s get started,” Hurd Apple-gate said, unlocking the door leading to the old tower.
Eagerly the four set to work. They started at the top of the old tower and worked downward. Their investigation left no possibility untouched. All the walls were tapped for hollow sounds which might indicate secret hiding places. The floors were examined closely for signs of any recent disturbance to the wood. But the missing jewels and bonds were not located. Finally the group reached the ground floor again.
“Nothing to do but go on to the new tower,” Mr. Hardy commented briefly.
“I’ll have to rest and eat something before I do any more,” Hurd Applegate said wearily. He led the way to the dining room where sandwiches and milk had been set out. “Help yourselves,” he invited. He himself took only crackers and milk when they all sat down.
After the brief stop for refreshment, the Hardys and the mansion owner turned their attention to the new tower. Again they searched carefully. Walls and partitions were tapped and floors were sounded. Every bit of furniture was minutely examined. Not an inch of space escaped the scrutiny of the detective and his helpers.
As the search drew to a close and the loot still had not been found, Mr. Hardy remarked, “It certainly looks as if the stolen property was never hidden here by Jackley. And furthermore, there’s no evidence that if he did hide it here, anyone came in to take it away.”
“You mean,” said Frank, “it’s proof that Mr. Robinson did not come in here?”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe not,” Mr. Applegate conceded. “But it still doesn’t prove he wasn’t in cahoots with the thief!”
“I’m not going to give up this search yet,” Mr. Hardy said determinedly. “Perhaps the loot was hidden somewhere outside the old tower.”
He explained that it would be difficult to examine the grounds properly at night. “With your permission, Mr. Applegate, my sons and I will return at sunrise tomorrow morning and start work again.” As the owner reluctantly nodded his assent, Mr. Hardy turned to Frank and Joe and smiled. “We ought to be able to prove our point before schooltime.”
The boys, who had had no time to prepare any homework, reminded their father that a note from him to the principal would be a great help. The detective smiled, and as soon as they reached home he wrote one out, then said good night.
Frank and Joe felt as if their eyes had hardly closed when they opened them again to see their father standing between their beds. “Time to get up if you want to be in on the search,” he announced.
The boys blinked sleepily, then sprang out of bed. Showers awakened them fully and they dressed quickly. Mrs. Hardy was in the kitchen when they entered it and breakfast was ready. The sun was just rising over a distant hill.
“Everything hot this morning,” Mrs. Hardy said. “It’s chilly outside.”
The menu included hot applesauce, oatmeal, poached eggs on toast, and cocoa. Breakfast was eaten almost in silence to avoid any delay, and within twenty minutes the three Hardy sleuths were on their way.
“I see you put spades in the car, Dad,” Frank remarked. “I take it we’re going to do some digging.”
“Yes, if we don’t locate the loot hidden above ground some place.”
When the Hardys reached Tower Mansion they instituted their hunt without notifying the Apple-gates, who, they were sure, were still asleep. Everything in the vicinity of both towers was scrutinized. Boulders were overturned, the space under the summerhouse examined by flashlight, every stone in the masonry tested to see if it could be dislodged. Not a clue turned up.
“I guess we dig,” Frank stated finally.
He chose a bed of perennial bushes at the foot of the old tower where there had been recent planting, and pushed one of the spades in deep with his foot. The tool hit an obstruction. Excitedly Frank shoveled away the dirt around the spot. In half a minute he gave a cry of delight. “A chest! I’ve found a buried chest!”
CHAPTER XVII
An Unexpected Find
THROWING out the dirt in great spadefuls, Frank uncovered the chest completely. It was about two feet long, six inches wide, and a foot deep.
“The treasure!” Joe cried out, running up.
Mr. Hardy was at his son’s heels and looked in amazement at Frank’s discovery. The boy lifted the chest out of the hole and instantly began to raise the lid on which there was no lock.
Everyone held his breath. Had the Hardys really uncovered the jewels and securities stolen from the Applegates? Frank flung back the lid.
The three sleuths stared at the contents. They had never been more surprised in their lives. Finally Joe found his voice.
“Nothing but a lot of flower bulbs!”
The first shock of disappointment over, the detective and his sons burst into laughter. The contents of the chest were such a far cry from what they had expected that now the situation seemed ridiculous.
“Well, one thing is sure,” said Frank. “Red Jack-ley never buried this chest. I wonder who did?”
“I can answer that,” a voice behind them replied, and the Hardys turned to see Hurd Apple-gate, clad in bathrobe and slippers, walking toward them.
“Good morning, Mr. Applegate,” the boys chorused, and their father added, “You see we’re on the job. For a couple of moments we thought we had found your stolen property.”
Hurd Applegate’s face took on a stern look. “You didn’t find my securities,” he said, “but maybe you have found a clue to the thief. Robinson buried that chest full of bulbs. That’s what he’s done with Adelia’s jewelry and my securities! He’s buried them some place, but I’d be willing to bet anything it wasn’t on the grounds here.”
Frank, realizing the man was not in a good humor this morning, tried to steer the conversation away from the stolen valuables. “Mr. Applegate,” he said, “why did Mr. Robinson bury these flower bulbs here?”
The owner of Tower Mansion gave a little snort. “That man’s nutty about unusual flowers. He sent to Europe for these bulbs. They have to be kept in a cool, dark place for several months, so he decided to bury them. He’s always doing something queer like that. Why, do you know what he tried to get me to do? Put up a greenhouse here on the property so he could raise all kinds of rare flowers.”
“That sounds like a swell hobby,” Joe spoke up.
“Swell nothing!” Mr. Applegate replied. “I guess you don’t know how much greenhouses cost. And besides, growing rare flowers takes a lot of time. Robinson had enough to do without fiddling around with making great big daisies out of little wild ones, or turning cowslips into orchids!”
Frank whistled. “If Mr. Robinson can do that, he’s a genius!”
“Genius-that’s a joke!” said Mr. Applegate. “Well, go on with your digging. I want this mystery cleared up.”
It was decided that Mr. Hardy, with his superior powers of observation, would scrutinize the ground near both towers. Wherever it looked as if the ground had been turned over recently, the boys would dig at the spot. The chest of flower bulbs was carefully replaced and the dirt shoveled over it.
“Here’s a place where you might dig,” Mr. Hardy called presently from the opposite side of the old tower. When the boys arrived with their spades, he said, “I have an idea a dog dug up this spot and probably all you’ll find is a beef bone. But we don’t want to miss anything.”
This time Joe’s spade hit the object which had been buried. As his father had prophesied, it proved to be only a bone secreted by some dog.