found their father in the house, sitting up for them.
"What on earth kept you out so late? Your mother—" Fenton Hardy began, but Frank interrupted him.
"We've found the counterfeiters!"
"The what?" demanded Mr. Hardy, in astonishment.
"The counterfeiters. Get some men and we can catch the whole crowd this very minute."
"Is this right?" asked the detective swiftly.
"We've found their plant. We saw them making money. We can bring you there right away. They don't know that we saw them."
"And they're getting ready to leave in the morning," put in Joe.
"Where are they?" demanded Fenton Hardy.
"In the old Turner mill on Willow River. We've just come from there."
Mr. Hardy was a man who wasted little time once he had grasped the essentials of a situation. Without a word he hurried over to his study and picked up the telephone. He asked for a number and, after it was secured, he held a brief, curt conversation. Then he put down the telephone and the receiver clicked.
"We'll have a posse out there in half an hour," he said to his sons. "Three state troopers and two Secret Service men who
