hasn't written. There's something mighty queer about this!"
Aunt Gertrude, for once, was at a loss for words. The knitting needles remained suspended in mid-air. Behind the spectacles, her eyes were wide and her mouth remained open in astonishment.
"This affair gets more puzzling every minute," remarked Frank, at last. "Of course dad might have been delayed, or he might have picked up a clue that took him away from Chicago after all. But I think he would have written."
"Perhaps he didn't report at Police Headquarters in Chicago because he was afraid Baldy Turk's gang might find out he was in the city," Joe suggested.
"There's something in that."
"But why wouldn't he be at the hotel?" asked Mrs. Hardy.
"He might be there under an assumed name. If Baldy Turk's gang are on the lookout for him he wouldn't register under his real name. They would be checking up on all the hotels to find him if they thought he was in Chicago," said Frank eagerly. "Perhaps that's why your message didn't reach him."
"Of course, that's why!" sniffed Aunt Gertrude, returning to her knitting, much relieved. "Any one might have known that. It was a
