"Probably been up all night. When dad gets hard at work on a case he forgets all about sleep. I'll bet he found something."
"Hope so. But I wish he'd wake up and tell us. I hate to go back to school without knowing."
But Mr. Hardy had not awakened by the time the boys set out for school again, although they lingered until they were in danger of being late.
All afternoon they were tormented by curiosity. Where had their father been? What had he discovered? As soon as school was out they fled down the steps, broke away from a group of boys anxious to get up a baseball game, and shattered all records in their race for home.
Fenton Hardy was in the library, and as they rushed panting into the room he grinned broadly at his sons, for he was quite well aware that they were impatient to hear an account of his trip.
He looked refreshed after his long sleep and it was evident that his trip had not been entirely without success, for his manner was cheerful. The Hardy boys knew their father well, and they knew that when a case was difficult of solution the great detective became moody and worried.
"What luck dad?" asked Frank, perching on the arm of an easy chair.
