Mr. Hardy raised his eyebrows, pretending not to understand.
"About what?" he inquired.
"About the case. The Tower Mansion case. The red wig. Did you find out who owned it? Did you catch the thief?"
"Whoa! Whoa! Not all at once. A question at a time please. Now, do I understand that you want to know if I found out anything about the Tower Mansion affair?"
"Don't keep us waiting, dad," pleaded Joe. "You know that's what we're asking you about."
"Well," answered Mr. Hardy, "yes—and no!"
"That's not much of an answer," objected Frank, in disappointment.
"It's the best answer I can give, unfortunately. I did find out something about the red wig. But as for connecting its wearer with the Tower robbery—that is still to come."
"You traced the fellow who wore the wig?"
"I did. And he turned out to be a well-known criminal—well known to the police, that is."
"What's his name?" asked Joe.
"Jackley. John Jackley—commonly known as 'Red'."
"Because he has red hair?"
"No. Because he hasn't red hair. That re-
