only hope. But I don't think there's much chance of that."
And there the mystery of Tower Mansion rested for the time being. The arrest of Mr. Robinson furnished a sensation for a day or so and then the case receded into the background, the newspapers finding other things to become excited about. But for the Robinsons it was, naturally enough, a matter of supreme moment. Perry Robinson paid a call at the Hardy home, pleading with the great detective to continue his efforts to clear the accused man.
Mr. Hardy was sympathetic, but, as he said, he was facing a stone wall.
"I've done all I can, my boy," he explained to the grief-stricken lad. "If there was anything more I could do, I would do it. But there are no more clues. If Red Jackley's confession couldn't clear up the affair, then nothing else could. I'm afraid—"
He left the sentence unfinished.
"Do you mean my father will go to jail?"
"I wouldn't say that. But you must be prepared to face the worst."
"He didn't do it," said Perry doggedly.
"I know you have confidence in him. But the law looks only at the facts. Many an innocent man has been convicted on less evidence."
"It will kill my mother."
Mr. Hardy was silent.
