CHAPTER VII
The Mansion Robbery
Tower Mansion was one of the show places of Bayport. Few people in the city had ever been permitted to enter the place and the admiration the palatial building excited was solely by reason of its exterior appearance, but the first thing a newcomer to Bayport usually asked was, "Who owns that magnificent house on the hill?"
It was an immense, rambling stone structure situated on the top of the hill overlooking the bay, and it could be seen for miles, silhouetted against the skyline, like some ancient feudal castle. This resemblance to a castle was heightened by the fact that at each end of the mansion rose a high tower.
One of these towers had been built when the mansion was first erected by Major Applegate, an eccentric old army man who had made millions by lucky real estate deals and had laid the foundation for the Applegate fortune. The mansion had been the admiration of its day, and in its time had seen much gaiety.
But as the years passed the Applegate family became scattered until at last there remained but Hurd Applegate and his sister Adelia, who continued living in the vast and lonely old mansion.
Hurd Applegate was a man of about sixty years of age. He was a tall, stooped man, eccentric in his ways, and his life seemed to be devoted to the collection of rare stamps. He was an authority on the subject, and nothing else in life appeared to hold a great deal of interest for him. The only visitors at Tower Mansion were philatelists from New York or experts desirous of appraising some new stamp that Hurd Applegate had managed to secure from some remote part of the world. It had often been said in Bayport that Hurd Applegate had accomplished only two things in life—he had collected stamps and he had built a new tower on the mansion. The new tower, a duplicate of the original tower at the opposite end of the great building, had been built but a few years—even well within the memory of the two Hardy boys.
Adelia Applegate, who lived in the Tower Mansion with her brother, was a maiden lady of uncertain years. The records in Bayport's city hall gave her age as fifty-five, but Miss Applegate admitted it to no one. She was as eccentric as her brother, and lived very much to herself, being seldom seen in the city. She was at one time a blonde, but she had endeavored to retain her youth by dyeing her hair, with the result that it was now a sort of dusty black. Chet Morton was fond of saying that "Miss Applegate used to be a blonde but she dyed."
She dressed in all colors of the rainbow, and her infrequent excursions into Bayport stores, when she would order the clerks about like so many soldiers, shouting at them in her high, cracked voice, had become historic on account of the wild and colorful garments she would carry off with her.
These eccentric people were reputed to be enormously wealthy, although they lived simply and kept only a few servants. So when Hurd Applegate came into the Bayport police station that afternoon and reported that the safe in his library had been broken open and that it had been robbed of all the securities and jewels it contained, the rumors that soon spread about the city magnified the actual loss until it became common talk that the loss amounted anywhere from one hundred thousand to a million dollars.
When Frank and Joe Hardy arrived home that evening they met Hurd Applegate just leaving the house. The man tapped the steps with his cane as he came out and when he met the boys he gave them an abrupt and piercing glance.
"Good day!" he growled, in a grudging manner, and went on his way.
"He must have been asking dad to take up the case," said Frank to his brother, as soon as Hurd Applegate was out of earshot.
They hurried into the house, eager to find out more about the robbery, and in the hallway they met Fenton Hardy, who had just seen Mr. Applegate to the door.
"I hear the Tower Mansion was robbed," said Joe.
Mr. Hardy nodded.
"Yes―Mr. Applegate was just here. He wants me to handle the case."
"How much was taken?"
"Quite curious, aren't you?" remarked Mr. Hardy, with a smile. "Well, I don't suppose it will do any harm to tell you. The safe in the Applegate library was opened. The loss will be about forty thousand dollars, I believe."
"We heard it was over a hundred thousand!" exclaimed Joe.
"Rumors always exaggerate. Forty thousand dollars is the figure Mr. Applegate puts it at. And it's quite enough, too. All in securities and jewels."
"Whew!" exclaimed Frank. "Quite a haul! When did it happen?"
"Either last night or this morning. He did not get up until after ten o'clock this morning and he did not go into the library until nearly noon. Then he discovered the theft."
"How was the safe opened?"
"It was either opened by some one who knew the combination or else by a very clever crook. It wasn't dynamited at all. I'm going up to the house in a few minutes. Mr. Applegate is to call for me."
"Can't we go along?" asked Joe eagerly.
Mr. Hardy looked at his sons with a smile.
"Well, if you are so anxious to be detectives, I suppose it is about as good a chance as any to watch a crime investigation from the inside. If Mr. Applegate doesn't object, I suppose you may come along."
In a few minutes an automobile drew up before the Hardy home. Mr. Applegate was sitting in the rear seat, resting his chin on his cane. When Mr. Hardy mentioned the boys' request he merely grunted assent, so Joe and Frank clambered into the car with their father. They were tremendously excited at the prospect of being "on the inside" in the mysterious case.
While the car bowled along over the city roads toward the Tower Mansion that was gloomily silhouetted against the sky, Mr. Hardy and Mr. Applegate discussed the robbery.
"I don't really need a detective in this case," snapped Hurd Applegate. "Don't need one at all. It's as clear as the nose on your face. I know who took the stuff. But I can't prove it."
"Whom do you suspect?" asked Fenton Hardy.
"Only one man in the world could have taken it. Robinson!"
"Robinson?"
"Yes. Henry Robinson―the caretaker. He's the man."
The Hardy boys looked at one another in consternation.
Henry Robinson, the caretaker of the Tower Mansion, was the father of one of their closest chums. Perry Robinson, nick-named "Slim", was to have accompanied them on their jaunt to the woods that day but had failed to appear. The reason was now evident.
But that Henry Robinson should be accused of the robbery seemed absurd. The boys had met Slim's father and he had appeared to them as a good-natured, easy-going man, the soul of truth and honesty.
"I don't believe it," whispered Frank.
"Neither do I," returned his brother.
"What makes you suspect Robinson?" asked Mr. Hardy of Hurd Applegate.
"He's the only person besides my sister and me who ever saw that safe opened and closed. He could have learned the combination if he kept his eyes and ears open. I believe he did."
"But is that your only reason for suspecting him?"
"More than that. This morning he paid off a note at the bank. It was a note for nine hundred dollars, and I know for a fact that he didn't have more than one hundred dollars to his name a few days ago. The Robinsons have been hard up, for they had sickness in the family last winter and Henry Robinson has had a hard time meeting his debts since then. Now where did he raise nine hundred dollars so suddenly?"
"Perhaps he has a good explanation," said Mr. Hardy mildly. "It doesn't do to jump at conclusions."
"Oh, he'll have an explanation all right!" sniffed Mr. Applegate. "But it will have to be a mighty good one to satisfy me."
"Luckily, he'll not have to satisfy Mr. Applegate, but will have to convince a jury—if it gets that far," whispered Joe in his brother's ear.
The automobile was speeding up the wide driveway that led to Tower Mansion, and within a few minutes it drew up at the front entrance. Mr. Applegate dismissed the driver, and Mr. Hardy and the two boys accompanied the eccentric man into the house.
Nothing had been disturbed in the library since the discovery of the theft. Mr. Hardy examined the open safe, then drew a magnifying glass from his pocket and with minute care inspected the dial of the combination lock. Then he examined the windows, the doorknobs, all places where there might be finger-prints. At last he shook his head.
"A smooth job," he observed. "The fellow must have worn gloves. Not a finger-print in the room."
"No need of looking for finger-prints," said Applegate. "It was Robinson—that's who it was."
"Better send for him," advised Mr. Hardy. "I'd like to ask him a few questions."
Mr. Applegate rang for one of the servants and instructed him to tell Mr. Robinson he was wanted in the library at once. Mr. Hardy glanced at the boys.
"You had better wait in the hallway," he suggested. "I want to ask some questions and it might embarrass Mr. Robinson if you were here."
The lads readily withdrew, and in the hallway they met Henry Robinson, the caretaker, and his son Perry. Mr. Robinson was calm but pale, and at the doorway he patted his son on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, son," he said. "It'll be all right." With that he entered the library.
Slim Robinson turned to his two chums.
"My dad is innocent!" he cried.