“Wow! Some arithmetic!” Chet remarked.
Frank looked thoughtful. “In this case, the test of the divisional check indicates the bill is genuine.”
“Exactly,” Chief Collig said. “And the portrait of Jackson is good. The border, sometimes called lathe or scrollwork, is excellent.”
“But, Chief,” said Joe, puzzled, “everything you've mentioned points toward the bill's being the real thing.”
“That's right. However, you'll see through the microscope that the lines in the portrait are slightly grayish and the red and blue fibers running through the bank note have been simulated with colored ink.”
In turn, the boys peered through the microscope, observing the points the chief had called to their attention.
Chief Collig snapped off the light in Chet's microscope and pulled the bill out from under the clips that were holding it in place.
He handed the fake bill to Frank and at the same time gave him a genuine one from his wallet. “Now feel the difference in the paper quality,” he directed.
Frank did so and could tell immediately that the forged bill was much rougher and thicker than the genuine one.
Just then the chief's telephone rang. He answered it, speaking quickly. When he hung up, Chief Collig said, “I must go out on a call, boys. Thanks for bringing in this bill. If you come across any others like it, or clues that might help the police, let me know. In the meantime, I'll relay your description of the suspect to the Secret Service, and also turn this bill over to them.”
Chief Collig arose from his desk, and the boys walked out of the building with him. On the way, Joe said, “I wonder if Oscar Smuff has heard of the counterfeiting racket, and isâerâworking on it.”
“I wouldn't be surprised.” The chief sighed. “That fellow will never give up.”
The boys did not mention their encounter with Smuff earlier in the afternoon, but they were fairly certain that Oscar Smuff had trailed the man because he was a stranger in town and had been carrying a suitcase. The aspiring detective undoubtedly had jumped to the conclusion that the suitcase was filled with counterfeit money.
When the chief had gone, Joe glanced at his watch. “If we're going to meet Dad's train, we'd better get started.”
The three boys climbed into the jalopy and drove off. They arrived at the station just as the four-o'clock train was coming to a halt.
A moment later they spotted Mr. Hardy alighting from the rear car. “Dad!” cried Frank and Joe, and dashed to greet him, followed by Chet.
Fenton Hardy, a tall, distinguished-looking man, smiled broadly. “I appreciate this special receptionâand a ride home, too,” he added, noticing Chet's jalopy in the lot.
“Right this way, sir.” Chet grinned.
Joe took his father's suitcase and everyone went to the car. As they rode along, the boys gave Mr. Hardy an account of the afternoon's exciting events.
The detective listened intently. In conclusion, Frank said, “Dad, does your new case have anything to do with the counterfeiting ring?”
Mr. Hardy did not answer for a moment. His mind seemed to be focused on another matter. Finally he said, “No. But I'll be glad to help you boys track down any clues to these counterfeiters. I have a feeling you'll be on the lookout for them!”
“We sure will!” Joe said emphatically.
As they turned into the Hardy driveway, Frank said, “Maybe more leads will show up around here.”
Fenton Hardy agreed. “That's a strong possibility.”
They were met at the door by Aunt Gertrude, Mr. Hardy's unmarried sister. She was a tall, angular woman, somewhat peppery in manner, but extremely kindhearted. Miss Hardy had arrived recently for one of her frequent long visits with the family. In her forthright manner she was constantly making dire predictions about the dangers of sleuthing, and the terrible fate awaiting anyone who was a detective.
She greeted her brother affectionately as everyone went into the living room. With a sigh she asked, “Will you be home for a while this time, Fenton, before you have to go dashing off on another case?”
Chuckling, Mr. Hardy replied, “I'll probably be around for a while, Gertrudeâespecially if the boys run into any more counterfeit money.”
“What! Laura, did you hear that?” Aunt Gertrude turned to a slim, attractive woman who had just entered the room.
“I did.” Mrs. Hardy greeted her husband, then urged the boys to explain.
After hearing of Chet's experience, both women shook their heads in dismay. “Well, the sooner those counterfeiters are caught, the better!” Aunt Gertrude declared firmly.
“That's what we figure, Aunty,” Joe spoke up. “We'll see what we can do! Right, Frank?”
“You bet.”
Chet added, grinning, “With the Hardy boys on their trail, those counterfeiters won't have a chance!”
“And Laura and I will lose sleep worrying,” Aunt Gertrude prophesied.
Frank and Joe exchanged winks, knowing that actually she and Mrs. Hardy were proud of the boys' sleuthing accomplishments, though sometimes fearful of the dangers they encountered.
“What delayed you today, Fenton?” Aunt Gertrude asked her brother. “Another case, I suppose.”
Mr. Hardy explained, “There is a special matter I'm investigating, but I'm not at liberty to talk about it yet.”
His next remark diverted the boys' attention from the counterfeiters. “Frank and Joe, will you be free tomorrow to see the surprise I have for you both?” he asked. “It'll be ready late in the afternoon.”
“We sure will!” his sons exclaimed together. They knew what they hoped the surprise would be, but did not dare count on it.
The brothers tried without success to coax a hint from their family.
“All I can say,” Aunt Gertrude remarked, “is that you're mighty lucky boys!” With a deep sigh she added, “But this surprise certainly won't help my peace of mind!”
“Oh, Aunty!” said Joe. “You don't really worry about us, do you?”
“Oh, no!” she exploded. “Only on weekdays, Saturdays, and Sundays!”
Before Chet left for home, he reminded Frank and Joe of his intention to apply to Elekton Controls Limited for a job.
Overhearing him, Mr. Hardy was immediately interested. “So you want to enter the scientific field, Chet?” he said. “Good for you and lots of luck!”
The detective told the boys that the company, in addition to manufacturing controls, was engaged in secret experiments with advanced electronic controls.
“Not too long ago,” he concluded, “I met some of Elekton's officers.”
It flashed through Chet's mind that he might ask the detective to make an appointment for him, but he decided not to. He wanted to get the job without an assist from anyone. Frank and Joe suggested that Chet come for them early the next afternoon.
“I have an idea!” Chet exclaimed. “Let's go earlier and take along a picnic lunch. We'll be right near Willow River. After I apply for a job, we can eat by the water. Then you fellows can help me collect bark and stone specimens.”
“Microscope study, eh?” Frank grinned. “Okay. It's a deal.”
At supper Aunt Gertrude commented wryly, “There'll be two moons in the sky when Chet Morton settles down to a job!”
The others laughed, then the conversation reverted once more to counterfeiting. Mr. Hardy backed up Chief Collig's statement that the bogus twenty-dollar bills being circulated were clever imitations. “I heard that the Secret Service is finding it a hard case to crack,” he added.
Frank and Joe were wondering about their father's other case. They realized it must be extremely confidential, and refrained from questioning him.
In the middle of the night, Joe was suddenly awakened by a clattering sound. He leaped out of bed and rushed across the room to the front window. It was a dark, moonless night, and for a moment Joe could see nothing.
But suddenly he detected a movement near the front door, then saw a shadowy figure running down the walk to the street.
“Hey!” Joe called out. “Who are you? What do you want?”
At the end of the walk, the mysterious figure leaped onto a bicycle. It swerved, nearly throwing the rider, but he regained his balance and sped off into the darkness.
“What's going on?” Joe cried out.
CHAPTER V
The Bicycle Clue
JOE ran downstairs to the front door, flung it open, and dashed outside. He reached the end of the walk and peered in the direction the mysterious cyclist had taken. The person was not in sight.
Puzzled, Joe walked back slowly to the house. Had the stranger come there by mistake? “If not, what did he want?” Joe wondered.
The rest of the Hardy family had been awakened by Joe's cries to the stranger. By this time, they were clustered at the doorway and all the lights in the house were on.
“What's the matter, Joe?” Aunt Gertrude demanded. “Who were you calling to at this unearthly hour?”
Joe was about to reply when he noticed a large white envelope protruding from the mailbox. He pulled it out, and saw that his father's name was typed on the front. “This is for you, Dad.”
Joe handed the envelope to Mr. Hardy. “That fellow on the bike must have left it.”
Joe was besieged with questions, and he explained what had happened.
“It's a funny way to deliver a message,” Frank commented.
“Very suspicious, if you ask me!” Aunt Gertrude snapped.
Suddenly they all noticed that Mr. Hardy was frowning at the contents of the envelopeâa plain piece of white paper.
“What does it say, Fenton?” Mrs. Hardy asked anxiously.
He read the typed message:
“âDrop case or else danger for you and family.'
”
There was silence for a moment, then Aunt Gertrude exclaimed, “I knew it! We can't get a decent night's sleep with three detectives in the family! I just
know
there's real trouble brewing!”
Although she spoke tartly, the others realized Miss Hardy was concerned, as always, for her brother's safety.
“Now, don't worry, Gertrude,” Fenton Hardy said reassuringly. “The boys and I will be on guard against any danger. This note probably is the work of a harmless crank.”
Aunt Gertrude tossed her head as though she did not believe this for a moment.
“Let's all look around for clues to the person on the bike,” Frank suggested.
Flashlights were procured, and the entire family searched the grounds thoroughly on both sides of the stoop and the walk. As Frank and his aunt neared the end of the front walk, Miss Hardy cried out, “There's somethingânext to that bush.”
Frank picked up the object. “A bicycle pedal!” he exclaimed. “Aunty, this is a terrific cluel I think we have
four
detectives in the family!”
His aunt forced a rather embarrassed smile.
“The pedal must've fallen off the bike Joe saw,” Frank said. “That's why it swerved.”
Back in the house, the family gathered in the kitchen. They were too excited to go back to bed immediately, and the boys were eager to question their father. They all had cookies and lemonade.
“What case did the warning refer to?” Joe asked Mr. Hardy.
“I can't be sure,” the detective replied slowly.
Again the boys wondered about Mr. Hardy's secret case, and longed to know what it involved. “Maybe the threat is connected with that one,” Frank thought. Before the boys went to sleep, they decided to track down the pedal clue early the next morning.
Right after breakfast, Chet telephoned. He told Frank, who took the call, that his sister Iola and her friend Callie Shaw had offered to pack lunch if they could go along on the picnic.
“Swell,” Frank said enthusiastically. Callie was his favorite date. “In the meantime, how'd you like to do some sleuthing with us?”
“Sure! What's up?”
Frank quickly told Chet about the excitement of the previous night. “Meet us here as soon as you can.”
When Frank and Joe informed Mr. Hardy of their plan to trace the pedal, he nodded approval. “I must go out of town for a short while,” he said. “But first, I'd like to examine the warning note in the lab.”
The boys went with him to their fully equipped laboratory over the garage. Mr. Hardy dusted the note carefully, but when he blew the powder away, there was no sign of a fingerprint.
Holding the note up to the light, Mr. Hardy said, “There's no watermark. Of course, this is not a full sheet of paper.”
“Dead end, so far.” Joe frowned. “If we could only locate the typewriter this message was written onâ”
Shortly after Mr. Hardy had driven off in his sedan, Chet arrived. “Where to, fellows?” he asked as they set off in the Queen.
“Center of town,” Joe replied.
On the way, the brothers briefed Chet on their plan, which was to make inquiries at all the bicycle supply stores. In the first four they visited, Frank showed the pedal and asked if there had been any requests for a replacement that morning. All the answers were negative. Finally, at the largest supply store in Bayport, they obtained some helpful information.
“This particular pedal comes from a bike made in Belgium,” the proprietor said. “There isn't a store in town that carries parts for it.”
The boys were disappointed. As Frank put the pedal back in his pocket he asked the proprietor where parts for the Belgian bicycle could be purchased.
“It might be worth your while to check over in Bridgeport,” the man said. “I think you'll find Traylor's handles them.”