Policeman Con Riley was ambling along Main Street in the morning sunshine, swinging his club with the air of a man without a care in the world. When he saw the boys he frowned, for there was no love lost between the Hardys and the Bayport police department.

“Well,” he grunted, “I hear you got the stuff back.”

“I wish we had,” said Frank.

“What?” said the constable, brightening up at once. “You didn’t get it? I thought it said in the paper this morning that this fellow Jackley told where he had hidden it.”

“He did.”

“And you can’t find it! Ho! Ho!” Con Riley indulged in a hearty laugh. “What a fine detective your father is! Didn’t Jackley say the stuff was hidden in the old tower? What more does he want?”