“Our father didn’t search for the stuff,” retorted Frank. “We did. And it wasn’t there. Jackley must have made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t there?” exclaimed Riley, in high delight. “That’s a good one. That’s the best I’ve heard in years.” He chuckled exceedingly, and slapped his knee. “Jackley put a good one over on your father that time. Ho! Ho! Ho! The stuff wasn’t there!”

Riley wiped the tears from his eyes and went on his way, trying to laugh and at the same time retain his dignity as an officer of the law. The joke, he decided, was too good to keep, so as he proceeded back toward the police station, there to edify Chief Collig and Detective Smuff with the tale, he buttonholed various passersby and poured the story into their willing ears. It was not long before the yarn had spread throughout the city with that swiftness peculiar to stories spread by word of mouth, and in the telling the story was exaggerated, the net effect being that Fenton Hardy was made to look ridiculous by believing a false confession.