In his hand Frank held a small tuft of vivid red hair. It was very coarse in texture, and the surprising part of it was that the hairs were not separate but were attached to a sort of tough linen.
“Why, it’s part of a wig!” said Frank, examining the hair more closely.
“You’re right,” agreed his brother. “No human hair ever grew like that.”
“Part of the fellow’s wig was torn when the car was smashed up!”
“And that explains why Harrity and his witness couldn’t agree on the color of the fellow’s hair!” exclaimed Joe, in excitement.
“I see it now! The man didn’t wear the wig when he held up the steamboat office, and the minute he reached the car he put it on again. That explains why Brown saw a red-haired man driving away in Chet’s roadster and why Harrity was positive that man wasn’t redheaded.”
“That’s a real clue!” exclaimed Joe. “We ought to tell Dad about this.”
“And we will, too,” said Frank, beginning to scramble through the bushes back toward the road.
He put the fragment of the red wig carefully in an inner pocket, and then the Hardy boys started back toward Bayport. The clue was slight, of course, but, still, it served to clear up the disagreement as to the color of the holdup man’s hair. It also served to prove conclusively that the man who had passed Frank and Joe on the shore road at such breakneck speed, and who had later wrecked his car, was the same man who had stolen Chet’s roadster and had attempted to hold up the steamboat ticket office.
“I guess Dad will think we aren’t such poor detectives after all,” Joe exulted, as they brought their motorcycles to a stop in the yard of the Hardy home.