Days of Waiting
Fenton Hardy had high hopes of a quick solution of the mystery when he went to New York. Possession of the wig, the hat and the coat gave him three clues, any one of which might lead to tracing the previous owner quickly, and the detective was confident that it would not be long before he would unravel the tangled threads. He had not stated his optimism to the boys, being careful not to arouse their hopes, but in his heart he thought it would be but a matter of hours before he ran the owner of the red wig to earth.
But obstacles presented themselves before him in bewildering succession.
The wig appeared to be his chief clue, and when he arrived in the city he went directly to the head office of the company that had manufactured it. When he sent his card in to the manager he was readily admitted, for Fenton Hardy’s name was known from the Atlantic to the Pacific.
“Some of our customers in trouble, Mr. Hardy?” asked the manager, when the great detective tossed the red wig on his desk.
“Not yet. But one of your customers will be in trouble if I can ever trace the purchaser of this wig.”
The manager picked it up. He inspected it carefully and frowned.
“We are not, as you know, a wig-making firm,” he said. “That is, the wig department is a very small side line with us.”
“The very reason I thought it would be easier to trace this,” replied Mr. Hardy. “If you turned out thousands of them every year it might be more difficult. You sell to an exclusive theatrical trade, I believe.”