While the car bowled along over the city roads toward the Tower Mansion that was gloomily silhouetted against the sky, Mr. Hardy and Mr. Applegate discussed the robbery.

“I don’t really need a detective in this case,” snapped Hurd Applegate. “Don’t need one at all. It’s as clear as the nose on your face. I know who took the stuff. But I can’t prove it.”

“Whom do you suspect?” asked Fenton Hardy.

“Only one man in the world could have taken it. Robinson!”

“Robinson?”

“Yes. Henry Robinson⁠—the caretaker. He’s the man.”

The Hardy boys looked at one another in consternation.