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CHAPTER I The Unearthly Fugitive William and Noah Hutton, their fingers gripped tightly around the handlebars of their motorcycles, beheld the harrowing sight before them with dread-filled eyes.

A car, swerving recklessly along the narrow road, careened from side to side, its erratic path taunting the laws of sanity and reason.

"He shall collide with us! We must ascend this hillside with haste!"

William exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. The boys braked abruptly, their motorcycles emitting a piercing screech, as they vaulted themselves off the machines.

"Quickly!" Noah cried out, as they commenced their ascent up the steep embankment.

To their astonishment, the audacious driver abruptly veered his car to the right, tilting precariously on two wheels, and turned into a side road. The boys expected the vehicle to succumb to the laws of gravity and overturn, yet it clung tenaciously to the dusty earth and swiftly disappeared from view.

"Astounding!" Noah uttered in disbelief.

"Let us distance ourselves from this place before the unhinged fiend returns. That road leads to naught but desolation, you see."

The boys scrambled back onto their motorcycles, their engines revving with a muted growl, eager to traverse the intersecting road without delay. They proceeded in silence, their gaze fixed upon the scene that lay ahead.

On their right, an embankment of disheveled rocks and colossal boulders sloped steeply towards the murky depths below. Opposite stood a jagged cliff, its formidable silhouette casting an ominous pall over the surroundings. The road, scarcely traversed by the footfalls of mortal souls, twisted and turned, its width accommodating no more than two cars abreast.

"Alas, my heart quails at the thought of plunging into the abyss from this treacherous precipice," William remarked, his voice tinged with a somber timbre.

"A sheer drop of one hundred feet awaits the unfortunate traveler." "Indeed, brother," Noah concurred, his expression grave.

"Should misfortune befall us, we would be dashed to fragments long before reaching the unforgiving bottom." A faint smile adorned his countenance, and he added, "Exercise caution, dear William, lest Father's papers fail to reach their intended destination."

1

William reached into the recesses of his jacket pocket, ensuring the presence of several crucial legal documents entrusted to his care by Mr. Hutton. A surge of relief washed over him as his fingers confirmed their continued existence, and he chuckled softly before saying, "Considering the aid we rendered Father during his latest inquiry, perhaps he ought to establish the esteemed establishment of Hutton and Sons."

"Why not?" Noah responded, his grin widening. "Is he not among the most renowned private detectives in the land? And are we not endowed with a discerning intellect as well?"

Yet, a tinge of longing permeated his words as he continued, "I yearn for the day we unravel a mystery of our own accord."

William and Noah, scholars within the confines of Bayport High, intermingled commerce with leisure on this particular Saturday morning, carrying out an errand bestowed upon them by their father.

Although one brother bore the darkness of raven's plumes, while the other exuded the radiance of golden locks, an undeniable resemblance bound the pair.

William, aged eighteen, stood tall with a swarthy complexion, whereas Noah, one year his junior, possessed a mane of lustrous blond hair and eyes the hue of sapphires. They were the sole offspring of Will and Anna Hutton, their familial abode nestled within Bayport, a modest yet thriving municipality housing fifty thousand souls.

It resided along the fringes of Barmet Bay, a mere three miles removed from the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. The two motorcycles whizzed along the narrow road, skirting the edges of the bay, their trajectory leading them towards Willowville, the brothers' intended destination.

Negotiating the subsequent curve with dexterity, they ascended a protracted, arduous incline. Here, the road reduced to a meager ribbon, its surface marred by neglect and longing for restoration.

"Once we crest this hill, the terrain shall prove less tumultuous," William remarked, as they jostled upon the uneven path.

"A smoother passage awaits us thereafter, guiding us into Willowville." It was at this very moment, above the sharp staccato of their own motorized steeds, that the resounding roar of an approaching vehicle reached their ears.

The automobile hurtled forward with tremendous velocity from behind, urging the Huttons to cast a fleeting glance over their shoulders.

"It appears to be that very same individual we previously encountered!" Noah exclaimed, his voice infused with incredulity. "By the moonlit abyss!" Acting swiftly, the Huttons brought their motorcycles to a halt, maneuvering as close to the precipice as prudence would allow.

William and Noah disembarked, poised to evade imminent peril once more, should the need arise. The car hurtled towards them like a projectile of imminent doom. At the precipice of collision, the driver 2

abruptly seized the wheel, executing a malevolent maneuver, and the sedan thundered past with unleashed fury.

"Phew! That was a close call!" William gasped, his breath escaping in a tumultuous gust. The vehicle had hurtled forward at such an extreme velocity that the boys failed to discern its license number or catch even a fleeting glimpse of the driver's features.

Nevertheless, they did observe his hatless state and the shock of fiery red hair that adorned his head.

"Should fate decree another encounter," Noah muttered with fervor, "I shall— I shall—" The young boy's emotions rendered him incapable of articulating the full extent of his retaliatory desires.

William, his muscles uncoiling from their previously tensed state, offered a more composed perspective. "He must be engrossed in preparations for a forthcoming race," he hypothesized, as the dark-blue sedan vanished beyond the curve ahead, lost to their line of sight.

3

The boys continued their expedition, their path winding until they reached a bend that offered them a panoramic view of Willowville nestled within the valley below, embraced by the ethereal bay. Alas, no vestige of the impulsive motorist remained, as if he had dissolved into the fabric of time itself. "He is likely traversing the vast expanse of the state by now," Noah opined, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Unless he met his demise within the confines of a jail cell or hurtled into the depths of an unforgiving precipice," William added. They arrived in Willowville, and William fulfilled his duty of delivering the legal papers to a lawyer, while Noah stood vigilant, safeguarding the motorcycles.

Upon his brother's return, Noah proposed, "How about we take an alternate route back to Bayport? I find myself disenchanted with the prospect of enduring that tumultuous stretch once more."

"Agreed. We can make a stop at Kizer's," William concurred. Kizer Morton, a comrade from their scholastic realm, resided on a farm situated approximately a mile outside the confines of Bayport.

The object of Kizer's adulation came in the form of a resplendent yellow jalopy, christened Queen, which he devotedly toiled upon, incessantly seeking to enhance the potency of its engine. William and Noah retraced their path for several miles before veering onto a country road that led to the main highway where the Morton farm resided.

4

As they approached Kizer's abode, William abruptly halted his motorcycle and directed his gaze towards a cluster of bushes nestled within a deep ditch at the roadside.

"Noah! That reckless driver or perchance another soul has met with calamity!"

Amongst the towering foliage, an inverted blue sedan lay discarded, its form a twisted amalgamation of shattered metal and debris.

"We must ascertain if there is an unfortunate soul trapped beneath its wreckage," Noah exclaimed urgently.

Descending into the culvert, their hearts pounding with trepidation, the boys braced themselves for the unknown that awaited them. What would their eyes behold? An intense scrutiny of the vehicle and its immediate surroundings revealed no signs of a victim.

"Perchance this calamity unfolded some time ago," Noah suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"And—" William advanced, extending his hand to rest upon the exposed engine.

"Noah, it still radiates warmth," he declared. "The accident occurred but a short while ago. Now I am convinced that this forsaken automobile belonged to the driver with the shock of red hair."

"Yet, what has become of him?" Noah inquired. "Is he among the living? Did someone rescue him, or did a darker fate befall him?" William shrugged, his countenance etched with bewilderment.

"One thing I can assert with certainty. Either he or another party removed the license plates, a desperate attempt to elude identification."

The brothers found themselves enshrouded in a labyrinth of perplexity, the enigma surrounding the entire affair eluding their comprehension. As their presence proved superfluous in that forlorn spot, they clambered out of the culvert, mounting their motorcycles once more. In due time, they arrived within sight of the Morton homestead, an expansive, weathered farmhouse adorned by the embrace of an apple orchard at its rear. Upon driving up the lane, their eyes fell upon Kizer, stationed near the barnyard gate.

"Greetings, my friend!" Noah called out. Kizer hastened down the lane to meet them. A plump lad, perpetually in the company of an apple or a pocketful of cookies, Kizer's round, freckled countenance usually bore a smile. Yet, today, the Huttons sensed an absence of his characteristic cheer. As they brought their motorcycles to a halt, it became evident that an aura of distress clung to their companion.

"What ails you?" William inquired, his voice infused with concern.

"You have arrived precisely when I require your aid. Did you happen upon an individual who had taken control of the Queen?" William and Noah exchanged perplexed glances.

"Your automobile? No, we have not encountered it," Noah responded. "Pray, enlighten us on the matter." "It has been pilfered!" Kizer lamented.

5

"I ventured into the garage to retrieve the Queen, only to find her absent without a trace." "Stolen!"

"Indeed. The perplexing aspect lies in the fact that she was locked, despite the garage door being left ajar. I am at a loss as to how this transpired."

"A deed executed by a professional, I dare say," William interjected, his words resonating with a shroud of grim contemplation.

"Automobile thieves, cunning miscreants that they are, habitually carry an arsenal of keys in their possession," William remarked.

"Kizer, do you have any inkling as to the timing of this unfortunate incident?"

"Not more than fifteen minutes have elapsed since I arrived home with the car," Kizer responded.

"We are squandering precious moments!" Noah exclaimed, his voice charged with determination. "Let us embark upon the pursuit of the nefarious thief!"

"Yet, I am unaware of the direction he chose," Kizer objected.

"Since we did not encounter him, it is plausible to surmise that he proceeded in the opposite direction," William deduced.

"Climb aboard behind me, Kizer," Noah urged. "The Queen may not possess the swiftness of our motorcycles. Fear not, for we shall apprehend her in due course!"

"Moreover, there was but a meager quantity of fuel within my vehicle," Kizer added excitedly, positioning himself on the rear of Noah's motorcycle.

"Perchance it has faltered by now." In a matter of moments, the boys surged forth along the road, relentlessly pursuing the elusive thief, their machines roaring with the fury of their quest.

6

CHAPTER II The Enigmatic Conundrum Kizer Morton’s jalopy possessed a radiance of such vivid yellow hue that the boys harbored a certain confidence in their ability to trace the path of the audacious auto thief.

“The Queen is rather well-known in these parts of Bayport,” William remarked, his voice bearing an air of certainty.

“We ought to encounter someone who beheld its passage.” Noah, his countenance displaying a tinge of curiosity, interjected, “It strikes me as peculiar that a thief would select such a conspicuous vehicle.

Typically, car thieves opt for models of more conventional make and color, as they are simpler to dispose of.”

William offered a hypothesis, his thoughts momentarily immersed in speculation. “Perhaps, for some undisclosed motive, the thief did not purloin the car with the intention of selling it. It is plausible that he sought a swift escape and intends to abandon it soon.”

“Look!” Kizer exclaimed, directing their attention to a truck garden where several men diligently tilled the soil around cabbage plants. “Perhaps these gentlemen caught sight of the Queen.”

“Allow me to inquire,” William offered, bringing his motorcycle to a halt. He deftly maneuvered over the fence, nimbly navigating across the rows of budding plants until he approached the nearest farmhand.

“Did any of you happen to observe a yellow jalopy pass by here in the last hour?” William inquired.

The lanky old farmer rested upon his hoe, cupping a hand to his ear. “Eh?” he bellowed.

“Did you witness an individual traversing this vicinity in a conspicuously yellow automobile?” William repeated, raising his voice.

The farmer beckoned to his comrades, who ambled over in a leisurely manner, seemingly unfazed by the inquiry. The elderly men did not respond immediately. Instead, they leisurely set aside their hoes, and a plug of tobacco made its way around the group, each man indulging in a hearty chew. William clenched his jaw in frustration.

“Pray, hasten your response. The vehicle in question was stolen. We are endeavoring to locate the miscreant responsible!” “Is that so?” one of the men mused aloud. “A hot rod, you say?”

“Indeed. A vibrant yellow specimen,” William affirmed.

7

Another worker removed his hat and wiped the perspiration from his brow. “It strikes me,” he drawled, “that I did observe an automobile pass by here some time ago.” “A yellow car?” William probed.

“Nay, it was not yellow, now that I come to ponder upon it. I believe it to have been a delivery truck, if my memory serves me right.”

William sought to conceal his growing impatience. “Pray, did any of you—?” “Was it a newly minted vehicle, gleaming with resplendence?” another member of the group interjected.

“Nay, it was an aged automobile, albeit painted in a bright yellow hue,” William explicated. “My nephew once possessed such a contraption,” the farmer reminisced. “Personally, I harbored reservations regarding its safety.”

“I must disagree,” interjected another man. “It is only natural for young lads to harbor an affinity for automobiles, and it would be prudent to permit them a vehicle that they can tinker with themselves.”

“You are all mistaken!” the deaf man interrupted, a cackling laughter escaping his lips. “Permit the boys to devote their attention to the farm truck. In that manner, they shall be kept out of mischief!” His words were punctuated by a series of chuckles.

“Well, young lad, I fear we have not been of much assistance to you. I do hope you succeed in apprehending the scoundrel who purloined your hot rod,” the farmer concluded.

“We appreciate your efforts,” William expressed his gratitude before rejoining his companions. “No fortune smiled upon us. Let us proceed!”

As they neared Bayport, the trio caught sight of a young woman strolling along the road ahead. As the cyclists drew closer, William’s countenance brightened, recognizing Callie Shaw, a fellow student from Bayport High. William frequently accompanied Callie on outings and held her in higher regard than any other young lady he knew. The boys halted their motorcycles beside the charming Callie, who carried a slightly battered package beneath one arm. A vexed expression adorned her face.

“Greetings, Callie! What troubles you?” William inquired. “You appear as if your closest companion has embarked on a voyage to the moon.”

Callie bestowed upon them a mischievous smile. “How could I entertain such thoughts with you three friends gracing my presence? Or perchance, are you preparing for a departure?”

Her smile waned, and she extended the damaged package toward them. “Behold!” she exclaimed. “It is your fault, Kizer Morton!” The stout lad gulped, his voice quivering.

“M-my fault? Pray, how do you arrive at such a conclusion?” “Well, dear Mrs. Wills, who resides down the road, has fallen ill, so I baked her a cake.” “Fortunate Mrs. Wills,” Noah interjected, his voice strained, "Callie, I am plagued by a dreadful illness." Callie disregarded him and continued her tale,

8

"That man in the car approached so swiftly that I leapt to the side of the road, inadvertently dropping my package. Alas, my cake is now ruined!"

Noah inquired, "What man?"

Callie replied, "The one to whom Kizer loaned his car."

William interjected, his tone filled with astonishment, "Callie, that man is the very individual we are in pursuit of! Kizer did not lend him the car, he stole it!"

Callie gasped, "Oh!" She was taken aback. "Kizer, that is truly unfortunate."

Noah questioned, "Was he headed towards Bayport?"

Callie responded, "Indeed, and at the velocity with which he propelled the poor Queen, you will never apprehend him."

Kizer groaned, "I have just recollected that the fuel gauge was malfunctioning. The car likely contained more gasoline than I had estimated. There is no telling where that scoundrel may have taken my Queen."

William suggested, "We should proceed to police headquarters. Callie, can you provide a description of this man?"

Callie answered, "All I saw was a blur, but the man possessed red hair."

William exclaimed, "Red hair!" His voice resonated with excitement. "Noah, do you suppose he could be the same man we encountered? The one who wrecked his own car?"

Noah nodded, his head wagging in agreement. "Miracles do occur. Perhaps he did not sustain grave injuries and made his way to Kizer's residence."

Kizer interjected, "And proceeded to help himself to my car!"

William snapped his fingers, a sudden realization striking him. "Hold on! It is conceivable that the wrecked car did not belong to that fellow—" Noah interrupted, his voice brimming with anticipation, "You mean he had also stolen it!"

William affirmed, "Yes, which would render him even more desperate to evade capture."

Callie, bewildered, queried, "What are you boys discussing?"

Frahk interjected, assuring her, "I shall contact you tonight and explain. For now, we must hasten." The boys bid Callie farewell and hurried into town, making their way directly to Chief Ezra Collig, the head of the Bayport police force.

9

Chief Collig, a tall and robust man, was well acquainted with Will Hutton and his two sons. The chief had often sought assistance from the private detective in resolving particularly perplexing cases. When the boys entered his office, they found Chief Collig engaged in conversation with three agitated individuals. One of them was Ike Harrity, the aging ticket seller at the city ferryboat office. Another was Policeman Con Riley, while the third was Oscar Steiner, a short and stout man perpetually garbed in a checkered suit and a soft felt hat. Steiner fancied himself a private detective and vigorously endeavored to secure a position on the Bayport police force.

"Steiner is currying favor with Collig again," Noah whispered, chuckling softly, as the boys patiently waited for the chief to address them. Ike Harrity appeared visibly frightened. A timid man who had spent countless years perched upon a high stool behind the ticket window at the ferryboat office, he now spoke with a high-pitched voice, brimming with excitement.

"I was in the midst of tallying the morning's receipts," he recounted, "when this individual barged in and thrust a revolver before my very eyes."

Chief Collig interjected, "One moment," as he turned his attention to the newcomers. "How may I be of assistance to you, boys?"

Kizer stepped forward and spoke up, "I have come to report a theft. My hot rod has been stolen."

Ike Harrity exclaimed, "Why, it was one of those eccentric hot rods that the fellow drove!" Oscar Steiner interjected, promptly extracting a pencil and notebook from his pocket. "A clue!" he declared.

Kizer cried out, "My Queen!" Chief Collig rapped his desk for silence and inquired, "What does a queen have to do with all of this?" Kizer proceeded to explain, and Chief Collig shared Harrity's account.

"A man arrived at the ferryboat office and attempted to rob Mr. Harrity. However, a passenger entered the premises and the miscreant made his escape." As the chief paused, William provided Chief Collig with a brief summary of the wrecked blue sedan near the Morton farm.

"I shall dispatch some men to the location immediately," the chief declared, pressing a buzzer and promptly issuing his orders.

"It certainly appears," Noah remarked, his voice laden with uncertainty, "that the man who absconded with Kizer's car and the individual who attempted to perpetrate a robbery at the ferryboat office are one and the same!"

William directed his attention to Mr. Harrity and inquired, "Did you take notice of the man's hair color?"

Steiner interjected, "What relevance does that hold?"

"It may hold significant importance," William retorted.

10

"What was the hue of his hair, Mr. Harrity?" "Dark brown and closely cropped," replied Mr. Harrity.

William and Noah exchanged perplexed glances.

"Are you certain it wasn't red?" Noah probed.

Chief Collig leaned forward in his chair, displaying a heightened interest. "What is the crux of your inquiry, boys? Do you possess some information about this man?"

"We were informed," Noah began, "that the individual who stole Kizer's car possessed red hair. A comrade of ours witnessed him." "Then he must have transferred the automobile to someone else," Chief Collig deduced. At that moment, a short and jittery man was ushered into the room. He was the passenger who had entered the ferryboat office during the time of the foiled holdup. Chief Collig had summoned him. The newcomer introduced himself as Henry J. Brown from New York. He recounted entering the office and witnessing a man fleeing from the ticket window, brandishing a revolver.

William inquired eagerly, "What was the color of his hair? Did you take note of it?" "I cannot say I did," the man responded. "My focus was fixed upon that firearm. Hold on a moment! He did possess red hair. It was impossible to miss! I observed it when he jumped into the car."

Oscar Steiner appeared bewildered. "You claim he had red hair." The detective turned to Mr. Harrity.

"And you assert he possessed dark hair. Something amiss here!" He shook his head, puzzled by the discrepancy. The others also found themselves perplexed. William requested that Mr. Brown recount when he first noticed the red hair.

"After the individual stooped down in the car and resurfaced," the New Yorker replied. William and Noah exchanged knowing glances. Was it conceivable that the red hair was a wig donned by the thief right before Mr. Brown's observation? The boys maintained their silence, desiring no interference from Steiner as they pursued this lead. Harrity and Brown commenced a dispute over the thief's hair color.

Chief Collig was compelled to rap once more to restore order.

"I shall issue an alert for both this assailant and Kizer's car. I believe that is the extent of what can be done at present." Undeterred by their failure to apprehend the thief, the Hutton boys departed from police headquarters in the company of Kizer Morton.

They remained resolute in their determination to pursue the case. "We shall confer with our father tonight, Kizer," William assured him. "Perhaps he will provide us with some valuable insights." "I sincerely hope so, my friends," their companion responded as they mounted their motorcycles. The same notion occupied William's and Noah's minds: perhaps this enigma would prove to be their inaugural investigation!

11

CHAPTER III The Threat “You're becoming quite skilled on that motorcycle, William," Noah remarked as the boys pulled into the Hutton garage. "I'm not even scared to ride alongside you anymore!"

"You're not scared!" William feigned seriousness. "What about me—riding with a daredevil like you?"

"Well," Noah countered, "let's just admit that we're both pretty good!"

"It was truly generous of Dad to let us have them," Noah continued. "Yes," William agreed. "And if we're going to be detectives, we'll make good use of them."

The boys began their way towards the house, passing by the converted first floor of the old-fashioned barn, which now served as a gymnasium for William, Noah, and their friends after school and on weekends. The Hutton residence, situated on the corner of High and Elm streets, was an ancient stone house enveloped by a spacious lawn shaded by majestic trees. At present, crocuses and miniature narcissi were emerging from the light-green grass.

"Hello, Mother!" William greeted as he pushed open the kitchen door. Mrs. Hutton, a petite and charming woman, looked up from the table where she was preparing a large roasting chicken and smiled. Her sons affectionately kissed her, and Noah inquired, "Is Dad upstairs?"

"Yes, dear. He's in his study."

The study served as Will Hutton's workshop, adjacent to which was a splendid library containing not only books but also files of disguises, records of criminal cases, and translations of numerous codes.

Entering the study, William and Noah greeted their father.

"We have completed the errand, reporting back to you," William announced.

12

"Excellent!" Mr. Hutton responded. Then he fixed his sons with an inquisitive gaze. "I daresay your trip yielded more than just the completion of my errand."

William and Noah had learned from an early age that it was futile to keep any secrets from their astute father. They believed that this uncanny ability was one of the reasons for his success as a detective on the New York City police force before establishing a private practice in Bayport.

"We encountered quite an excitement," William began, narrating the entire story of Kizer's missing car, the wrecked vehicle that they suspected was also stolen, and the attempted holdup at the ferryboat office. "Kizer is relying on us to recover his car," Noah added. William grinned. "That is, unless the police find it first."

Mr. Hutton remained silent for a few moments. Then he spoke, "Would you care for a bit of advice?

You know I never dispense it unless requested." He chuckled.

"We could certainly use a great deal of assistance," Noah responded.

Mr. Hutton stated that the most intriguing aspect of the case was the apparent use of one or more wigs by the suspect as a disguise. "It is possible that he acquired at least one of them in Bayport. I suggest you boys visit all the shops selling wigs and gather any information you can."

The boys glanced at the clock on their father's expansive desk, prompting William to say, "We have enough time to do some sleuthing before closing hours. Let's go!" The two boys dashed towards the door but halted abruptly. They had no idea where to go!

Sheepishly, Noah asked, "Dad, do you happen to know which stores sell wigs?"

With a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, Mr. Hutton rose from his desk, entered the library, and opened a file drawer labeled "W through Z." After a moment, he pulled out a thick folder marked WIGS: Manufacturers, Distributors, and Retail Shops Worldwide.

13

"Why, Dad, I had no idea you possessed all this information," Noah exclaimed. His father simply smiled, thumbing through the extensive collection of papers until he found the desired one. "Bayport," he read aloud. "Well, three of these establishments can be ruled out immediately. They exclusively sell women's hairpieces. Now, let's see. William, fetch some paper and a pencil. First, there's Schwartz's Masquerade and Costume Shop, located at 79 Renshaw Avenue. Then we have Flint's at Market and Pine, and one more: Ruben Brothers, situated on Main Street just this side of the railroad."

"Schwartz's is the closest," William suggested. "Let's start with that, Noah."

Hopefully, the boys sprinted to their motorcycles and hastened downtown.

Upon entering Schwartz's shop, they were greeted by a short, plump man with a warm smile. "Well, you made it just in time, fellows," he remarked, glancing up at a large, antique clock on the wall.

“I was just about to close up shop for the night since a large shipment arrived today, and I need time after business hours to unpack and catalogue the merchandise," said Mr. Schwartz, glancing at the clock. "Our errand won't take long," William assured him. "We're the sons of Will Hutton, the detective. We wanted to inquire whether you recently sold a red wig to a man."

Mr. Schwartz shook his head. "I haven't sold a red wig in months, or even rented one. Nowadays, everyone seems to be interested in blond, brown, or black wigs. But you see, I primarily rent them."

"I understand," said William. "We're simply trying to gather information about a man who uses a red wig as a disguise. We thought he might have bought or rented one from here, and you might know his name."

Mr. Schwartz leaned across the counter. "This man you speak of—he sounds like quite a character.

There's a chance he may come here to obtain a wig. If he does, I'll be sure to let you know."

The boys expressed their gratitude to the shopkeeper and were about to depart when Mr. Schwartz called out, "Hold on a minute!" The Huttons hoped that the dealer had suddenly recalled something significant. However, that was not the case. With a grin, the man asked the boys if they would be willing to assist him in opening some newly arrived cartons and try on the costumes. "The folks at the

14

factory don't always label the sizes correctly," he explained. "Could you spare a few minutes to help me? I'd be happy to compensate you."

"Oh, we don't need any payment," Noah spoke up. "To be honest, I'm curious to see your costumes."

Mr. Schwartz locked the front door of his shop and led the boys to a rear room. It was filled to the brim with costumes of all kinds and theatrical paraphernalia, along with stacks of cartons, making William and Noah wonder how the man could ever locate anything.

"Here is today's delivery," Mr. Schwartz pointed to six cartons near the rear entrance of his shop.

Together, they slit open the boxes and one by one retrieved a king's robe, a queen's tiara, and a Little Bo Peep costume. Suddenly, Mr. Schwartz exclaimed, "Here's a skeleton labeled size thirty-eight. Would one of you boys mind trying it on?"

William picked up the costume, unzipped the back, and stepped into the skeleton outfit. It was comically oversized, with the ribs sagging in a ludicrous manner. "Looks like it was modeled after a chubby man," he commented, extending the garment to its full width.

At that moment, a loud knock echoed on the front door of the store. Mr. Schwartz made no move to answer it. "I'm closed," he stated. "Let him knock."

Suddenly, an idea struck William. The wig-wearing thief might be the person outside, deliberately arriving at this hour to avoid encountering others. Without a word to the others, he dashed through the doorway into the store and towards the front entrance. He could vaguely make out someone waiting to be let in, but the stranger took one glance at the leaping, ill-fitting skeleton and swiftly vanished.

Simultaneously, William tripped and fell headlong. Hearing the crash, Mr. Schwartz and Noah hurried out to investigate. William, hopelessly entangled in the skeleton costume, was helped to his feet. When he explained his unsuccessful attempt to reach the front door, they acknowledged that he may have had a point.

"But you certainly frightened him off with that outfit," Noah chuckled.

15

"He won't be coming back!"

The boys remained for over half an hour, aiding Mr. Schwartz, before bidding farewell and heading home. "On Monday, we'll tackle those other two wig shops," William declared.

The following morning, the Hutton family attended church, and after lunch, William and Noah informed their parents that they were going to visit Kizer Morton. "We've been invited for supper," William added. "But we promise not to return too late."

The Huttons, accompanied by Callie Shaw, picked up at the Mortons' farmhouse, embarked on their adventure-filled journey. Playfully, Callie settled herself on the seat behind William, while Noah, in jest, warned her about William's allegedly reckless cycling skills.

As they arrived at the Morton household, Kizer's younger sister, Iola, greeted them at the door—darkhaired and beautiful, she had captured Noah's affections, and he regularly courted her. With dusk descending, the five young companions convened in the Mortons' kitchen to prepare supper. Kizer, the self-proclaimed lover of food, assumed command and assigned various tasks to the others.

When he finished delegating, Noah quipped, "And what shall you be doing, big boy?" The stout youth grinned mischievously. "I am the official taster." Laughter erupted from the others. "No work, no food," Iola declared resolutely. Kizer chuckled. "Well, if you insist, I'll whip up a little side dish for all of us.

How about Welsh rabbit?"

"You've got my vote!" the rest chimed in, and Kizer set to work. The farmhouse kitchen was spacious, adorned with windows in one corner. A large table stood there, where the young group decided to dine.

Just as they sat down, the telephone rang. Kizer got up and ventured into the hallway to answer it.

Within moments, he returned to the kitchen, his eyes wide with alarm. "What's the matter?" Iola asked anxiously. "I-I've been threatened!" Kizer stammered.

"Threatened!" exclaimed the others. "How?" Kizer, visibly shaken, could barely articulate his words, but he managed to convey that a man had just uttered over the telephone, "You'll never recover your jalopy. And if you persist in your search for me or your car, you'll suffer grave consequences!"

16

"Good grief!" Noah exclaimed. "This is becoming grave!" Callie and Iola clutched their throats, their eyes filled with fear, while William, about to respond, happened to glance out the window toward the barn. For a fleeting moment, he questioned his eyesight, but no, it was no illusion. A figure was sneaking out of the barn and making their way down the lane, headed towards the highway.

"Fellow comrades!" he suddenly cried out. "Follow my lead!"

17

CHAPTER IV Crimson v Gold The Hutton boys and Kizer, filled with curiosity and anticipation, raced from the Mortons' kitchen, their sights set on capturing the mysterious prowler. However, by the time they reached the scene, the intruder had vanished from sight. Suspecting that he might have taken refuge in one of the fields, the trio dispersed in different directions to conduct a thorough search.

Noah, with keen intuition, pressed his ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faint echo of retreating footsteps, but he found no trace. Eventually, the three boys regrouped to share their unsuccessful pursuit and ponder the intruder's purpose for being there.

"Do you think he was a thief?" Noah inquired of Kizer. "What would he steal?" Kizer pondered. "Let's take a look."

William interjected, "I believe he was carrying something, but I couldn't discern what it was."

As the barn door had not yet been secured for the night, the boys ventured inside. Kizer flicked on the lights, illuminating the space, and they began to search. Suddenly, William's voice rang out, filled with excitement. He pointed to the floor beneath the telephone extension. There, lying discarded, was a man's gray wig.

"The intruder's!" Noah exclaimed. "It certainly seems that way," William concurred. "And something must have startled him. In his haste to escape, he must have dropped this."

William picked up the wig and scrutinized it intently, hoping to find some clue. "No identifying marks," he observed. Suddenly, a thought struck him. "I have an idea!" he burst out. "That man phoned you from here, Kizer."

"You mean he's the one who threatened me?" Kizer questioned, his head shaking in disbelief.

"Yes. If you know how, you can call your own telephone number from an extension."

Kizer nodded in recognition. "That's right. You mean that guy went through the trouble of coming here just to use this phone and threaten me? But why?"

The Hutton brothers, united in their deduction, expressed their belief that the man's motive was not solely to threaten Kizer. There had to be a more significant reason behind his actions. "We need to decipher it," William asserted. "Kizer, you're in the best position to answer that. What is there, or what was there, in this barn that would attract the attention of such an individual?"

18

Kizer furrowed his brow, deep in thought, and allowed his gaze to roam around the building. "It couldn't be any of the livestock," he mused slowly. "And it wouldn't make sense for him to target hay or feed."

Suddenly, Kizer's face lit up with understanding. "I might have the answer. Just give me a minute, guys."On the floor lay a man’s wig. The intruder swiftly disappeared from the barn, making a beeline for the garage. Kizer hurriedly entered but returned moments later. "I have it!" he exclaimed, excitement coursing through his voice. "That guy came here to get the spare tire for the jalopy."

"The one you had is gone?" William inquired. Kizer nodded, his expression filled with concern. He suggested that the man might not be too far away, potentially on a side road, changing the tire. "Let's find out," he urged, his determination evident.

Though the Huttons had doubts about the success of their search, they agreed to accompany Kizer.

Mounting their motorcycles, with Kizer riding behind Noah, they embarked on a thorough exploration of the surrounding area. They scoured one road after another, meticulously covering the territory.

However, their efforts yielded no sign of a parked car. "No footprints, no tool marks, no tire tracks," William observed. "It appears as though the man had assistance, someone ready to pick him up," Kizer concluded with a heavy sigh.

19

"Cheer up, Kizer," William reassured him as they made their way back to the house. "That spare tire may turn out to be a valuable clue in this case." Upon returning to the kitchen, the boys were met with anxious inquiries from Callie and Iola, both concerned about their sudden departure. Sensing their distress, William proceeded to explain the situation, revealing their encounter with the prowler and their fruitless search. He casually tossed the gray wig onto a chair in the hallway.

Suddenly, a loud wail erupted from Kizer. "My Welsh rabbit! It's been sitting for so long, it'll be ruined!" Iola burst into giggles. "Oh, you men!" she teased. "Do you think Callie and I would let all that delicious cheese go to waste? We made sure to keep the Welsh rabbit at just the right temperature, and it's perfectly fine."

Kizer's relief was palpable as they all took their places at the table. Amidst playful banter, the conversation primarily revolved around Kizer's stolen jalopy and the enigmatic thief who seemed to delight in donning hair disguises. William and Noah asked Kizer for permission to examine the gray wig more closely, hoping to discover any markings that could offer clues about its origin or ownership.

Kizer readily agreed.

After supper, Callie playfully suggested that the sleuths examine the wig in her presence, teasingly curious about their investigative methods. William, eager to demonstrate their skills, retrieved the wig from the chair in the hallway and placed it on the kitchen table. Using a small magnifying glass he had in his pocket, he meticulously inspected every inch of the wig's lining. "Nothing here," he declared after a thorough examination.

The hair itself was carefully examined, each strand parted and scrutinized for any identifying marks.

Alas, William's efforts proved fruitless. "I'm afraid this won't be of much help," he sighed in frustration.

"But I'll show it to the various wig sellers in town."

Just as he finished speaking, the telephone rang, causing a momentary tension in the room. Iola went to answer it, and Kizer, visibly shaken, looked nervous. Could the caller be the man who had threatened him? And what could they want? Iola returned with a worried frown on her face. "It's a man for you, Kizer," she relayed. "He wouldn't provide his name."

Trembling, Kizer slowly approached the telephone, the others closely following, their curiosity piqued.

"Ye-yes, I'm Kizer Morton," he stammered into the receiver. "N-no, I haven't gotten my car back." A prolonged silence followed as Kizer listened intently to the rapid words of the person on the other end.

Finally, he mustered the courage to respond, "B-but I don't have any money. I—Well, okay, I'll let you know."

Kizer hung up the phone and collapsed into a nearby chair, visibly shaken. The others bombarded him with questions, their concern evident. After taking a deep breath, Kizer managed to speak. "I can get my jalopy back."

But the man wants a lot of money for the information as to where it is."

"Oh, I'm glad you're going to get your car back!" Callie exclaimed, her voice filled with relief.

20

"But I haven't got any money," Kizer groaned, his shoulders slumping.

William's brow furrowed in determination as he demanded, "Who's the man, Kizer?"

A heavy silence hung in the air before Kizer finally spoke, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Steiner. Oscar Steiner!"

The revelation elicited gasps of astonishment from the group. They never anticipated that the very detective they sought assistance from would demand payment for leading Kizer to his missing jalopy.

"Why, that conniving scoundrel!" Noah exclaimed, his anger simmering.

Kizer explained that Steiner justified his demand by asserting that he had to make a living and should be properly compensated for any information he uncovered as a detective. William shrugged, acknowledging the flawed logic. "I suppose Steiner has a point there. How much does he want for the information, Kizer?"

"His fee is twenty-five dollars!"

The others cried out in disbelief, their expressions reflecting their limited financial means. After a lengthy discussion, they reached a decision. They would pool their resources, whatever sum they could collect, to offer Oscar Steiner in exchange for leading them to Kizer's car. However, they emphasized that if it turned out to be a different vehicle, not Kizer's jalopy, they would not pay him a single cent.

Kizer made the call to Steiner's residence, expecting resistance. As anticipated, the detective grumbled at the offer of ten dollars but begrudgingly accepted it. He agreed to pick up the boys in half an hour and lead them to the location.

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Morton arrived home. Kizer's father was a jovial man, resembling his son in build and coloring. He worked in the real estate business in Bayport while running the farm as a personal hobby. Mrs. Morton, much like her daughter Iola, possessed a similar wit and lightheartedness. However, upon learning about the threats and the involvement of Oscar Steiner, she became visibly concerned.

"You boys must exercise utmost caution," Mrs. Morton advised, her voice tinged with worry. "From what I've heard about Steiner, this red-haired thief might easily outwit him. So be vigilant!"

Kizer reassured his mother, promising that they would remain cautious. "Good luck!" Callie called out cheerfully as Steiner's car beeped outside the door. "And don't be too late. I want to hear the news before I have to head home."

William, Noah, and Kizer found Steiner evasive when questioned about their destination. He seemed to revel in his role, enjoying the attention. "I always knew I would be the one to crack this case," he boasted, his tone brimming with self-importance.

Unable to resist the opportunity, Noah asked Steiner if he planned to apprehend the thief as well as lead them to the car. The detective flushed with embarrassment, admitting that he did not yet possess all the 21

details regarding that aspect of the mystery. "But fear not," Steiner assured them. "It won't be long before I apprehend that individual."

The boys managed to maintain straight faces, inwardly hoping that they were not embarking on a futile pursuit. Twenty minutes later, Steiner pulled into the town of Ducksworth, driving straight to a used-car lot. Bringing the car to a stop, he declared, "Well, here we are. Get ready to hand over that money, Kizer."

Steiner exchanged nods with the attendant before leading the boys down a long aisle flanked by rows of cars, eventually arriving at a collection of jalopies lined up against a rear fence.

Turning left, the detective paused before a bright red vehicle. "Here you are!" Steiner announced grandly, extending his right hand toward Kizer. "My payment, please."

Kizer, along with the Huttons, stared at the jalopy in disbelief. There was no doubt that it was the same make and model as Kizer's missing car. "The thief must have thought painting it red would disguise it," Steiner explained.

William interjected with a calm tone, "Is that your assumption?"

Oscar Steiner frowned, sensing their skepticism. "How else would you explain it?" he retorted defensively.

"There may be yellow paint beneath the red," William suggested, undeterred. "Let's investigate further to confirm."

It was evident that Steiner did not appreciate this scrutiny. "So you doubt me, eh?" he sneered unpleasantly. "Anybody can be fooled," William calmly replied.

"Well, Kizer, let's perform a little operation on this car." Steiner stood by, his sullen expression betraying his frustration, as William extracted a penknife from his pocket and began scraping off the red paint from a section of the fender.

22

CHAPTER V Game In "HEY!" Oscar Steiner shouted, his voice strained. "Handle that penknife with care! The owner of this place wouldn't appreciate you damaging his cars!"

William Hutton raised an eyebrow, meeting Steiner's gaze. "I've observed my father scrape off paint flecks countless times. The way he does it, you wouldn't even notice a mark had been made."

Steiner grumbled under his breath. "But you're not your father. Just be cautious!"

William proceeded gingerly, carefully removing flecks of red paint from an inconspicuous spot. He retrieved a flashlight from his pocket, shining it upon the area. Noah leaned in, peering over his brother's shoulder. "There's light blue paint underneath this red layer, not yellow," he stated matter-offactly.

"Correct," William confirmed, his eyes fixed on Steiner. The detective's face flushed with frustration.

"Are you trying to tell me that this isn't Kizer's jalopy?" he demanded, his voice filled with defiance.

"We haven't explicitly stated that you're wrong," Noah interjected quickly, secretly hoping that the car before them was Kizer's, though reason suggested otherwise. "Let's try another section," William suggested, straightening up and moving to a fender on the opposite side. Once again, the test revealed that the car had been painted light blue before the red coat was applied.

"Well, perhaps the thief painted it blue first and then red," Steiner stubbornly asserted. William grinned, undeterred. "We'll dig deeper. If the owner of this establishment objects, we'll compensate for the repainting of the fenders."

William continued his examination, peeling away several layers of paint, yet he found no trace of yellow. Throughout this process, Kizer circled the car repeatedly, scrutinizing every detail inside and out. Even before William made his announcement, Kizer had already come to the same conclusion himself. "The Queen had a long, slender dent on the right rear fender," he stated. "And the seat cushion near the door had a small split. I don't believe the thief would have bothered to fix those issues."

Kizer revealed his deep disappointment, yet he felt grateful that the Huttons had accompanied him to establish the truth. However, Steiner was not willing to relinquish the money so easily. "You haven't proven anything," he retorted. "The individual who runs this place admitted that this might be a stolen car. The person who sold it claimed to reside on a farm outside of Bayport."

The Huttons and Kizer were momentarily taken aback by this revelation. Yet, after a moment, William spoke up, "Let's go speak with the owner. We'll gather more information about the person who brought this car in."

23

The owner of the used-car lot cooperated fully, answering all the questions posed by the Huttons. The bill of sale disclosed that the previous owner of the red jalopy was Melvin Schuster from Bayport.

"Why, we know him!" William interjected. "He attended Bayport High, or at least he did. His family moved away some distance, which likely prompted him to sell his car."

"But Mr. Steiner mentioned suspicions of it being stolen," Noah added.

The owner of the used-car lot smiled. "I'm afraid perhaps Mr. Steiner planted that idea in my mind. I did express concerns when the person seemed overly eager to part with the car, selling it at an unusually low price. Sometimes, as dealers, we hesitate to assume the responsibility of purchasing a vehicle in case it turns out to be stolen property. But when Mr. Schuster came in, I believed everything was legitimate and bought his jalopy."

William expressed his confidence that everything was indeed fine, and after the dealer described Melvin Schuster, there was no doubt that he was the rightful owner. Steiner appeared utterly crestfallen.

Without uttering a word, he made his way to his own car, followed by the boys.

The detective remained silent throughout the journey back to the Morton farm, while the boys, feeling a tinge of sympathy, shifted the conversation to matters unrelated to the car incident. As the Huttons and Kizer entered the Morton home, the two girls rushed forward, their faces filled with anticipation. "Did you find it?"Iola asked eagerly, her voice filled with anticipation.

"HEY!" Oscar Steiner shouted, his voice strained. "Handle that penknife with care! The owner of this place wouldn't appreciate you damaging his cars!"

William Hutton raised an eyebrow, meeting Steiner's gaze. "I've observed my father scrape off paint flecks countless times. The way he does it, you wouldn't even notice a mark had been made."

Steiner grumbled under his breath. "But you're not your father. Just be cautious!"

William proceeded gingerly, carefully removing flecks of red paint from an inconspicuous spot. He retrieved a flashlight from his pocket, shining it upon the area. Noah leaned in, peering over his brother's shoulder. "There's light blue paint underneath this red layer, not yellow," he stated matter-offactly.

"Correct," William confirmed, his eyes fixed on Steiner. The detective's face flushed with frustration.

"Are you trying to tell me that this isn't Kizer's jalopy?" he demanded, his voice filled with defiance.

"We haven't explicitly stated that you're wrong," Noah interjected quickly, secretly hoping that the car before them was Kizer's, though reason suggested otherwise. "Let's try another section," William suggested, straightening up and moving to a fender on the opposite side. Once again, the test revealed that the car had been painted light blue before the red coat was applied.

"Well, perhaps the thief painted it blue first and then red," Steiner stubbornly asserted. William grinned, undeterred. "We'll dig deeper. If the owner of this establishment objects, we'll compensate for the repainting of the fenders."

24

William continued his examination, peeling away several layers of paint, yet he found no trace of yellow. Throughout this process, Kizer circled the car repeatedly, scrutinizing every detail inside and out. Even before William made his announcement, Kizer had already come to the same conclusion himself. "The Queen had a long, slender dent on the right rear fender," he stated. "And the seat cushion near the door had a small split. I don't believe the thief would have bothered to fix those issues."

Kizer revealed his deep disappointment, yet he felt grateful that the Huttons had accompanied him to establish the truth. However, Steiner was not willing to relinquish the money so easily. "You haven't proven anything," he retorted. "The individual who runs this place admitted that this might be a stolen car. The person who sold it claimed to reside on a farm outside of Bayport."

The Huttons and Kizer were momentarily taken aback by this revelation. Yet, after a moment, William spoke up, "Let's go speak with the owner. We'll gather more information about the person who brought this car in."

The owner of the used-car lot cooperated fully, answering all the questions posed by the Huttons. The bill of sale disclosed that the previous owner of the red jalopy was Melvin Schuster from Bayport.

"Why, we know him!" William interjected. "He attended Bayport High, or at least he did. His family moved away some distance, which likely prompted him to sell his car."

"But Mr. Steiner mentioned suspicions of it being stolen," Noah added.

The owner of the used-car lot smiled. "I'm afraid perhaps Mr. Steiner planted that idea in my mind. I did express concerns when the person seemed overly eager to part with the car, selling it at an unusually low price. Sometimes, as dealers, we hesitate to assume the responsibility of purchasing a vehicle in case it turns out to be stolen property. But when Mr. Schuster came in, I believed everything was legitimate and bought his jalopy."

William expressed his confidence that everything was indeed fine, and after the dealer described Melvin Schuster, there was no doubt that he was the rightful owner. Steiner appeared utterly crestfallen.

Without uttering a word, he made his way to his own car, followed by the boys.

The detective remained silent throughout the journey back to the Morton farm, while the boys, feeling a tinge of sympathy, shifted the conversation to matters unrelated to the car incident. As the Huttons and Kizer entered the Morton home, the two girls rushed forward, their faces filled with anticipation. "Did you find it?"

Kizer let out a weary sigh. "Yet another one of Steiner's empty boasts," he said, his tone dripping with disappointment. He returned the money his friends had contributed to assist with the detective's fee.

William and Noah bid farewell to Kizer, hopped on their motorcycles, and accompanied Callie home.

Afterward, they returned to their own abode, took refreshing showers, and retired to their beds.

The following day, as soon as school concluded, they retrieved the gray wig and made their way to Schwartz's shop. The proprietor assured them that the hairpiece had not originated from his establishment. "It's quite shoddy," the man remarked, a hint of disdain in his voice. William and Noah then visited Flint's and Ruben Brothers' shops, but neither had sold the gray wig. Moreover, neither

25

store had encountered a customer in weeks who sought a red wig or had a penchant for acquiring wigs or toupees in various colors.

"Today's investigation yielded no fruitful results," Noah reported that night to his father. The renowned detective smiled sagely. "Do not lose heart," he advised. "Remember, one true success can outweigh a hundred false leads."

Later, as the boys prepared for bed, William reminded his brother that the following day was a school holiday. "That will afford us countless hours to devote to the case," he exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"What do you propose we do?" Noah inquired.

William shrugged, contemplating several ideas before Noah's suggestion gained favor. They would gather a large group of their friends and, based on the theory that the thief could not have traveled far due to the police alert, conduct an extensive search of the surrounding areas for Kizer's stolen jalopy. "We will scour every conceivable hiding spot," Noah declared.

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, William hurried to the telephone, making call after call to rally "the gang." Alongside Kizer Morton, Allen Hooper, known by the nickname Biff due to his admiration for a distant relative who was a boxer named Biff, Jerry Gilroy, Gunny Cohen, and Tony Prito, all prominent students at Bayport High and actively involved in various sports, eagerly agreed to join the endeavor. They pledged to assemble at the Hutton residence at nine o'clock.

In the interim, William and Noah devised a comprehensive plan of action. After breakfast, the Huttons briefed their father on their intentions and requested any suggestions he might have for the search.

"Take a map," he advised. "Use our house as the center, and divide the area into pie-shaped sections. I recommend that two boys team up together."

By nine o'clock, William and Noah had meticulously charted the search grid. The first recruit to arrive was Tony Prito, a lively lad with a keen sense of humor. He was quickly followed by Gunny Cohen, a quiet and astute young man. "Put us to work," Tony urged. "I brought one of my father's unused trucks.

I can cover quite a distance with it." Tony's father worked in the contracting business. "I can cover a lot of miles with that," Tony assured.

William suggested that Tony and Gunny pair up. He presented them with the map, which featured Bayport as the center of a grand circle divided into four equal segments. "You two will take the time from nine o'clock to twelve on this dial that we've marked. My mother has kindly agreed to remain at home all day and serve as a central hub for our reports. Call in every hour."

"Consider it done," Tony affirmed. "Come on, Gunny. Let's get started!" The duo set off just as Biff and Jerry arrived at the Hutton residence on their motorcycles. Biff, tall and blond, possessed a loping stride that allowed him to cover an impressive expanse of land in a short span of time. Jerry, a skilled fielder on Bayport High's baseball team, stood at an average height, with a wiry and robust physique.

Biff and Jerry were assigned to the section on the map spanning from six o'clock to nine o'clock. They received further instructions on the art of sleuthing before embarking on their mission.

26

"Where's Kizer?" Mr. Hutton inquired, casting a curious gaze at his sons. "Wasn't he supposed to assist with the search?"

"He may have overslept. Kizer has been known to do that," William replied, a mischievous grin playing on his face. "He might have even taken time for a second breakfast," Noah added, suggesting a plausible scenario.

Mrs. Hutton, who had stepped out onto the front porch, called out, "Here he comes now. Isn't that Mr. Morton's car?"

"Yes, indeed," William confirmed. Kizer's father dropped him off in front of the Hutton residence, and the stout lad hastened toward the porch. "Good morning, Mrs. Hutton. Good morning, Mr. Hutton.

Hello, pals!" he cheerfully greeted. "Apologies for my tardiness. My father had numerous phone calls to make before he left, and I feared that if I had tried to walk here, I would have arrived tomorrow."

At this juncture, Mr. Hutton interjected, "As I mentioned before, I believe you boys should pair up.

There are only three of you to cover half the territory."

The detective's face suddenly brightened with a boyish grin. "How about teaming up with one of you?"

William and Noah stared at their father with sheer delight. "Do you truly mean it?"

William exclaimed. "I choose you as my partner this instant!"

"I have a further proposal," the detective revealed. "It won't take you boys more than three hours to cover the designated area. However, I suggest exploring an additional section."

"Which area would that be?" Noah queried.

"Willow Grove. It is a parkland, but there is also an abundance of tangled woodland nearby. It would serve as an ideal hiding spot for a stolen car."

Mr. Hutton recommended that the boys convene for a picnic lunch at Willow Grove and engage in further sleuthing in the vicinity, provided they had not discovered Kizer's jalopy by then. Mrs. Hutton chimed in, "I'll prepare a delightful lunch for all of you."

"That would be splendid," Kizer hastily added. "You prepare exquisite picnic lunches, Mrs. Hutton."

William and Noah readily agreed to the plan, deciding that the boys would enjoy the picnic regardless of whether they had found the stolen jalopy by one o'clock. Mrs. Hutton assured them that she would relay any news to the other boys as they reported in.

Kizer and Noah embarked on the Hutton boys' motorcycles, setting out to scour the segment from twelve o'clock to three o'clock as indicated on the map. Subsequently, Mr. Hutton and William departed to explore the area from three o'clock to six o'clock.

27

Hour after hour passed, with the search party remaining vigilant. Every garage, be it public or private, every seldom-used road, and every patch of woodland underwent thorough scrutiny. Yet, there was no sign of Kizer's beloved yellow jalopy.

Finally, at one o'clock, William and his father returned to the Hutton residence. Shortly thereafter, Noah and Kizer arrived at the designated rendezvous, laden with a substantial picnic lunch securely fastened to their motorcycles. Upon reaching the chosen spot, they were compelled to leave their mechanical steeds outside the confines of the fence. Carrying the baskets, they descended to the lakefront, where their comrades had already congregated.

"Regrettably, the frigidity of these waters precludes our indulgence in a refreshing swim," remarked Tony, voicing the collective sentiment.

They swiftly unpacked the provisions and assembled around a weathered picnic table nestled within the park. "Ah! Delightful sustenance awaits us in these delectable chicken sandwiches!" exclaimed Kizer with unbridled glee.

Amidst the consumption of the meal, the boys shared accounts of their morning's diligent sleuthing, recounting their fervent efforts to uncover any trace of the elusive missing automobile. "Our mission is far from concluded," William reminded his companions.

"Yet, in light of my current state of satiation, I shall recline momentarily before resuming our endeavor." The remaining boys, similarly sated, succumbed to the allure of repose upon the verdant expanse. Meanwhile, Noah, consumed by a fervent curiosity regarding the woods to their right, sought to unveil whether they held the enigma of the vanished car. He plunged alone into the undergrowth, resolute in his quest.

For twenty minutes, he scoured the terrain, his vigilance unrewarded by any hint of the vehicle's presence. He teetered on the precipice of surrender, contemplating a return to his comrades and a shared anticipation of their next move. Yet, in that crucial juncture, a small clearing materialized before him—a fragment of an abandoned roadway, echoing with forgotten echoes of the past.

With mounting excitement, Noah forged ahead through the tangled thickets. The grove, nestled in a low-lying region, exuded an eerie dampness. The ground beneath his feet grew sodden, muddy even, but Noah pressed on undeterred. It was within this mire that his keen eye caught sight of something that stirred his curiosity.

"A tire! Perhaps an automobile has ventured into this forsaken place," he muttered to himself, even though no tracks marred the immediate surroundings. "No footprints to be seen either. It appears that someone carelessly discarded this tire." Recalling his father's counsel regarding the importance of honing one's powers of observation, Noah drew nearer and scrutinized the tire intently. "That tread," he whispered, his excitement palpable.

"It seems strangely familiar." He studied it until certainty washed over him, then hastened back to his comrades. "I have unearthed a clue!" he exclaimed. "Quickly, everyone, follow me!"

28

CHAPTER VI Heisting it up Noah Hutton took the lead and forged ahead, guiding the group through the marshy terrain, their voices blending in a cacophony of excitement. Upon reaching their destination, Kizer examined the discarded tire, his exclamation ringing out: "There can be no mistake! This tire belongs to the Queen! The thief discarded it when he replaced it with a new one."

William swiftly interjected, "Perhaps the Queen still lingers in these environs. The thief might have chosen this secluded road as an ideal hiding spot for your jalopy until he could make his escape."

Kizer readily concurred, "It would indeed be an opportune location. Those who visit Willow Grove must leave their vehicles at the gate, ensuring that no one ventures into this area. But this forgotten road connects to the main highway. Let us explore further, my friends."

With unwavering determination, they commenced an assiduous search along the abandoned road, moving towards the highway. Suddenly, William and Kizer, at the forefront of the group, cried out in unison, their voices punctuating the stillness. "Here lies a bypath! And behold, tire tracks!" William exclaimed, pointing to a narrow path barely visible amidst overgrown weeds and low shrubs.

Without hesitation, he and Kizer delved into the overgrown trail. Eventually, the path widened, winding its way around a dense cluster of trees, culminating in a spacious clearing. Within the clearing stood Kizer Morton's long-lost jalopy.

"Eureka!" Kizer jubilantly shouted. "Behold, her distinctive license plates!" His exclamation resonated, drawing the other boys towards him with haste. Kizer's elation knew no bounds as he meticulously inspected the car, his companions gathered closely, captivated by the moment. Finally, he straightened up, a smile of contentment gracing his face. "She remains unscathed, ready to traverse the roads once more. The thief merely concealed the old bus here before absconding. Come, my friends, climb aboard.

We shall enjoy a free ride to the highway!"

Before departing, the Huttons examined the footprints left by the thief. "He wore sneakers," William observed. In a sudden revelation, Kizer swung open the car door, his gaze focused on the floor. "You mean he wore my sneakers. They're gone."

Noah astutely added, "And he carried his own shoes. Quite cunning. Alas, another clue vanishes. We cannot trace the man by his shoe prints."

"Let us proceed!" Kizer urged, leaping into the car. Within moments, the engine roared to life. The clearing offered little space for maneuvering, but Kizer skillfully navigated the vehicle, executing a turn that allowed the jalopy to face the bypath once again. With cheers emanating from the boys, they swiftly climbed aboard, the car swaying and jostling as it rumbled along the bypath, eventually reaching the abandoned road and then the main highway.

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The boys transitioned to Tony's truck and their motorcycles, forming a triumphant procession en route to Bayport, with William and Noah leading the way. Their intention was to make their way to police headquarters and share news of their triumph with Chief Collig. "And may Steiner be present to witness our glory," Kizer gloated.

As the exultant riders paraded through Main Street, however, they noticed a peculiar lack of attention from the townspeople. An air of mystery seemed to shroud the town, with individuals huddled in small groups, their gestures and conversations fraught with intensity.

It was not long before the Huttons spotted Detective Steiner striding along, his countenance bearing a weighty frown. Noah called out to him, "What calamity befalls us, Detective? Observe that we have indeed found Kizer's car."

"I am burdened by a matter of far greater importance than stolen cars—Wait, what is this?" Detective Steiner's gaze turned blank as the realization of their discovery finally penetrated his consciousness.

The boys eagerly awaited Steiner's accolades, but they never came. Instead, he uttered, "I am entangled in a grand enigma. The Tower Mansion has been ransacked!"

The Huttons, taken aback by this revelation, exclaimed in unison, "Good heavens!"

Tower Mansion stood as one of Bayport's marvels, a place rarely graced by visitors, its exterior alone evoking admiration and wonder.

But the first thing a newcomer to Bayport usually inquired was, "Who is the proprietor of that house with the imposing towers atop the hill?" It was a colossal, sprawling structure made of stone, commanding a view of the bay, visible from miles away, its silhouette etched against the skyline like an ancient fortress of feudal times. The resemblance to a castle was further accentuated by the presence of tall towers rising from each far end of the mansion.

One of these towers had been constructed during the mansion's inception by Major Applegate, a retired and eccentric old military man who had amassed a fortune through fortuitous real estate transactions. In bygone years, the mansion had been the site of numerous parties and dances. However, as time passed, the Applegate family dispersed until only Hurd Applegate and his sister Laura remained, dwelling within the vast, desolate mansion.

Hurd Applegate, a tall and stooped man in his sixties, appeared wholly dedicated to the pursuit of rare stamps. Yet, a few years prior, he had constructed a new tower on the estate, an exact replica of the original. Laura, his sister, was an unmarried woman of indeterminate age. Her choice of attire often amused the fashionably dressed women of Bayport. She favored clashing colors and unflattering styles.

Though Hurd and Laura Applegate were reputedly immensely wealthy, they lived modestly, maintained a small number of servants, and seldom entertained visitors.

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"Tell us about the theft," Noah implored Steiner. But the detective dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "You shall have to unravel the mystery yourselves," he retorted, hastening away.

William and Noah bid farewell to their friends and made their way home. As they arrived, they caught sight of Hurd Applegate descending the steps of the mansion. The man tapped his cane against the stairs, casting a piercing gaze in the direction of the boys' motorcycles. "Good day!" he grumbled begrudgingly before continuing on his path.

"He must have been soliciting Dad to handle the case," William remarked to his brother as they entered the garage. Anxious to learn more about the robbery, the boys hurried into the house. In the front hallway, they encountered their father.

"We heard that the Tower Mansion has been burglarized," Noah stated.

Mr. Hutton nodded in affirmation. "Indeed. Mr. Applegate just paid me a visit to relay the news. He wants me to oversee the investigation."

"How much was taken?"

Mr. Hutton smiled. "Well, I suppose there is no harm in divulging that information. The safe in the Applegate library was breached. The loss amounts to approximately forty thousand dollars, consisting of securities and jewels."

"Goodness!" exclaimed William. "What a substantial haul! When did the incident occur?"

"Either last night or this morning. Mr. Applegate did not rise from bed until after ten o'clock this morning and did not enter the library until nearly noon. It was then that he made the disheartening discovery."

"How was the safe unlocked?"

"Through the correct combination. The perpetrator either possessed knowledge of the precise sequence of numbers or was a remarkably astute thief capable of discerning the tumblers' sounds. I shall be heading to the mansion shortly. Mr. Applegate is set to collect me."

"I would love to accompany you," Noah eagerly expressed.

"As would I," William affirmed.

Mr. Hutton surveyed his sons, his smile widening. "Well, if you wish to play the role of detectives, I suppose observing a criminal investigation from the inside offers a rare opportunity. Should Mr. Applegate not object, you may join me."

A few minutes later, a foreign-made automobile, chauffeur-driven, halted before the Hutton residence.

Seated in the backseat was Hurd Applegate, his chin resting on his cane. The three Huttons emerged from their house. When the boys' request was relayed to the detective, Applegate merely grunted in assent, shifting his position to accommodate them. William and Noah entered the car after their father.

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The vehicle embarked towards Tower Mansion. "I truly have no need for a detective in this case!" Hurd Applegate snapped. "No need whatsoever. The truth is as evident as the nose on your face. I know who took the valuables. However, I lack the means to prove it." "Whom do you suspect?" Will Hutton inquired. "There is only one individual in the world capable of pilfering the jewels and securities.

Attrix!" "Attrix?" "Indeed. Henry Attrix—the caretaker. He is the culprit." The Hutton boys exchanged bewildered glances. Henry Attrix, the caretaker of Tower Mansion, happened to be the father of one of their closest companions! Perry Attrix, known as "Slim," was the son of the accused man! The notion that Slim's father could be held accountable for the theft appeared utterly preposterous to the Hutton boys.

A few minutes later, a foreign-made automobile, chauffeur-driven, halted before the Hutton residence.

Seated in the backseat was Hurd Applegate, his chin resting on his cane. The three Huttons emerged from their house. When the boys' request was relayed to the detective, Applegate merely grunted in assent, shifting his position to accommodate them. William and Noah entered the car after their father.

The vehicle embarked towards Tower Mansion.

"I truly have no need for a detective in this case!" Hurd Applegate snapped. "No need whatsoever. The truth is as evident as the nose on your face. I know who took the valuables. However, I lack the means to prove it."

"Whom do you suspect?" Will Hutton inquired.

"There is only one individual in the world capable of pilfering the jewels and securities. Attrix!"

"Attrix?"

"Indeed. Henry Attrix—the caretaker. He is the culprit."

The Hutton boys exchanged bewildered glances. Henry Attrix, the caretaker of Tower Mansion, happened to be the father of one of their closest companions! Perry Attrix, known as "Slim," was the son of the accused man! The notion that Slim's father could be held accountable for the theft appeared utterly preposterous to the Hutton boys.

They had encountered Mr. Attrix on multiple occasions, finding him to be a good-natured and amiable man of strong principles. "I do not believe he is guilty," William whispered. "Nor do I," his brother concurred.

Mr. Hutton inquired of Hurd Applegate, "What leads you to suspect Attrix?"

"He is the only person, apart from my sister and myself, who has ever witnessed the safe being opened and closed. He may have learned the combination if he had been observant, as I am certain he was," Applegate replied.

"Is that the sole basis for your suspicions?" Mr. Hutton inquired further.

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"No. This morning, he paid off a nine-hundred-dollar note at the bank. Yet, I know for a fact that he possessed no more than a hundred dollars to his name a few days ago. Where could he have obtained nine hundred dollars so suddenly?"

"Perhaps he has a reasonable explanation," Mr. Hutton suggested.

"Oh, he will certainly offer an explanation!" Mr. Applegate sniffed. "However, it will have to be exceptionally persuasive to satisfy me."

The automobile now accelerated along the expansive driveway leading to Tower Mansion and within minutes came to a halt at the main entrance. Mr. Hutton and the two boys accompanied the eccentric man into the house.

"The library has remained undisturbed since the discovery of the theft," Applegate stated, leading the way there. Mr. Hutton examined the open safe, subsequently extracting a specialized magnifying glass from his pocket. With meticulous care, he scrutinized the dial of the combination lock. He then proceeded to examine each window and the door for fingerprints. He asked Mr. Applegate to hold his fingers up to a strong light, affording him a clear view of the whorls and ridges on the undersides.

Ultimately, he shook his head. "A skilled execution," he remarked. "The thief must have worn gloves.

All the fingerprints in this room, Mr. Applegate, appear to be yours."

"There is no point in seeking fingerprints or any other evidence!" Mr. Applegate impatiently retorted. "I assure you, it was Attrix."

"Perhaps it would be prudent for me to inquire a few questions of him," Mr. Hutton advised.

Mr. Applegate summoned one of the servants, instructing them to summon the caretaker to the library immediately. Mr. Hutton glanced at the boys and suggested they wait in the hallway. "It may prove less uncomfortable for Mr. Attrix in that manner," he whispered softly.

William and Noah readily complied, retreating to the hallway. There, they encountered Mr. Attrix and his son Perry. The man appeared composed, though pallid, and as they stood at the threshold, he affectionately patted Slim on the shoulder. "Do not fret," he assured him. "Everything will be resolved."

With those words, he entered the library. Slim turned to his two friends. "It cannot be true!" he exclaimed. "My father is innocent!"

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CHAPTER VII Loct Up William and Noah were resolute in their determination to assist their friend in proving his father's innocence. They firmly believed that Mr. Attrix was not guilty of the crime.

"Of course, he is innocent," William affirmed. "He will be able to exonerate himself, Slim."

"But the situation appears grim at the moment," the boy replied, his face pale and shaken. "Unless Mr. Hutton can apprehend the true thief, I fear my father will be wrongfully accused of the robbery."

"Everyone knows your father is honest," Noah consoled. "He has been a loyal employee—even Mr. Applegate will have to acknowledge that."

"Though that won't be of much help if he cannot clear himself of the charge. And my father admits that he knew the combination of the safe, although he would never use it."

"He knew it?" Noah exclaimed, surprised.

"Dad stumbled upon the combination accidentally. It was remarkably simple, impossible to forget.

Here's how it happened: One day, while cleaning the fireplace in the library, he discovered a piece of paper with numbers on it. He examined them and concluded they were the safe's combination. Dad placed the paper on the desk, but due to an open window, he surmised that a gust of wind had blown it to the floor."

"Does Mr. Applegate know about this?"

"Not yet. But Dad intends to tell him now. He realizes it will appear incriminating, but he plans to share the truth with Mr. Applegate."

Voices emanated from the library. Among the murmurs, Hurd Applegate's grating tones occasionally rose above the rest, and soon the boys heard Mr. Attrix's voice growing increasingly sharp.

"I did not do it! I assure you, I did not take that money!"

"Then where did you acquire the nine hundred dollars you paid towards that note?" Mr. Applegate demanded.

Silence followed.

"Where did you get it?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information to you or anyone else."

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