head.
Outside stood a strange woman, fidgeting nervously. She wore a faded pink hat over her short blond hair. A black coat had been thrown carelessly over her slim shoulders. As Frank slowly opened the door, she pushed it in excitedly.
âWhereâs Mr. Hardy?â she cried in a shrill, hysterical voice. âIâve got to see him right away!â
CHAPTER IV
The Traffic Signal Clue
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THE distraught woman continued frantically, âIâve got to see Mr. Hardy. Right away. Where is he?â
Mrs. Hardy turned on a light in the living room and led the visitor to a chair.
âPlease sit down,â she said kindly. âMr. Hardy isnât here at the moment, but perhaps we can help you.â
âOh, no! Only Mr. Hardy can help me,â the stranger cried. âHeâs got to help my Lenny. Iâll spend every cent of my savings if I have to.â
âLenny is your son?â Frank asked.
âYes. Heâs a good boy. In all his eighteen years he never did wrong.â
âWhere is he?â Joe inquired.
âThatâs just it. I donât know.â
âHave you been to the police?â
The woman gave a shriek. âPolice? I should say not! They wouldnât understand. They might put Lenny in jail. That never happened to a Stryker and itâs not gonna happen now!â
As the woman paused for breath, Frank inquired if she was Mrs. Stryker. The caller nodded, adding that she was a widow and Lenny was her only child.
âIâm sorry youâre in trouble,â said Mrs. Hardy. âWhen Mr. Hardy returns tomorrowââ
The caller wrung her hands. âTomorrow? I was hoping he could do something tonight. You see, I got a message from Lenny just a little while ago, and something ought to be done right away. He said the gang nearly got caught, and heâd been shot in the leg.â
âShot!â chorused the three Hardys, and Frank added, âWhat Lenny needs is a doctor.â
âHe needs a detective too!â Mrs. Stryker moaned. She did not know where Lenny was, and was afraid he would not receive proper care. âThatâs why I want Mr. Hardy to find him.â
âDid your son give you any hint about where he is?â Joe asked eagerly.
âI think so. Iâll tell you all I know.â
The boys leaned forward in their chairs, waiting intently for the womanâs story. She told them her son had acted mysteriously lately, and that she suspected he had fallen into bad company. He had gone out earlier that night. Then, at eleven-thirty he had telephoned, saying he had been shot.
âAnd you donât have any idea whom he went out with?â Frank inquired.
âNo. But Lenny mumbled some funny words on the phone,â Mrs. Stryker explained. âTwo of them sounded like âsecret panel.â Then the connection was cut off.â
Secret panel!
Frank and Joe looked at each other. It was a clue, all right, but where could one start to investigate? Though the boys quizzed Mrs. Stryker for fifteen minutes, she could shed no more light on the subject. At last she stood up to go, disappointed because the Hardys could give her no immediate help.
âBut you promise to tell Mr. Hardy about it the minute he comes in tomorrow?â she begged.
âYes, we will,â Frank assured her.
The woman wrote down her address and went out into the night.
âPoor soul,â Mrs. Hardy said, and all three went upstairs and back to bed.
Fenton Hardy arrived home before breakfast the next morning and listened attentively to the story of Lenny Stryker. His face grew grave.
âIt seems this boy has really gotten himself mixed up with a rough crowd.â
âYou sound as if you know who they are, Dad,â Frank remarked.
âI have a suspicion,â Mr. Hardy began. âCome on. Iâll tell you about it over breakfast.â
As the family sat down at the dining-room