Their disappointment had turned to jubilation, for now they felt that they were definitely on the trail of the mysterious man in the red wig, and while ostensibly there was no connection between this fellow and the thief who had robbed Tower Mansion, Frank had, as he said, "a hunch" that the auto thief and the robber of the mansion were one and the same man. "If we ever lay our hands on the man who stole Chet's roadster I'm sure we'll have gone a long way toward solving the Tower affair," said Frank to his brother. "I may be wrong, but I have an idea that the fellow was a professional crook who first set out to rob the steamboat office. Then, when he was frightened off, he hung around the city and waited his chance to rob Tower Mansion." Mr. Hardy was still in the library when the boys returned home. The great detective was frankly surprised when his sons again entered the room, and he looked up with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eyes. "What! More clues!" he exclaimed. "Surely not so soon." "You bet we have more clues!" exclaimed Frank eagerly. "And real clues this time. We're going to turn them over to you." "But I thought the two of you were working on this case in your own way. Remember, I'm the opposition." "Well, to tell the truth, we don't know just what to do with what we've found," admitted Frank. "And, anyway, we know you'll be fair with us, so it doesn't matter. Look!" And with that he tossed the red wig on the table. He kept the coat and hat behind his back. Fenton Hardy leaned forward quickly and picked up the wig with an inquiring glance at his sons. "So!" he murmured. "You found the wig?" He examined it intently. Then he opened a drawer of his desk and produced the fragment of wig that the boys had found in the smashed car by the road. This he applied to a torn part of the wig itself. It fitted perfectly. "It's the wig all right," he declared, looking up. "Where did you find it? By the smashed car?" "No. Hidden in the bushes near the place where Chet's roadster was found." Mr. Hardy whistled solemnly. "Good work." He turned the wig over and over in his hands, carefully examined it under a microscope, and then tossed it back on the desk. "There aren't so many wigs sold that one can't trace them," he observed. "This happens to be made by a small company that doesn't turn out a great many wigs in a year. It's a sort of side line with them." "How can you tell?" "There's a little mark on the inside that distinguishes the manufacturer. Just a trademark--hardly noticeable." "And we found these as well," said Frank, handing over the coat and hat. Mr. Hardy's eyes opened wide. "Well, well!" he exclaimed. "You _have_ been busy, haven't you?" "They were all hidden in the same place." "And well hidden, too, I'll warrant." "We were sure there must be clues of some kind around that car, so we searched every inch of the woods roundabout."