"Often heard of you, Mr. Hardy," he said, in a surprisingly deep voice that had a comical effect in contrast to his diminutive appearance. "Often heard of you. Glad to meet you. What kind of call is this? Social--or professional?" "Professional." Morley continued rubbing cold cream on his jowls. "Spill it," he said briefly. "What's it all about?" "Ever see this wig before?" asked Mr. Hardy, tossing the red wig on the table. Morley turned from the mirror, and an expression of delight crossed his plump countenance. "Well, I'll say I've seen it before!" he declared. "Old Kauffman--the best wig-maker in the country--made that for me about a year and a half ago. That's the kind of wig I wear for _Launcelot Gobbo_ in 'The Merchant of Venice.' Where did you get it? I sure didn't think I'd ever see _that_ wig again." "Why?" "Stolen from me. Some low-down egg cleaned out my dressing room one night. During the performance. Nerviest thing I ever heard of. Came right in here while I was doing my stuff out front, grabbed my watch and money and a diamond ring I had lying by the mirror, took this wig and a couple of others that were lying around, and beat it. Nobody saw him come or go. Must have got in by that window." Morley talked in short, rapid sentences, and there was no mistaking his sincerity. "How many wigs did he take?" "About half a dozen. Funny thing about that, too. They were all red. Took nothin' but red wigs. I told the cops to be on the lookout for a red-headed thief. I didn't worry so much about the other wigs, for they were for old plays, but this one was being used right along. Kauffman made it specially for me. I had to get him to make another. But say--where did you find it?" "Oh, just a little case I'm investigating. The crook left this behind him. I was trying to trace it." "Well, you've traced it all right. But that's all the help I can give you. The cops never _did_ find out who cleaned out my dressing room." Mr. Hardy was disappointed. The clue of the red wig had led only to a blind alley. But he concealed his chagrin and tossed the wig over to Morley. "Gee, and I'm sure glad to get it back again," declared the actor. "Things haven't gone right with me at all since I lost that wig. Losing it brought me a whole flock of bad luck. Sorry I can't help you find the guy that took it. What's he been up to now?" Fenton Hardy evaded the question. "Oh, I'll probably get him some other way. Give me a list and description of the stuff he took from you. Probably I can trace him through that." "Hop to it," said Morley breezily. "Hop right to it, old man. Here's a list of the stuff right here." He reached in a drawer and drew out a sheet of paper which he handed over to the detective. "That's the same list I gave to the cops when I reported the robbery. Number of the watch, and everything." Mr. Hardy folded the list and put it in his pocket. Morley glanced at his watch, lying beside the mirror, face up, and gave an exclamation.