An Embarrassing Interview
At sight of her friend talking with the museum workman, a confusion of
thoughts raced through Penny's mind. Why had Amy made an appointment
with him in the park? She could not believe that the meeting was
casual for the girl's own words had revealed otherwise. She was even
more startled by Amy's next remark which, carried by the wind, came to
her very clearly.
"You brought the money?"
"Yes. I will pay you now if you wish."
The workman drew from his inner pocket a fat wallet, removing a large
roll of bills. Penny was so bewildered that for a moment she forgot to
shield her face with the newspaper she pretended to read. However, Amy
and the man were so engrossed in their conversation, neither of them
glanced toward the park bench.
Mr. Hoges stripped off two of the bills, handing them to the girl.
"There," he said in a gruff voice, "that ought to be enough for a
start. Stick by me, sister, and you'll earn plenty more like it."
Amy made no response, but pocketed the money. She was moving away when
the workman detained her.
"You understand what's expected? You'll keep quiet if anyone asks you
how you make your money?"
"I haven't made much yet."
"You will, never fear, if my little plan goes through. Do I have your
promise to keep silent?"
"Yes," Amy answered shortly. She jerked away from Mr. Hoges and
hurried off through the park.
Penny was so absorbed in the little scene that she did not hear
footsteps behind her. "Hello, Penny," a teasing voice greeted. "What
are you doing here?"
Penny sprang up from the park bench, then laughed ruefully as she saw
that it was Susan Altman who had spoken to her so unexpectedly.
"My! You surely startled me, Susan."
"What are you doing here all by yourself?"
"Oh, just watching the birds and squirrels and things."
"Human squirrels, I suppose," Susan smiled. "When I came up you were
craning your neck at that man over by the oak tree."
"What became of him?" Penny demanded anxiously, turning to look.
She had talked with Susan scarcely a minute, yet the museum workman had
disappeared. In vain she scanned the park. He was nowhere to be seen.
"I thought you were interested in him!" Susan proclaimed triumphantly.
"Of course I was!" Penny cried impatiently. "He was that same museum
workman we met at the Gage Galleries."
"Not the one you suspected of stealing the Rembrandt?"
"Yes, and he was talking with--" Penny suddenly checked herself.
"What were you saying?"
"He was talking with a girl," Penny finished. "I intended to follow
the man. Now it's too late."
"I guess it was my fault. But I didn't suppose you were really
shadowing anyone. I'm sorry if I ruined everything."
"Oh, you didn't," Penny smiled good-naturedly, taking her chum's arm as
they walked across the park together. "If I want to question Mr. Hoges
I probably can find him at the museum. No doubt he just returned from
his vacation."
The girls dropped in at a corner drug store for ice cream, but Penny
refrained from telling Susan the details of her recent adventures. She
realized that if it became generally known that the stolen Rembrandt or
even a reproduction of the famous picture were in Mrs. Dillon's
possession, considerable trouble would result. Penny did not intend to
tell anyone about it until she had interviewed the woman.
It was after three o'clock when the girls left the drug store. At
Penny's suggestion they walked to the Gage Galleries to inquire for Mr.
Hoges.
"He will not return here after his vacation," came the disappointing
response to their question. "Mr. Hoges has resigned his position."
This information left Penny in more of a maze than ever regarding Amy
Coulter. She could not help believing in the girl's integrity, and,
despite Amy's rendezvous with Hoges, she still felt there must be a
rational explanation for her actions.
As Susan and Penny left the museum together, the former cast a
panic-stricken glance at her watch.
"It's nearly four o'clock and I promised to meet my mother at the
library then. I forgot all about it. I have just ten minutes to get
there."
"Twenty blocks in ten minutes! You'll never make it, Susan."
The excited girl looked up and down the street as if she were seeking
some miraculous means of quick transportation. Just then a taxicab
whirled around the corner. Susan held up her hand as a signal for it
to stop.
"You don't mind, do you Penny? Mother will be so exasperated if I
don't come. Hop in with me and I'll drop you off downtown."
"No thanks, Susan," Penny excused herself. "I just thought of a place
I want to stop and it isn't on your route. See you tomorrow."
The cab door slammed and Susan was whisked away to her appointment.
Penny walked rapidly toward the poorer section of the business
district. She finally stopped at the entrance of the building where
the previous day she had encountered the mysterious man in gray and the
arrogant janitor.
Penny walked into the stuffy little lobby at the foot of a steep
stairway. She consulted a dilapidated office directory which hung
haphazardly against the wall. The building was tenanted by small
factories, printers, and agents. About half the spaces in the
directory were blank, indicating the place was only partially occupied.
She was interested to see that the top floor showed no tenants
whatsoever.
"I think I'll just slip up there and see for myself," she resolved.
With her foot on the first step, she looked quickly about. There was
no one nearby to witness her actions. All was quiet except for the
rhythmical thumping of small job presses in the scattered printing
shops.
Penny thought there could hardly be so many steep steps in all the
world as she climbed flight after flight, hoping each to be the last.
Finally she reached the top landing. She tiptoed to the nearest door
and listened. Hearing nothing, she opened it a crack and looked in.
The place was empty.
"That's queer," she thought. "I'm sure this top floor was rented
yesterday. I saw the man pay the rent."
Walking as noiselessly as she could, Penny explored the large room.
Here and there on the bare floor were colored splotches, as if someone
had spilled paint. In one corner was a dirty piece of tarpaulin such
as tradesmen use to protect floors and furniture.
Disappointed, Penny retreated to the hallway. She could not understand
why the place was empty when she had been told by the janitor only the
day before that it was occupied.
She walked slowly down the first flight of stairs and as she turned on
the landing to continue her descent, she noticed the name, "James
Wilson, Printer," on a glass door directly in front of her.
The name seemed strangely familiar. Then she remembered. It must be
the shop of Jimmy Wilson, who did some of her father's printing.
Penny opened the door and there was Jimmy himself feeding envelopes
into a small job press. He looked up from his work when he saw her,
stopping his machine to say: "Well, if it isn't Miss Nichols. Rush
order from your father, I'll bet."
"Not this time, Mr. Wilson. But I do wonder if you could give me a
little information."
"I'll tell you anything but my lodge secrets," Jimmy replied.
"I want to know what became of the tenants on the floor above."
If the printer was surprised at such a direct question his expression
did not disclose it.
"Oh, the janitor was telling me about that, Miss Nichols. He said they
moved out, bag and baggage during the night."
"Last night?" Penny inquired quickly.
"Yes, seems their rent was paid up a week ahead too."
"What sort of place did they run?"
"Well, they claimed to be sign painters, but I couldn't tell you about
that. In an old building like this a lot of strange specimens come and
go."
"Did you notice the man who rented the floor?"
"Not particularly. There seemed to be three of them, a tall, rather
well dressed man, and two kind of long-haired looking foreigners.
Sometimes when I worked late in my shop, I could hear them up there
messing around long into the night."
Further questioning failed to bring out any vital information, and not
wishing to arouse the printer's suspicions, Penny thanked him and
descended to the street.
She was disappointed at her failure to find the upper floor of the
building occupied and it occurred to her that possibly her own actions
had caused the sudden departure.
"The janitor may have mentioned to that man in gray that I came here
yesterday," she reflected, "but why should it make any difference?"
Penny was certain that the man she had followed to the building had
previously made a business of shadowing her. She had never seen him
before in her life and could not understand why her movements should
interest him.
"The riddle is too involved for me," she told herself. "I guess one
mystery at a time is enough to worry about."
It was still fairly early in the afternoon and Penny did not wish to
waste the day. She decided to make a bold move and call upon Mrs.
Dillon. Yet she dreaded the interview.
Taking a bus, she soon arrived at the society woman's home. When she
rang the doorbell, the maid who answered, recognized her immediately.
Her glance was not friendly.
"Is Mrs. Dillon in?" Penny inquired.
"Yes, but I'm not sure she'll see you," the maid answered shortly.
"When I told her you were here the other day to see the picture, she
didn't know anything about it."
"Did you tell her my name?"
"How could I when you wouldn't give it?"
Penny smiled. "Please tell Mrs. Dillon that Miss Nichols would like to
speak with her. You might add that the matter is important."
"I'll tell her," the maid said reluctantly.
Penny waited several minutes, but when the servant came back she was
more cordial. "Mrs. Dillon will see you in the drawing room."
The woman arose as Penny entered.
"I am very glad you came this afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I
intended to telephone your father but now you may give him my message."
"I'll be glad to, Mrs. Dillon."
"I owe your father an apology about the way I talked to him. You see,
I didn't know that my pearl necklace was insured."
"And you have since learned differently?" Penny asked politely.
"Yes, my husband told me last night. He insured the pearls without
telling me anything about it. Wasn't that fortunate?"
"Very," Penny agreed. "I suppose you feel greatly relieved."
"Oh, yes, but I still wish your father would take the case. You'll
give him my apology?"
"Yes, indeed."
There was a little awkward silence as Mrs. Dillon waited for Penny to
explain why she had called. The girl scarcely knew how to begin. She
had been disarmed, as it were, by the society woman's manner.
"I wanted to talk to you about a picture which was taken from the Gage
Galleries," she began hesitantly. "A Rembrandt."
A cold look came over Mrs. Dillon's face. "Yes?" she inquired.
Penny stirred uncomfortably. The interview was not to her liking. And
when her father learned of it she was afraid it might not be to his
liking either.
"It occurred to me, Mrs. Dillon, that possibly you could help in
locating the stolen picture."
"I? You flatter me, my dear."
Penny saw the warning in Mrs. Dillon's dark eyes. But she dared to go
on.
"Let's not pretend, Mrs. Dillon," she said quietly. "I know about that
painting which you keep hidden behind the panel of the library."
Mrs. Dillon sprang to her feet, her face convulsed with anger.
"So you are the snooper who came here!" she cried. "Get out of my
house and never, never come again! Go quickly or I'll call the police!"