Fire!
Penny worked at her bonds, but the cords had been fastened securely and
she could not free herself. Exhausted, she lay quiet, trying to think
of some way to attract attention. She thumped with her feet on the
floor of the closet, but minutes passed and no one came to her
assistance.
It was useless, she thought miserably. There was scant chance that
anyone would discover her until it was too late. How maddening it was
to know that while she remained helpless, Cron and his confederates
were escaping from the city!
Now that the knowledge was valueless to her, she comprehended the
entire plot. Cron and Hoges had worked together, and the latter had
smuggled the genuine Rembrandt from the Gage Galleries just as she had
suspected. Then instead of trying to sell the stolen picture they made
copies of it, disposing of the duplicate many times and at a handsome
profit.
Penny was not certain as to Max Lynch's connection with the men, but
mention of the pearls suggested to her that Cron and the gambler had
relieved Mrs. Dillon of her necklace. She recalled that the art critic
had made a point of learning the exact hour when the woman would carry
the pearls to the bank vault. Was it not likely that he had proposed
the meeting solely as a means of providing an opportunity for the
robbery?
When Penny considered Amy Coulter's part in the affair, she was without
a theory. She wondered if she would ever know whether or not the girl
was involved with the gang.
Presently Penny became aware of a crackling noise in the building. At
first she paid it slight heed, but as the strange sound became louder,
she listened intently. She could hear timbers snapping and cracking
and the interior of the closet was growing uncomfortably warm. Even
then the horrible truth did not dawn upon her.
She heard excited shouts and running footsteps. Suddenly Penny
distinguished a cry which struck terror to her heart.
"Fire! Fire!"
She was momentarily stunned. Then, realizing that she was trapped in a
burning building, she struggled desperately to free herself. She
kicked with all her strength against the floor and walls of the closet.
Finally, she succeeded in loosening her gag.
"Help! Help!" she screamed.
Her voice sounded muffled and weak. The top floor was without tenants,
and Penny knew that the chance of anyone hearing her was very slight.
She was doomed to a horrible fate.
Her courage failed her for the moment and she sobbed in terror. But
she soon had herself in check again and was struggling to free herself.
It seemed to her that the cords which held her wrists were a trifle
looser--she worked at the knots with her teeth.
From below she heard a loud clanging, and the shrill whistle of a fire
siren. New hope surged over her. Perhaps the firemen who had arrived
upon the scene would reach her in time!
"Even if they shoot a ladder up to the window they'll never think
anyone could be tied up in the closet," she reasoned. "If I'm to
escape, it will be from my own efforts."
Penny knew that the fire was rapidly spreading, for she could hear a
steady roar which rapidly grew louder. The closet was so warm that she
found difficulty in breathing. She could plainly smell smoke.
Then suddenly, almost when she had given up hope, she was free. Her
wrists were bruised and bleeding but that was of no consequence. It
required only an instant to untie the cords which bound her ankles.
A new fear assailed her. The closet door might be locked!
She turned the knob and laughed aloud in hysterical relief. It had not
been locked. But as she darted out into the room she inhaled
smoke-laden air and began to cough and choke. Covering her face with
her dress, she groped her way to the door.
It did not give as she tried it. Then she remembered that Cron and his
confederates had locked it from the outside.
She threw herself against the wooden panels with all her strength, but
quickly comprehended that she could not break them. She ran to the
window and looked down.
Smoke was swirling upward in such large black clouds that she caught
only an indistinct view of the street below. The big red fire engine
had pulled up beside the building and rubber-coated men were squirting
streams of water on the roaring blaze.
Penny lifted the window sill and climbed out on the ledge. She clung
there, waving one hand to attract attention to her plight.
Below, when the smoke cleared a little, she could see a solid bank of
spectators, edged off neatly by a cordon of police. Others were trying
to push their way through the crowd. A great clanging of bells
announced the arrival of another fire company. It pulled in alongside
the one already on the job.
With the precision of a war machine, the newcomers drove into action.
A hydrant was quickly tapped and a long reel of hose swiftly unwound
and connected. A water tower arose from the ground as if by magic, and
soon a great stream was pouring from its peak into the blazing building.
Penny shouted for help, although she knew her voice would not carry
above the roar of the flames. Then as she was beginning to despair,
she was seen.
With quick discipline, the firemen placed a ladder directly beneath the
window. Slowly it arose, section on section.
Now that rescue was in sight, Penny suddenly vanished through the
window back into the room from which she had escaped. The crowd below
groaned in unison, fearing that the girl had lost her courage and was
afraid to descend the ladder from such a height.
But Penny quickly reappeared at the window, bearing two bulky objects
in her arms. She had determined to save the stolen Rembrandt and one
of the copies which would serve as damaging evidence against Cron and
his confederates.
A fireman swiftly mounted the ladder to help the girl descend.
"You'll have to leave those pictures," he said tersely. "This wall is
about ready to fall and we have to work fast."
"I can't leave them behind," Penny wailed. "This one painting is worth
thousands of dollars!"
"Then give them to me," the fireman ordered tersely.
He helped Penny step from the ledge to the ladder.
"Don't look down," he commanded.
Penny gripped the sides of the ladder, descending very slowly, with the
fireman just below to steady her should she grow dizzy. She was not
afraid although the ladder weaved under her weight. Even when a cloud
of dense smoke caused her to choke and cough, she did not falter.
As the ground loomed up, she glanced back at the window ledge where she
had clung only a moment before. Flames were shooting out, licking
greedily at the top rungs of the ladder.
A great shout went up from the crowd as Penny stepped to the ground
uninjured.
"Here you are, Miss, safe and sound," the fireman said grimly. "And
just in time too!"
Scarcely had the ladders been removed from the building when the wall
fell inward. Penny did not speak for a minute. Now that it was all
over, she felt weak and shaken. Her escape had been such a narrow one.
"Are you all right?" the fireman asked, taking her arm.
"Quite," Penny smiled. "You needn't hold me. I'll not faint."
"You have pluck, Miss. And your wrists are cut too. I'll call the
doctor."
"No, don't bother. It's nothing," Penny protested. "Where are my
pictures?"
"Here." The fireman handed them over to her. "It was foolish going
back after them. You might have lost your life."
"I realize that now," Penny responded soberly, "but I just had to get
those pictures. Thank you for helping me save them."
Before she could add that she felt deeply grateful for her own rescue
as well, the fireman was called to another post.
With a policeman as a bodyguard, Penny pushed her way through the
crowd, the precious Rembrandt and the duplicate clutched under her arm.
"I'll send you to the hospital where you can have those wrists properly
dressed," the policeman said. "How did you cut them?"
"Trying to get out of the closet," Penny answered. "I was bound and
gagged and locked in."
Tersely, in response to the officer's questions, she related her
terrifying experience in the studio, and displayed the paintings as
evidence of the plot in which Cron and his friends were involved.
"If the police go to Cron's studio right away they may be able to
capture the entire gang," she finished. "But there's not a second to
lose!"
"Leave it to me," the policeman assured her grimly.
He communicated with headquarters and in an incredibly short time a
squad car picked up Penny and the officer, driving with all speed
toward the studio of Hanley Cron.