An Impulsive Act
"I don't know why I let him escape," Penny said self-accusingly as she
closed the garage doors. "I simply did it on the impulse of the
moment."
"One couldn't help liking the boy," Susan declared optimistically. "Do
you suppose he'll keep his promise and come to see your father?"
"If he doesn't I'll know I made a silly mistake. I hope they can't put
me in jail for permitting criminals to escape!"
"You might look very well in stripes," Susan teased. "They would never
become me because I'm too plump."
Penny was in no mood to respond to the attempted banter.
"I wonder what Dad will say when he learns about it," she mused
uncomfortably.
She did not have long to speculate for as the girls turned toward the
house Mr. Nichols came down the walk.
"I can't get in at the front door," he complained good naturedly. "Has
Mrs. Gallup locked up the place for the summer?"
Penny explained what had happened but as she repeated Jerry Barrows'
story it sounded flat and a trifle ridiculous. She was not surprised
that her father listened incredulously.
"Why were the police searching for the boy?" he questioned.
"I didn't learn," Penny confessed. "I have only the boy's word."
"And yet you expect me to find him a job?" Mr. Nichols demanded
gruffly. "If he ever shows up--which he won't--I'll turn him over to
the authorities."
"Oh, Dad, you wouldn't, not after I gave my promise that you'd help
him!"
"Why should I assist you in thwarting justice?" Mr. Nichols questioned
severely. Penny could not see that his eyes were twinkling. "Are you
trying to ruin my reputation as a detective?"
"I didn't mean to do anything that might embarrass you, only I couldn't
bear the thought of turning the boy over to the police. He was so
young."
"I was only teasing," Mr. Nichols told her kindly. "If the boy does
come to my office I'll have a talk with him."
"But you don't really think he'll come?"
"I have no way of knowing, Penny. I must admit I'll be rather
surprised if he appears."
Penny relapsed into moody silence as she walked toward the house with
Mr. Nichols and her chum. She had begun to regret her hasty action.
"I left your roadster at a downtown garage," Mr. Nichols commented,
switching to a different subject. "I notified the police that the
wheels had been stolen but I did not have time to see the insurance
company. I can attend to it in the morning unless you care to do it
yourself."
"I may as well," Penny agreed listlessly.
She was feeling very gloomy indeed. Although her father had refrained
from blaming her, she knew that he was amused if not annoyed at her
behavior. Above all else, she coveted his admiration.
"Cheer up," he said lightly as the three entered the house. "What if
you did make a slight blunder? All detectives must learn by
experience."
"A fine detective I'd make!" Penny sniffed. "I fail at the very first
test. I'm just soft hearted I guess."
"Part of the blame should fall on me," Susan declared. "Jerry Barrows
didn't seem in the least like a criminal, Mr. Nichols. I was impressed
with his story too."
"I feel sure he must have been a very persuasive talker," the detective
smiled. "However, I don't consider that either of you committed any
great crime in permitting the boy to escape so I shouldn't worry about
it now that the deed is done."
Mr. Nichols regarded the incident as closed, but Mrs. Gallup had heard
enough of the conversation to surmise a little of what had happened.
In response to her questions, the girls were forced to relate the
entire story.
"Penelope Nichols, I never thought you'd do such a silly, foolhardy
thing!" the housekeeper said severely. She felt it her privilege to be
outspoken for she regarded the girl almost as a daughter. "Why, that
young criminal might have killed you! And to think you let him get
away without even making an effort to call the police!"
"I'm sorry about it now, Mrs. Gallup, but I thought I was acting for
the best. Please, let's not talk about it any more this evening."
The subject had grown very painful to both Susan and Penny. They
interested themselves in backgammon and as soon as they could do so
gracefully, went to their bedroom.
"I'll never hear the last of it unless that boy shows up at father's
office tomorrow," Penny groaned as she tumbled into bed. "I feel
positively ill over the affair."
At breakfast the next morning she was her usual cheerful self. She
even dared to hope that Jerry Barrows would keep his promise.
"You'll be at your office all morning, won't you, Dad?" she questioned
anxiously.
"All morning," he repeated, smiling quizzically at her over his
newspaper. "If your young friend calls upon me I'll telephone you."
Directly after breakfast Susan insisted that she must return home as
her mother would be expecting her.
"I'll walk along with you," Penny offered. "I promised Father I'd stop
at the insurance office this morning."
At the Altman residence the girls parted. Penny continued downtown
alone. Mr. Nichols had furnished her with the address of the Reliance
Insurance Company and she experienced no difficulty in locating the
office.
After stating her mission she was ushered immediately into the presence
of a portly gentleman who adjusted insurance claims. She was not
surprised to learn that her name already was known to him.
"So you are Christopher Nichols' daughter?" the man remarked with
interest. "We think very highly of your father here. In fact, his
work has so impressed us that we have engaged him to assist us in
stamping out this gang of auto accessory thieves. But of course you
already know that."
"My father did mention something about it," Penny murmured.
"Of late the gang has been extending its activities," the adjuster went
on, warming to his subject. "Why, last night alone, over thirty thefts
of car wheels were reported to the police."
"Thirty!" Penny gasped. "And I imagined I was the only one to have
such bad luck."
"Quite the contrary. You merely chanced to be one of the victims of a
systematic combing of the city. Nearly all of the wheels were taken in
a relatively small downtown area. Now, in all probability there will
be a lull in the activities for a few weeks. Then the gang will make
another large haul."
"But when the wheels are taken in such numbers I should think it would
be easy to trace them," Penny ventured.
The adjuster shook his head.
"For the most part the wheels are trucked to other cities for disposal.
The serial numbers are altered and the stolen goods is sold and
distributed to dishonest dealers almost before the authorities are
aware of the thefts. The police have been unable to cope with the
situation." The adjuster smiled broadly, adding: "Now that your father
is on the case, we're expecting a little action."
"I'm sure he'll provide it," Penny declared loyally.
The adjuster reached for a form book, and after asking a few routine
questions concerning the stolen wheels, wrote out an order which
permitted her to have them replaced free of charge at the garage where
her roadster had been towed. Penny thanked him for the prompt service
and left the office.
Since she was eager to have her car in operating condition with the
least possible delay, she carried the order directly to the Hamilton
garage. A courteous attendant promised that he would have the roadster
equipped and ready for the road within a few minutes.
"You'll need a new standard for the spare too," he advised as she stood
viewing the crippled car. "When the wheel was stolen, the thief didn't
bother to take it off. Instead he cut the standard with some sharp
instrument. Probably with a little hand power saw."
"Isn't that a new method?" Penny inquired with interest, walking around
the car to view the severed pieces of metal.
"We're getting quite a few cars in here that way," the attendant
returned as he unbolted the ruined tire standard and tossed it into a
corner.
While the man fastened a new wheel upon the rack, Penny went over and
curiously picked up the discarded scraps of metal. She noted the
jagged marks which the saw had left.
"I wonder if Dad might not make use of this," she thought. "I'll take
it along anyway."
Somewhat to the amusement of the garage man, she carefully placed the
pieces of steel in the rear compartment of the car.
Penny had heard her father remark that many times it was possible to
trace a crook by the tools he used. Once Mr. Nichols had apprehended a
kidnapper by means of a ransom note which had been written upon a
typewriter with a characteristic imprint. Penny hoped that the scraps
of metal might upon scientific analysis disclose the type of instrument
which had been employed by the thief to sever the tire standard.
"I'll drive directly to Dad's office and see if he can make use of any
of these old pieces," she decided.
Although the errand provided an excellent excuse, the real purpose of
her call was to learn if Jerry Barrows had kept his appointment.
Mr. Nichols was busy in the inner office when Penny arrived, but Miss
Arrow, the efficient secretary, told her that she might go in. She
found the detective engrossed in studying a group of photographs and
their accompanying Bertillon records.
"Trying to brush up on who's out and why?" Penny asked banteringly.
Mr. Nichols nodded as he offered a photograph for her inspection.
"This is one of the men who I think may be involved in the automobile
accessory thefts."
"Not a very pretty face," Penny commented.
"No, and 'Rap' Molberg hasn't a very pretty record either. He's served
several terms in the pen, though usually he's a little too smart to
have anything proven against him. Rap is the ringleader of the well
known Molberg gang. It begins to look as if the outfit had extended
its activities to Belton City."
"Is this Rap's description?" Penny inquired, indicating the Bertillon
record which lay upon the desk. It consisted of a bewildering array of
figures.
1.67.6 1.74.0 88.1 19.0 14-5
HGT OA TR HL HW
"Can you decipher it?" Mr. Nichols smiled.
"I know the HGT stands for height and TR for trunk, but what are the
other abbreviations?"
"OA means outer arm," the detective explained. "HL represents head
length and HW indicates the head width. Of course all the measurements
are reduced to meters, centimeters, and millimeters."
"It looks complicated."
"Not after you become accustomed to it. For instance, I can see at a
glance that Rap Molberg is five feet and seven-eighths inches tall--or
as it appears in Bertillon--one meter, sixty-seven centimeters and six
millimeters."
"I don't believe I'll ever care to be a detective," Penny smiled.
"It's too much like studying the multiplication table!"
"Crime detection is a scientific profession----" Mr. Nichols began, but
Penny cut him short.
"Tell me, did Jerry Barrows come to interview you this morning?"
"No, and I very much fear we'll never see the young man. I made a
point of looking up his juvenile court record and find he has none."
"Then he must have given me a false name."
"I suspect he did, Penny."
"I guess it was silly of me to trust him. I didn't exactly believe his
story at the time, and yet he seemed like a rather decent sort too."
"I'd not worry about it any more," Mr. Nichols said kindly.
"I'm afraid I've just done another foolish thing too," Penny declared.
She then told him about the severed wheel rack.
"Why, I'd like to examine those pieces of metal," the detective said
with interest. "What did you do with them?"
"They're in the roadster. I parked the car in front of the office."
"Then I'll just go down and get them," Mr. Nichols decided. "I should
have inspected the car more carefully last night but I was in a hurry.
Wait here and I'll be back in a minute."
During her father's absence, Penny amused herself by looking through
some of the books on his desk. There were several weighty volumes
devoted to criminology and law. She found them dull and turned with
more interest to the photograph of Rap Molberg.
He had the appearance of a typical man from the underworld. His eyes
were hard and glaring; there were sullen, cruel lines about his mouth.
The only unusual mark of identification was a long jagged scar across
his left cheek.
In the outside office, a telephone rang. Penny heard Miss Arrow answer
the call. Apparently, the secretary was unaware that Mr. Nichols had
stepped from the office, for she said:
"Just a minute, please. I will connect you with him."
An instant later the telephone at Penny's elbow jangled.
She took the receiver from its hook intending to explain to the caller
that Mr. Nichols had left the office. Before she could speak, a cold,
precise masculine voice came to her over the wire.
"Just a little warning, Mr. Nichols!" the words clipped into her ear.
"Lay off the Molberg gang or else----"
Penny heard a receiver click. The wire had gone dead.