Chapter XIII: 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!"