by Joan Clark
CHAPTER IX
The Robbery
The girls hastily jerked the velvet curtains over the painting andclosed the secret panel. When the maid entered the room a moment laterthey were gazing with rapt interest at the picture which served todisguise the Rembrandt.
"We must be going," Penny said casually for the benefit of the servant."Thank you for permitting us to see the canvas."
Now that she and Amy had viewed Mrs. Dillon's purchase they were eagerto leave the house before their identity was discovered.
"I'll tell Mrs. Dillon you were here," the maid said, escorting thegirls to the front door. "I don't believe you mentioned your names."
Penny and Amy pretended not to hear. They went out the door before theservant could question them further.
Safe on the street, the girls congratulated themselves upon the successof their scheme.
"Mrs. Dillon is almost certain to learn what we did," Amy declareduneasily.
"Oh, she'll hear about it all right when she comes home," Penny agreed,"but she'll have no idea who called."
"The maid may describe us."
"Possibly, but you're safe, for Mrs. Dillon never met you, did she?"
"No, I doubt that I would even recognize the woman if I met her on thestreet. I've seen her pictures in the paper though."
"Even if Mrs. Dillon suspects that I came to her house she won't besure I saw the Rembrandt," Penny commented thoughtfully. "She has nosuspicion that I know about the picture."
"What will you do now that you know it's a fake?" Amy questioned.
"I haven't decided yet. I'd like to find out where Mrs. Dillon boughtthe painting--that might give us a clue as to the real thief. Butbefore I question her I think perhaps I should talk the matter overwith Father."
"I imagine it would be wise," Amy agreed.
The girls were passing a restaurant and Penny suddenly remembered thatneither of them had lunched. At her suggestion they entered and satdown at a table for two near the front window.
"Hanley Cron has his studio in that building across the street," Amyremarked as they waited for the waitress to serve them.
"Does he really?" Penny asked with interest. "Do you know Mr. Cronpersonally."
"Oh, no, only by sight. And the less I see of him from now on thebetter I shall like it!"
"I don't blame you, Amy. He didn't give you a fair deal in the contestat all. I dislike the man myself."
"I suppose I shouldn't take the competition so seriously. I admit Iwas terribly disappointed. It wasn't just the money--although goodnessknows I need it."
"Everyone said your statue should have won."
"Oh, well, it's no use thinking about it now," Amy smiled. "I don'teven dare go back to the museum to get the Black Imp."
"I'll stop in for it if you wish."
"No, the authorities would never give it to you without asking a lot ofquestions. I'll just wait until the trouble blows over. It will besoon, don't you think?"
"I'm sure of it, Amy. It's ridiculous that you were ever charged withthe theft."
The girls finished their luncheon and Penny succeeded in capturing bothchecks. She was very glad of the opportunity for she suspected thather friend was low in funds. They emerged from the restaurant just asa large gray automobile pulled up to the curbing on the opposite sideof the street.
"It's Mrs. Dillon!" Penny exclaimed, pausing to stare. "She must belate for her appointment with Hanley Cron."
The woman who was garbed in an elaborate afternoon gown, alighted fromthe car. She held a beaded bag clutched tightly in her hand.
Mrs. Dillon spoke for a moment with her chauffeur, then walked towardthe building which housed Hanley Cron's studio.
Penny and Amy noticed a man in ragged clothing and with cap pulled lowover his eyes, who stood lounging in the doorway. He had been watchingMrs. Dillon narrowly. Suddenly, he moved forward, blocking her path.
Before either of the girls were aware of the man's intention, hesnatched the woman's purse and darted away, disappearing into thenearest alley.
"Help! Help!" Mrs. Dillon screamed frantically. "Police!"
With one accord, Penny and Amy ran across the street.
"My pearls!" Mrs. Dillon moaned. "They were in my handbag! I've losta fortune!"
Penny and Amy reached the entrance of the alley in time to see thethief stealthily climbing a fire escape.
"Quick! Maybe we can head him off!" Penny cried.
While Amy ran into the building to give the alarm, Penny daringlyascended the fire escape. She saw the man climb hastily through anopen window on the upper floor and disappear.
"If Amy guards the lower exits we'll capture him yet!" Penny thought.
Without stopping to consider that she might be endangering her life,the girl stepped through the open window. The room in which she foundherself was an artist's studio and apparently it was deserted.
Penny glanced quickly about. There was no sign of the thief. Shedarted across the room to the hall door. To her astonishment, it waslocked from the inside.
"May I ask what you are doing in my apartment?" a cold, masculine voicedemanded.
Penny whirled around to face Hanley Cron. He had entered the studiofrom an adjoining kitchenette.
"Oh, Mr. Cron, did you see him in here?" she gasped.
"Did I see whom?" the man asked with provoking calmness.
"A thief just entered your studio by means of the fire escape," Pennyinformed. "I saw him come in here."
Hanley Cron shook his head and a slight sneer played over his lips."No one has been in my studio during the past hour except yourself."
"But I'm positive I saw him. He entered through the open window."
"I've been in the studio all the time. As you see, the outside door islocked. The man couldn't have escaped."
Penny was baffled. Although several other windows opened off the fireescape, it was difficult to make herself believe that she had beenmistaken. However, a careful glance about the room assured her thatthe thief was not hiding there.
"Will you leave?" Cron asked impatiently. "Your story about a thiefrunning up the fire escape doesn't ring true. You probably used it asan excuse to get in here and spy!"
"You'll soon learn that it's the truth," Penny exclaimed with risinganger. "Just wait until your friend Mrs. Dillon arrives."
"What has she to do with it?"
"Her pearls were stolen. And it was partly your fault too, Mr. Cron,because you invited her to call at your studio on the way to the bank!You must have known she ran a great risk in carrying that necklaceunguarded."
"Are you meaning to imply--?"
"I'm not hinting anything," Penny returned shortly. She was provokedat herself for wasting to much time in idle talk. It had given thethief an opportunity to escape from the building.
She turned to go, but just then her attention was drawn to a smallstatue upon which Cron evidently had been working. His smock wassplattered with wet clay and the little figure which rested on a nearbypedestal had not yet fully dried.
As the girl's gaze wandered to the statue, Cron became slightlyconfused. Picking up a dark cloth from the floor he covered the massof clay, endeavoring to make the action appear casual.
Penny was not to be deceived. She instantly divined that the artcritic did not wish her to see his work. But she had caught a glimpseof the statue. She had seen enough to know that Hanley Cron was makinga copy of the Black Imp--Amy Coulter's entry in the Huddleson prizecontest!
