by Joan Clark
CHAPTER XVIII
Captured
The art critic rapped three times on the door. It opened instantly andclosed after him as he vanished inside.
After waiting a few minutes, Penny tiptoed back down the hall. Hersuspicions had been aroused and she was determined to learn what wasgoing on inside the room.
She paused at the door and listened again. She could hear voices butthis time it was impossible to catch even a word.
Penny moved on to the next door. She gently turned the knob. The doorwas locked. So were all the others along the corridor until she cameto the last one.
To Penny's surprise, it opened. Cautiously, she peeped inside. Theroom appeared to be empty. She entered.
It was only a small office, empty of furniture. A few papers werescattered over the bare floor, but upon examination Penny found them ofno significance. It was clear that if she were to learn anything ofvalue, she must find a means of entering the room where Hanley Cron,the ex-museum worker and the others were talking.
An inside door opened into an adjoining room. Penny was elated to findit unlocked. But her satisfaction was of short duration, for the nextoffice likewise was empty and devoid of any clues.
By placing her ear against the north wall, she was able to hear thethree men talking. It was provoking to be so close and yet unable tolearn what they were saying. She felt convinced that if only she couldhear their conversation, a great many puzzling matters might be clearedup.
Presently, Penny heard a door slam. She peeped out into the hallway intime to see Cron, Hoges and another man disappearing down the stairway.
"The coast is clear now!" she thought. "If I can just find some way toenter that room while they're away!"
She made another tour of the hall, trying the door. As she hadanticipated it was locked.
Returning to the room she had just left, she went to the window andlooked out. A wide ledge of stone extended along the wall of thebuilding, connecting the windows. At best it offered a dangerousfooting. Yet Penny was tempted to try to reach the adjoining room bymeans of it, for there was no other way to gain admittance.
She raised the window and looked down. Her courage nearly failed her.While the ledge was wide, it meant a long fall and instant death shouldshe become dizzy and lose her balance.
"I can do it--easy," Penny told herself grimly.
Climbing out on the ledge, she clutched an overhanging telephone wirefor support and cautiously eased herself along, an inch at a time. Shekept her gaze ahead, resisting the temptation to glance toward thedeserted street.
She reached the next window which was open an inch at the bottom. Thegap provided a finger-hold and enabled her to raise the window. With asigh of intense relief, she dropped lightly to the floor.
She found herself in a large, studio room, well illuminated by two skylights. Obviously, several artists had been working there, for theplace was cluttered with easels, palettes, and discarded paintings. Anumber of pictures of uniform size stood in a little pile, facedownward.
Curiously, Penny lifted one to gaze at it.
"The stolen Rembrandt!" she gasped.
Then she knew better. It was only a copy, identical with the one shehad viewed at Mrs. Dillon's home.
She lifted the other pictures and looked at them. They were all thesame.
"So this is where Mrs. Dillon's fake came from!" she thought. "The menwho rented this place apparently are manufacturing Rembrandts inwholesale quantities!"
At the other side of the room she noticed a picture which was only halffinished, and beside it a canvas covered easel. She crossed over tolift the protecting cloth.
Still another Rembrandt was revealed.
"Just a copy," Penny told herself, and started to replace the canvas.
Then she looked at the picture again. It did not look exactly like theothers. The detail was the same, yet this painting seemed to have adepth and quality which the others lacked. Penny wondered if it couldbe the original Rembrandt, the priceless painting which had been stolenfrom the Gage Galleries.
"I believe it is!" she decided.
As Penny stood gazing at the picture, she was dismayed to hearfootsteps in the hallway. Frantically, she looked about for a hidingplace.
It was too late to escape through the window. The only refugeavailable was a clothes closet.
Penny darted inside and softly shut the door. Scarcely had shesecreted herself when three men entered the room. Peering out throughthe keyhole, she distinguished Cron, Hoges, and the man in gray whomshe had once followed to the Franklyn Street address. Apparently, themen had returned for something they had forgotten. Hanley Cronsearched in a table drawer.
"Say, who left that window open?" he demanded unexpectedly.
"I didn't," Hoges said.
"You can't blame me for it," the other man growled. "Probably youopened it yourself."
"I did not," Cron retorted. He crossed the room and slammed down thewindow. "Be careful about things like that. If we're not morecautious we'll have the cops on us."
"If you ask me, I think it's about time we blow," Hoges commented."This town is getting pretty hot for us."
"Maybe you're right," Cron muttered. "I had a disagreeable hour withthat simple minded Mrs. Dillon. She's still afraid to notify thepolice, but that Nichols girl has been talking with her, and she maymake us trouble."
"Christopher Nichols has been assigned to the jewel case too," Hogesadded. "He's no sloth when it comes to action!"
"Our game has just about played out," Cron agreed. "But I have onemore good customer lined up. I told him to come here at one-thirty tosee the picture."
"Maybe we could pull this last job," Hoges agreed. "Does he know muchabout painting?"
"Very little. We ought to nip him for three thousand at least."
Hoges glanced at his watch.
"If your customer is coming at one-thirty we'd better get the stageset."
"All right," Cron nodded. "Let's clean up the joint."
Uncovering the genuine Rembrandt, he took one of the copies, and deftlyinserted it in the picture frame behind the original painting, but insuch a manner that only the back of the canvas was visible. When theframe was replaced only a person with keen eyesight could detect thetrickery.
"We'll pull the usual gag about identifying the picture with asignature or a symbol," Cron muttered. "That always goes big."
By this time Penny had seen enough to understand how Mrs. Dillon andother gullible customers had been duped. They had been shown theoriginal stolen Rembrandt, but when invited to place an identifyingmark on the back of the canvas to insure that they received the samepicture, actually signed the fake copy. It was then a simple matter toremove the two paintings from the frame and send the customer theworthless one which bore his mark.
"Cron and his confederates have worked a fairly safe racket too," Pennythought. "Even if a customer learns he has been cheated, he's afraidto go to the police for fear he'll expose himself as a person willingto buy stolen property!"
She was not greatly surprised to learn that Cron was a party to thedishonest scheme, notwithstanding that Mrs. Dillon had denied the artcritic was the mysterious agent who had visited her. Now Penny knewthat the woman had not spoken the truth. Doubtlessly, she had fearedto accuse Cron, lest he in turn expose her to the police.
A knock sounded on the door. Cron and his confederates froze intotense attitudes, then relaxed.
"It must be our customer," Cron whispered. "Open the door."
As it swung back, Max Lynch stepped into the room. He smiled blandly.
"Hello, boys. You don't look as if you were expecting me."
"We weren't--exactly," Cron muttered. "What do you want, Max? Youknow I've warned you not to come here."
The gambler had been making a quick survey of the room. His eyes cameto rest on the Rembrandt. He smiled again, unpleasantly.
"Say, who are you anyway?" Hoges d
emanded angrily. "What business doyou have with us?"
"My business is with your pal, Hanley Cron. We're partners."
"Partners?" Hoges echoed, his eyes narrowing. He wheeled toward Cron."If you've been double crossing me----"
"Oh, calm down," Cron said sharply. "Lynch and I had a little privatebusiness together but it has nothing to do with the picture racket."
"I'm not so sure about that," the other retorted. "You've beencollecting all the money. Maybe you've stuck some of it into yourpocket."
"I didn't come here to start an argument," Lynch interposed. "But I'llnot stand for any monkey business either. Hand over the pearls, Cron!"
"I don't have them. I told you once that girl----"
"Yes, you've told me a good many things, Cron. But I happen to knowyou have the necklace. Hand it over or----"
The threat was left unsaid for at that unfortunate moment Penny felt anoverpowering impulse to sneeze. She buried her face in herhandkerchief but succeeded in only partially muffling the sound.
Immediately, the closet door was flung open and she was found coweringthere. Cron dragged her from her hiding place.
"So you've been listening!" he sneered.
"Yes," said Penny boldly. "And I've heard enough to confirm what I'vealways believed. You are the person who stole the Rembrandt from theGage Galleries! You're a cheap trickster who pawns himself off as agentleman!"
As she uttered the tirade, the girl made a quick dive for the door, butMax Lynch caught her by the arm and flung her back.
"Not so fast, Miss Nichols," he muttered. "This is once when you won'tgo tattling to the police or to that father of yours!"
The discovery of Penny hiding in the closet had brought an abrupt endto the quarrel. In the face of the new emergency, the four crooks laiddifferences aside to consider what must be done.
"Tie her up!" Cron ordered harshly.
Penny's arms and legs were securely bound with stout cord, a gag wasdrawn over her mouth, and she was unceremoniously thrown back into thecloset. But she could still hear the men talking.
"This changes all our plans," Cron said. "If this girl knew enough tofollow us here, the police may soon be on our trail. We must get outof town."
"Not without dividing on that necklace job we planned together," Lynchinterposed angrily. "You'll never leave town until you cough up."
Hoges and his unnamed companion were regarding Cron with open suspicion.
"You've been holding out on us," they accused the art critic.
Cron realized that he had placed himself in an awkward position.
"All right, I'll admit I have the pearl necklace," he said shortly."We'll split four ways, and then no one can kick."
Max Lynch did not like the decision, but after grumbling a little, heunwillingly agreed.
"Now let's get out of here!" Cron urged nervously. "The necklace is atmy room. We'll have to go there."
"What about the Rembrandt?" Hoges asked, turning to look at it.
"Take my advice and leave it behind," Lynch spoke up. "That picture isas hot as a rivet. It's a bulky thing to tote around the country asluggage too."
"How about the girl?" Hoges demanded.
Cron hesitated only a fraction of an instant. "Leave her in thecloset."
"Maybe she won't be found very soon," Lynch remarked.
"That's her hard luck," Cron retorted. "We have to look out forourselves."
"Okay," Lynch agreed indifferently. "Let's go."
The men hastily gathered up a few possessions which if left behindmight serve to identify them. Then they went out the door, locking itafter them.
Penny heard the key turn in the lock, and her heart sank. With a gagover her mouth, she could not even call for help. She was indeed in adesperate plight.
