1.67.6 1.74.0 88.1 19.0 14-5HGT 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.
Penny signaled frantically for the operator's attention. It seemed minutes before the telephone girl responded mechanically: "Number please."
"I was disconnected with my party," Penny informed tensely. "See if you can trace the call. It is very important."
"Just a minute please."
There was another long wait, then the telephone operator informed Penny that the call could not be traced. It had been made from a pay station.
Mr. Nichols entered the office just as Penny hung up the phone.
"Anything wrong?" he asked quickly, noticing the expression on her face.
Penny repeated the warning message.
"Well, it looks as if I'm on the right trail," Mr. Nichols declared, not in the least disturbed. "I'd have preferred that the Molberg gang hadn't learned I was shadowing them, but such news travels fast through underground channels."
"I'm afraid some of those dreadful men may harm you," Penny said anxiously. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I am always careful, my dear, but I refuse to go around wearing a bullet proof vest. This isn't the first warning telephone call I've received."
"I suppose not," Penny sighed. "But I should think that if the members of the Molberg gang know you have been assigned to the case, it would be hard to secure evidence against them."
"It won't be easy," the detective agreed. "However, I flatter myself that I have a few trained investigators whose activities will never be suspected."
"You mean they mingle with underworld characters and try to gain their confidence?"
"Yes, that's the usual plan. When I locate Rap Molberg I'll have him constantly shadowed."
"I've never seen many of your assistants around the office," Penny remarked.
"Naturally not," Mr. Nichols smiled. "If they came here to report, every crook in Belton City would be aware of it within an hour."
"Then how do you keep in touch with your men?" Penny asked curiously.
"There are a few secrets which I must keep to myself. Aren't you taking a rather sudden interest in my work, Penny?"
"Perhaps I am. Since my car wheels were stolen I feel personally concerned in the case. I wish I could do something to help."
Mr. Nichols became grave. "There is nothing you can do, Penny. The last thing in the world that I could wish would be to have you involved in the case. In fact I've been worried for fear——"
"For fear of what?" Penny demanded as her father checked himself.
"I've been afraid that the Molberg gang might attempt to strike at me through you. Until this case is finished you must be very careful."
"I'll be careful, although even for you I refuse to go around wearing a bullet proof vest," Penny grinned, paraphrasing his previous words. "Anyway, it might be exciting to be kidnapped."
"If you talk like that I see I must assign someone to keep watch over you."
"It won't be necessary," Penny assured him hastily. "I promise to stop, look and listen before I make any rash moves."
As if to demonstrate, she tiptoed to the door, opened it cautiously, peered forth at Miss Arrow who was busy at her typewriter, and then with a casual "goodbye" flung over her shoulder, was gone.
The following week was an uneventful one in the Nichols household. As was usually the way when Mr. Nichols became involved in an important case, meals were served at odd hours and often the detective did not come home at all for lunch or dinner. Penny complained that she never saw her father. Certainly she heard very little concerning the work he was doing for the insurance company.
On a Wednesday afternoon she was in the back yard washing her roadster with the garden hose when Susan Altman came running up to relate a bit of news.
"Penny, the most wonderful thing has happened!"
"What?"
"I'm to have a car for my birthday present!"
"Not really!"
"Yes, I am. I've been saving money for two years, but I never made much headway. Father always thought I was too young to have a car too until this summer."
"What made him change his mind?"
"Mother, I guess. You see she has to have the family car a great deal, but nothing would induce her to drive it herself. I'm to have the new automobile as my very own providing I take Mother wherever she wishes to go."
"That should be an easy condition to meet," Penny smiled. "What kind of car are you going to get?"
"I don't know yet. I thought perhaps you'd help me select it."
"I'd love to. After running this old bus for nearly three years I consider myself quite an authority on cars."
"I can buy any low priced model I wish," Susan went on enthusiastically. "What color shall I get?"
"One that doesn't show the dirt," Penny advised promptly as she coiled up the hose and put it away. "It seems to me that I spend half my time trying to keep this animal of mine presentable."
"I thought I might like blue," Susan ventured. "I don't suppose you'd have time to go with me now and look at a few models, would you?"
"Of course I'll go! Wait until I change into more presentable clothes."
Penny darted into the house, returning in a few minutes.
"Where are you going to buy your car?" she questioned.
"Father told me to go to the Brunner garage on Second Street."
"I'll drive you there in the roadster," Penny offered.
At the Brunner salesrooms a few minutes later the girls were greeted by the manager, George Brunner. He was a tall, thin man with sharp black eyes. When he spoke to his employees his manner was overbearing and haughty, but in the presence of the two girls he beamed and smiled and hung upon their words. He talked glibly as he piloted them from one shiny new car to another.
Presently Susan found herself hypnotized by a blue coupé. After Mr. Brunner had taken the girls a ride in a similar model, she whispered to Penny that she thought she would buy the car.
"Why don't you look around at a few other places first," Penny suggested. "You might make a better deal."
"I'm afraid to wait for fear Father will change his mind. Besides, this is exactly the type of car I like."
Penny refrained from saying more, but she was sorry that her chum seemed determined to make such a hasty transaction. For some reason she had taken an instant dislike to George Brunner. Susan, however, noticed nothing amiss in his manner and listened spellbound as he talked glowingly of the little blue coupé.
"I think I'll take it," Susan decided hesitatingly. "Could I drive it away?"
"Certainly," the manager beamed, steering her gently toward the inner office. "Just step inside and we'll fill out the necessary papers."
Almost before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Susan had written a check in payment for the car and had signed the usual legal papers.
"Do you think I've made an awful mistake?" she asked Penny nervously while they sat waiting for the car to be serviced.
"It's a beautiful model, Susan. And if it operates even half as well as Mr. Brunner claimed, it should be a wonderful bargain."
"You didn't like that man very well, did you?"
"No," Penny responded shortly.
"The Brunner garage is supposed to be one of the best in Belton City."
"I know it is. I haven't a thing against Mr. Brunner except that I don't care for his manners."
The discussion ended for the manager had returned to announce that the new car was ready to leave the garage.
"I am sure you will find it perfectly satisfactory, Miss Altman," he beamed. "But in the event that anythingshouldgo wrong don't hesitate to call upon us."
"I'll remember that," Susan said.
With Penny beside her to offer advice, she drove the coupé from the garage. Turning out into Second Street she narrowly missed being struck by a truck which was traveling at a high rate of speed.
"Better get out into the country until you've had an opportunity to become accustomed to handling the car," Penny suggested.
"That's a good idea," Susan agreed. "I don't want to wreck the thing before I drive it home."
After an hour of straight driving on a deserted road, she became quite dexterous at operating the gears. When she felt entirely confident of her ability to handle the car in any emergency, the girls drove back into the city. They parted at the Brunner garage where Penny had left her own roadster.
"Thanks for helping me select the car," Susan told her chum gratefully.
"I didn't have much to do with it," Penny smiled. "But it's a fine looking automobile. I wish I had one half as nice."
"I'll let you drive mine whenever you like," Susan offered generously.
When Penny reached home it was nearly dinner time. Mrs. Gallup was busy in the immaculate green and white kitchen, frosting an angel food cake.
"Any mail for me this afternoon?" Penny inquired, pausing to scrape up a generous spoonful of fudge from the frosting pan.
"I declare, I've been too busy all day to even think of the mail."
"I'll look."
Penny went to the box at the front door. There were three letters. Two for Mr. Nichols and one for herself. The latter was addressed in pencil on a cheap yellow envelope.
"Wonder who it's from?" she thought with interest.
Quickly, she ripped open the envelope, glancing at the signature which had been signed at the bottom of the brief note.
"Jerry Barrows!" she exclaimed.
Eagerly she read the message.
"Sorry I couldn't keep the appointment with Mr. Nichols," the boy had written. "Tell your father to be on guard. His life is in danger."
Mr. Nichols did not have a great deal to say regarding the note which Penny read to him later that evening at the dinner table.
"Don't let it worry you," he advised. "Just put it away for future reference and forget about it."
"Future reference?"
"Yes, it's always wise to keep such communications. One never knows when a sample of handwriting might prove useful."
"I'm sure Jerry Barrows must have some good qualities or he'd never have sent the message. Don't you think so, Dad?"
"Perhaps. It's obvious the boy was afraid to talk with me."
"But why should he warn you that your life is in danger? Do you think he could know anything concerning the Molberg gang?"
"It isn't likely, but he may have some underworld connection."
"I'm getting more nervous every day," Penny declared. "I'll never feel very easy until all the members of that gang are captured."
"It may be a more difficult task than I at first believed," her father remarked, frowning. "I know that Rap Molberg is hiding somewhere in the city but so far none of my investigators have been able to trace him."
"Perhaps he's through causing trouble," Penny said hopefully.
"He'll make enough when the time comes."
"I've not heard of any automobile thefts or anything of the sort for several days."
"That's just it. Things have been altogether too quiet. It's like a lull before the storm. A bad sign."
Mr. Nichols abruptly left the table. He walked to the door, then came back.
"I must go downtown again this evening, Penny," he said regretfully. "I'll leave the telephone number of my new office in the event you should need to reach me. It isn't listed in the 'phone book,' of course."
"Your new office?" Penny demanded. "What became of your old one, may I ask?"
"It's still there," Mr. Nichols smiled. "Miss Arrow has assumed charge, and I've taken up temporary quarters on the tenth floor of the Atler building."
"Isn't that almost directly across from the Brunner garage?"
"Yes, it's located in the downtown theater district. The bulk of the auto accessory thefts have taken place in this relatively small area. From the window of my new office I secure a bird's eye view of all that goes on in nearby streets."
"Surely you don't expect to catch the thieves in the act of stealing automobile wheels!" Penny marveled.
"It will be the surest way of gaining a conviction. If a professional crook isn't captured at the scene of his crime, he usually is clever enough to cover his tracks completely. An amateur is seldom so skillful in obliterating clues."
"May I visit this new office of yours?" Penny asked.
"Yes, if you use discretion and don't come too often. I have taken the office under an assumed name—John Bradford. I shouldn't care to have my real name known for awhile."
"I'll be very discreet if I come," Penny promised.
Her father turned to leave.
"It must be dull for you here alone at night," he said apologetically. "Why don't you take Susan to a picture show?"
"I think I'll do that," Penny agreed.
After Mr. Nichols had left the house, she telephoned Susan. Mrs. Altman answered the call, informing her that her daughter was spending the evening at the home of an aunt.
"I may as well go to the show alone," Penny decided.
One of her favorite movie stars was showing at a neighborhood theater only a few blocks from the Nichols home. Penny walked the short distance. She thoroughly enjoyed the picture, remaining to see part of it twice. It was a little after nine o'clock when she left the theater.
Recalling that Mrs. Gallup had requested her to bring home a pint of ice cream, she crossed the street to the nearest drug store.
While she was waiting to be served, a man in grimy workman's clothes slouched into the store. He pretended to interest himself in a cigarette slot machine, but Penny noticed that he darted furtive glances at the waiting customers.
Something about the man's appearance struck Penny as peculiar. She conceded that he looked like a day laborer yet his actions and mannerisms were not in keeping.
"I've seen him before," she thought.
Suddenly the picture of Rap Molberg flashed into her mind. Yet as she scrutinized the man a second time she could see only a slight resemblance to the photo her father had shown her.
However, as the man moved swiftly to the nearest telephone booth, suspicion began to take root. In identifying underworld characters, photographs were never a certain guide, that Penny knew. Too often a criminal disguised his appearance. Not by false wigs and beards which even a novice detective might note at a glance. Rather by altering his features or by adopting costumes commonly seen upon the street.
Impulsively, Penny stepped into a telephone booth adjoining the one which the workman had entered. By leaning close to the wooden panel, she could hear part of the conversation.
"That you, Jake?" he asked gruffly. "Everything's set for the big haul. We're all ready to go ahead whenever the boss gives the word."
By this time Penny was almost certain that she was listening to the voice of Rap Molberg. Although in general the man did not resemble the photo which she had seen, the color of his eyes and the expression of his mouth were identical. His build seemed to correspond to the figures of the Bertillon record.
A minute later the man slammed down the telephone receiver and left the booth. Penny waited until he was out of the store, then dropped a nickle in the slot. She called the number which her father had given her. There was no response at the other end of the line.
"I suppose he's left the office," she thought frantically. "Oh, I can't let that man get away."
She rushed from the drug store and reached the street just in time to see the workman disappear around a corner.
"I wonder if I dare attempt to shadow him?" Penny debated.
She was a little afraid, yet the streets in the immediate vicinity of the theater were well lighted, and it did not seem too dangerous.
Turning the corner, she caught sight of the man far ahead. He was walking rapidly. She too quickened her step, but took care not to approach close enough to arouse his suspicion.
Presently the man paused beside a fine looking automobile which had been parked at the curbing. As he glanced sharply up and down the street, Penny pretended to be looking into the window of a jewelry store. Actually, she was watching the man's reflection in the glass.
She saw him step into the car, take a key from his pocket and turn on the ignition. As he drove away, Penny quickly noted down the license number.
She glanced hopefully up the street but there was no policeman within sight. A taxi cab driver noticing her agitated expression, cruised close to the curb. Penny hailed him.
"Follow that green car ahead," she directed tersely, climbing in. "Don't let it get out of your sight."
At the first corner they were held up by a light which was changing from caution yellow to red. Risking arrest, the taxi driver crashed it.
The green car ahead had picked up speed. It weaved in and out of traffic in a dangerous manner, driven by a man who was both skillful and reckless.
The pursuit led into the hilly, crooked streets upon which the older section of Belton City had been built. As they raced down first one narrow street and then another, turning corners at a breathless speed, Penny suspected that the man had become aware that he was being followed. Her driver had increasing difficulty in keeping him in sight.
"The right hand turn!" Penny cried as the taxi-man hesitated at an intersection.
They tore down a dark, twisting street at a break-neck speed. Suddenly the driver slammed on his brakes. The thoroughfare had come to an abrupt end.
"It's a dead-end," the taximan said in disgust, turning the cab around. "He couldn't have come this way."
"I'm sure he did," Penny insisted.
The street was short and she could see its entire length. The green car had vanished.
There were no houses or garages into which the automobile might have turned. On either side of the street stood factory and manufacturing buildings.
"Shall I try another road?" the driver questioned.
"It's no use now. I guess we've lost him. But I was positive that man came this way. I don't see how I lost him."
She gave her home address to the driver, and sank back against the cushions, completely disgusted with the turn of events.
As Penny alighted at her own door, she cast a speculative glance toward the lighted window. If her father had not returned, Mrs. Gallup was almost certain to ask embarrassing questions concerning her arrival in a taxicab.
"And I forgot the ice cream too!" she thought. "I'll have a nice time explaining."
However, it was not necessary to give an account of her activities. Mrs. Gallup met her at the door.
"You came just in time, Penny. You're wanted on the telephone."
"It isn't Father?"
"No," the housekeeper assured her, "I think it's your chum."
"Susan?"
"Yes." Mrs. Gallup pushed her gently toward the telephone. "The girl seems to be greatly excited over something. Do hurry and answer for she's been waiting several minutes now."
When Penny answered the telephone she heard her chum's agitated voice.
"I know I shouldn't bother you so late in the evening," Susan began excitedly, "but I've had the worst luck with my new car!"
"You haven't been in a collision?"
"No, it isn't quite that bad. But I'm stranded on Eighth Avenue and I can't reach my folks by telephone."
"I'll drive over and get you," Penny offered. "What's the matter anyway? Has the engine balked already?"
"The car has been stripped by thieves! I'm so furious I can't even talk about it."
"I'll come right over and see for myself," Penny declared.
Pausing only long enough to tell Mrs. Gallup where she was going, Penny backed her roadster from the garage. She located Susan not far from Eighth Avenue and Clark, sitting gloomily behind the wheel of her new coupé.
As Penny drove up she saw that the spare wheel was missing. A spotlight was gone and likewise a reflecting mirror.
"The thieves very obligingly left me the steering wheel," Susan greeted her friend. "When a person can't park fifteen minutes without having everything stolen, I think it's time for the police to get busy!"
"How did you happen to be parked downtown?" Penny inquired. "Your mother said you had gone to visit an aunt."
"I did, but on the way home I stopped at the "Y" for a swim. I should have left the car on a lot but I thought I'd save the quarter. Now witness the result!"
"You still have four tires," Penny pointed out. "That's more than they left me."
"Yes, but they've done something to the engine. It won't start. That's why I called you."
Penny lifted the hood to look at the motor. Susan peered anxiously over her shoulder.
"Can you tell what's wrong?"
"It looks to me as if some of the vital parts are missing. Offhand I'd say it was the generator."
"What's a generator?" Susan asked blankly. "Are they very expensive?"
"I don't know but I imagine they are. Isn't your car covered by insurance, Susan?"
"No, it isn't. We intended to take it out but we didn't think a few days' delay would make any difference."
"Thieves seem to favor new cars."
"I realize that now," Susan said ruefully. "You know, I noticed a rather queer thing as I came out of the "Y." A garage service car was standing beside my coupé. It drove away as I came toward it."'
"A service car?" Penny demanded alertly. "Did you see what garage it was from?"
"No, I didn't. In fact, I scarcely paid any attention at the time for it wasn't until I had reached my car that I realized it had been stripped."
"You must have surprised the thieves in the act!" Penny said excitedly. "Undoubtedly, they are using the service truck as a front to escape detection."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, they drive up in the truck and pretend to be changing a tire or repairing the engine. Passersby notice nothing amiss."
"But what if the owner appears?"
"They drive away or if actually caught claim that they have made a mistake in identifying the car of a customer."
"The driver of the garage truck did act suspiciously," Susan admitted. "I was stupid not to jot down the license number."
The girls were talking so earnestly that they failed to note the approach of a policeman. He paused to see what was wrong.
"Wheel stolen?" he asked, surveying the car critically.
"The wheel, the generator, and almost everything detachable," Susan informed. "I was only gone a few minutes too."
"Have you reported to headquarters?"
Susan shook her head.
"What's the use?"
"You might recover your stolen property," the policeman said optimistically, taking a notebook from his pocket. "Your name and address?"
Susan gave it and furnished such information as she could regarding the theft.
"Your car wasn't the only one that was stripped in this neighborhood tonight," the officer told her. "Not fifteen minutes ago I ran into a similar case."
"I think it's time the police did something about it," Susan said somewhat crossly.
"We're up against a tough gang, Miss. Our force is small and we can't place a man on every street corner."
As the officer continued to make out his report, a girl came running toward the little group. She was about Penny's age, though much thinner. Her black hair blew in the wind, unrestrained by hat or beret.
"Oh, Father!" she cried in agitation.
The policeman turned quickly around.
"Why, Betty, what brings you here?" he questioned in surprise.
"I've been following you for two blocks," the girl said breathlessly. "I wanted to——"
Her voice trailed off. She had noticed Susan and Penny.
Slowly her eyes swept over the dismantled car, then they roved to her father with an expression which was akin to panic.
"What was it you wanted, Betty?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter now," she stammered. She added tensely: "Father, you're not making out a report!"
"Certainly, I am."
"Don't do it," the girl pleaded, gripping his arm. "You know what it may mean. Please, for my sake!"
Penny and Susan exchanged a quick glance. They were at a loss to understand the girl's strange attitude. Why should she be so troubled because her father was writing out a routine report of a theft?
To their relief, the policeman laughed carelessly and went on making out the report.
"You're hysterical, Betty," he accused. "Come, get a grip upon yourself."
"I'm sorry," the girl murmured, glancing nervously at Penny and Susan. "I shouldn't have made such a request."
"My daughter is very excitable," the officer said apologetically. "She didn't really mean what she said."
There was an awkward pause. Penny turned to the girl and questioned kindly:
"Haven't I seen you somewhere? Your face is familiar."
"I've watched you swim at the Y.W.C.A. pool. You dive beautifully too."
"Oh, I remember you now! But I don't know your name."
"I am Betty Davis. You've already met my father."
"Jerome Davis," the officer added. "Just a sidewalk pounder."
The girls smiled at the disparaging remark. Penny mentioned her own name.
"You're not related to Christopher Nichols?" the officer asked.
"Yes, I am his daughter."
"You don't say! Well, I am glad to make your acquaintance. Down at the station they think a lot of your father."
"He was on the force many years ago, I believe," Penny said politely.
"That was before my time, but I'm always hearing about him. He's solved some difficult cases that have baffled our best detectives."
Penny made a perfunctory response and the officer turned to his daughter.
"Betty, you shouldn't be out alone so late at night. You must go back home at once."
"If you live nearby I'll be glad to take you in my car," Penny offered.
"I shouldn't like to trouble you," the girl said hastily. "My home is only a few blocks away."
"It will be no trouble at all," Penny insisted, opening the door of her roadster. "Do let me give you a lift."
The girl flashed her father an appealing glance. It was obvious to both Penny and Susan that she was greatly upset about something, yet the officer appeared not to notice. He did not seem to realize that she wished to speak with him privately.
"It's very kind of you to take my daughter home, Miss Nichols," he said quietly. "Don't keep them waiting, Betty."
Reluctantly, the girl crowded into the seat beside Penny and Susan.
"I live at 1406 St. Clair Avenue," she informed briefly.
As they drove slowly along, Penny had an opportunity to study the girl. She was an odd type. Serious and certainly not talkative. When drawn into conversation, her answers were given in monosyllables.
"She's worrying over something," Penny thought.
The car halted before a modest brown cottage on St. Clair Avenue. Betty Davis alighted.
"Thank you so much for bringing me home," she told Penny gratefully. She hesitated, then added earnestly: "I know you thought it queer because I asked my father not to make that report."
"I'm sure you must have had a very good reason," Penny returned.
"I was overwrought or I shouldn't have made the request. You see, my father is in great danger!"
"I don't quite understand."
Already Betty Davis felt that she was revealing too much.
"I wish I could tell you about it—but I don't dare," she murmured.
With that she turned and ran into the house.
"Now just what did she mean by that remark?" Susan demanded of her chum as they saw Betty Davis disappear inside the cottage.
"I'm not a mind reader," Penny returned with a shrug. "The air seems to be filled with mysteries this evening."
She then told of her experience in shadowing the man whom she had believed to be Rap Molberg. Susan listened in amazement.
"You must have lost your senses, Penny Nichols! If you turn up missing some morning, it will be easy to guess the reason why!"
"Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do. But I thought if I could learn Rap Molberg's hideout it would be a big help to Dad. Investigators from the agency have been searching days for that man.
"You should leave the job to them then," Susan advised severely.
"I guess I will," Penny said ruefully. "At any rate, I failed at it."
After dropping Susan off at the Altman residence, she drove on to her own home. Mr. Nichols was nervously pacing the living room floor when Penny entered.
"I'm glad you're here," he said in relief. "Mrs. Gallup told me you had gone off after receiving a telephone call. I was afraid it might have been a frame-up."
"I went to meet Susan. Didn't Mrs. Gallup explain?"
"No, but it doesn't matter now. I shouldn't have worried only things have been popping in the city tonight."
"The tire theft gang is at work again?"
"Yes, they made a big haul. When the story gets out, the Nichols Detective Agency isn't going to appear in a very good light."
"You haven't been working long on the case, Dad."
"True, but to date the result of our investigation has been disappointing. This haul tonight has all the earmarks of Rap Molberg's hand, yet my men can find no trace of him in the city."
Penny could not restrain her news an instant longer. She half expected that her father would scold her for the taxicab escapade, but to her surprise he became mildly excited.
"Can you give me an accurate description of the man, Penny?"
"He was about five and a half feet in height and wore workman's clothes."
"Undoubtedly, a disguise," the detective interposed.
"His eyes were dark. The expression of his mouth was sullen. His teeth were uneven."
"Did you notice a scar on his cheek?"
"No."
"The mark isn't really significant, for Rap Molberg would be clever enough to hide it. Did you observe anything more?"
"He seemed extremely nervous. And the telephone conversation made me suspicious. Oh, yes, when he drove away I copied down the license number."
"Let me see it," Mr. Nichols said eagerly.
She handed it to him.
"Penny, you've done a fine piece of work," he praised.
"But I let him get away."
"You couldn't help that. This license number may make it possible for us to trace him. I'll telephone police headquarters right now and see if they know anything about the car."
He sought a telephone in an adjoining room. Penny lingered by his elbow while he made the call. After talking for some minutes, he hung up the receiver.
"I was afraid we might run into this, Penny. The license number which you noted down belongs to a stolen car."
"Then it won't be of any use to you."
"Probably not a great deal. But don't feel disappointed. It wasn't your fault that the man got away. He has eluded some very clever investigators."
"I had another queer experience when I went to meet Susan," Penny related. "Did you ever hear of a policeman by the name of Jerome Davis?"
"Yes, why?"
Briefly, Penny told of her meeting with the officer and his daughter.
"I can't comprehend why Betty tried to prevent her father from writing out a report of the theft, Dad. If such information leaked out it might cost him his position on the force."
"I can readily understand that," Mr. Nichols returned. "Jerome Davis is in a bad spot already."
"Just how do you mean?"
"In the first place, he has never stooped to play politics. Some of his superiors dislike him on that account, although until recently they never questioned his honesty."
"Has anything ever been proven against him?"
"No, but he has been subjected to severe criticism because so many auto accessory thefts have occurred in his district. The situation gives his enemies a fine opportunity to shoot at him."
"I suppose that explains why Betty didn't want him to report another theft. She was afraid it might cost him his job."
"That might be the reason."
"It won't be fair if they discharge him on account of something he can't prevent."
"Life isn't always fair, Penny."
"What do you think about Jerome Davis, Dad? Is it your opinion that he is honest?"
"Yes, I think he is." Mr. Nichols abruptly arose. "What you have told me is very interesting, Penny. I believe I'll call Davis to the house and have a talk with him. He should be off duty soon."
Telephoning the Davis home, the detective left a message that the policeman was to call back at his earliest convenience.
"It's too late to get him here tonight," Mr. Nichols remarked to his daughter. "If he does telephone I'll ask him to come to my office to-morrow."
"Then I won't hear what he has to say," Penny complained.
"I'm afraid you wouldn't anyway, my dear. Mr. Davis would never talk freely if you were present at the interview."
"I suppose not—if he knew it. But I might hide in the closet."
"That would be a trifle too theatrical for my taste, Penny."
The doorbell rang sharply. Mrs. Gallup came from another room to answer it. A moment later she returned to the study where Mr. Nichols and Penny were sitting.
"Mr. Davis to see you," she told the detective.
"Davis? Strange he didn't telephone before coming at such a late hour. But of course I'll see him."
Reluctantly, Penny arose.
"I suppose I'll have to go."
"No, wait. You really want to hear the interview?"
"I most certainly do."
"You've earned the right," Mr. Nichols smiled. "Sit over there in the high-back wing chair."
Deftly he turned it so that the tall back faced the door. As Penny sat down he placed a book in her hands and advised her to curl her feet up under her as she often did when she read. In such a position, she was completely screened from the gaze of the caller as he entered the room.
No sooner had Penny settled herself comfortably than Mrs. Gallup ushered the officer into the study. She then quietly withdrew.
"Have a chair," Mr. Nichols invited cordially. He offered one which would not reveal Penny's hiding place.
"My daughter told me you had telephoned," Jerome Davis began a trifle uneasily. "I thought I might as well walk on over and see you. I hope I didn't come too late."
"Not at all. I seldom retire before midnight. Davis, I suppose you wonder why I wanted to talk with you."
A grim look had come over the officer's face.
"I judge it's about the stolen wheel and generator. I met your daughter this evening."
"So she told me. However, what I really wanted to talk to you about was the Molberg gang."
The officer offered no response.
"I don't need to tell you that they are at the bottom of this recent outburst of thievery," the detective went on, eyeing his caller shrewdly. "Unless they're captured soon, you'll be in a bad spot, Davis."
"I'm in one now. I've always tried to be honest and do my duty as I saw it. Because of that I'll probably end up without a job."
"Not if you team along with me and help me to capture this gang. I'll say frankly that since I took this case for the insurance company, I haven't had much cooperation from the police."
"I'll be glad to help you all I can, Mr. Nichols. But I must act cautiously."
"You mean for fear of antagonizing your superiors?"
"Yes, that's the chief reason," Jerome Davis admitted hesitatingly.
"Have you another?" Mr. Nichols probed.
"It's this way," the officer informed, growing confidential. "The commissioner seems to think that I've sold out to Rap Molberg. At least he appears to suspect that I serve as a stool pigeon for the gang, and tip them off as to the best time to pull a job. I've been demoted twice. A self-respecting man would have resigned long ago."
"Unless he wanted to prove the truth," Mr. Nichols suggested softly.
"That's it," the officer agreed. "I mean to hang on until I'm fired from the force. I've been unlucky because so many jobs have been pulled in my district. I'm working on the case when I'm off duty and one of these days I may get a break."
"You spoke of working cautiously. Are you afraid to have your superiors know what you are about?"
"Not exactly. You see, Mr. Nichols, lately I've been running down a few tips regarding the whereabouts of Rap Molberg. Some of his henchmen have given me a polite warning to mind my own affairs. Their threats have terrified my daughter, and my son, Jimmie."
"Then you don't feel that you can push the search?" the detective inquired pointedly.
"I intend to go on just as I have," Jerome Davis maintained firmly. "I expect to do everything in my power to capture Rap Molberg!"
"Good!" Mr. Nichols exclaimed. "I am satisfied that you are the sort of man I can use. If you will work secretly with my investigators, I am confident we shall produce results."
"I'll be glad to cooperate in every way I can," the officer promised.
They shook hands to seal the agreement. Jerome Davis turned to leave.
"Thank you for coming here tonight," the detective said as he escorted the officer to the door. "You will receive instructions from me within a short while. A day or two at the latest."
After the door had closed behind the caller, Penny arose from her chair.
"Did you enjoy the interview?" her father asked, smiling.
"It was vastly exciting! I thought surely I'd be seen."
"Mr. Davis was too engrossed in our talk to be very observing."
"I don't wonder that Betty Davis worries about her father. I heard him say that he had been threatened by the Molberg gang."
"Yes, Davis is in an awkward situation. However, he seems to be a man of courage. I can use him."
"I'll be glad when you're through with this case," Penny sighed. "I'm worried sick for fear something may happen to you. All these threats——"
"Forget them," Mr. Nichols advised. "I've received plenty of them before this and I'm still alive."
"But Rap Molberg——"
"Forget him too," the detective smiled. "Unless you do, I'll be sorry I ever told you about the case. Run along to bed now—and pleasant dreams."
"Nightmares to you!" Penny retorted.
She slowly mounted the stairs and disappeared into her own room.