As a dark colored cab stopped in front of the Nichols residence, Penny ran to the curbing before the driver could alight.
"You were sent here to take me to my father?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss."
The driver kept his head lowered so that Penny could not see his face clearly, but she was too troubled to notice anything wrong.
"Is Father badly hurt?" she questioned anxiously.
"I can't tell you, Miss. I was only told to come here for you."
The driver opened the door, and Penny stepped into the car. They sped away.
Presently Penny noticed that the taxi man seemed to be avoiding the main streets of the city. She thought little of it until she chanced to catch a glimpse of the driver's face in the mirror. She had never viewed such a hardened countenance. The man appeared to be watching her every move. It gave her a sudden chill.
"Where is my father?" she questioned abruptly.
"At a house out in the country," the driver returned gruffly.
"I didn't even know that he had left the city," Penny said suspiciously. "Tell me, how was he injured?"
"I don't know any of the details. You'll have to wait until you get there."
Penny leaned back against the cushions, to all appearances, reassured. Actually, she was terrified. The conviction was steadily growing in her mind that she had been the victim of treachery. She was almost certain that she was being kidnapped. How decidedly stupid she had been to walk into such a trap!
Penny felt actually sick as she considered the possible consequence of falling into the hands of the Molberg gang. It was not for herself that she feared but for her father. She knew him well enough to realize that he would sacrifice everything to be assured of her safety.
"If I let on that I suspect something is wrong it will only put the driver on his guard," she thought. "My best chance is to act innocent and watch for an opportunity to jump out of the car."
Already they were speeding along a dark, country road. On either side, the highway was lined with tall maples and oak trees. Houses were few and far between.
Penny tried to make careful mental note of the route they were taking from the city. It was difficult to distinguish objects for they were traveling rapidly.
As they turned into a bumpy, winding narrow road which led up a steep hill, Penny's uneasiness increased. From the manner in which the driver surveyed the roadside, she guessed that the wild ride was nearly ended.
"It's now or never," she told herself grimly.
The car had slowed down for the hill. Watching her chance, Penny made a sudden dive for the door. It was locked.
She located the catch, but not until the driver had managed to halt the car. With an enraged snarl he caught her roughly by the arm just as she flung open the door.
Penny wriggled from his grasp and started to run down the road.
"Stop or I'll shoot!" the driver shouted furiously.
Penny paid no heed. She raced as fast as she could go down the hill.
The driver, an agile man despite his heavy build, took up the pursuit. Penny could hear his feet pounding on the hard road behind her. He was gaining.
Her breath began to come with increasing difficulty. She could run no faster.
At the foot of the hill Penny noticed an automobile without headlights. She was sure it had not been parked there a few minutes earlier when the cab had passed. Had some of Rap Molberg's men followed the taxi? In that event, she was running straight into another trap.
Penny had no choice but to continue toward the waiting automobile. But as three men sprang from behind it with drawn revolvers, her heart sank within her. Her brave attempt at escape must end in failure.
A stone lay in the road. Penny did not see it. She stumbled, and, completely exhausted, fell face downward into the dirt.
"Stay where you are!" a cool voice ordered. "Don't move!"
She remained as she was, prone upon the ground. A revolver barked. There was a flash of fire dangerously close by. An answering bullet from the opposite direction whizzed over her head.
The three men moved cautiously up the hill. They had their quarry covered.
"Drop your gun!" came the sharp order.
The taxi driver mutely obeyed. As handcuffs were snapped over his wrists, Penny hurried forward to view her rescuers. One of the men she instantly recognized as a detective employed by her father; the other two she had never before seen.
"How did you get here?" she gasped.
"We've been trailing you all day," the investigator explained as he deftly searched his prisoner for concealed weapons. "The entire week for that matter. Your father's orders."
"You mean he's had me shadowed?" Penny demanded indignantly.
"Mr. Nichols was afraid something like this might be attempted."
"I guess it was lucky for me that I was trailed," Penny acknowledged gratefully. "Otherwise, I'd have been kidnapped."
She watched as the prisoner was led to the waiting car.
"Do you know who he is?" she asked a detective.
"Looks like Angel Face Myers, one of Molberg's boys. Can't be sure 'till we've mugged and finger-printed him at the station."
The three men from the Nichols Agency plied the prisoner with sharp questions. He maintained a sullen silence.
"I'd guess he was taking Miss Nichols to that abandoned house at the top of the hill," one of the detectives surmised shrewdly. "I'll stay here and guard the prisoner while you fellows investigate the place. Don't let anyone get away from you."
The other two detectives disappeared into the darkness. Twenty minutes later they returned to report that they had found no one at the old house, although there was evidence of a hurried departure. The shots previously fired by the detectives had served as a warning.
Riding back to the city with the handcuffed prisoner, Penny wondered how faithfully her father's investigators had followed her movements of the evening. Had they noted her call at the Davis home or the visit she and Susan had paid to the Hamilton building?
"I suppose I've been trailed everywhere to-night," she ventured conversationally.
"You almost gave us the slip," one of the detectives told her with a smile. "In fact, you did for awhile."
"When was that?"
"Right after you left the library."
"You turned off somewhere and we lost you for a time. Didn't locate you again until you turned up at your own home."
Penny was relieved. The detectives could not possibly be aware of the secret entrance into the Hamilton Plant. She would still be the first to report the discovery to her father.
The detectives dropped Penny at her own home after explaining that it might be necessary for her to appear in court later on to identify the prisoner.
"I'll be very glad to do it," Penny promised.
As she ran up the front steps the door was flung open and Mrs. Gallup rushed out to meet her. She flung her arms about the girl.
"Penny!" she cried tremulously. "How thankful I am that you are safe! Your father came home fifteen minutes ago. Then we knew that the telephone call was a fake."
"Where is Dad now?"
"He started for the police station."
"Then I guess he'll learn the truth in a few minutes if he's still there."
"Tell me what happened, Penny."
In the midst of the tale, a car was heard on the driveway, and a minute later Mr. Nichols entered the house. Although he was never inclined to be demonstrative, the detective clasped his daughter in his arms and Penny noticed that his hands trembled slightly.
"I've just heard the entire story at the police station," he told her. "You gave me a terrific scare, Penny."
"I gave myself one, too. If it hadn't been for your men who shadowed me, I'm afraid I'd never have returned to tell the tale."
"I doubt that the gangsters would have actually harmed you, but they would have used you as a weapon to strike back at me. I am sorry about having you trailed, Penny, but you understand my position. I was afraid of this very thing."
"It's all right," Penny smiled. "Only your men aren't so clever at keeping me in sight. I unintentionally gave them the slip earlier in the evening."
Mrs. Gallup had gone to the kitchen to prepare sandwiches and an iced drink. Taking advantage of her absence, Penny gave a detailed report of her visit to the Hamilton Plant. At first her father listened almost incredulously.
"It sounds fantastic, Penny. And yet, it's just the sort of trickery which would appeal to Rap Molberg. You say the door is operated by means of a photo-electric cell?"
"That's what I think. At least when the beam of my light struck a certain spot on the wall, the door opened."
Mr. Nichols arose and paced rapidly back and forth across the floor.
"I'm going to take you into my confidence, Penny," he said quietly. "For days my men have been circling in on Rap and his gang. We've located one of their hideouts, and we're raiding the place tomorrow night. It now seems advisable to surround the Hamilton building simultaneously. Then there will be no chance that any of the crooks can use the underground ramp to make a get-away."
"Will the police make the raid?" Penny inquired curiously.
"Yes and no. So far I have taken only one man into my confidence."
"And who is that?"
"Jerome Davis."
"I was at his house this evening," Penny announced. "A threatening note was thrown through the window while I was there."
She repeated the contents of the message.
"No doubt it came from the Molberg gang," her father said. "They are doing everything in their power to intimidate Jerome Davis. But I believe he is a man who can be trusted. Tomorrow night at eleven o'clock he will be ready with a picked group of policemen. No one but himself will know any of the details of the raid until it is actually on. In that way there will be almost no danger of the information leaking out."
"Where is this other hideout which is to be raided?"
"I can't tell you that. It isn't that I don't trust you, but sometimes an unguarded word will destroy the work of weeks."
"I guess it's just as well I don't know too much about it ahead of time," Penny agreed.
The conversation was checked as Mrs. Gallup came from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and a tall pitcher of fruit juice. For a time Penny and her father confined their talk to less vital subjects. But when the housekeeper had gone from the room again, Mr. Nichols took up the matter where it had been dropped.
"If my raids tomorrow night are successful, it will end the case. We may need you, Penny, to show the officers how to get into the Hamilton building."
"I'd like to help," she assured him eagerly.
"Good," Mr. Nichols said warmly as he picked up the evening paper. "Until the appointed hour, don't go near the Plant. And mind, not a word of this to anyone."
At exactly ten minutes to eleven on the following night, eight police cars rolled swiftly down the boulevard. In a congested portion of the city they drew up to the curbing, waiting for Christopher Nichols who rode with his daughter in a dark sedan.
Jerome Davis, in charge of the raid, came over to speak to the detective.
"Everything is all set, Mr. Nichols. We have the entire neighborhood bottled up. Every alley and street guarded."
"Good. And the Hamilton building?"
"It is surrounded. At exactly eleven my men will raid both places. It's a cinch we'll get Rap Molberg and his gang this time."
"You're certain no hint of the raid has leaked out?"
Jerome Davis laughed confidently.
"Even now my men aren't sure what's coming off. This raid can't fail, Mr. Nichols. We had a straight tip where Molberg could be found and we'll get him!"
"Then go ahead exactly as we planned," Mr. Nichols directed. "On to the Blind Pig Café!"
Jerome Davis returned to the waiting cars, relaying the detective's orders. In single file the police automobiles moved forward. They rounded a corner and bore down upon a brightly illuminated restaurant.
With a start Penny recognized it as the same place where she had met Betty Davis the previous evening.
"What a coincidence!" she thought. "How embarrassing it would be for Mr. Davis if his son should be found in there tonight!"
The appearance of the first officer in the doorway of the Blind Pig was sufficient to give warning that a raid was under way. The few persons who were dining inside made wild dashes for the doors and windows. They were quickly captured by officers stationed at all the exits. Although the room lights had been snapped out, no shots were fired.
"Something is wrong!" Mr. Nichols exclaimed, abruptly leaving the sedan from which he had been watching. "It looks to me like a tip-off."
A few minutes after her father had disappeared into the café, Penny saw the policemen load perhaps six or seven prisoners into the waiting cars. But it was apparent even to her that the raid had failed. The persons arrested obviously were not members of the Molberg gang.
Mr. Nichol's face was dark when he came back to the sedan. Without a word he started the engine and drove rapidly off.
"What happened?" Penny asked timidly.
"Oh, the usual," the detective snapped. "It was a tip-off. Only a few persons were in the café and the clubrooms to the rear were completely deserted. Not a scrap of evidence. We'll have to release all the prisoners."
"Where are we going now, Dad?"
"To the Hamilton Plant. There's just a chance that the raid there was more successful, though I doubt it."
"Who could have carried the information?" Penny inquired.
"I don't know. That's what bothers me. Penny, you're certain you never dropped a word of this?"
"Why, of course not!"
"I don't mean intentionally, of course. You're sure you never mentioned the raid to your friend Susan?"
"Absolutely not," Penny maintained indignantly. "For that matter, I didn't know the Blind Pig was the place you were raiding."
"That's true," Mr. Nichols acknowledged. "I didn't mean to offend you, Penny. I was only seeking information. I can't see how the news leaked out unless—"
"Unless what?" Penny probed.
"I'll not say it."
"You meant, unless Jerome Davis had betrayed his trust!"
"Well, yes, that was what I was thinking. This is the first occasion I've had to question his honesty. It may be I haven't given enough consideration to the stories which have circulated regarding Davis."
"You said you believed they were started by his political enemies."
"Yes, and I'm still inclined to think that, although the failure of this raid looks peculiar to say the least. I'll have to be more careful in my dealings with Davis."
"If the Molberg outfit didn't regard him as an enemy then why would they throw a warning note through the window?" Penny demanded.
"That could have been faked—it might have been a dodge to impress you."
"I don't see how it could have been, Dad. You see, I met Betty Davis quite by accident that evening. On the spur of the moment I accepted her invitation to stop a few minutes at the house. It was while I was there that the message was thrown through the window. It couldn't have been planned."
"Not very well," Mr. Nichols admitted. "Davis may be honest enough, but if I find he's a loose talker, his usefulness for me will be ended."
The sedan had reached the dead-end street which led to the vacant Hamilton Plant. An officer stepped out of the shadow to challenge Mr. Nichols, but recognizing him, saluted instead.
"What luck?" the detective asked.
"I can't tell you, sir. I've heard nothing since I was stationed here."
Penny and her father drove on between the rows of police cars which lined the narrow street. As they halted at the far end of the thoroughfare, an officer came to speak with them.
"Did you get into the building?" Mr. Nichols inquired tersely.
"Yes, your daughter's instructions were very clear. We had no trouble."
"What did you find?"
"Everything was exactly as Miss Nichols said. The place has been used by the Molberg outfit, that's clear. But there wasn't a sign of anyone, and the desk which Miss Nichols mentioned as being in the little office, was gone."
"Looks like they got wind of what was up, doesn't it?"
"That's the way I figure it," the officer returned. "Not much we can do except wreck the place so it can't be used again."
Mr. Nichols talked with several other policemen, and then, satisfied that he had learned all the details of the unsuccessful raid, took Penny home.
"I suppose this means we'll not be taking that vacation into the mountains very soon," she commented when they were alone in the living room.
"I'm afraid of it, Penny. Would you care to go by yourself?"
"No, I'd prefer to wait until you can go too. Besides, I've become deeply absorbed in this Molberg case."
"I've noticed that," her father smiled. "I never suspected that my own daughter had such hidden talents for sleuthing."
"Now you're teasing!" Penny accused.
"No, your discoveries have astonished me, Penny. Perhaps you were favored a little by luck, but you've unearthed information which even my most skilled investigators were unable to turn up."
"My clues didn't prove of much value after all."
"It wasn't your fault that they didn't. A detective must learn to expect disappointments."
"So it seems," Penny sighed. "Now that Rap Molberg escaped the police net, what will be your next move?"
"I don't know yet, Penny."
"Perhaps Rap Molberg will leave the city."
"I don't think there's much chance of that. He'll remain in hiding for a few days or weeks, then strike again. You must have a constant bodyguard, Penny."
"Oh, Dad! If you knew how I hated it! I couldn't feel that even my thoughts were my own!"
"Sorry, Penny, but it's for your own safety."
"Oh, all right, I submit," Penny grumbled good-naturedly. "Only if I must have someone tagging at my heels all the time, please make him tall and handsome!"
"I don't usually select my men for their beauty," Mr. Nichols smiled. "But I'll do the best I can for you."
Although Penny disliked the idea of being closely watched, actually a bodyguard was not as annoying as she had imagined it might be. Joe Franey, the detective assigned by Mr. Nichols to the service, was young and, while not handsome, distinguished in appearance. His bearing gave no hint of his professional calling. Penny found Joe very likeable. He never irritated her by making her aware of his presence—in fact, for hours at a time she never saw him at all—yet when she was on the street she was seldom out of his sight.
For the next few days, following Joe's assignment to his new duties, Penny and Susan slyly amused themselves by trying to see if they could outwit him. They led the detective a gay chase from one end of the city to another. They dropped into department stores, dodging in one door and out another, but when they were confident they had baffled Joe, they were very apt to see him watching them from a doorway across the street.
Or if they entered a theatre apparently unobserved by the faithful sleuth they were almost certain to see him only a few seats behind. But soon Joe became such a fixture in Penny's life that she accepted him without much thought.
True to Mr. Nichols' prediction, all remained quiet on the Rap Molberg front save that the unsuccessful raid had stirred up an aftermath of bitter criticism. The local newspapers provided considerable unfavorable publicity; editors ran scorching editorials blaming Mr. Nichols and the police for the failure to break up the Molberg gang.
Infuriated by the comments of the press, the police commissioner called both the detective and Jerome Davis to his office. Neither could explain the failure of the raid. It was obvious that someone had allowed information to leak and since only Mr. Nichols and a few policemen had known the details of the raid, suspicion tended to center upon Jerome Davis.
"It's only a matter of days until he'll be discharged from the force," Mr. Nichols told his daughter.
"Surely you don't think he'd be guilty of helping Rap Molberg?" Penny questioned.
"I don't know what to believe. Davis was called on the carpet yesterday and given an opportunity to explain a number of things. He wouldn't talk."
"But that doesn't prove necessarily that he's guilty, does it?"
"No, but he's acted strangely of late. The fact remains that someone let information leak either by accident or deliberately. Davis was in a bad spot before this. Now I'm afraid nothing can save his job."
"I feel so sorry for Betty," Penny murmured. "She'll take it hard if her father is discharged."
"You mustn't worry about it," Mr. Nichols advised kindly. "Davis had his chance to make good and seemingly failed. Now matters must take their own course."
"Couldn't you do anything to save his position, Dad?"
"I doubt it, Penny. At any rate, I shouldn't care to interfere ... for I'm not convinced that the commissioner isn't right. Davis is a queer type."
"Just the same I can't help feeling he's honest," Penny maintained firmly. "Couldn't there have been another reason for the failure of the raid?"
"Yes, but Davis was under suspicion before this. And since the raid he's been anything but cooperative."
"Then I suppose nothing can be done, but it seems a pity."
Penny did not speak of the matter again to her father but in secret she continued to mull over the unfortunate situation. She had developed a deep liking for Betty Davis, yet she readily acknowledged that in many ways the girl acted queerly.
"It's too much for me to figure out," Penny confessed to Susan one afternoon. "Everything seems to be such a hopeless contradiction. Betty lets on that she is desperately afraid her father will be harmed by Rap Molberg and yet the police claim that Mr. Davis is really abetting the criminals."
"Have you ever met her brother?"
"Jimmie?" Penny asked. "No, but from what she told me I suspect he's something of a problem."
"I haven't seen Betty in days," Susan remarked. "Why not call on her this afternoon?"
Penny hesitated an instant, then agreed. Considering her father's association with Mr. Davis she was not certain that the visit would be very tactful.
"We must be careful and not say anything that could offend her," she warned.
"Of course," Susan agreed. "Shall we drive over in my car?"
At the Davis cottage a few minutes later, they caught a glimpse of someone moving about on the upper floor. But when they rapped upon the door there was no response.
"I know I saw Betty looking out of an upstairs window just as we drove up," Susan whispered.
"Perhaps she doesn't care to see us then. Come on, Sue, let's not knock again."
They quietly withdrew to the car.
"Where to now?" Susan inquired as she snapped on the ignition.
"Oh, anywhere. I've nothing special to do this afternoon."
Susan stepped on the electric starter, but the engine refused to respond. She readjusted gasoline and spark levers to no avail.
"Stalled again!" she complained bitterly. "I never saw such a car! We've had nothing but trouble since we bought it."
"Perhaps it's only flooded," Penny suggested hopefully.
Susan shook her head.
"It's done this before. Nothing to do but call the garage. Anyway, Mr. Brunner promised he'd give the car a free overhaul, and this is his chance to make good."
The girls telephoned the Brunner garage from a drug store located directly across the street. They waited nearly half an hour before the blue service car arrived to tow them in.
"May I speak to Mr. Brunner?" Susan politely asked one of the garage employees.
"Sorry but he's busy," was the curt reply. "I'll handle any complaint you have to make."
Susan gave a somewhat lengthy account of her car troubles. The employee scarcely bothered to listen. When she had finished, he said briefly.
"I'll check the car over and have it ready in half an hour."
"Let's wait," Susan proposed.
They found chairs nearby. In fifteen minutes, the same employee returned to report that the car was ready.
"So soon?" Susan said in surprise. "Why, I'm sure you couldn't have checked over everything in such a short while."
"The car will start now. If you want a general overhaul you'll have to pay for it."
"But Mr. Brunner promised me when I bought the automobile that if anything went wrong he'd make it right!" Susan protested indignantly. "I've driven the car less than five hundred miles and it's almost falling apart! May I see Mr. Brunner?"
"He's in his office," the man informed reluctantly.
"And where is that?"
"Down the hall. The second door from the end."
Crossing through the deserted repair shop, the girls made their way down the dark hallway. The door which the employee had indicated stood slightly ajar.
As Penny and Susan drew near they heard angry voices.
"You can threaten me all you like, but I tell you I'm through! I'll never do any more work for you, Brunner!"
"You'll do exactly as I say or—" The manager abruptly broke off for he had noticed the two girls standing at the open door. "Come in, come in!" he beamed.
Penny's keen glance traveled beyond George Brunner to the person whom he had addressed in such an abusive tone.
It was Jerry Barrows.
Jerry Barrows had recognized Penny instantly. Before she could recover from her surprise at seeing him, he wheeled and left the office by a side door.
Involuntarily, Penny started to follow, but without appearing to do so intentionally, the manager neatly blocked her path.
"A disgruntled employee of mine," he announced blandly. "I've had a great deal of trouble with him. He's a fine workman but difficult to manage."
"What sort of work does he do?" Penny inquired alertly.
The manager was slightly taken aback at the question. He answered evasively:
"Oh, he runs my tow truck and does odd jobs about the garage."
"I've seen him before," Penny remarked. "But his name has slipped my mind. It's not Jerry Barrows is it?"
The manager scrutinized her intently for a moment. His eyes held a fleeting expression of annoyance and dislike.
"Now I'm sorry but I can't tell you his name," he said apologetically. "I don't know that I ever heard it, although it must be on our pay rolls. Of course, I remember very few of my employees by their names."
Penny and Susan exchanged a quick glance which the manager noted. They were both firmly convinced that Brunner knew the name but did not wish to reveal it.
"Since the boy is an employee of yours, probably I could get his name and address from the pay roll," Penny suggested pointedly.
Brunner hesitated, although only momentarily.
"Why certainly," he said genially. "I'll secure it for you myself. Drop in any time next week and I'll have it for you."
"Couldn't I get it today?" Penny persisted.
"I am afraid that is impossible," Brunner smiled a trifle coldly. "It is nearly time for me to leave the office now. Did you young ladies wish to see me about another matter?"
Susan recounted her many unpleasant experiences in regard to the newly purchased automobile. The manager listened politely but with increasing frigidity.
"You must have misunderstood me, Miss Altman," he said when she had finished. "We can't undertake to guarantee every car which leaves our shop. As a courtesy to our customers we do occasionally make a few minor repairs free of charge. We have found it impractical to go further than this."
"But in my case, the car has run less than five hundred miles!" Susan protested with growing anger. "It seems to me I'm entitled to service."
"You must see my repair man, Miss Altman. He adjusts all such matters."
"I have seen him, and I've had no satisfaction at all!"
"Then I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do for you."
"Your guarantee means nothing?"
"We stand behind our cars, Miss Altman, but you must have misunderstood my promise to service your new automobile free of charge."
"You said that at the end of five hundred miles my car would receive a complete overhaul!"
"But my dear young lady, you have just received this service."
"Your workman spent less than twenty minutes going over my car."
"Have you driven it since?"
"Well, no, I haven't," Susan admitted reluctantly.
"Then I know you will find everything satisfactory for our workmen are efficient. Good afternoon, Miss Altman."
The manager opened the door in pointed suggestion that the girls leave. Outside in the hall they gave vent to their pent up feelings.
"You were right, Penny," Susan declared angrily. "I should have bought my car at another garage!"
"I never did like that man," Penny added. "He's such a smooth talker, and yet down under he's mean and selfish. I wonder if Jerry Barrows actually does work for him?"
"He was threatening him when we surprised them in the office."
"I know, and it annoyed Brunner because we saw him talking with the boy at all. I am as sure as anything that he'll never give me his real name or address."
"That's why he suggested that you come back later for it," Susan agreed. "When you return he'll have some other excuse."
"I mean to go back and annoy him just the same. Doesn't it strike you as odd that Jerry would be working for him?"
"Well, perhaps a trifle," Susan said thoughtfully. "But it may be that he hired the boy without inquiring too carefully into his past."
"The fact remains that Brunner was threatening him," Penny pointed out. "It didn't appear to me that it was about any casual matter either."
The girls lowered their voices for they had come within earshot of a garageman who was working in the repair shop. Susan's car was nearby. After some difficulty she managed to start it, but the engine knocked as badly as before.
"I suppose there's nothing to do but take the car to another garage," Susan said irritably. "I'll never come here again. I know that."
"Let's go for a swim and drown our troubles," Penny suggested. "The Big Dipper will be open."
Since the day had been sultry, the proposal appealed to Susan. They stopped at their homes only long enough to get their bathing suits, and a few minutes later arrived at the picturesque outdoor pool.
Penny found several of her school friends performing at the diving board and soon they were all rounded up for a vigorous game of water polo. After a fierce battle which left everyone exhausted, Penny's side conquered the opponents. The girls sat down on the edge of the pool to rest.
"Isn't that Betty Davis over there under the beach umbrella?" Susan presently inquired, indicating a girl in a black bathing suit who sat alone.
"Why, it is!" Penny agreed. "Shall we go over and speak to her?"
"After the way she treated us this afternoon?"
"We can't be certain she was in the house when we called."
"I think she was," Susan maintained. "She doesn't care for our company, that's all."
"She seemed to like us well enough at first. Betty is the sensitive type, Sue. It may be that she's embarrassed on account of all her father's trouble. I believe I'll swim over and speak to her at any rate."
Penny arose from the side of the pool. Without having appeared to notice the action, Betty Davis hastily left the reclining chair under the umbrella and disappeared into the dressing room.
"I guess you're too late!" Susan laughed. "She saw you first."
Penny sat down again, a trifle nettled.
"You're right, Sue. She's deliberately avoiding us."
"She's a queer sort anyway," Susan said indifferently. "Let's ignore her from now on."
Penny gazed thoughtfully toward the dressing room door.
"There must be some reason for the way she's acting, Sue. I have a notion to corner her in the dressing room so that she'll have to say something to me."
"You're inviting a snub if you do. Forget her, Penny! Come on, I'll race you to the end of the pool!"
She plunged in and Penny reluctantly followed. They swam two lengths and then dived a few times from the high board.
"Oh, let's go home," Penny proposed presently. "I've had enough."
They stood for a few minutes under the cold shower, then entered the dressing room. To their surprise they observed a group of excited girls clustered around the matron's desk.
"I tell you it's my ring!" one of the bathers insisted angrily. "This girl stole it from my locker!"
"It isn't true. The ring is my own. Why, it belonged to my mother."
Penny and Susan pushed their way into the little group. They had recognized Betty Davis' low pitched voice but were unacquainted with the girl who was accusing her of the theft.
"Let's get to the bottom of this," the matron said severely, turning to the first girl. "Did you have your locker fastened securely?"
"No, that's how she got in. I forgot to lock it. She had the locker next to mine and she must have snatched the ring while I was in the shower."
Betty's face was pale, but with an effort she remained calm as she refuted the charge.
"I don't know anything about this girl's ring. The one I have is my own."
"Give it to me," the matron ordered. Reluctantly, Betty removed the ring from her finger. It was a white gold band with a cluster of three tiny diamonds. In the act of handing it over, she suddenly changed her mind.
"I'll not give up my own property! This was my mother's engagement ring. And she's dead now."
"Can you prove your story?" the matron questioned.
"You can call my father. Jerome Davis—he is on the police force."
"Yes, but he won't be there long!" the first girl said scornfully. "Everyone knows he's to be let out because of dishonesty. And your brother——"
"Don't you dare say a word against either my father or Jimmie!" Betty cried.
"Girls! Girls!" the matron chided severely. "We'll discuss this matter calmly please."
Penny stepped forward. "I think I may be able to help," she said quietly. "I happen to know that the ring belongs to Betty Davis, for I have seen her wearing it."
"You're a friend of hers," the other girl accused.
"On the contrary, I scarcely know Miss Davis. But I believe in seeing justice done. If you actually lost a similar ring, you may find it on the floor near your locker."
"Have you looked carefully?" the matron questioned.
"Of course I have! The ring is gone and this Davis girl stole it!"
"I'll search your locker myself," the matron decided. "Show me which one it is."
Penny and the others followed to witness the inspection. Article by article, the matron removed everything from the locker, but the ring was not found.
"Wait and I'll sweep the floor," Penny offered. She ran to find a broom, returning with it a minute later. Carefully she swept the space in the vicinity of the locker.
"You see, it's gone!" the other girl insisted, eyeing Betty Davis furiously. "You'll never find it becausesheis wearing it."
As Penny's broom brushed past a dark corner of the room, there was a little metallic click. She stooped down and picked up a ring. Although it was similar in appearance to the one which Betty wore, the resemblance was not close.
"Is this yours?" she inquired, offering it to the owner of the locker.
"Yes, it is," the girl admitted. "I don't know how it came to be on the floor."
"It was there because you dropped it," the matron said sternly. "Next time be more careful about accusing persons."
Penny and Susan turned to go to their own lockers, but before they could leave, Betty came toward them timidly.
"Thank you so much," she said in a low tone. "I owe you a great deal."
"Not at all," Penny returned, a trifle stiffly.
"I feel ashamed of the way I have acted lately," the girl went on hurriedly, avoiding Penny's penetrating gaze. "I've been so upset about everything. I wish I could explain—but I can't."
"I think perhaps I understand."
Betty stared hard at Penny. But she quickly masked the fleeting expression of alarm. After thanking her friends again, she turned and disappeared in the direction of the hair drying room.
"Just what is it that upsets that girl so?" Penny said in an undertone to Susan as they went to their own lockers. "She acts as if she's afraid we'll discover something about her."
"Yes, she does. I can't figure it out at all."
The girls quickly dressed but by the time they had dried their hair and were ready for the street, it was long past supper time.
"I had no idea it was so late," Susan declared as they hurried toward the parked automobile. "Mother will be worried for fear something has happened to us."
"You might telephone."
"It would take me ages to find a 'phone. I'll be home in a minute or two now anyway."
It had grown quite dark, but although automobiles had been parked close together near the swimming pool, the girls experienced little difficulty in locating Susan's car. As they came up to it they observed that a garage service truck had drawn up to an automobile only a short distance away. The uniformed garage man was busy changing a wheel.
"Some poor fellow had a flat," Susan said sympathetically. "Strange I didn't pick up the nail instead. My luck must be changing."
Penny had paused to survey the service car more critically. The garage man, aware that he was under scrutiny, gave her a sharp glance. Then abruptly he threw his tools into a bag, jumped into his truck and drove away, leaving his work unfinished.
"Quick! See if you can get the license number!" Penny cried.
"I can't. The car is too far away."
"I got the last three numbers," Penny informed with satisfaction. "—684. I want to write it down before I forget."
Susan supplied pencil and paper from her purse. Penny jotted down the number.
"Why did you want it?" Susan asked curiously. "You don't think that man was trying to steal a wheel?"
"I certainly do. Otherwise why would he have left so hurriedly when we came up? See, the wheel is only half changed."
They walked over to the nearby automobile to look. The wheel obviously was a new one and apparently had not been damaged.
"That man was a tire thief all right," Penny announced. "It means that the Molberg gang is starting activities again. I must get in touch with Father immediately."
"I'll take you straight home," Susan offered.
"If I'd been just a little quicker I'd have caught the entire license number," Penny said regretfully. "Even so, it may be possible to trace the car."
Returning to their own automobile, they drove rapidly toward the Nichols home.