Penny found her father occupied at his desk in the study. Recounting her experience at the Big Dipper, she offered him the license number which she had copied.
"I don't suppose it will be of any use to you since I failed to get the entire number."
"I may be able to trace the car though I rather doubt it," Mr. Nichols told her. "At any rate, from what you've seen tonight I feel confident that Rap Molberg is shipping another truck load of stolen wheels out of town. I'll tip off the police to be on the lookout."
Some months previously the detective had installed a private wire which connected him directly with the police station. He used it now to talk confidentially with the police commissioner.
"I must go downtown at once," he informed Penny regretfully after making the call. "Don't wait up for me. I probably won't return until late."
At midnight Mr. Nichols had not come home. Penny, after dozing for some hours in the big easy chair, went off to bed. Not until morning at the breakfast table did she learn of the night's activities.
"As usual we failed to make a capture," the detective acknowledged gloomily. "The police bottled up all the main highways leading from the city. All suspicious trucks were searched. We thought certain we'd catch Molberg with the goods, but he was just a little too smart for us again."
"Were many wheels stolen last night?" Penny inquired curiously.
"A good truck load at least. This case has begun to make me look like an amateur. If I don't begin to close in on the Molberg gang soon I'll be the laughing stock of the city."
"You'll solve the case," Penny smiled confidently.
"I'm not so sure of that. You see, while Molberg is a daring crook, the evidence indicates that he is merely a go-between for a far more clever criminal. A master mind plans out every move that the gang makes, yet doubtlessly that person has never been under suspicion. Such a man always takes care to keep within the law himself although he engineers the most daring crimes by means of his henchmen."
"And of course they take all the risk."
"Yes, if his gang is broken up, he merely organizes another."
"Have you no clue as to where this so called 'master mind' may be?"
"None whatsoever. He has kept his hand well hidden. We have made a few arrests but the men can't be made to talk. It may be that they aren't even aware of his identity."
"I don't suppose you've ever been able to get any evidence against that place where Susan bought the stolen wheel," Penny ventured.
"No, nothing of value. The owner has a very bad name. No doubt he is receiving stolen goods, but it is always hard to prove anything."
Penny relapsed into a thoughtful silence which she presently ended by saying:
"You know, Dad, a peculiar thing happened yesterday. I don't suppose it could have the slightest connection with the case and yet it set me to thinking."
"What was that?" Mr. Nichols asked smilingly.
"I saw George Brunner talking with Jerry Barrows in his office."
"That young protégé of yours?"
"He isn't any longer," Penny retorted. "I realize now that I was deceived by his story. But why should he be working for Mr. Brunner?"
"That can be explained easily. I suppose Brunner didn't take the trouble to check up his record."
"He was threatening the boy," Penny reported, her eyebrows puckering into a frown. "I distinctly heard him say: 'You'll do as I tell you or—' Then he saw me and broke off."
"You're certain that was what he said?"
"Of course I am! You don't think I imagined it, I hope!"
"No," Mr. Nichols laughed, "but one's ears often distort conversation. It does seem a little odd that Brunner should have any connection with this boy. Still, there must be a logical explanation. Brunner's reputation is above reproach, you know."
"I don't think he's so very honest," Penny declared. "After the way he acted about Susan's car I wouldn't trust him an inch."
"Brunner does make glib promises," the detective admitted. "In general, however, he seems to have operated his business honestly. He has made a great deal of money, Penny, and is considered one of Belton City's leading citizens."
"I don't see where he makes all his money," Penny complained. "Whenever you go into his garage it's usually deserted, although he keeps a horde of discourteous workmen."
"Brunner hasn't been doing so well of late," Mr. Nichols agreed.
"I think he'd bear watching," Penny said darkly.
"I'll turn the task over to you," Mr. Nichols chuckled. "I shouldn't care for it myself. Digging up the black history of influential citizens isn't the most profitable occupation in the world."
Realizing that she was being teased, Penny dropped the subject. However, no sooner had her father buried himself in his newspaper again than she thought of another question which she could not resist asking.
"What did you learn about that license number I gave you last night, Dad?"
"It was issued in this county. Without the complete number it will be impossible to trace the car."
Mr. Nichols again turned to his newspaper and Penny permitted him to read undisturbed. She knew that he regarded her interest in the Molberg case with amusement. He was humoring her in her desire to play at being a detective. But while he listened politely to her questions and suggestions, he did not really believe that her contributions were of great value.
"I wish I could show him!" Penny thought determinedly. "Maybe I shall too!"
Mr. Nichols, blissfully unaware of what his daughter was thinking, left the breakfast table.
"I'll be out of the city all day," he informed. "I may get back late tonight but I can't be sure of it. I guess you'll be well looked after by Mrs. Gallup."
"And by Joe," Penny added. "Must he always trail me around, Dad? I'm getting so tired of it."
Mr. Nichols smiled broadly.
"From Joe's daily reports, I suspected he was the one who was growing tired. You seem to have led him a rapid-fire chase. He turned in a bill for nearly forty gallons of gasoline last week."
"He must be drinking it then!" Penny retorted. "I'm sure my old car couldn't have traveled any such distance. But seriously, can't you discharge him?"
"Not until the case is finished, Penny."
"And when will that be?"
"I wish I knew. If all cases were as annoying as this one, I'd soon be out of business. But we have several new leads. I'm hoping something will develop within the next week."
"I may do a little sleuthing of my own just to hurry matters along," Penny warned with a laugh.
"Go as far as you like," Mr. Nichols said, undisturbed. "I depend upon Joe to see that you don't get into too hot water."
After her father had left the house, Penny went to the Y.W.C.A. where she taught a Friday morning swimming class. By eleven o'clock she was through her work and had the entire day before her.
Making her way to the business section of the city, she did a little shopping at one of the department stores. As she was buying a pair of gloves, she heard her name spoken. Turning, she found Betty Davis standing beside her.
"I saw you from across the aisle," the girl smiled. "I was just starting home." She hesitated, then said hurriedly: "I don't suppose you'd care to take luncheon with me?"
"Why, I'd love it," Penny responded instantly.
"I'm not much of a cook," Betty confessed modestly, "but I can always scare up a sandwich or so."
Penny welcomed an opportunity to visit the Davis home again for despite Betty's peculiar actions, she felt that the girl really liked her. As they boarded a street car, it occurred to her that she had been invited for a particular purpose. The girl grew increasingly ill at ease. Conversation became difficult although Penny made a special effort to be agreeable.
Not until luncheon had been served and the dishes washed, did Betty bring up the matter which had been troubling her.
"I'm worried about Father," she confessed. "The truth is, he's in danger of losing his position and through no fault of his own."
Penny remained silent and the girl went on with increasing embarrassment.
"I don't know how to say it—you've been so kind to me. But I was wondering—do you think Mr. Nichols might be induced to intercede in behalf of my father?"
"I'll speak to him about it," Penny promised, "but I think perhaps it would be better if your father talked with him personally——"
"Oh, no," Betty said hastily, "he'd never do that! You see, he doesn't know that I have said anything to you. I'm sure he wouldn't like it."
"I see," Penny responded quietly. "I'll talk with Father, but I am afraid it will do no good."
Betty's shoulders slumped, although she tried to smile bravely.
"I shouldn't have made the request. Please forget it."
"No, I mean to talk to Father about it," Penny insisted.
"It's very kind of you. I'd never have mentioned the matter at all only I realize my father will never turn a hand to defend himself against unjust accusations."
The conversation shifted to less personal subjects. As Penny arose to leave a half hour later she spoke casually of Betty's brother and was surprised to notice a strained expression pass over the girl's face.
"You were going to show me his picture the other day when I was here," she reminded Betty.
"Oh, yes, so I was," the other agreed but with out enthusiasm. "Jimmie is very good looking. I guess I told you he was a football player at Waltham High last year."
"I'd like to meet him," Penny remarked.
"Jimmie isn't home very much of the time," Betty returned hastily.
"But at least I can see his picture," Penny said, watching the girl closely.
"Why, yes," Betty stammered, ill at ease. "I'll get it."
She went into an adjoining room and did not return for some minutes. She did not bring the photograph. Avoiding Penny's gaze, she said apologetically:
"I can't seem to find it anywhere. I must have misplaced the photo."
"It doesn't matter," Penny returned politely.
She had guessed instantly that Betty had made no real effort to find the photograph. For some reason the girl no longer wished her to see it.
After chatting for a short while longer, Penny took her leave.
"Now I wonder why Betty was so reluctant to have me see the picture," she reflected as she walked slowly toward the street car line. "I'm more interested in it now than I was before."
It occurred to Penny that if only she could find a copy of the previous year's Waltham High School annual, Jimmie Davis' picture was almost certain to appear in it.
"Margery Barclay's brother attended that school," she recalled. "I might be able to get an annual from him. It won't be out of my way to stop at their house on my way home."
When she called at the Barclay residence, Mrs. Barclay answered the door. Upon learning that neither Margery nor her brother were at home, Penny mentioned the purpose of her call.
"Why, yes, we have one of the annuals," Mrs. Barclay told her. "I am sure you are very welcome to have it for a few days. I'll find it for you."
She went to the bookcase and after searching through several shelves found a thick, dusty volume which she gave to Penny.
"I'll bring it back tomorrow, Mrs. Barclay."
"Keep it as long as you like. No one ever looks at it any more."
Penny thanked Mrs. Barclay, and tucking the book under her arm, walked slowly toward the street car line. While she stood at the corner waiting, she turned a few of the pages.
"After I get home I'll go through the annual systematically," she decided.
A street car stopped at the corner and she boarded it. Seating herself near the rear, she again interested herself in the book. Although she found many photographs of football stars, she did not immediately locate the one for which she searched.
Then she turned a page and a face stood out. Beneath it, a caption gave the name of Jimmie Davis and a list of his scholastical achievements. Penny stared at the picture in disbelief.
"No wonder Betty acted as she did!" she told herself excitedly. "Now I understand perfectly why she didn't want me to see the photograph!"
Convinced that she had made an important discovery, Penny hastily left the street car. Catching one which was going in the opposite direction, she went directly to her father's main downtown office.
"Has Dad left town yet?" she inquired of Miss Arrow.
"Yes, I think he has," the secretary informed. "At least he left here nearly an hour ago and said he likely wouldn't return today."
Thinking that possibly Mr. Nichols might have stopped for a few minutes at his temporary office opposite the Brunner garage, Penny went there. She found the room closed though not locked.
"I don't know what to do now," Penny thought, slightly bewildered. "It seems to me I have a valuable clue which should be acted upon at once."
She considered taking Miss Arrow or one of her father's detectives into her confidence, yet hesitated to do so lest she make herself appear ridiculous. After all, she had no real evidence upon which to base her theory. Even though the photograph of Jimmie Davis had given her a start, she could not be certain that she knew anything damaging concerning the boy's past. It would be wise to move cautiously.
"I'll say nothing about the photograph until I've had an opportunity to do a little investigating of my own," she decided. "I may as well start by asking Jerome Davis a few questions."
Penny was familiar with the policeman's regular beat, but before trying to locate him, she went home for her car. It was Mrs. Gallup's afternoon off, so there was no need to explain to the housekeeper where she was going.
"I might leave a note where she'll find it when she returns," Penny thought. "Still, I should be back by supper time."
As Penny backed from the garage, she caught a glimpse of Joe Franey's familiar black coupé parked across the street.
"I'm afraid Dad's gasoline bill will take a big jump upward today," she chuckled.
Penny dismissed the detective from her mind and became intent upon the problem which faced her. She must be very cautious if she questioned Jerome Davis for it might ruin all her plans if he suspected what she was about.
Approaching the policeman's usual haunts, Penny slowed down. Presently she caught sight of the officer at a street corner. He was talking with someone.
"Why, it's Jerry Barrows!" she exclaimed, pulling up at the curbing to watch. "The plot thickens!"
Penny made no attempt to interrupt the two. The policeman was talking so earnestly with the boy that he had not even glanced in her direction. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but she observed Jerome Davis take a small roll of bills from his pocket. He peeled off three and gave them to the youth. The latter thanked him and moved quickly away.
"I can't question Mr. Davis now or he would be suspicious," Penny thought. "I'll come back a little later."
Recalling that she had never visited the Brunner garage to request Jerry Barrows' address from the manager, she made that her next stop. As she parked outside the building, she noticed that Joe Franey, faithful to his trust, was still following.
"Poor man, he must think I am completely crazy," Penny laughed. "Perhaps I am too!"
Upon requesting to see Mr. Brunner, she was informed that he was busy. She was forced to wait nearly three-quarters of an hour before he would see her.
"What can I do for you, Miss Nichols?" he inquired with forced politeness as she entered.
Penny reminded him of his promise.
"Oh, yes!" He laughed apologetically. "You know, the matter completely slipped my mind until this minute."
"Indeed?" Penny inquired. She had not been surprised at the answer.
"If you will come back in a few days——"
"Can't you get the address for me now? It is rather important that I have it immediately."
The manager frowned. "I'll see what I can do. Wait here."
He left the office, returning a few minutes later.
"I can't seem to find it on our records at all, Miss Nichols. The boy never worked here steadily. In fact, he has been discharged."
"So you refuse to give me the address?"
"It isn't that, Miss Nichols. We'd be glad to provide it if we could. Unfortunately, we can't."
"I see," Penny returned coldly.
She left the garage and went back to her car. For a time she sat thinking. She could not make up her mind as to her next move.
While she sat debating, George Brunner came out of the building. Without noticing Penny, he climbed into his automobile, one of the latest and most expensive models available, and drove away.
"I wonder where he's going in such a hurry?" Penny asked herself.
She decided that it might be worth her time to follow. Quickly, she shifted gears and took after him.
Without being aware that anyone was trailing him, the garage manager weaved from one street to another, gradually traveling toward the poorer section of the city. Penny had difficulty in keeping him in sight.
"What a silly thing I am doing," she told herself. "I think I'll sign off and go home."
However, she could not resist following the car a few more blocks. Her patience was rewarded. Presently Brunner turned into South Lake Street.
"I'll keep on a little farther," Penny decided. "It may be that Brunner is perfectly honest and above board, but I have my doubts. I think he'll bear watching."
She was not greatly surprised when the garage manager halted his car only a short distance from the tire shop which she and Susan had visited only a few days previously. Penny drew up to the curbing on the opposite side of the street.
As Brunner alighted and looked carefully about to see that he was unobserved, Penny ducked down out of sight, pretending to be fixing something on the floor of the car.
Straightening up a minute later, she saw that the garage manager was making his way toward the tire shop.
"Now what does he want there?" she asked herself. "I must say he isn't keeping very good company."
Brunner entered the shop and Penny settled herself to wait. An hour passed. It began to grow dark.
"I really should telephone Mrs. Gallup that I'll be late for supper," Penny reflected. "Either that or I should give up this silly chase and go home."
In her heart she did not really think that it was silly. The conviction had steadily grown in her mind that in some way the garage owner was involved with Jerry Barrows and others in a questionable business activity.
Noticing a drug store nearby, she stepped inside to telephone her home. After several rings, the operator informed her that no one answered.
"Mrs. Gallup must have been detained," Penny thought. "I'll not need to hurry home now."
As she was leaving the drug store, the door of the tire shop on the opposite side of the street opened and George Brunner emerged. Penny hastily dodged back into the doorway to avoid being seen.
Brunner walked directly to his car, preparing to depart. Before he could start the motor, the owner of the shop came running after him. It was the same man who had spoken so harshly to Penny upon her previous visit.
The two men conversed in low tones for several minutes, but as they became more excited, their voices grew louder.
"It's too dangerous I tell you," she heard the owner of the tire shop say. "The police are getting wise. And only a day or so ago Nichols sent his daughter around here to spy."
"I'll deal with her," Brunner promised. "She's getting too curious for her own good."
"After tonight I'm through," the other insisted. "The little I make isn't worth the risk I take."
Penny could not hear Brunner's reply. He seemed to be arguing with the tire shop owner. She felt elated and excited at the information she had gleaned.
After tonight! The words burned into her mind. What coup were the two men planning for that evening? If only she might learn!
Could it be that Brunner was involved in the auto accessory thefts? It was generally believed that the disreputable owner of the tire shop made a practice of receiving stolen goods. Why then, should a man in Brunner's position stoop to have dealings with such a person unless he too were guilty?
The evidence against the two was purely circumstantial, that Penny plainly realized. It seemed ridiculous to connect Brunner with the underworld and yet the very fact that no suspicion had ever been attached to him offered a measure of safety for his dishonorable activities.
"Dad warned me that one must move cautiously in trying to gather evidence against influential citizens," Penny reasoned. "Yet, if I wait until I can talk it over with him, it may be too late."
Brunner's automobile was moving away from the curbing. Penny did not have a minute to debate. The instant that the tire shop owner vanished inside his store, she darted to her own car.
Already Brunner was far up the street, but by speeding she managed to approach close enough to keep him within sight.
"Perhaps I'd better take Joe into my confidence," she thought a trifle uneasily. "There's no telling where this chase may end."
She glanced back, but the detective's familiar black coupé was not in view. Nor did she see it when she looked again a few blocks farther on.
"I've lost him somewhere," she told herself in annoyance. "If that isn't my luck! Just when I might have used him to advantage!"
Penny soon discovered that George Brunner was returning to his own garage. As he drove into the building she drew up at the curbing, puzzled as to how she could shadow him further.
Then it occurred to her that she was directly opposite her father's office. From there it would be a simple matter to keep watch of the Brunner garage without attracting attention to her own actions.
Before taking up her station in the little room high above the street, Penny fortified herself with several sandwiches and a bottle of milk purchased at a café nearby. Then she was ready for her vigil.
An hour passed and nothing happened. There was little activity at the Brunner garage. Several motorists stopped at the red pump for gasoline, but that was all.
"Perhaps my hunch was wrong," Penny thought as she grew tired of waiting. "I really haven't much reason for being suspicious of Brunner."
After a time she used her father's telephone to call home. No one answered. Obviously, Mrs. Gallup had not returned.
"I wonder what detained her," Penny mused. "It isn't like her to stay away."
She remained at her seat by the window. Several times she was tempted to pick up a magazine and read for a few minutes. She resisted the impulse, remembering that she had heard her father say that a good investigator never took his eye from the place or person he was watching.
Another hour dragged by. Penny grew tired and bored. It was a warm night and the tiny room had become oppressive.
"I'll wait a little while longer," she decided.
Penny ate the last of her sandwiches and wished that she had bought coffee instead of milk. It would have helped her to stay awake.
Suddenly she became alert. A man stood in the doorway of the Brunner garage alley entrance. She did not need her father's field glass to see that it was the manager. He looked at his watch, then cast a glance up and down the street.
Penny studied her own wrist watch. It was exactly ten o'clock.
A garage service car rolled swiftly down the street. It swerved into the alley.
Simultaneously, Brunner swung wide the rear doors of the garage. The truck drove in, but not before Penny had riveted her eyes upon the license number.
At sight of the last three figures, her heart leaped. The numbers—684—were identical with those she had noted upon the license of the service car at the Big Dipper!
"It begins to look as if my hunch might be correct," Penny told herself. "Unless that truck merely drove into the garage for gasoline or service, things look suspicious!"
She saw Brunner follow the car into the building, carefully closing the doors.
"If everything is honest and above board, why did they use the alley entrance when the other one is far more convenient?" she reflected. "Obviously, Brunner knew the car was coming at exactly ten o'clock too."
Convinced that she was on the verge of important discoveries, Penny settled herself for a long wait. From her chair by the window she could watch both the alley and the main entrance.
A half hour elapsed, then another. At length Penny's patience was rewarded. The alley doors swung open and a heavy truck which was covered over with a canvas top, emerged. The driver wore a cap and his head was bent low. In the semi-darkness of the dimly lighted street Penny could not catch even a glimpse of his face.
"I must follow that truck!" she thought tensely. "If Dad were here he would do it I feel sure! It's the only chance to gain real evidence!"
She waited at the window only long enough to see that the car had turned down Center Avenue. Scribbling a brief message to her father explaining what she intended to do, she left the note where he would find it in the event he returned to the office that night. Then she raced to the street.
By the time she had her roadster started the covered truck had disappeared. However, turning down Center Avenue, Penny caught it at the first traffic light. Satisfied that she would have no trouble in keeping it in view, she slowed down, falling back to a distance which was not likely to arouse suspicion.
Penny had no idea where the chase would lead, although the truck seemed to be driving directly out of the city. From the slow rate of speed at which it traveled, she thought that it must be heavily loaded with cargo.
"If I only knew what was hidden under that canvas cover I might have the solution to the mystery," she reflected. "I think I have it anyway, but I must secure definite evidence."
Penny was fully aware that she had launched herself upon a dangerous enterprise. In some manner Joe Franey had lost track of her completely, and she could no longer count upon his protection. In an emergency she must depend entirely upon her own resources.
Before Penny had traveled many miles out of the city she began to grow alarmed because her gasoline gauge showed that she had scarcely a gallon left. Although she had her purse with her, it contained only a dollar. She could buy about five gallons of fuel, but should the truck lead her much farther into the country, she easily might find herself stranded.
Apparently, the driver ahead faced a similar need for gasoline. At the next filling station he turned in.
Penny determined upon a bold move. At the risk of detection, she too drove into the station.
"This will give me just the opportunity I need to get a good look at that driver!" she thought.
The truck had pulled up alongside of one of the three pumps but as Penny stopped in the shadow where the light from the filling station office would not shine fully upon her, she was disappointed to see that the driver's seat was empty.
"He's gone off somewhere," she told herself. "If only I could be sure he'd be away for a minute or two, I'd peep under that canvas cover and see what it is he's hauling."
Before she could transfer the thought into action, a filling station attendant came to serve her.
"How many?" he inquired.
"Three gallons," Penny said.
While the attendant operated the pump, she looked searchingly about. The driver of the truck was talking with someone inside the office, but his back was turned so that she could not see his face.
"Sixty-three cents," the attendant informed politely. "Shall I look at your oil?"
"It's all right I think," Penny responded, offering the money. The man went inside for change.
"This is my only chance!" Penny told herself.
Like a flash she was out of the roadster. She moved swiftly to the back of the truck, cast a quick glance toward the office, and seeing that she was unobserved, lifted a corner of the canvas cover.
The truck was loaded with automobile wheels.
A sound from the direction of the filling station office caused Penny to wheel. The driver was coming back!
She dropped the canvas flap and melted back into the shadow. She pretended to busy herself with the radiator cap of her own car.
"Everything okay, sir?" the station attendant asked, emerging from the office and addressing the truck driver.
"Yes, what do I owe?"
Penny started as she heard the voice. It was strangely familiar. If only she could see the driver's face!
"Three-forty-two," the attendant informed the trucker, in response to his question.
The driver gave him a bill and waited for his change. For the first time he turned toward Penny. She hastily averted her face, yet looked over her shoulder an instant later to view his.
"It's Jerry Barrows!" she recognized. "Now I understand in what capacity he was employed by Brunner!"
The attendant had returned with the driver's change and likewise her own. He noticed that she had removed the radiator cap from the roadster.
"Need water?" he questioned pleasantly.
"Please," Penny said, very low.
At the sound of her voice, Jerry Barrows turned, but he saw nothing more than Penny's back. Apparently satisfied that he had never seen the girl before, he climbed into his truck.
The attendant had peered down into the radiator of Penny's car.
"It's full to the top," he reported.
"Why, so it is," Penny acknowledged with a self-conscious laugh. "I guess I didn't look very well."
She stepped into the roadster but spent several minutes putting away her change and starting the motor. She did not wish to pull away from the station until after Jerry Barrows had left.
"I intend to find out where he's taking those stolen wheels before I turn back," she decided grimly.
After a seemingly interminable delay, the boy started his truck and pulled out of the station. Penny waited a few minutes longer and then followed.
For some time they traveled over a wide, national highway but presently the truck driver turned into a dirt road which wound in and out through the low hills. Several times Penny was forced to stop her car and wait by the roadside lest she draw too close to the vehicle ahead.
The trail led through a dense forest. Farm houses became farther and farther apart. After awhile they crossed a river, and directly beyond Penny noticed an odd wooden structure which appeared to be a rebuilt sawmill.
The truck turned into a narrow lane which led to the old building. Penny hesitated to follow lest the driver discover that he was being shadowed. She parked her car in a clump of bushes just off the road. Since leaving the main highway she had traveled without headlights.
The truck drew up near the sawmill. Penny could hear the roar of the powerful engine and see the headlight beam. Then the lights were switched off and the sound of the motor became muffled.
"He's driven inside the building," she decided. "Unless I get in there somehow, I'll never discover what is going on."
Penny debated, but in the end curiosity conquered fear. She left the roadster and stealthily made her way toward the sawmill.
From the outside, Penny could not have told that the old mill was in use. It was surrounded by unkempt trees and shrubs which hid it from the road. Cracks in the decaying boards had been carefully patched so that no light from inside could show through.
Keeping behind the bushes, Penny made a complete tour of the building. She could find no means of entrance other than the main double doors through which the truck had driven. Only after a second minute inspection did she notice a small window at the rear well above the level of her head.
"If I can get up there I might be able to see what is going on inside," she thought.
Even on tiptoe she could not reach the window. Going down to the river she found an old orange crate which had washed up on the bank. Carrying it back to the window she set it underneath and climbed up.
She peered into the building. The window opened directly into a dark, deserted little room, but directly beyond she could observe several men moving about. It was impossible to see what they were doing.
Thinking that perhaps she might overhear their conversation, she pried at the window. To her surprise it was readily raised.
But she could hear only a low murmur of voices. It was impossible to distinguish a single phrase.
"I might just as well be a million miles away as here," she told herself. "I have a notion to climb inside."
Penny took after her father in that she seldom experienced the sensation of fear. She knew well enough that she was taking a grave risk in entering the building, yet if she were to learn anything which would aid Mr. Nichols in his case against the automobile accessory thieves, she must be courageous.
Naturally agile, Penny raised herself to the ledge by sheer strength of her arms. She hesitated an instant, then dropped lightly down inside the sawmill.
She moved a few steps forward, then returned to quietly close the window. While it cut off her escape, she realized that the open window would be a telltale sign should anyone notice it.
She crept toward the adjoining main room from whence came the low murmur of voices. Secreting herself behind a tall pile of old sawed boards, she peered through the doorway.
The truck had pulled up at one side of the room. Several rough looking men were engaged in unloading the wheels. Penny's eyes fastened upon the man who directed the others. It was Rap Molberg.
"Get a move on!" he ordered tersely. "We can't stall around all night."
The wheels were trundled out one by one from the rear end of the truck, and the men, six in all, fell to work with their tools, defacing the serial numbers and substituting others. Penny watched in fascination.
Her gaze wandered to Jerry Barrows who had driven the truck to the sawmill. He sat apart, apparently taking no interest in what was going on.
Somewhere in the building a telephone rang. As one of the men came toward her, Penny shrank down behind the pile of lumber. He passed so close that she could have reached out and touched him had she chosen.
The man went into a small anteroom and Penny heard him answer the telephone. She could not distinguish the words, but presently he returned to the main room.
"It was the big boss," he reported to Rap Molberg. "He called from Somm Center."
"What's he doing there?" Rap demanded irritably. "Doesn't he think I'm capable of handling this end?"
"He's on his way here now," the other informed. "He says he has a hot tip that Christopher Nichols is wise to our hideout!"
"That snooper!" Molberg snarled. "I should have known he was up to something when he left town so suddenly."
"The cops may be down on us any minute."
"Then we're getting out of here without leaving any evidence behind!" Molberg snapped. "Get busy, men!"
All fell to work with a will save Jerry Barrows.
"You!" Rap shouted angrily. "This is no time for loafing!"
"I agreed to drive a truck, but I didn't say I'd deface tires and help with your thieving!" the boy retorted bitterly. "I'm sick and tired of the whole deal."
"Oh, so you're sick and tired of it, are you?" the other echoed sarcastically. "You're in this the same as the rest of us, and if we go to the pen, you go with us! Now get to work or I'll——"
He left the threat unsaid, for just then an automobile engine was heard outside the building. Everyone froze in an attitude of listening. Molberg dropped his tools and ran to peer out through a tiny peep-hole in the wall.
"It's all right," he said in relief. "It's the boss. He must have burned up the road getting here from Somm Center."
The wide doors were flung open and a high-powered motor car drove into the building. George Brunner alighted.
"There's no time to waste," he informed tersely. "Load up those wheels and get them out of here!"
"We haven't finished defacing the numbers," Molberg told him.
"We can't stop for that. The important thing is to get this place cleared of evidence before the police pounce down on us."
Quickly the wheels which had been unloaded were stacked back into the truck. Brunner turned sharply upon Jerry Barrows.
"There's your load!" he snapped. "Get going with it!"
The boy made no move to obey.
"Did you hear?" Brunner snarled.
"I heard," Jerry Barrows retorted coldly, "but I'm not driving that truck out of here tonight. I'm through!"
"We'll see about that!" Brunner came toward him menacingly.
The boy cringed in terror but stood his ground.
"I've been thinking it over," he said determinedly. "I'd rather go to jail than keep on as I have. I've driven my last truck load of stolen wheels!"
Brunner caught him roughly by the shoulder.
"You're yellow!" he sneered. "But I know how to handle your kind. I'll just let your father hear that his son has become a thief! How will you like that?"
All color had drained from the boy's face. In the light from the workmen's torches, it appeared almost ghostly.
"You know it will just about kill my father if he learns the truth!"
"Then you'll do as I say!"
The boy hesitated, seemingly almost on the verge of giving in. Then he threw back his head defiantly.
"No, I've made up my mind! I'm through for good!"
"That's your final decision?"
"It is."
Without warning, Brunner's fist shot out. He struck the boy squarely under the chin. Jerry Barrows' knees crumpled beneath him and he sagged to the floor.
Brunner turned to the others who stood watching.
"Anyone here who feels the same way?"
No one spoke.
"Then back to your work!" Brunner commanded. "Clear the building of every scrap of evidence."
Penny was horrified at the scene she had witnessed. Jerry Barrows lay so motionless upon the floor that she was afraid he had been seriously injured. She longed to go to his aid, yet dared not make a move lest she betray her presence.
"If only I could get word to the police or to Father!" she thought tensely. "By the time I drive back to Belton City for help it will be too late."
The telephone! If she could but reach the antechamber it might be possible to notify the authorities.
Watching her chance, she tiptoed across the open space to the little room. The men were so occupied with their work that they did not glance in her direction. No sound betrayed her.
Penny reached the chamber in safety, and quietly closed the door. It was dark inside and at first she could not locate the telephone. But after groping about, she found it on the wall.
"I'll try Father's office," she decided. "There's just a chance that he may have returned."
Her hand trembled as she took down the receiver. She was fully aware of the risk she was taking in attempting the telephone call.
Muffling her voice and speaking very low, she gave the number of her father's office to the operator. There was a long wait. She could hear a rhythmical buzz on the wire. The bell was ringing but no one answered.
"I must try the police," Penny thought.
Just then she heard a click at the other end of the line. A receiver had been taken from its hook.
"Hello, Christopher Nichols speaking," acknowledged the familiar voice of her father.
In her excitement, Penny began an almost incoherent outpouring of what she had witnessed.
"You say you've seen the tire thieves at work?" Mr. Nichols demanded.
"Yes, bring the police, and they can be trapped with the evidence! But hurry or it will be too late!"
"Where are you now, Penny?" her father questioned tensely.
"At the old sawmill. Take the road——"
A slight sound directly behind caused Penny to turn her head. Rap Molberg stood in the doorway!