Miss Arrow already had departed. As Penny reached the door she met Max Lynch coming in. He stood aside for her to pass, but there was no deference in the action. He eyed the girl insolently.
"Your daughter, Nichols?" he demanded.
"Yes," the detective answered shortly.
"Not bad looking."
"We'll leave her out of the conversation," Nichols said sharply. "What brought you here this time, Max?"
Without replying, Lynch leisurely sat down in a chair opposite the detective. He calmly helped himself to a cigar on the desk. But he never lighted it. For as he reached into his pocket after a match, he noticed an object directly in front of him. It was the Black Imp.
For an instant he stared at the figure, the expression of self-confidence completely washed from his face.
He hastily arose and his chair, as he pushed it back, made a harsh grating noise on the floor. Instinctively, Christopher Nichols' hand moved swiftly toward the top drawer of his desk. But there was no need for alarm. Max Lynch did not reach for his gun. Instead he made for the door.
"You're leaving?" Nichols asked.
Max did not reply. But as he went out the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment his eyes rested in fascinated fear on the figure of the Black Imp.