"Apparently only the Black Imp was taken," Mr. Nichols said musingly. "That little figure must guard some important secret."
"I never dreamed it could be valuable," Penny said. "I liked it only because it was a copy of Amy's statue. I thought the work rather crude."
"I doubt that the figure has any intrinsic value," Mr. Nichols answered slowly, "but for some unknown reason, it's highly important to the man who stole it."
That evening Penny accompanied her chum, Susan, to a moving picture show, but although the bill was an exceptionally good one, she found it difficult to center her attention upon the screen. She kept thinking of the Black Imp and wishing that she could recover it or at least solve the mystery of its strange disappearance.
"I'm afraid I'll just have to forget it," she thought gloomily, "but at least I'm making a little headway in tracing the persons who may know something about the stolen Rembrandt."
Penny was convinced that if only she could maintain a patient vigil at the Post Office, in time the ex-museum worker would appear there for his mail. The next morning found her at her usual station, determined not to become discouraged by failure.
For three long hours she kept faithful watch of the General Delivery window. A great many persons came and went but no one who remotely resembled Mr. Hoges. Penny became aware of a growing hunger although it was not yet noon. She noticed a restaurant directly across the street.
"I'll slip over there and have a sandwich," she decided. "It will only take a minute."
The restaurant was crowded. It was impossible for Penny to find a table near the window. She was forced to sit at the rear of the room and other diners blocked her view of the street.
She hastily ate her sandwich and returned to the post office. Scarcely had she taken her position near the door, when the clerk at the General Delivery window signalled her.