"No, I'll see him," Mr. Nichols decided. "You may send him in."
Penny arose to leave. "I suppose I'll have to go," she grumbled.
"Duck into the next room if you like," the detective said. "If the conversation gets too interesting, stuff cotton in your ears."
Penny laughed and quickly secreted herself in the private study which adjoined her father's office. She closed the door between the rooms but was careful to leave a generous sized crack through which she could both see and hear.
Scarcely had her father seated himself at his desk when the visitor entered. The secretary's appraisal of the man had not prepared Penny for his actual appearance. He was a stout person, prosperous looking, with several glittering diamond rings on his stubby fingers. His clothes were cut in the latest style, his shoes were brilliantly shined, and he carried a sporty cane.
When Penny surveyed the visitor's face she knew why her father's secretary had catalogued him as an underworld character. His expression was hard and ruthless, his smile cold and sinister.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Nichols," the man said in a purring voice. "You know my name I think."
The detective's eyes narrowed as he recognized the visitor but otherwise his expression did not alter. He said evenly:
"Yes, I know you very well indeed—Max Lynch!"
Penny, crouching at the door, felt a chill of excitement pass over her body as she heard the name. Max Lynch was a notorious crook, a swindler and a gambler, a man who often had been accused of crimes but seldom convicted of them.