"Theft?" Amy asked blankly. "What painting do you mean?"
"Then you haven't heard the news," Penny said, watching her closely.
"I haven't heard about any painting being stolen. Surely you don't mean from the Gage Galleries?"
"Yes, a Rembrandt was taken yesterday afternoon from the exhibition room. The police believe that one of the contestants for the Huddleson prize may have stolen it in spite—the theory sounds silly to me."
"But how was the picture smuggled from the museum?"
"The police aren't sure, but they think a girl carried it out as a package. She was seen by one of the guards entering a taxi cab."
Amy's face flamed with color. "Miss Nichols, are you trying to tell me that I am under suspicion?" she demanded.
Penny nodded. "Yes, that's why I wanted to talk with you. The police are looking for you now."
"The police! But I've done nothing wrong. I didn't take the painting! How can anyone accuse me of such a thing?"
"It's unjust of course. They suspect you because you left the Galleries only a few minutes before the theft of the painting was discovered."