"Not to my knowledge." Amy crossed the room and lifted out a small picture from her trunk. "See, this is the painting. A vase of flowers. It's very poor work—certainly about a million miles removed from a genuine Rembrandt."
In silence Penny studied the painting. She really was not thinking of it at all. However, she noticed absently that it was similar in size to the dimensions which the evening papers had given for the stolen Rembrandt.
"You don't think the police will try to send me to jail?" Amy questioned tensely. "The accusation is utterly silly!"
Penny did not know how to advise the girl. While she was inclined to believe Amy's story, she was afraid that others might not.
"Does anyone know of your present address?" she asked Amy.
"Only you. I haven't even had time to inform the postoffice of the change."
"Then why not remain in hiding for a few days until this trouble blows over?" Penny proposed after a moment's thought. "I shouldn't suggest it only I feel confident the real thief will be traced soon. Or at least new evidence will be uncovered."
"I shouldn't like to appear a sneak or a coward. If I were sure the police would believe me, I'd be glad to go to them and give myself up."
"That's just the point, Amy. You can't tell what they're likely to do. And the story is almost certain to come out in the papers."
"I shouldn't like publicity," Amy declared. "Perhaps you're right about hiding."