"Gracious!" Penny exclaimed in an undertone as she made the disconcerting discovery. "Do you suppose he is Hanley Cron, the contest judge?"
"That's what those two men just said," Susan returned. "Let's get away from here before he sees us."
She tugged at her chum's hand but Penny would not budge.
"Why should we run away, Sue? The accident was all his fault. Anyway, I'm curious to see the statue he'll select as the prize winner."
"I hope he knows more about art than he does of driving automobiles."
"Hanley Cron," Penny repeated thoughtfully to herself. "I've heard that name before. Let me think—oh, now I remember. He's an art critic for the Belton City Star."
"I don't believe a man with his disposition could have a speck of judgment," Susan said irritably.
A soft, musical laugh caused them both to turn quickly. Directly behind stood the same girl they had noticed upon first entering the exhibition hall. She was slender and dark and wore her shining black hair in a becoming coil at the back of her neck.
"I couldn't help hearing what you said about Mr. Cron," the girl declared, regarding them with twinkling eyes, "and I do hope you're wrong. How dreadful it would be if he should award the five thousand dollar prize to some inferior piece of work—such as this silly Black Imp, for instance."
"Why, we think it's the best figure here," Penny said in some surprise. "Don't you consider Amy Coulter a good sculptress?"