"The thief came up the fire escape," Penny insisted. "I admit I may have been mistaken as to the window he entered."
"You were," Cron said shortly.
"I guess it doesn't matter greatly now," Penny returned. "By this time the thief is probably blocks away."
It was Mrs. Dillon who had called the policeman. She had noticed him at the corner and had screamed for help. He had mounted the stairs so swiftly that she had been unable to keep pace with him. Now she hurried up, breathless from exertion. The corridor was rapidly filling with excited occupants of the building who had learned of the theft.
"Oh, thank goodness you've recovered my bag!" Mrs. Dillon cried joyfully, as she entered the studio room.
"Your pearls are gone," the policeman told her, handing over the purse. "The thief dropped the bag in the hallway after he had rifled it."
Mrs. Dillon sank weakly down in the nearest chair. Her face was white and Penny could not help feeling sorry for her.
"Can you describe the thief?" the officer questioned.
"Oh, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Dillon murmured. "I really didn't notice him at all until he came up to me. He asked me for fifty cents. When I refused he snatched my bag."
"It was a planned robbery, I think," Penny interposed. "I noticed that the man was waiting when Mrs. Dillon drove up. He seemed to be watching for her car."