"It was only a blown fuse after all," he reported. "But I can't find any extra ones."
"I'll telephone Mr. Crocker!" Penny announced. "He's our landlord and he ought to work at the job."
"I'll bet a cent you don't get any," the detective rejoined.
After a lengthy telephone conversation, Penny faced her father triumphantly.
"You lose your cent," she laughed. "Mr. Crocker was provoked, but he promised to come right over with a new fuse."
Twenty minutes later an ancient automobile was heard laboring up Knob Hill. Mr. Crocker came up the walk, carrying a lighted lantern.
"Seems like you folks are having a lot of trouble here," he said crossly as Mr. Nichols met him at the door.
"We're sorry to trouble you," replied the detective. "If the cottage had been better equipped——"
"I'll put in the fuse for you to be sure it's good," Mr. Crocker interrupted.
He and Mr. Nichols went down into the cellar together. From the doorway of the kitchen Penny noticed that someone was sitting in Mr. Crocker's car.