[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Penny Nichols
Finds a Clue

By

JOAN CLARK

The Goldsmith Publishing Company
CHICAGO

COPYRIGHT MCMXXXVI BY
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

Penny Nichols Finds a Clue

CHAPTER I

A Warning

Penny Nichols flung open the office door of the Nichols Detective Agency, descending upon a dignified, gray-haired man who was busy at his desk.

"Dad," she announced, "I've come to report a mysterious disappearance!"

Christopher Nichols dropped the correspondence upon which he was working and regarded his daughter for a moment, his gray eyes flashing an indulgent welcome.

"What sort of disappearance?" he inquired cautiously.

Penny laughed as she opened her purse, disclosing an empty coin container.

"It seems to be my allowance again. Yesterday I had two dollars. Now the old pocketbook is as bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard!"

Mr. Nichols' chief interest in life centered about his charming young daughter and he found it hard at times to keep from pampering her. It was especially difficult at this very moment as Penny stood there, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously, her full red lips parted in an enticing smile, and a few unruly ringlets of curly golden hair framing her forehead in an artistry both casual and becoming.

"Now that is a most bewildering case," he agreed with mock seriousness. "I don't suppose that rattle-trap roadster of yours might offer a clue to the mystery?"

"I'm afraid it does," Penny admitted. "Only this time I indulged in seat covers instead of spare parts. As a result I'm flat broke. And I'm to meet Susan Altman at the tennis courts in ten minutes."

Mr. Nichols smiled indulgently as he reached into his pocket for a roll of bills.

"I'll come to the rescue this time, young lady, but mind, I'm charging it up to next week's allowance."

"That's fair enough." Carelessly, Penny picked up several papers from the desk, studying them curiously. "What's this? A new case?"

Her father nodded as he quickly retrieved the documents.

"I've been hired by the Reliance Insurance Company to track down a gang of auto thieves."

"Sounds interesting."

"Unless I miss my guess it will prove a baffling case. I am afraid we may have to postpone our vacation trip to the mountains, Penny."

"Can't you arrange to capture the bold, bad men a little ahead of schedule?" Penny bantered.

"I wish it would prove as simple as that."

"It seems a shame to give up the vacation, because you've worked so hard lately. You really need a long rest."

"We'll both take it when this case is solved," Mr. Nichols promised. "Run along now, for I'm particularly busy."

Not in the least offended by the abrupt dismissal, Penny blew her father an impudent kiss as she went out the door.

Since the death of Mrs. Nichols many years before, Penelope and her father had lived together in a large white house on Hilburn Street with only Mrs. Gallup, an elderly housekeeper, to see that the establishment ran smoothly. It was not surprising that under such an arrangement the fifteen-year-old girl enjoyed rare freedom. Yet Penny never abused her privileges and she enjoyed the complete confidence of her father.

Penny owned her own roadster and drove it well. To be sure, the car was a second-hand model, but one of which she was very proud, for she had paid for it herself by teaching swimming at the Y.W.C.A. Automobiles, Penny discovered to her chagrin, had an unpleasant way of breaking down at odd moments, and for that reason her expense account usually was far ahead of her allowance. Occasionally, Mr. Nichols came to her rescue with very acceptable gifts of tires and spare parts.

Reaching the tennis court, Penny parked her car on a near-by street. She found Susan Altman, her chum, already awaiting her.

"It's almost too hot today for tennis," the dark-haired girl complained as she took her position at the baseline of the cement court, preparing to serve the first ball.

For two long hours the girls battled back and forth. Although usually they were well matched, upon this particular day Susan found herself unable to cope with her companion's sizzling service and well-placed drives. Finally, after completely missing a ball which Penny had sent over the net with bullet-like speed, she threw down her racquet in disgust.

"I've had enough punishment! That makes the third straight set you've won."

"It's getting almost too dark to see the ball," Penny said generously. "Shall we call it an evening and finish off with something to eat?"

They crossed over to Eby's Café, a favorite haunt of Belton City's younger set. The booths were quite deserted.

"Everyone seems to have gone away for the summer," Susan mourned as she pondered over the menu. "I suppose you'll be leaving soon too, Penny."

"No chance of it, I'm afraid. Dad has become involved in a new case which may keep us in town indefinitely."

"I wish my father were a detective," Susan commented a trifle enviously. "It's too bad about the vacation of course, but your life is exciting at least."

It seemed to her that Penny always led an unhampered, adventurous existence. At any rate, the girl was well acquainted with interesting happenings at the Belton City police court and had more than a nodding acquaintance with fascinating personages of the city.

"I've never had any real adventures," Penny declared gloomily. "Unfortunately, Dad is a little secretive about his sleuthing activities. I'd give anything to know about this latest case——"

Her voice trailed off for the two girls had heard a shrill warning whistle which they instantly recognized as the fire siren. Although they had not even begun their suppers they rushed to the plateglass window to watch the red engine clatter by.

"Why, it's turning down our street!" Susan exclaimed. "Oh, I hope our house isn't afire!"

"Let's jump in my car and follow," Penny proposed.

They hurriedly left the café. Penny had parked her roadster just out of sight around the corner. But as they viewed the car, they both stopped short in amazement.

"The rear wheel is gone!" Susan gasped. "Surely that can't be your roadster, Penny!"

It had grown quite dark outside and for an instant both girls believed they had made a mistake in identifying the car. Yet one glance at the license number assured them that they had made no error. A daring thief had jacked up the rear axle, stealing an almost new wheel which Penny's father had purchased for her only the previous week. An inspection disclosed that the spare wheel also had been taken.

"I never heard of such an outrage!" Penny stormed. "Why, we couldn't have been in that café fifteen minutes! The theft was accomplished almost under our eyes!"

"I hope the loss is covered by insurance," Susan said anxiously.

"I don't know whether it is or not. Dad looks after everything like that. Oh, dear, unless I can get in touch with him, we're practically stranded here."

Although the girls were only a short distance from Mr. Nichols' office they were nearly a mile from their homes. The roadster had been parked several blocks from a street car line.

"We won't be able to learn about the fire either," Susan worried. "I wonder if it could have been at our house?"

"It isn't likely, but let's telephone and make certain."

Even as she spoke they heard the fire engine returning from its recent run.

"It couldn't have been much of a fire," Susan commented in relief. "At least it's out now."

"I'll see if I can get in touch with Dad," Penny offered.

She was relieved to find Mr. Nichols still at his office. After listening to an excited account of all that had befallen, he promised to come over immediately and take charge of the stripped roadster.

Ten minutes later he drove up in his sedan.

"This isn't as unfortunate as it appears," he told the downcast Penny. "The loss is completely covered by insurance. Besides, I have a dark suspicion that this little job was handled by the same gang of men I am after. I may glean a few valuable clues."

After making a brief inspection of the car Mr. Nichols turned his own sedan over to Penny, directing her to take it home while he attended to the stripped roadster and reported to the police.

Susan had promised to spend the night at the Nichols home, so the girls drove directly toward the house on Hilburn Street. Despite Mr. Nichols' matter-of-fact attitude regarding the theft, they considered it an event of major importance. They were so absorbed in an animated discussion of the affair that they were taken completely by surprise when a policeman held up his hand for Penny to stop.

"Now what have I done?" she murmured in alarm, bringing the sedan to a sudden halt at the curbing. "I hope I haven't crashed a light."

The officer stepped up to the car window.

"Aren't you Miss Nichols?" he questioned.

"Why, yes, I am." Penny was slightly relieved at his tone.

"I recognized your car and knew you lived in the neighborhood. I thought I'd give you a friendly warning."

"A warning? I don't understand."

"We're on the lookout for a crook who vanished somewhere in this vicinity," the officer explained. "In fact, he ran through the hedge which borders your place."

"Did you search the grounds?" Penny asked with interest.

"Yes, but he made his get-away. I just thought I'd tip you off to be careful."

"We'll be on the lookout," Penny promised. "Thanks for telling us."

The officer moved aside and she drove on again.

"I've had almost enough excitement for one evening without encountering a desperado," Susan declared with a little shiver as they approached the Nichols residence. "I wonder why they're after the man?"

"He's probably a jail breaker," Penny returned carelessly.

Susan studied her chum admiringly.

"You're the most casual person I ever knew, Penelope Nichols. Didn't that warning give you the creeps?"

"To tell you the truth I didn't think much about it. The man would be miles from here by this time."

Nevertheless, as she turned the car into the gravel driveway, Penny's keen gaze swept the dark grounds.

Susan likewise surveyed the yard anxiously. Suddenly she uttered a low cry, nervously clutching her companion's arm.

"I saw a shadow just then!" she whispered tensely. "I do believe someone is hiding in the lilac bushes!"

CHAPTER II

Inside the Trunk

Penny instantly halted the car on the driveway, peering in the direction which her chum indicated.

"I don't see anyone," she insisted. "Perhaps the shadow you saw was caused by that big tree."

She pointed to a large oak which shaded the rear porch of the Nichols' home. Its swaying boughs did produce grotesque silhouettes upon the path near the lilac bushes.

"You may be right," Susan admitted reluctantly. "Only I was almost positive I saw someone."

"I think your nerves are a tiny bit on edge to-night," Penny laughed. Even so she was not quite sure Susan was mistaken.

She drove the sedan into the dark garage. As she was preparing to close the heavy double doors she thought she heard a step on the gravel path.

"Is that you, Mrs. Gallup?" she called.

There was no answer.

"I was right," Susan whispered tensely. "Someone is prowling about the grounds."

"There's no one about," Penny maintained after peering carefully around. "Probably I imagined that I heard footsteps. Come on, let's go to the house."

It was reassuring to see a light burning in the kitchen. The window shades had not been drawn and from the outside, Mrs. Gallup could be observed washing dishes. As the girls came in she greeted them in obvious relief.

"I'm so glad you're back, Penny. I was beginning to be afraid that something had happened to you."

"Quite a bit did happen," Penny laughed. "By the way, you haven't seen anyone prowling about the yard this evening, have you?"

"Why, no, I've been so busy that I've scarcely glanced out the window. Early this afternoon a tramp stopped at the door for food. After I gave him a sandwich he went off. I hope he hasn't come back to make trouble."

"Oh, no," Penny assured her quickly, "I'm sure there's no need for alarm."

"Then why did you ask?"

Penny was forced to relate what the policeman had told her, although she realized that the warning would worry the housekeeper.

"Dear me, I don't feel safe with your father gone. To think that so much has been going on around here and I didn't know a thing about it! Why, I haven't even locked the doors!"

"I doubt that it will be necessary now," Penny said, peering into the refrigerator to see what she could find for a belated supper. "Dad will soon be home anyway."

"I'm going to lock all the doors and windows this minute," Mrs. Gallup insisted firmly. "With so much silverware in the house, it isn't wise to take any chance."

Lowering the window blinds in the dining room, the housekeeper went directly to the buffet, removing a quantity of choice silverware which had been in the Nichols family for several generations. Leaving the girls to forage their own supper, she carried the box upstairs, intending to lock it in her own bureau drawer. Returning again to the lower floor she scurried about closing doors and slamming down windows.

"Since she's bent upon doing such a thorough job, I suppose I should help," Penny remarked to her chum. "Finish your supper while I lock the back door."

"Don't forget to set out the milk bottle before you barricade us in," Susan laughed.

Penny picked the bottle up from the kitchen table and crossed the porch to place it on the step. It took her so long outside that Susan came to the door to learn what detained her. She was astonished to behold Penny standing as rigid as a statue, her eyes riveted upon the garage door.

"What's wrong?" Susan inquired.

"Didn't I close that door when I put the car away?" Penny demanded in a low tone.

"Why, yes, I'm sure you did. The wind must have blown it open."

Penny shook her head.

"The door has a special catch so I know it couldn't have opened by itself. Susan, I believe someone has sneaked into the garage since we left it!"

Susan's eyes dilated with fear. Involuntarily, she took a step backwards, turning toward the kitchen door.

Penny caught her by the hand.

"Don't tell Mrs. Gallup or she'll go into hysterics. Let's find out if there really is anyone in the garage before we call the police."

At first Susan hung back, but when she found that Penny was determined to investigate the garage alone, she reluctantly followed her chum down the path.

Cautiously, they peeped into the garage. It appeared to be deserted.

"I'll get Dad's flashlight from the sedan pocket," Penny whispered.

She tiptoed across the cement floor. Groping about inside the car she found the light, but before she could turn it on she was startled to hear a slight sound overhead.

Penny's heart began to beat a trifle faster. She was almost certain that someone was hiding in the little room above the garage. In former years it had been occupied by a chauffeur whom Mr. Nichols employed, but now that the detective drove his own car it was used only for the storage of a few old boxes and trunks.

"Don't you dare go up there!" Susan whispered tensely, sensing the thought in her chum's mind. "It isn't safe."

"It's safe enough if you stand guard here at the door," Penny insisted. "If anything goes wrong scream for Mrs. Gallup."

Before Susan could stop her she tiptoed across the cement floor and quietly crept up the stairway leading to the storage room.

Reaching the top step Penny paused to listen. She could hear no unusual sound, yet a certain intuition warned her that someone was in the room.

Systematically, she flashed the beam of her light over the walls. Nothing appeared amiss.

"My imagination is running riot tonight," she thought in disgust. "There's no one here."

She started toward the stairway, but paused, unable to rid herself of the conviction that all was not as it should be. Then her light chanced to focus for an instant upon an old trunk in one corner of the room. Beside it in a crumpled heap lay an old rug.

From her father Penny had learned to be an unusually keen observer. She was positive that upon her last visit to the storeroom, the carpet had covered the trunk, protecting it from dust.

Summoning her courage, she cautiously approached the trunk. She paused to listen again. Distinctly, she could hear the sound of soft breathing.

Suddenly she flung back the lid. A man cowered inside.

"Don't make a move," Penny warned coolly, blinding him with the light. Protected as she was by the darkness, he could not know that she had no weapon.

"Don't shoot!" he pleaded, stepping from the trunk with hands held above his head.

It was then that Penny observed that her prisoner was a mere boy. He did not appear to be more than a year or two older than herself.

"March down the stairs in front of me and don't try any tricks," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady.

She had grown a little frightened at her own daring. It appeared reasonable to suppose that the youth she had captured was the same crook whom the police had warned her against and yet the boy seemed too young to be a hardened criminal.

Penny decided upon a bold move.

"Susan, stand guard at the outside door," she directed.

As her chum took the position, Penny reached up and switched on the garage light.

"I have no weapon," she admitted, knowing that the youth had perceived the fact instantly. "But it will do you no good to try to escape for the police are combing the neighborhood."

Her words had the desired effect. Blinking in the unexpected glare of the light, the young fugitive shrank back against the wall, his face twisted by fear.

"Do they suspect I'm here?" he questioned. "Have they surrounded the district?"

"I talked with an officer only a few minutes ago," Penny answered truthfully. "He advised me that our property was being watched."

She was studying the boy with increasing interest. He was exceedingly well dressed and while his garments were in need of pressing they fitted him perfectly, disclosing a fine physique. He had broad shoulders and powerful muscles. It struck Penny that he looked more like a football player than a crook. Yet, as she studied his face, she realized that it lacked character.

"Don't turn me over to the police," the boy begged. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Then why were you hiding in my garage?"

"It's true the police were chasing me," he admitted reluctantly, "but they mistook me for someone else."

"If you weren't guilty why did you run?" Penny demanded suspiciously. "Why didn't you wait and explain?"

"You can't explain to a cop," the boy told her with a scornful curl of his lip. "You see, I have a juvenile court record—it doesn't amount to much but the police won't give me a chance. I've been trying to go straight, but every move I make they watch me."

"Tell me your name."

The boy hesitated, then said quietly:

"Jerry Barrows."

"I mean your real name," Penny smiled.

A telltale flush crept over the youth's face, but he threw back his head a trifle defiantly.

"It is my real name. I'm no thief either. I admit I've been in a little trouble before this, but today it wasn't my fault. Another fellow and myself were standing in a crowd when an old lady let out a holler that someone had picked her pocketbook. The police came running. They spotted me right off. I hadn't been near the old lady, but she was so excited she was ready to identify anyone. When the cops tried to arrest me on suspicion I took to my heels."

"What sort of juvenile court record do you have?" Penny asked.

"Nothing of consequence. Once I was in a gang that took some apples from a pushcart. It was done in fun, but the judge put me on probation on account of it."

Penny occasionally had visited juvenile court sessions and in many respects the stories she had heard there corresponded to Jerry Barrows' account of his difficulties. Yet in some ways his tale did not ring true. Obviously, he was trying to convey the impression that he had never had a chance and yet he wore expensive clothing. She suspected too that he had been educated in a school fully as good as the one she attended.

"I am sorry, but I must turn you over to the police," she told him. "I don't believe your story. It doesn't hang together."

A strange change came over the boy's face. The last trace of arrogance left him as he turned pleading eyes upon the two girls.

"I lied about my name," he admitted, "but I did it because I want to protect my mother. If she learns that I am in trouble again it will kill her. Please, won't you let me go free?"

Even as the boy spoke, his eyes were roving to the door. It would not be difficult for him to overpower the two girls and escape if he really chose.

"If I should let you go will you promise not to get into any more trouble?" Penny asked suddenly.

The boy nodded.

"I'll find a job and keep straight."

"Would you really work if you had a position?" Penny questioned.

"Would I? Just try me!"

"Then I'm going to turn you loose," she decided. "Come to my father's office tomorrow at nine o'clock. I'll ask him to help you find a position."

"Where is his office?" the boy inquired.

"In room 305 of the Leader building. You'll see his name on the door. Christopher Nichols."

"Nichols, the detective?" the boy questioned uneasily.

"Yes, but you needn't be afraid he'll turn you over to the police. Wait now, and I'll see if the coast is clear."

Opening the garage door a tiny crack, Penny peered out. As she had expected there were no officers lingering about the neighborhood.

"It's safe to leave," she informed.

He started away, then paused and offered his hand to Penny.

"Thanks for giving me a break," he told her gratefully. "I really meant what I said about going straight."

With that he darted through the open door and was lost in the night.

CHAPTER III

An Impulsive Act

"I don't know why I let him escape," Penny said self-accusingly as she closed the garage doors. "I simply did it on the impulse of the moment."

"One couldn't help liking the boy," Susan declared optimistically. "Do you suppose he'll keep his promise and come to see your father?"

"If he doesn't I'll know I made a silly mistake. I hope they can't put me in jail for permitting criminals to escape!"

"You might look very well in stripes," Susan teased. "They would never become me because I'm too plump."

Penny was in no mood to respond to the attempted banter.

"I wonder what Dad will say when he learns about it," she mused uncomfortably.

She did not have long to speculate for as the girls turned toward the house Mr. Nichols came down the walk.

"I can't get in at the front door," he complained good naturedly. "Has Mrs. Gallup locked up the place for the summer?"

Penny explained what had happened but as she repeated Jerry Barrows' story it sounded flat and a trifle ridiculous. She was not surprised that her father listened incredulously.

"Why were the police searching for the boy?" he questioned.

"I didn't learn," Penny confessed. "I have only the boy's word."

"And yet you expect me to find him a job?" Mr. Nichols demanded gruffly. "If he ever shows up—which he won't—I'll turn him over to the authorities."

"Oh, Dad, you wouldn't, not after I gave my promise that you'd help him!"

"Why should I assist you in thwarting justice?" Mr. Nichols questioned severely. Penny could not see that his eyes were twinkling. "Are you trying to ruin my reputation as a detective?"

"I didn't mean to do anything that might embarrass you, only I couldn't bear the thought of turning the boy over to the police. He was so young."

"I was only teasing," Mr. Nichols told her kindly. "If the boy does come to my office I'll have a talk with him."

"But you don't really think he'll come?"

"I have no way of knowing, Penny. I must admit I'll be rather surprised if he appears."

Penny relapsed into moody silence as she walked toward the house with Mr. Nichols and her chum. She had begun to regret her hasty action.

"I left your roadster at a downtown garage," Mr. Nichols commented, switching to a different subject. "I notified the police that the wheels had been stolen but I did not have time to see the insurance company. I can attend to it in the morning unless you care to do it yourself."

"I may as well," Penny agreed listlessly.

She was feeling very gloomy indeed. Although her father had refrained from blaming her, she knew that he was amused if not annoyed at her behavior. Above all else, she coveted his admiration.

"Cheer up," he said lightly as the three entered the house. "What if you did make a slight blunder? All detectives must learn by experience."

"A fine detective I'd make!" Penny sniffed. "I fail at the very first test. I'm just soft hearted I guess."

"Part of the blame should fall on me," Susan declared. "Jerry Barrows didn't seem in the least like a criminal, Mr. Nichols. I was impressed with his story too."

"I feel sure he must have been a very persuasive talker," the detective smiled. "However, I don't consider that either of you committed any great crime in permitting the boy to escape so I shouldn't worry about it now that the deed is done."

Mr. Nichols regarded the incident as closed, but Mrs. Gallup had heard enough of the conversation to surmise a little of what had happened. In response to her questions, the girls were forced to relate the entire story.

"Penelope Nichols, I never thought you'd do such a silly, foolhardy thing!" the housekeeper said severely. She felt it her privilege to be outspoken for she regarded the girl almost as a daughter. "Why, that young criminal might have killed you! And to think you let him get away without even making an effort to call the police!"

"I'm sorry about it now, Mrs. Gallup, but I thought I was acting for the best. Please, let's not talk about it any more this evening."

The subject had grown very painful to both Susan and Penny. They interested themselves in backgammon and as soon as they could do so gracefully, went to their bedroom.

"I'll never hear the last of it unless that boy shows up at father's office tomorrow," Penny groaned as she tumbled into bed. "I feel positively ill over the affair."

At breakfast the next morning she was her usual cheerful self. She even dared to hope that Jerry Barrows would keep his promise.

"You'll be at your office all morning, won't you, Dad?" she questioned anxiously.

"All morning," he repeated, smiling quizzically at her over his newspaper. "If your young friend calls upon me I'll telephone you."

Directly after breakfast Susan insisted that she must return home as her mother would be expecting her.

"I'll walk along with you," Penny offered. "I promised Father I'd stop at the insurance office this morning."

At the Altman residence the girls parted. Penny continued downtown alone. Mr. Nichols had furnished her with the address of the Reliance Insurance Company and she experienced no difficulty in locating the office.

After stating her mission she was ushered immediately into the presence of a portly gentleman who adjusted insurance claims. She was not surprised to learn that her name already was known to him.

"So you are Christopher Nichols' daughter?" the man remarked with interest. "We think very highly of your father here. In fact, his work has so impressed us that we have engaged him to assist us in stamping out this gang of auto accessory thieves. But of course you already know that."

"My father did mention something about it," Penny murmured.

"Of late the gang has been extending its activities," the adjuster went on, warming to his subject. "Why, last night alone, over thirty thefts of car wheels were reported to the police."

"Thirty!" Penny gasped. "And I imagined I was the only one to have such bad luck."

"Quite the contrary. You merely chanced to be one of the victims of a systematic combing of the city. Nearly all of the wheels were taken in a relatively small downtown area. Now, in all probability there will be a lull in the activities for a few weeks. Then the gang will make another large haul."

"But when the wheels are taken in such numbers I should think it would be easy to trace them," Penny ventured.

The adjuster shook his head.

"For the most part the wheels are trucked to other cities for disposal. The serial numbers are altered and the stolen goods is sold and distributed to dishonest dealers almost before the authorities are aware of the thefts. The police have been unable to cope with the situation." The adjuster smiled broadly, adding: "Now that your father is on the case, we're expecting a little action."

"I'm sure he'll provide it," Penny declared loyally.

The adjuster reached for a form book, and after asking a few routine questions concerning the stolen wheels, wrote out an order which permitted her to have them replaced free of charge at the garage where her roadster had been towed. Penny thanked him for the prompt service and left the office.

Since she was eager to have her car in operating condition with the least possible delay, she carried the order directly to the Hamilton garage. A courteous attendant promised that he would have the roadster equipped and ready for the road within a few minutes.

"You'll need a new standard for the spare too," he advised as she stood viewing the crippled car. "When the wheel was stolen, the thief didn't bother to take it off. Instead he cut the standard with some sharp instrument. Probably with a little hand power saw."

"Isn't that a new method?" Penny inquired with interest, walking around the car to view the severed pieces of metal.

"We're getting quite a few cars in here that way," the attendant returned as he unbolted the ruined tire standard and tossed it into a corner.

While the man fastened a new wheel upon the rack, Penny went over and curiously picked up the discarded scraps of metal. She noted the jagged marks which the saw had left.

"I wonder if Dad might not make use of this," she thought. "I'll take it along anyway."

Somewhat to the amusement of the garage man, she carefully placed the pieces of steel in the rear compartment of the car.

Penny had heard her father remark that many times it was possible to trace a crook by the tools he used. Once Mr. Nichols had apprehended a kidnapper by means of a ransom note which had been written upon a typewriter with a characteristic imprint. Penny hoped that the scraps of metal might upon scientific analysis disclose the type of instrument which had been employed by the thief to sever the tire standard.

"I'll drive directly to Dad's office and see if he can make use of any of these old pieces," she decided.

Although the errand provided an excellent excuse, the real purpose of her call was to learn if Jerry Barrows had kept his appointment.

Mr. Nichols was busy in the inner office when Penny arrived, but Miss Arrow, the efficient secretary, told her that she might go in. She found the detective engrossed in studying a group of photographs and their accompanying Bertillon records.

"Trying to brush up on who's out and why?" Penny asked banteringly.

Mr. Nichols nodded as he offered a photograph for her inspection.

"This is one of the men who I think may be involved in the automobile accessory thefts."

"Not a very pretty face," Penny commented.

"No, and 'Rap' Molberg hasn't a very pretty record either. He's served several terms in the pen, though usually he's a little too smart to have anything proven against him. Rap is the ringleader of the well known Molberg gang. It begins to look as if the outfit had extended its activities to Belton City."

"Is this Rap's description?" Penny inquired, indicating the Bertillon record which lay upon the desk. It consisted of a bewildering array of figures.

1.67.6 1.74.0 88.1 19.0 14-5
HGT OA TR HL HW

"Can you decipher it?" Mr. Nichols smiled.

"I know the HGT stands for height and TR for trunk, but what are the other abbreviations?"

"OA means outer arm," the detective explained. "HL represents head length and HW indicates the head width. Of course all the measurements are reduced to meters, centimeters, and millimeters."

"It looks complicated."

"Not after you become accustomed to it. For instance, I can see at a glance that Rap Molberg is five feet and seven-eighths inches tall—or as it appears in Bertillon—one meter, sixty-seven centimeters and six millimeters."

"I don't believe I'll ever care to be a detective," Penny smiled. "It's too much like studying the multiplication table!"

"Crime detection is a scientific profession——" Mr. Nichols began, but Penny cut him short.

"Tell me, did Jerry Barrows come to interview you this morning?"

"No, and I very much fear we'll never see the young man. I made a point of looking up his juvenile court record and find he has none."

"Then he must have given me a false name."

"I suspect he did, Penny."

"I guess it was silly of me to trust him. I didn't exactly believe his story at the time, and yet he seemed like a rather decent sort too."

"I'd not worry about it any more," Mr. Nichols said kindly.

"I'm afraid I've just done another foolish thing too," Penny declared. She then told him about the severed wheel rack.

"Why, I'd like to examine those pieces of metal," the detective said with interest. "What did you do with them?"

"They're in the roadster. I parked the car in front of the office."

"Then I'll just go down and get them," Mr. Nichols decided. "I should have inspected the car more carefully last night but I was in a hurry. Wait here and I'll be back in a minute."

During her father's absence, Penny amused herself by looking through some of the books on his desk. There were several weighty volumes devoted to criminology and law. She found them dull and turned with more interest to the photograph of Rap Molberg.

He had the appearance of a typical man from the underworld. His eyes were hard and glaring; there were sullen, cruel lines about his mouth. The only unusual mark of identification was a long jagged scar across his left cheek.

In the outside office, a telephone rang. Penny heard Miss Arrow answer the call. Apparently, the secretary was unaware that Mr. Nichols had stepped from the office, for she said:

"Just a minute, please. I will connect you with him."

An instant later the telephone at Penny's elbow jangled.

She took the receiver from its hook intending to explain to the caller that Mr. Nichols had left the office. Before she could speak, a cold, precise masculine voice came to her over the wire.

"Just a little warning, Mr. Nichols!" the words clipped into her ear. "Lay off the Molberg gang or else——"

Penny heard a receiver click. The wire had gone dead.

CHAPTER IV

The Molberg Gang

Penny signaled frantically for the operator's attention. It seemed minutes before the telephone girl responded mechanically: "Number please."

"I was disconnected with my party," Penny informed tensely. "See if you can trace the call. It is very important."

"Just a minute please."

There was another long wait, then the telephone operator informed Penny that the call could not be traced. It had been made from a pay station.

Mr. Nichols entered the office just as Penny hung up the phone.

"Anything wrong?" he asked quickly, noticing the expression on her face.

Penny repeated the warning message.

"Well, it looks as if I'm on the right trail," Mr. Nichols declared, not in the least disturbed. "I'd have preferred that the Molberg gang hadn't learned I was shadowing them, but such news travels fast through underground channels."

"I'm afraid some of those dreadful men may harm you," Penny said anxiously. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I am always careful, my dear, but I refuse to go around wearing a bullet proof vest. This isn't the first warning telephone call I've received."

"I suppose not," Penny sighed. "But I should think that if the members of the Molberg gang know you have been assigned to the case, it would be hard to secure evidence against them."

"It won't be easy," the detective agreed. "However, I flatter myself that I have a few trained investigators whose activities will never be suspected."

"You mean they mingle with underworld characters and try to gain their confidence?"

"Yes, that's the usual plan. When I locate Rap Molberg I'll have him constantly shadowed."

"I've never seen many of your assistants around the office," Penny remarked.

"Naturally not," Mr. Nichols smiled. "If they came here to report, every crook in Belton City would be aware of it within an hour."

"Then how do you keep in touch with your men?" Penny asked curiously.

"There are a few secrets which I must keep to myself. Aren't you taking a rather sudden interest in my work, Penny?"

"Perhaps I am. Since my car wheels were stolen I feel personally concerned in the case. I wish I could do something to help."

Mr. Nichols became grave. "There is nothing you can do, Penny. The last thing in the world that I could wish would be to have you involved in the case. In fact I've been worried for fear——"

"For fear of what?" Penny demanded as her father checked himself.

"I've been afraid that the Molberg gang might attempt to strike at me through you. Until this case is finished you must be very careful."