Penny Nichols and the Black Imp Part 5

But I'll have dinner ready in about fifteen minutes."

"We're in no hurry," Penny a.s.sured her. "Has the evening paper come yet?"

"Yes, I heard the boy drop it in the mailbox a few minutes ago."

Usually Penny had scant interest in the newspaper but she was curious to learn what had been published concerning the stolen Rembrandt. She ran to the mailbox and soon had the sheet spread out on the floor. As she had expected, the story appeared on the front page. And there was a slightly blurred picture of the painting which had been stolen.

Penny studied it carefully and read the story several times before relinquishing the paper to her father.

"Well, has the thief been apprehended?" Mr. Nichols asked with a smile.

"No, the story just says the police are working on the case and expect to make an arrest within a few days."

"Your young friend's name isn't mentioned?"

"Amy Coulter? No, but I don't like that statement about the police expecting to make an arrest."

"It's probably just some reporter's idea," Mr. Nichols answered carelessly.

"I certainly hope so. Of course, it's possible the police have traced the real culprit by this time. I hate to think Amy Coulter is under suspicion."

After Mr. Nichols had read the newspaper, Penny carefully cut out the story which concerned the theft at the Gage Galleries, including the reproduction of the missing painting and a map of the various rooms of the museum.

"Do you intend to do a little private work on the case?" the detective inquired, slightly amused.

Penny laughed and shook her head. "No, I was just interested because I happened to be at the Galleries when the painting disappeared."

In an inside section of the paper she found an article which had been written by the art critic, Hanley Cron. He discussed at length his selection of the prize winning statue, but while he listed a number of figures which were deserving of high praise, nothing was said regarding "The Black Imp," Amy Coulter's entry in the contest.

"After dinner I'm going to get another paper and learn what other critics have to say about it," Penny announced. "You should have seen the prize winning piece, Dad. It was terrible!"

"I fear you may be prejudiced in this Coulter girl's favor, my dear."

"I'm not. Others said the same thing."

Directly after the dinner dishes were wiped, Penny slipped out to the street corner to purchase two other evening papers. She turned to the art sections and was gratified to discover that Hanley Cron's selection of the statue, "Winged Night," was severely criticized by various authorities. Amy Coulter's entry was highly praised and one writer ventured to say that it should have been awarded the five-thousand-dollar prize.

Penny showed the papers to Mrs. Gallup and her father, feeling that her judgment had been confirmed. However, she was deeply troubled by the similarity of the news stories regarding the theft of the painting.

Each account mentioned that the police expected to make an arrest soon and one said that officials of the museum were of the opinion the painting had been stolen by a disgruntled contestant for the Huddleson prize.

"They must mean Amy," Penny declared. "I wonder if she has any idea she is under suspicion."

The telephone rang. It was a call from police headquarters for Mr.

Nichols.

"I'll have to run down to the station for a few minutes," the detective announced as he returned to the living room after answering the summons. "The chief wants to talk with me about an important case."

"While you're there see if you can't get a little information about the stolen painting," Penny urged, helping her father into his coat. "Find out if they really are looking for Amy Coulter."

"So you can tip her off I suppose?" Mr. Nichols inquired dryly.

"I hadn't thought of it particularly, but it's an excellent idea,"

Penny twinkled.

Mr. Nichols was gone nearly two hours, but as he had expected, Penny was waiting up for him when he entered the house.

"What did you learn?" she demanded instantly. "Is Amy Coulter under suspicion?"

"Oh, I didn't consider it a good policy to ask questions about a matter which was none of my concern."

"Then you found out nothing," Penny cried in disappointment. "And I've been sitting up waiting for you too!"

"I didn't say what I learned," Mr. Nichols smiled. "I merely mentioned that I did not make any inquiries."

"You did learn something then! Tell me!"

"Nothing very encouraging, Penny. The police are after this girl--at least they intend to apprehend her for questioning."

"She's not been arrested yet?"

"No, it seems they haven't located her yet."

"I heard someone at the Gage Galleries say Miss Coulter lived at a rooming house on Pearl Street. I wonder if she's still there."

"If she is, my advice to you is to keep away from the place," Mr.

Nichols said severely. "Don't get mixed up in the affair."

"But it seems so unfair for the police to annoy an innocent person, Dad."

"All right, go ahead and involve yourself if you must," the detective returned. "If you land in jail for a.s.sisting a criminal I suppose I can always arrange to bail you out!"

They both knew that Penny would never feel comfortable in her mind until she had warned Amy Coulter of the accusation against her.

Directly after breakfast the next morning Penny took the car and drove to Pearl Street. She did not have Amy's exact address but she was of the opinion that it would not be difficult to locate the right house.

Therefore, she was dismayed to discover that the street seemed to consist of uniform looking dwelling places, nearly all with "room for rent" signs in the front windows.

"This will be like hunting for the proverbial needle in the haystack,"

Penny thought.

Beginning at one end of the street, she rang the doorbell of each likely looking house, inquiring if anyone by the name of Amy Coulter roomed there. She had covered nearly half the street and was growing very discouraged when she halted at a place which looked cleaner and slightly more inviting than its crowded neighbors.

In response to Penny's rap, a woman in a blue wrapper came to the door.

"Can you tell me if a girl named Amy Coulter lives here?" Penny asked mechanically, for she had asked the question many times.

"Amy Coulter?" the woman repeated. "No, not any more."

"Then she did live here at one time?" Penny inquired eagerly.

"Yes, until last night. She didn't give me any notice. She just took her luggage and went."