"It seems that you are wrong, Dad," commented Penny dryly. "Already we have a visitor."
Mr. Nichols went to the door and flung it open. The light revealed a bedraggled young man who might have been in his early twenties. He was not very well dressed and his clothes were rain soaked. Penny and her father regarded the stranger a trifle suspiciously until he spoke.
"I beg your pardon," the young man said apologetically, "but I am looking for the Herman Crocker place. Would you be kind enough to direct me?"
"Why, certainly," replied the detective. "Come in out of the rain, won't you?"
"Thanks, but my shoes are covered with mud."
"You can't harm anything in this cottage," said Penny. "Come right in."
The young man stepped over the threshold, removing his limp felt hat. He had sandy hair, Penny observed, and penetrating blue eyes which roved swiftly about the room.
"It's a nasty night," said Mr. Nichols. "Have you walked far?"
"All the way from Kendon."
"Then you went right past Herman Crocker's place. It's a large house to the left of the road."
"The rain is coming down so fast I couldn't see very far ahead of me," the young man replied. "This was the first light I saw along the way."
"It may be that Mr. Crocker has gone to bed," Penny remarked. "I imagine he retires early."
"Will he be expecting you?" inquired the detective.
"Why, no, he won't," the young man replied after a slight hesitation. "I suspect he'll be very much surprised to see me."
"We have a telephone," Penny said. "If you like, I'll call Mr. Crocker for you. He might be willing to drive up and get you."
"Oh, please don't go to any bother," returned the young man quickly, edging toward the door again.
"It won't be any trouble at all."
"Please, I'd rather you wouldn't. I'll not mind the walk."
Penny glanced sharply at the young man. It was plain to see that he had some special motive for not wishing to give Herman Crocker advance notice of his arrival in the community.
Without having any real reason for such a belief, it suddenly struck Penny that the young man's visit might have some connection with the mysterious call which Walter Crocker had made upon his uncle.
"I take it you're a stranger in these parts," remarked Mr. Nichols. He too was studying the young man curiously.
"Well, yes, I am. I'm here to see Mr. Crocker on rather important business."
"You'll be his second out-of-town visitor this week," Penny commented in a casual tone. "Mr. Crocker's nephew was here, but I understand he has gone back to the city."
"Mr. Crocker's nephew?" asked the young man quickly.
"Yes," said Penny, watching him closely. "Walter Crocker."
A strange look came into the young man's eyes. An expression of astonishment gave way to one of wariness.
"You are acquainted with Walter Crocker perhaps?" asked Penny, ignoring her father's warning glance.
"I have heard of him," replied the young man after a brief hesitation. He turned once more toward the door.
As he opened it a strong gust of wind blew a sheet of rain into the room.
"See here, you can't go out in that," said Mr. Nichols firmly. "Let me telephone Crocker and tell him you're here."
The young man shook his head.
"Then I'll put on chains and take you down there in my car."
"No, I'd rather not have you go to any bother on my account. I don't mind a little rain."
"It's blowing a gale and the storm is getting worse every minute," the detective insisted. "Herman Crocker keeps a vicious dog too. If you walk in there without being expected, you may receive an unpleasant reception."
"I wasn't looking for a very cordial one anyway," the young man said slowly. "But thanks for the tip about the dog. Maybe it would be just as well to go back to town for the night."
"There's no need to do that," said Mr. Nichols. "You're welcome to stay here if you like. Our quarters aren't very luxurious, but at least it will be better than walking back to the village."
"I'll get Mrs. Masterbrook to help me fix up one of the bedrooms right away," Penny added quickly.
"It's very kind of you," said the young man, looking troubled. "You know nothing about me——"
"We're not worried upon that score," replied Mr. Nichols with a smile. "But you might tell us your name."
"Oh, yes, to be sure——" stammered the young man. "Just call me Michael—Michael Haymond."
"I am very glad to know you, Mr. Haymond," returned the detective. "May I take your coat and hat? I'll build up the fire so that your things will dry out."
Penny crossed the room intending to call Mrs. Masterbrook. As she opened the door leading into the hallway she saw the housekeeper hastily retreating into her own bedroom. Obviously she had been listening to the conversation.
"Mrs. Masterbrook!" called Penny.
"Well, what is it?" asked the housekeeper, re-opening her door.
"A guest is spending the night. Will you please help me prepare the east bedroom?"
"This is a nice time to start making up beds," the housekeeper complained. "I was just ready to undress."
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Masterbrook. I'll do it myself."
"I didn't say I wasn't willing to help," the housekeeper said quickly. "Only if you ask me, you're making a big mistake to take a perfect stranger into the house."
"What makes you think he's a stranger?" asked Penny quickly.
"I couldn't help hearing what he told you," Mrs. Masterbrook returned with a toss of her head. "I don't believe for a single minute that his name is Michael Haymond. Anyone could tell that he was lying."
"Who do you think he is?" asked Penny. "A 'G' man in disguise?"
"He looks more like a young criminal to me," Mrs. Masterbrook replied soberly. "His face is very familiar."
"Dear me, how did you manage to see him? Not through the keyhole?"
The housekeeper had not meant to betray herself. She flushed and made no answer.
"If you care to meet Mr. Haymond, come into the living room," Penny invited. "I think you'll find him to be a very nice young man."
"No, thank you, I don't wish to meet him," said the housekeeper coldly. "And if the cottage is robbed during the night, kindly don't blame me."
"All right, I won't," laughed Penny.
The bedroom which the guest was to occupy adjoined Mr. Nichols' sleeping quarters. Long after the house had settled down for the night, Penny could hear sounds from that part of the cottage. Either her father or Mr. Haymond was very restless.
"It may have been unwise to take a stranger into the house," the girl reflected, "but he seemed honest enough. I don't see why Mrs. Masterbrook had to act so hateful about it."
For some time Penny remained awake thinking over the information which Michael Haymond had given about himself. He had not told where he lived nor had he mentioned the nature of his business with Herman Crocker. She had fancied that the young man had seemed somewhat shaken by her reference to Walter Crocker.
"I may have imagined that part," she told herself. "Dad didn't seem to notice anything wrong."
Shortly Penny fell asleep. Several hours later she found herself wide awake again. She did not know what had aroused her.
Although Penny had left the curtains up, the room was dark. She could still hear the rain pattering against the tin roof.
Then the girl became aware of another sound. She heard a floor board creak. Someone was moving softly down the hallway.
"I wonder who is up at this hour?" she thought.
For a minute Penny lay perfectly still, listening. Then she crept noiselessly from bed. Drawing on her dressing gown, she tiptoed to the door.
The hall was dark. At first she could distinguish nothing; then she made out a shadowy figure at the far end. Someone was trying to open the door which led up to the attic.
"Is that you, father?" Penny asked.
When there was no answer, she reached up and pressed the electric switch. The hallway became flooded with light. Penny and Michael Haymond stood blinking at each other, both deeply embarrassed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," stammered the young man. "I didn't mean to disturb anyone. I was just after a drink of water."
"I'm afraid you won't find it in the attic," replied Penny. "Not unless the roof is leaking."
"The attic?" Michael Haymond repeated. "I must be turned around then. I thought this door led to the living room."
Penny could not be certain whether or not the young man was telling the truth. It was entirely possible that he had become confused in the dark hallway. She could not imagine any reason why he would have wished to investigate the attic.
Before Penny could frame a reply Mr. Nichols' door opened and the detective peered out.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
"I am afraid I have disturbed the entire household," the young man apologized. "I was only looking for a drink of water."
"There's no harm in that, I'm sure," replied Mr. Nichols pleasantly. "I'll get you one."
"It really doesn't matter," the young man murmured.
Just then Mrs. Masterbrook's door swung open. The housekeeper, garbed in an old-fashioned nightgown and with her hair done up in curlers, looked out into the hall.
"Dear me, what is going on here?" she asked crossly. "After working hard all day I'd like to get a little sleep."
"It was all my fault," Michael Haymond apologized again.
The housekeeper turned to gaze at him. As their eyes met, Mrs. Masterbrook made a strange rasping sound in her throat. Her hand moved instinctively toward her face as if to ward off a blow.
"Mrs. Masterbrook, I don't believe you have met our guest," Mr. Nichols began.
The housekeeper gave him no opportunity to finish. She moved back into her bedroom and closed the door.
"Did I offend your housekeeper?" asked Michael Haymond anxiously.
"Don't give it a thought," replied Mr. Nichols, lowering his voice. "Mrs. Masterbrook is a very odd character. She may have felt embarrassed because she wasn't dressed up for the occasion. Come along now and we'll get that drink of water."
Penny went back into her room and sat down on the bed. Apparently her father had not distrusted Michael Haymond's motives nor had he considered Mrs. Masterbrook's rude action as anything out of the way.
"Dad takes everything casually," Penny thought.
She could hear her father and Michael Haymond in the kitchen laughing and talking together. The icebox door slammed shut. Evidently they were indulging in a snack of food.
"Mrs. Masterbrook will be furious in the morning," Penny chuckled. "She seems to detest Michael Haymond anyway. For a moment I thought she appeared to recognize him, but I suppose she was merely trying to be dramatic. That's the trouble with Mrs. Masterbrook—she's usually acting a part."
Penny allowed her thoughts to ramble at will until she heard her father and Michael Haymond enter their rooms. The hall light was switched out. Once more the house quieted down.
Penny crept back into bed, but she could not sleep. She felt strangely excited.
Throughout the night there was no further disturbance. After a few hours the rain ceased and stars began to straggle through the clouds. The wind died down.
Penny tossed restlessly upon her pillow. Now and then she could hear Mrs. Masterbrook's bed creak in the next room as if the housekeeper also were spending a sleepless night.
At dawn Penny arose and, quietly dressing, let herself out of the cottage. The grounds were muddy, but everything seemed fresh and green. Birds chirped and the earth gave off a pleasant odor.
At breakfast time Penny returned to the house, feeling none the worse for her sleepless night. As she approached the porch she saw her father and the guest talking earnestly. They turned to greet her.
"Aren't you an early bird this morning, Penny?" inquired her father.
"Oh, I just went for a little walk before breakfast, Dad."
Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.
"You're lucky to get anything to eat this morning," she said stiffly. "There's something the matter with the stove. It doesn't draw properly and we're practically out of wood."
"Anything else wrong about the place?" Mr. Nichols asked with a sigh.
"There are enough odd jobs around here to keep a man busy for a week," replied the housekeeper. "The water pump isn't working well and someone ought to put on the screens."
"I'll be glad to do that for you," offered Michael Haymond. "And I'm good at cutting wood too. Is there an ax around here anywhere?"
"I think I saw one in the basement," Mr. Nichols told him. "But see here—you're our guest."
"I'll be glad to do a little to earn my breakfast. I like to work."
"I can see you do," Mr. Nichols smiled. He studied the young man for a moment. Then he asked abruptly, "How would you like a steady job for a few days?"
"Doing what?"
"All the odd jobs I'm supposed to do. Can you drive a car?"
"Yes."
"Then you could drive to town for our groceries, see that we have a daily wood supply, and repair all the things around here that are falling to pieces."
"Our landlord is expected to see that the place is in livable condition," Penny said quickly. She felt a little troubled because her father wished to engage the strange young man.
"If we wait for him to take care of things, we'll never be comfortable here," returned Mr. Nichols. He turned again to Michael Haymond. "Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Probably you aren't in need of a job."
"But I am," replied the young man quickly. "I'll be glad to work for my board and room."
"I think we can do better than that for you," smiled Mr. Nichols. "Your salary won't be large, but we'll keep you in spending money at least."
"What shall I do first? Chop the wood?"
"You might look at the stove and see if you can discover what is wrong with it."
"O.K.," laughed the young man. "I know a little about cook stoves. We had one at the——"
He stopped abruptly and then finished in confusion: "We had a cook stove at the place where I lived."
"And where was that, young man?" asked Mrs. Masterbrook tartly.
"It doesn't matter in the least," interposed Mr. Nichols smoothly. "Mr. Haymond's affairs are his own."
"There's no great mystery about my past," said the young man. "I came from the West. My parents are dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Mr. Nichols sympathetically.
Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.
"Now Penny—don't say it," declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.
"Don't say what, Dad?"
"That I'm making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way."
"Well, yes, I do," Penny admitted. "I like Michael a lot, but I don't exactly trust him. He hasn't told us much about himself——"
"That's his own business. I haven't any patience with folks who go prying into other persons' private affairs."
"I thought that was the work of a detective," Penny said teasingly.
"When a man commits a crime, then his actions become a matter of public concern," Mr. Nichols replied. "I had a long talk with Michael last night and if I'm any judge of character, he's a decent sort. I don't intend to pry into his personal affairs just for the pleasure of it."
"Well, if the tin spoons disappear don't blame me," Penny laughed, imitating the housekeeper's shrill voice.
"Young Michael will save me a great deal of petty annoyance," Mr. Nichols went on. "I mean for him to serve as a buffer between me and Mrs. Masterbrook."
"For some reason she's taken an intense dislike to him, Dad."
"I noticed that, Penny. Mrs. Masterbrook isn't happy unless she is reading the law to someone. With young Michael here, she'll vent her spite on him and leave us to enjoy our vacation."
"How marvelously your mind works, Dad!"
"I do think of a smart idea now and then."
"Wouldn't it be wiser to discharge Mrs. Masterbrook?"
"She bakes wonderful biscuits," the detective answered. "Besides, she amuses me. I'm curious to see how she gets on with young Michael."
"You're beyond my depth," Penny said with a shrug. "I don't understand your whims at all."
She was forced to admit that from the standpoint of work her father had made no mistake in hiring the young man. Michael put the cooking stove in good order again, chopped a day's supply of wood and repaired the pump. He worked quietly, yet effectively. Even the housekeeper could find no complaint to voice.
"Michael, I suppose you'll be wanting to see Herman Crocker sometime today," Mr. Nichols remarked to the young man.
"Why, yes, sir, I guess so," he replied uncertainly.
"You said that was why you came here," the detective reminded him.
"Yes, sir. I do want to see Mr. Crocker on a matter of business."
"Feel free to run down there whenever you like," Mr. Nichols told him. "You've done enough work around here for one day."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Nichols went for a long walk in the woods but Penny chose to remain at the cottage with a magazine. Michael worked about the yard, washing the automobile. He did not seem in any hurry to make his call upon Herman Crocker.
"I don't believe he's anxious to go there at all," Penny thought. "I wonder if he didn't make up the entire story?"
She was somewhat surprised to observe that for the most part Mrs. Masterbrook left the young man entirely alone. The housekeeper seemed more subdued than usual as if she were brooding over some matter.
The day passed quickly. Penny knew very well that Michael had not visited Herman Crocker for she had kept watch of him the entire time. She had a theory that he did not wish to go there at all, and to test it she called the young man.
"Michael," she said, "Mrs. Masterbrook tells me that we need fresh eggs. I'm driving down to Crocker's place after supper to get some. Don't you wish to ride along with me?"
The young man hesitated, his eyes dropping before Penny's steady gaze.
"Why, I thought I'd wait until tomorrow before I see Mr. Crocker. Thanks just the same."
When supper was over, Penny drove down to the Crocker place. No lights were visible in the window. Either the owner had gone away or was trying to save electricity.
Penny parked the car in the lane. She looked carefully about for the yellow hound. To her relief he was nowhere around the place. Quickly she walked across the yard and pounded on the door.
Penny waited a few minutes and then turned back to the car. She halted as she heard a rap on one of the windows. Glancing up, she saw Perry looking out at her.
"Oh, hello, Perry," Penny called. "Open the door."
"I can't," shouted the boy through the glass. "It's locked."
"Isn't your grandfather here?"
The lad shook his head. "He's been gone all day. I'm locked up in here."
"Can't you open a window?" Penny called.
Again Perry shook his head. "I haven't had anything except bread to eat all day," he told her. "I'm getting real hungry."
"Well, I should think so," said Penny grimly.
She observed that the lower floor windows were all high from the ground, beyond the reach of anyone in the yard.
"Aren't any of the upstairs windows unfastened?" she called to the boy.
"Yes, but I can't get out there."
"Does your grandfather have a ladder?"
"I think there's one somewhere in the barn."
"I'll find it," Penny said encouragingly. "Just you wait until I come back, Perry."
She hurried off to the barn, well aware that in taking matters into her own hands, she was certain to incur the wrath of Herman Crocker.
"I don't care if I do get into trouble," she thought indignantly. "He has no right to shut Perry up in the house without anything to eat. It's cruel."
Penny opened the barn doors and stepped inside. She stopped short to stare at an automobile which stood on the floor beside the granary. One glance assured her that it was not Herman Crocker's ancient car. This was an expensive model with a streamline design, shiny and new save that one fender was slightly battered.
"Why, it's Walter Crocker's automobile!" Penny thought in amazement. "How did it get here?"
Penny stood staring at the car. She knew she could not be mistaken. It was the same automobile which Walter Crocker had upset in the ditch. She had last seen it there when she and her father had gone after Mrs. Masterbrook.
"I suppose Walter Crocker might have instructed his uncle to bring the car here," Penny mused. "But it seems very odd. Old Herman didn't want me to tell anyone about seeing his nephew here. I wonder——"
The girl's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of a car coming up the lane. Glancing out the barn doors Penny saw Herman Crocker arrive in his battered old automobile. He parked beside her own car.
"Of course he'll know I am here," Penny told herself. "I must act as if I've noticed nothing out of the way."
She slipped out of the barn without being observed. As she approached the house, Old Herman climbed from the car, holding fast to Rudy's chain. The hound began to growl and tried to get away from his master.
"Good evening, Mr. Crocker," said Penny pleasantly. "I don't seem to be very popular with your dog."
"I thought that was your car standing here in the lane," replied Mr. Crocker gruffly. "Did I see you coming from the barn?"
"I had started that way," said Penny. "Then I heard your car coming."
Mr. Crocker seemed to relax.
"What's wrong down at the cottage now?" he asked in the tone of one who had deeply suffered.
"Nothing at all, Mr. Crocker. I came to ask if I might buy some fresh eggs."
"I don't make a practice of selling them," the man frowned.
"Then I suppose I'll have to drive in to town."
"Maybe I can let you have a dozen this time."
Mr. Crocker started toward the house but as Penny followed he turned and said pointedly:
"I'll bring them out to the car."
Penny had hoped that she would have an opportunity to speak with Perry. She wished to warn the boy to say nothing about her plan to help him escape from the house. She could only hope that he would be wise enough to remain silent concerning her presence near the barn.
Mr. Crocker did not unlock the front door. Instead he went around to the back porch and from a box which was stored there, counted out a dozen eggs into a paper sack. He returned to the car.
"How much do I owe you, Mr. Crocker?" asked Penny.
The man named a price fifteen cents above the town market. She paid it without a protest.
"How is your grandson, Perry?" Penny asked casually as she prepared to drive away.
Mr. Crocker glanced at her sharply but the girl's face disclosed only polite interest.
"Oh, the boy's fine," he answered gruffly. "He's somewhere around the place."
Penny said goodbye and drove away without disclosing that she knew Perry had been locked in the house during his grandfather's absence. Such treatment seemed nothing short of cruel to her. She could not understand why the townspeople would show such indifference to the lad's fate unless they were unaware of existing conditions.
Upon reaching the cottage, Penny drew her father aside and reported everything she had learned.
"You're sure that the boy told the truth about having no food?" the detective inquired.
"I can't be absolutely certain," Penny admitted. "I've never been inside the house."
"Always there are two sides to every question," Mr. Nichols said slowly. "Folks around here with the exception of Mrs. Masterbrook, seem to think that Crocker isn't a bad sort."
"I'm positive he's not the right person to have entire control of a child, Dad."
"That may be. However, he gave the boy a home when no one else came forward to take him in."
"How do you account for Walter Crocker's car being in Herman's barn?"
"I don't see anything so mysterious about that, Penny. They are relatives. Walter probably asked Herman to have the car hauled there until he came back from the city."
"How do we know he ever went to the city, Dad?"
"What?" asked Mr. Nichols blankly.
Penny repeated her question.
"You're not hinting that something may have happened to Walter Crocker?"
"Yes, I am, Dad. Herman Crocker is a sinister character."
"In your imagination."
"In any one's imagination," Penny said firmly. "We know that Walter Crocker came here to collect money from Herman. That old man is a miser. What would be more natural than to have the nephew conveniently disappear?"
"Penny, you've been reading entirely too many wild stories."
"Dad, you are laughing at me!"
"Pardon me, but I can't help it," smiled the detective. "Herman Crocker is an eccentric character but I don't think he's quite as black as you paint him."
Before Penny could reply, Mrs. Masterbrook came to the porch.
"You're wanted on the 'phone," she told Mr. Nichols.
"Now what?" asked the detective, frowning. "I hope it's not Inspector Harris again."
He went into the house and was gone several minutes. Penny could hear him arguing with someone on the wire. Finally he returned to the porch.
"Well, I've done it now," he told her gloomily.
"What is wrong, Dad?"
"Oh, it was Inspector Harris again. There's been another robbery."
"Near here?" Penny asked quickly.
"Yes, about twenty miles away at a place called Benton. Unknown persons broke into the home of a wealthy family and made off with money and jewels valued at several thousand dollars."
"Why, that sounds almost like the other robbery case, Dad."
"Inspector Harris thinks that the same gang may have pulled both of them. He's after me to take the case."
"And you told him you would?"
"I finally agreed that I'd drive over to Benton and make an inspection. But unless the case is a particularly interesting one I'll have nothing of it. This was supposed to have been my vacation."
"Are you going to Benton now?" questioned Penny eagerly.
"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours."
"Take me with you, Dad," Penny pleaded.
"All right," the detective agreed, "but I don't care to be influenced by any of your wild theories as to who committed the robbery."
"I'll be as quiet as a mouse," Penny promised.
During the ride to Benton Mr. Nichols told her what little he had learned about the case.
"It was the James Kirmenbach home which was robbed," he revealed. "You may have heard of the man. He formerly was the head of the Kirmenbach Chemical Company but retired a few years ago to live quietly in the country. The thieves broke into a wall safe, taking a box of money and jewels. The most valuable item was a diamond necklace."
"I suppose the local police made a routine investigation?"
"Yes, but they found no clues. Kirmenbach appealed to Inspector Harris and that's how I'm rung in on the deal."
It was a few minutes after nine o'clock when Mr. Nichols drew up in front of an imposing brick house at the outskirts of Benton.
Penny and her father presented themselves at the door and upon giving their names to the maid were promptly admitted. Mr. Kirmenbach, a bald headed man in his early sixties, came to greet the detective.
"Mr. Nichols?" he asked, extending his hand. "Inspector Harris telephoned that you would take the case."
"I only promised to make an inspection," the detective replied. "Tell me exactly what happened please."
"I'll call my wife," said Mr. Kirmenbach. "She'll be able to give you a better account than I."
While Penny and her father were waiting they glanced quickly about the living room. It was lavishly furnished and in excellent taste.
Mrs. Kirmenbach, a gray haired lady, only a few years younger than her husband, smiled graciously as she bowed to Penny and the detective.
"I do hope that you'll be able to recover my necklace for me," she said to Mr. Nichols. "The other things do not matter, but the diamonds were left me by my father years ago. I prized them for sentimental reasons as well as their actual value."
"When did you discover your loss?" questioned the detective.
"Early this morning Ellen, our maid, noticed that the window of the study had been pried open. She called me at once. The wall safe had been forced and my box of jewels was missing. My husband sent for the police at once."
"And they learned nothing," Mr. Kirmenbach said in a tone of disgust. "There were no finger-marks, no evidence of any kind."
"How many servants do you employ?" asked the detective.
"Only three," answered Mrs. Kirmenbach. "Ellen is the maid, and we have a colored woman who does the cooking. Jerry, a young college boy, serves as our chauffeur. I can vouch for them all."
"I'll talk with them later," Mr. Nichols said. "I'd like to look at the study now, please."
"This way," invited Mr. Kirmenbach. "I had the room locked up again after the police were here this morning. Nothing has been disturbed."
"Good," said Mr. Nichols. "I'll just look around for a few minutes."
"We'll leave you alone," Mrs. Kirmenbach declared politely. "If you want us for anything, we'll be in the living room."
"It will not take me long," replied the detective.
Penny glanced about the study with keen interest. It was a small paneled room, lined high with book shelves. There was a comfortable davenport, several chairs and a table.
Mr. Nichols first turned his attention to the wall safe. Next he carefully examined the window sill.
"Find anything, Dad?" asked Penny.
"Not yet," he answered.
As her father continued his inspection, Penny became a trifle bored. She sat down on the davenport and began idly to play with a toy lantern which had been dropped there. It was a child's toy such as one often saw in candy stores filled with sweets. The red isinglass had been broken in one place and the original string wick had been replaced by a tiny bit of cloth.
"Dad," said Penny presently, "do the Kirmenbachs have any children?"
"They didn't mention any," Mr. Nichols replied absently.
"They probably have grandchildren," Penny went on.
"Does it make any difference?" asked the detective. He was feeling irritated at his failure to find clues.
"Not particularly, Dad. I was just wondering about this toy lantern."
Mr. Nichols turned around and looked quickly at the object in her hand.
"Where did you get that?" he asked sharply.
"Why, it was right here on the davenport, Dad."
Mr. Nichols took the toy from her hand. Penny was surprised by the intent expression of his face as he examined the lantern.
"Come along, Penny," he said quietly, dropping it into his coat pocket. "We'll talk with Mr. and Mrs. Kirmenbach again. It's just possible that we've found a vital clue!"