"h.e.l.lo, boys. You don't look as if you were expecting me."

"We weren't--exactly," Cron muttered. "What do you want, Max? You know I've warned you not to come here."

The gambler had been making a quick survey of the room. His eyes came to rest on the Rembrandt. He smiled again, unpleasantly.

"Say, who are you anyway?" Hoges demanded angrily. "What business do you have with us?"

"My business is with your pal, Hanley Cron. We're partners."

"Partners?" Hoges echoed, his eyes narrowing. He wheeled toward Cron.

"If you've been double crossing me----"

"Oh, calm down," Cron said sharply. "Lynch and I had a little private business together but it has nothing to do with the picture racket."

"I'm not so sure about that," the other retorted. "You've been collecting all the money. Maybe you've stuck some of it into your pocket."

"I didn't come here to start an argument," Lynch interposed. "But I'll not stand for any monkey business either. Hand over the pearls, Cron!"

"I don't have them. I told you once that girl----"

"Yes, you've told me a good many things, Cron. But I happen to know you have the necklace. Hand it over or----"

The threat was left unsaid for at that unfortunate moment Penny felt an overpowering impulse to sneeze. She buried her face in her handkerchief but succeeded in only partially m.u.f.fling the sound.

Immediately, the closet door was flung open and she was found cowering there. Cron dragged her from her hiding place.

"So you've been listening!" he sneered.

"Yes," said Penny boldly. "And I've heard enough to confirm what I've always believed. You are the person who stole the Rembrandt from the Gage Galleries! You're a cheap trickster who p.a.w.ns himself off as a gentleman!"

As she uttered the tirade, the girl made a quick dive for the door, but Max Lynch caught her by the arm and flung her back.

"Not so fast, Miss Nichols," he muttered. "This is once when you won't go tattling to the police or to that father of yours!"

The discovery of Penny hiding in the closet had brought an abrupt end to the quarrel. In the face of the new emergency, the four crooks laid differences aside to consider what must be done.

"Tie her up!" Cron ordered harshly.

Penny's arms and legs were securely bound with stout cord, a gag was drawn over her mouth, and she was unceremoniously thrown back into the closet. But she could still hear the men talking.

"This changes all our plans," Cron said. "If this girl knew enough to follow us here, the police may soon be on our trail. We must get out of town."

"Not without dividing on that necklace job we planned together," Lynch interposed angrily. "You'll never leave town until you cough up."

Hoges and his unnamed companion were regarding Cron with open suspicion.

"You've been holding out on us," they accused the art critic.

Cron realized that he had placed himself in an awkward position.

"All right, I'll admit I have the pearl necklace," he said shortly.

"We'll split four ways, and then no one can kick."

Max Lynch did not like the decision, but after grumbling a little, he unwillingly agreed.

"Now let's get out of here!" Cron urged nervously. "The necklace is at my room. We'll have to go there."

"What about the Rembrandt?" Hoges asked, turning to look at it.

"Take my advice and leave it behind," Lynch spoke up. "That picture is as hot as a rivet. It's a bulky thing to tote around the country as luggage too."

"How about the girl?" Hoges demanded.

Cron hesitated only a fraction of an instant. "Leave her in the closet."

"Maybe she won't be found very soon," Lynch remarked.

"That's her hard luck," Cron retorted. "We have to look out for ourselves."

"Okay," Lynch agreed indifferently. "Let's go."

The men hastily gathered up a few possessions which if left behind might serve to identify them. Then they went out the door, locking it after them.

Penny heard the key turn in the lock, and her heart sank. With a gag over her mouth, she could not even call for help. She was indeed in a desperate plight.

CHAPTER XIX

Fire!

Penny worked at her bonds, but the cords had been fastened securely and she could not free herself. Exhausted, she lay quiet, trying to think of some way to attract attention. She thumped with her feet on the floor of the closet, but minutes pa.s.sed and no one came to her a.s.sistance.

It was useless, she thought miserably. There was scant chance that anyone would discover her until it was too late. How maddening it was to know that while she remained helpless, Cron and his confederates were escaping from the city!

Now that the knowledge was valueless to her, she comprehended the entire plot. Cron and Hoges had worked together, and the latter had smuggled the genuine Rembrandt from the Gage Galleries just as she had suspected. Then instead of trying to sell the stolen picture they made copies of it, disposing of the duplicate many times and at a handsome profit.

Penny was not certain as to Max Lynch's connection with the men, but mention of the pearls suggested to her that Cron and the gambler had relieved Mrs. Dillon of her necklace. She recalled that the art critic had made a point of learning the exact hour when the woman would carry the pearls to the bank vault. Was it not likely that he had proposed the meeting solely as a means of providing an opportunity for the robbery?

When Penny considered Amy Coulter's part in the affair, she was without a theory. She wondered if she would ever know whether or not the girl was involved with the gang.

Presently Penny became aware of a crackling noise in the building. At first she paid it slight heed, but as the strange sound became louder, she listened intently. She could hear timbers snapping and cracking and the interior of the closet was growing uncomfortably warm. Even then the horrible truth did not dawn upon her.

She heard excited shouts and running footsteps. Suddenly Penny distinguished a cry which struck terror to her heart.

"Fire! Fire!"