deserted.

Penny glanced quickly about. There was no sign of the thief. She
darted across the room to the hall door. To her astonishment, it was
locked from the inside.

"May I ask what you are doing in my apartment?" a cold, masculine voice
demanded.

Penny whirled around to face Hanley Cron. He had entered the studio
from an adjoining kitchenette.

"Oh, Mr. Cron, did you see him in here?" she gasped.

"Did I see whom?" the man asked with provoking calmness.

"A thief just entered your studio by means of the fire escape," Penny
informed. "I saw him come in here."

Hanley Cron shook his head and a slight sneer played over his lips.
"No one has been in my studio during the past hour except yourself."

"But I'm positive I saw him. He entered through the open window."

"I've been in the studio all the time. As you see, the outside door is
locked. The man couldn't have escaped."

Penny was baffled. Although several other windows opened off the fire
escape, it was difficult to make herself believe that she had been
mistaken. However, a careful glance about the room assured her that
the thief was not hiding there.

"Will you leave?" Cron asked impatiently. "Your story about a thief
running up the fire escape doesn't ring true. You probably used it as
an excuse to get in here and spy!"

"You'll soon learn that it's the truth," Penny exclaimed with rising
anger. "Just wait until your friend Mrs. Dillon arrives."

"What has she to do with it?"

"Her pearls were stolen. And it was partly your fault too, Mr. Cron,
because you invited her to call at your studio on the way to the bank!
You must have known she ran a great risk in carrying that necklace
unguarded."

"Are you meaning to imply--?"

"I'm not hinting anything," Penny returned shortly. She was provoked
at herself for wasting to much time in idle talk. It had given the
thief an opportunity to escape from the building.

She turned to go, but just then her attention was drawn to a small
statue upon which Cron evidently had been working. His smock was
splattered with wet clay and the little figure which rested on a nearby
pedestal had not yet fully dried.

As the girl's gaze wandered to the statue, Cron became slightly
confused. Picking up a dark cloth from the floor he covered the mass
of clay, endeavoring to make the action appear casual.

Penny was not to be deceived. She instantly divined that the art
critic did not wish her to s