rly all of the guests, either personally or by
reputation. Penny noticed that as he appeared to talk casually with
one person after another, actually he was surveying the throng somewhat
critically.

"You were right about the jewelry," he said in an undertone to his
daughter. "That necklace Mrs. Dillon is wearing must be worth at least
a cool ten thousand dollars."

"I should think she'd be afraid of losing it," Penny commented.

"Oh, it's probably insured for all it's worth," Mr. Nichols returned
casually.

The orchestra had struck up again and as other couples went out on the
floor, Penny tugged at her father's sleeve.

"Come on, Dad. Let's dance."

"You know I hate it, Penny."

"Just one," she pleaded. "I've had no fun at all this evening."

"Oh, all right," he gave in. "But remember, one dance is the limit."

"That depends upon how many times you step on my feet," Penny laughed.

Actually, Christopher Nichols was a far better dancer than he imagined
himself to be. His steps were introduced in a mechanical routine which
sometimes annoyed Penny, but otherwise he made an excellent partner,
gliding smoothly over the floor with the ease and grace of a young man.

"How am I doing?" he mumbled in his daughter's ear as he whirled her
deftly about to avoid striking another couple.

"Not bad at all," Penny responded, smiling. "Consider yourself engaged
for the next dance."

"Only one I said. I don't want to be laid up with rheumatism tomorrow."

"Rheumatism!" Penny scoffed.

She had spoken the word in an ordinary tone but it sounded as if she
had shouted it for the music ended unexpectedly in the middle of a
strain, trailing off into discordant tones. The amazed dancers halted,
looking toward the orchestra to see what was wrong.

Penny felt the arm which her father held about her waist stiffen. A
scream of terror rippled over the room.

Two men with white handkerchiefs pulled over their faces, had entered
the ballroom through the double French doors opening into the garden.
They trained their revolvers upon the dancers.

"This is a stick-up!" one announced grimly. "Put up your hands and
stand against the north wall!"

CHAPTER VII

An Invitation to Lunch

Penny and her father were forced to line up with the other guests.
They stood against the north wall, their hands held above their head.
Members of the orchestra and servants were compelled to obey the order.
While one of the holdup