minutes to eleven on the following night, eight police
cars rolled swiftly down the boulevard. In a congested portion of the
city they drew up to the curbing, waiting for Christopher Nichols who
rode with his daughter in a dark sedan.

Jerome Davis, in charge of the raid, came over to speak to the
detective.

"Everything is all set, Mr. Nichols. We have the entire neighborhood
bottled up. Every alley and street guarded."

"Good. And the Hamilton building?"

"It is surrounded. At exactly eleven my men will raid both places.
It's a cinch we'll get Rap Molberg and his gang this time."

"You're certain no hint of the raid has leaked out?"

Jerome Davis laughed confidently.

"Even now my men aren't sure what's coming off. This raid can't fail,
Mr. Nichols. We had a straight tip where Molberg could be found and
we'll get him!"

"Then go ahead exactly as we planned," Mr. Nichols directed. "On to
the Blind Pig Cafe!"

Jerome Davis returned to the waiting cars, relaying the detective's
orders. In single file the police automobiles moved forward. They
rounded a corner and bore down upon a brightly illuminated restaurant.

With a start Penny recognized it as the same place where she had met
Betty Davis the previous evening.

"What a coincidence!" she thought. "How embarrassing it would be for
Mr. Davis if his son should be found in there tonight!"

The appearance of the first officer in the doorway of the Blind Pig was
sufficient to give warning that a raid was under way. The few persons
who were dining inside made wild dashes for the doors and windows.
They were quickly captured by officers stationed at all the exits.
Although the room lights had been snapped out, no shots were fired.

"Something is wrong!" Mr. Nichols exclaimed, abruptly leaving the sedan
from which he had been watching. "It looks to me like a tip-off."

A few minutes after her father had disappeared into the cafe, Penny saw
the policemen load perhaps six or seven prisoners into the waiting
cars. But it was apparent even to her that the raid had failed. The
persons arrested obviously were not members of the Molberg gang.

Mr. Nichol's face was dark when he came back to the sedan. Without a
word he started the engine and drove rapidly off.

"What happened?" Penny asked timidly.

"Oh, the usual," the detective snapped. "It was a tip-off. Only a few
persons were in the cafe and the clubrooms to the rear were completely
deserte