d carefully wrapped it.

"I'll take you in the car if you like."

"No, I'll walk," Penny replied. "I've been gaining weight lately and
need the exercise."

Mr. Nichols smiled, for Penny barely tipped the scales at a hundred
pounds. They left the building together and separated.

"I should be home early for dinner tonight unless something unforeseen
comes up," Mr. Nichols mentioned in parting.

Penny found Mrs. Gallup ironing in the kitchen. She paused to display
the Black Imp, but the housekeeper was not greatly impressed.

"And you call that a work of art!" she scoffed. "It's just an old lump
of clay."

"This is only a copy of Amy Coulter's fine piece, Mrs. Gallup. Not a
very good copy either. But don't you think the design is clever?"

"I can't say I do. That Imp has such a sinister look on his face--as
if he were guarding a wicked secret!"

"Now that's an idea!" Penny laughed. "Maybe he is. At least he
frightened a crook out of Dad's office this afternoon."

"What was that?" Mrs. Gallup demanded quickly.

Penny did not repeat for she had no desire to alarm the housekeeper.
After all she could not be certain that the Black Imp had been the
cause of Max Lynch's sudden leave taking.

"Oh, I was just talking," she murmured, and departed before Mrs. Gallup
could question her further.

Penny took the little statue to her room, and after trying it in
several locations, decided that it looked best on the maple desk. She
then sat down to write a few lines in her diary, but whenever she
glanced up the Black Imp seemed to be staring down at her with an
inquiring scrutiny.

"You are a wicked little beast!" Penny chuckled. "Are you trying to
learn what I'm writing about the jewelry theft?"

She turned the Black Imp so that he faced the wall and finished the
notation in her diary.

It was a few minutes after five when Penny heard the front door bell
ring. Thinking that one of her school chums had come to call, she
darted down the stairs to answer. The visitor was Mrs. Dillon.

"Why, how do you do," Penny stammered. "Won't you come in?"

She wondered what had brought the woman to the house at such a late
hour of the afternoon. A conviction dawned upon her that Mrs. Dillon
had learned of the hoax she and Amy had perpetrated in order to see the
Rembrandt. She steeled herself for an unpleasant interview.

"Is your father here?" Mrs. Dillon inquired.

"No, Mrs. Dillon. He hasn't returned from t