seemed strangely familiar. Then she remembered. It must be
the shop of Jimmy Wilson, who did some of her father's printing.

Penny opened the door and there was Jimmy himself feeding envelopes
into a small job press. He looked up from his work when he saw her,
stopping his machine to say: "Well, if it isn't Miss Nichols. Rush
order from your father, I'll bet."

"Not this time, Mr. Wilson. But I do wonder if you could give me a
little information."

"I'll tell you anything but my lodge secrets," Jimmy replied.

"I want to know what became of the tenants on the floor above."

If the printer was surprised at such a direct question his expression
did not disclose it.

"Oh, the janitor was telling me about that, Miss Nichols. He said they
moved out, bag and baggage during the night."

"Last night?" Penny inquired quickly.

"Yes, seems their rent was paid up a week ahead too."

"What sort of place did they run?"

"Well, they claimed to be sign painters, but I couldn't tell you about
that. In an old building like this a lot of strange specimens come and
go."

"Did you notice the man who rented the floor?"

"Not particularly. There seemed to be three of them, a tall, rather
well dressed man, and two kind of long-haired looking foreigners.
Sometimes when I worked late in my shop, I could hear them up there
messing around long into the night."

Further questioning failed to bring out any vital information, and not
wishing to arouse the printer's suspicions, Penny thanked him and
descended to the street.

She was disappointed at her failure to find the upper floor of the
building occupied and it occurred to her that possibly her own actions
had caused the sudden departure.

"The janitor may have mentioned to that man in gray that I came here
yesterday," she reflected, "but why should it make any difference?"

Penny was certain that the man she had followed to the building had
previously made a business of shadowing her. She had never seen him
before in her life and could not understand why her movements should
interest him.

"The riddle is too involved for me," she told herself. "I guess one
mystery at a time is enough to worry about."

It was still fairly early in the afternoon and Penny did not wish to
waste the day. She decided to make a bold move and call upon Mrs.
Dillon. Yet she dreaded the interview.

Taking a bus, she soon arrived at the society woman's home. When she
rang the doorbell