do not care if you lose it."

"Of course I care," Mrs. Dillon retorted. "That string cost my husband
fifteen thousand dollars."

"Then the necklace is even more valuable than I imagined. I should
advise you to take it to the bank vault in the morning. Keep it there
until you have it fully protected by insurance."

"I'll do it," Mrs. Dillon promised. "I really think your advice is
worth following. I have been careless with the pearls."

In a few minutes the orchestra began to play again and the party went
on, although many of the guests were still too nervous and excited to
dance. They sat in groups discussing the hold-up. Christopher Nichols
became the center of one admiring circle after another. He did not
enjoy the attention.

"Let's go home," he suggested to Penny. "I've had enough."

"All right," she agreed instantly. "I left my wraps upstairs. I'll
get them."

She crossed the ballroom and entered a hallway. As she paused to
permit a couple to pass, she noticed that Hanley Cron and Mrs. Dillon
were standing at the foot of the spiral stairway, their backs toward
her, engaged in earnest talk. She could not help hearing a snatch of
their conversation.

"Mrs. Dillon, why don't you take lunch with me tomorrow at my studio?"
the art critic invited.

"I should enjoy it, Mr. Cron," the woman replied. "I might drop in
after I take my necklace to the bank vault."

"I see you are determined to follow Christopher Nichols' advice."

"Yes, don't you think I should?"

"I believe he is not considered a very reliable detective," the man
replied. "However, in this instance, his advice might be worth
following."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Cron. I'll take the necklace to the bank
in the morning."

"Why not come to my studio before going to the bank?" the art critic
proposed. "Then I could serve as an escort. With such a valuable
package in your possession you really need a guard."

"It is very kind of you to offer," Mrs. Dillon returned, flattered. "I
will meet you at the studio at one o'clock and after luncheon we'll go
to the bank together."

Penny had reached the foot of the stairs. The two were so engrossed in
their conversation that they were unaware they were blocking the path.

"I beg your pardon," she murmured suggestively.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Mrs. Dillon exclaimed, moving hastily aside.

Penny gave no hint either by look or action that she had overheard the
conversation, but inwa