Part 11 (1/2)
”I wish you could see the picture,” she ended. ”I'm almost certain it's a fake. If I can smuggle you into the library, will you look at it?”
”No, Penny, I will not. You seem to forget that we're guests of Mrs.
Dillon.”
”Yes, but if she has the stolen Rembrandt in her possession, isn't it our duty to notify the police?”
”Do you know that she has the stolen painting?”
”No, in fact I rather suspect she's been cheated by a dishonest dealer.”
”In that event, you'd only stir up a hornet's nest without doing a particle of good. In fact, exposing Mrs. Dillon might give the real thief a warning to lie low.”
”How do you mean, Dad?”
”Why, the moment Mrs. Dillon is arrested, the dealer from whom she purchased the picture will disappear. Then there will be no way to trace the real thief.”
”You're a.s.suming that the dealer and the thief worked together even though the painting which Mrs. Dillon bought may have been a fake.”
”It's quite possible, Penny. Some day when the time is more opportune, I'll explain to you how picture thieves work their racket. For the moment I wish you'd accept my opinion that this case is packed with dynamite. My advice to you is to be very sure of what you're doing before you start any action.”
”I guess you're right,” Penny agreed. ”I'll not do anything rash.”
”The case may shake down in a few days,” Mr. Nichols went on. ”In the meantime, Mrs. Dillon isn't going to dispose of her picture. She'll not find it as easy to sell as she antic.i.p.ates.”
The detective arose from the bench after glancing at his watch.
”We'll have to go inside now,” he said, ”or the party will be over.”
They entered the house and after wandering about for a few minutes encountered Mrs. Dillon. She greeted the detective cordially and the smile she bestowed upon Penny disclosed that she had not even noticed the girl's long absence from the ballroom.
”How do you like her?” Penny whispered to her father as they sought the refreshment table.
The detective shrugged. ”She serves very good punch.”
Mr. Nichols knew nearly 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.”