Penny Nichols and the Black Imp Part 6

"Did Miss Coulter leave a forwarding address?"

"No, she didn't. I can't tell you anything more about her."

Impolitely, the woman closed the door in Penny's face.

The girl walked slowly down the steps to the street. She was disappointed at not finding Amy, and a little troubled to learn that the youthful sculptress had departed from the rooming house without leaving an address. Her disappearance looked almost like flight.

The m.u.f.fled roar of an automobile engine caused Penny to gaze toward the street. A dark blue car had pulled up to the curbing. Three men in civilian garb climbed out, and after briefly surveying the rooming house, walked toward it.

"Plain-clothes men from police headquarters," Penny appraised instantly. "I can spot them a mile away. I wonder if they're on the trail of Amy Coulter too?"

CHAPTER IV

Following Amy's Trail

The detectives glanced curiously at Penny as they came up the steps to the rooming house but failed to notice that she lingered by the street curbing to learn what had brought them to the scene. They rang the bell and the door was opened almost instantly by the landlady.

"You may as well go away," she began irately, then paused in confusion.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought it was someone else."

The plain clothes men flashed their badges and then inquired if Amy Coulter resided at the house.

"You're not the first that's asked for her," the woman informed.

"Someone from the Gage Galleries has been telephoning all morning until it's enough to drive a body wild. And just a minute ago a girl came to bother me."

"I take it then that Amy Coulter is not here?" one of the detectives interrupted.

"No, she packed up her luggage and cleared out last night without leaving an address. What has she done now?"

"We're not certain that she has done anything, but we wish to question her."

"I thought something was wrong when she cleared out so fast," the landlady declared. "She paid her rent all right, but she was a queer one. I was suspicious of her from the first."

The detectives talked with the landlady a few minutes longer before returning to their car.

Penny had heard the entire conversation. The visit of the plain clothes men to the rooming house made it clear to her that the order definitely had gone out for Amy Coulter's apprehension as a suspect in the Gage Galleries theft. It seemed likely that the young sculptress was aware of the situation, for otherwise why would she disappear without leaving a forwarding address?

"Anyway, there's nothing I can do," Penny thought. "I may as well give up the search and go shopping."

Since Pearl Street was not far from the business section of Belton City, she left her automobile parked at the curbing and walked to the nearest department store.

Penny had a long list of items to purchase, for Mrs. Gallup had mentioned a number of articles which were needed for the house. It was well after the noon hour when she finished the task. She dropped in at the store tearoom for a sandwich and cup of chocolate, then gathered up her packages and started back to her car.

Turning the first corner, she was startled to notice a familiar figure across the street. A girl in a shabby blue serge suit was staring into the window of a candy shop.

"That looks like Amy Coulter!" Penny thought excitedly.

She hurried across the street to accost the girl. Upon hearing her name called Amy turned swiftly and her face lighted with pleasure.

"Why, how nice to meet you again, Miss Nichols."

For an instant Penny felt embarra.s.sed. Amy looked so genuinely glad to see her that it was difficult to believe the girl could know of the accusation against her. It would be awkward to bring up the subject.

"I was hoping I might see you," Penny declared after a brief silence.

"In fact, I called at your rooming house only a little while ago. The landlady told me you had moved."

"Yes, I didn't like the place very well. And it was too expensive for me."

"Where are you staying now?" Penny questioned, and then as the other girl hesitated for an answer, said quickly: "Don't tell me unless you wish."

"Of course I want you to know, Miss Nichols. I have a room on Fulton Avenue only a few blocks from here. If you have time I'd like to have you visit me. I am on my way home now."

"I'd like to accompany you," Penny said quickly. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Amy Coulter looked surprised at such a response, but offered no comment. The girls devoted their conversation to casual subjects as they walked toward the rooming house.

Presently they paused before a drab looking building in a quiet street.

Amy offered no apology as she led Penny up four flights of stairs to a tiny room on the top floor.

Penny noticed that Amy had arranged the cheap furniture to the best advantage. The gay home-made curtains at the window, bright pillows and an India cloth thrown over a battered old table, showed a nice appreciation of color values. The walls were attractive with fine paintings and etchings and in one corner of the room stood a box of statues and ceramics.

"You have some lovely things," Penny remarked admiringly.

"The paintings were done by my father. You may have heard his name--Eli Coulter."

"Why, he was famous as an artist and sculptor!" Penny exclaimed. "You are his daughter?"

"Yes, but few persons are aware of it. A name is forgotten so soon."

Unknowingly, Amy sighed. "My father was quite noted at the time of his death. That was only four years ago. It seems a century."

"Your father's paintings will never be forgotten," Penny a.s.sured her earnestly. "They will always be treasured."

"I hope so. Father really sacrificed himself to his art. He died in poverty."

"You have had a difficult time since then?" Penny asked kindly.

"Yes, but I have no complaint. I shall manage to get along and I derive a real joy from my sculptoring."

"Your father taught you, I suppose?"

"All that I know I learned from him. But I can never equal his work."

"That remains to be seen," Penny smiled. "You are only starting your career."

"I haven't been able to sell any of my work. I am getting very discouraged. I had hoped to win the five thousand dollar Huddleson prize, but I failed."