ldquo;Shall I call the police, Salt?”

“Why bother? That bird’s gone now. Let’s see if he stole anything first.”

Salt muttered in disgust as he saw the interior of the car. A box of photographic equipment had been scattered over the back seat. The door of the glove compartment was open, its contents also helter-skelter.

“Anything missing?” Penny asked.

“Not that I can tell. Yes, there is! Some of the photographic plates!”

“Oh, Salt, I was afraid of it! The thief must have been one of those two men who were in the auto accident! You wouldn’t sell them the picture they wanted so they followed you here and stole it!”

“They may have tried,” the photographer corrected.

“You mean you still have it?”

[38]

“The plates that are missing are old ones, extras I exposed at a society tea and never bothered to develop.”

“Then you have the one of the auto accident?”

“Right here in my pocket.”

“Oh, Salt, how brilliant of you!” Penny laughed.

“It wasn’t brilliancy on my part—just habit,” Salt returned. “I wonder why that bird set such great store by the picture? Maybe for some reason he’s afraid to have it come out in the paper.”

“I can hardly wait to see it developed!”

As Penny and the photographer walked back to the theater entrance, a taxi skidded to a stop at the curb. Jerry alighted.

“Anything wrong?” he inquired, staring curiously at the pair.

Salt told him what had happened.

“Maybe you’ve got dynamite packed in that plate,” Jerry commented when he had heard the story. “Better shoot it to the office and have it developed.”

“I’m tied up he