"March down the stairs in front of me and don't try any tricks," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady. She had grown a little frightened at her own daring. It appeared reasonable to suppose that the youth she had captured was the same crook whom the police had warned her against and yet the boy seemed too young to be a hardened criminal. Penny decided upon a bold move. "Susan, stand guard at the outside door," she directed. As her chum took the position, Penny reached up and switched on the garage light. "I have no weapon," she admitted, knowing that the youth had perceived the fact instantly. "But it will do you no good to try to escape for the police are combing the neighborhood." Her words had the desired effect. Blinking in the unexpected glare of the light, the young fugitive shrank back against the wall, his face twisted by fear. "Do they suspect I'm here?" he questioned. "Have they surrounded the district?" "I talked with an officer only a few minutes ago," Penny answered truthfully. "He advised me that our property was being watched." She was studying the boy with increasing interest. He was exceedingly well dressed and while his garments were in need of pressing they fitted him perfectly, disclosing a fine physique. He had broad shoulders and powerful muscles. It struck Penny that he looked more like a football player than a crook. Yet, as she studied his face, she realized that it lacked character. "Don't turn me over to the police," the boy begged. "I've done nothing wrong." "Then why were you hiding in my garage?" "It's true the police were chasing me," he admitted reluctantly, "but they mistook me for someone else." "If you weren't guilty why did you run?" Penny demanded suspiciously. "Why didn't you wait and explain?" "You can't explain to a cop," the boy told her with a scornful curl of his lip. "You see, I have a juvenile court record--it doesn't amount to much but the police won't give me a chance. I've been trying to go straight, but every move I make they watch me." "Tell me your name." The boy hesitated, then said quietly: "Jerry Barrows." "I mean your real name," Penny smiled. A telltale flush crept over the youth's face, but he threw back his head a trifle defiantly. "It is my real name. I'm no thief either. I admit I've been in a little trouble before this, but today it wasn't my fault. Another fellow and myself were standing in a crowd when an old lady let out a holler that someone had picked her pocketbook. The police came running. They spotted me right off. I hadn't been near the old lady, but she was so excited she was ready to identify anyone. When the cops tried to arrest me on suspicion I took to my heels." "What sort of juvenile court record do you have?" Penny asked. "Nothing of consequence. Once I was in a gang that took some apples from a pushcart. It was done in fun, but the judge put me on probation on account of it."