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Clue of
the Silken
Ladder
_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT
_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
_Illustrated_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK
_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES
_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT, 1941, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.
Clue of the Silken Ladder
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
_CONTENTS_
CHAPTER PAGE
1 DOUBLE TROUBLE _1_
2 A ROPE OF SILK _12_
3 SOCIETY ROUTINE _23_
4 A TURN OF FORTUNE _32_
5 THE MAN IN GRAY _42_
6 AN APARTMENT BURGLARY _49_
7 MARK OF THE IRON HOOK _59_
8 PSYCHIC SIGNS _67_
9 MRS. WEEMS' INHERITANCE _75_
10 OUIJA BOARD WISDOM _85_
11 THE CELESTIAL TEMPLE _94_
12 A MESSAGE FOR MRS. WEEMS _102_
13 COUSIN DAVID'S GHOST _111_
14 WET PAINT _118_
15 HIDDEN MONEY _125_
16 OVER THE WINDOW LEDGE _135_
17 KANO'S CURIO SHOP _142_
18 THE BELL TOWER _151_
19 PENNY INVESTIGATES _157_
20 INSIDE THE CABINET _163_
21 STARTLING INFORMATION _168_
22 SCALING THE WALL _174_
23 A PRISONER IN THE BELFRY _181_
24 THE WOODEN BOX _188_
25 EXTRA! _200_
CHAPTER
1
_DOUBLE TROUBLE_
"Now I ask you, Lou, what have I done to deserve such a fate?"
Jerking a yellow card from beneath the windshield of the shiny new
maroon-colored sedan, Penny Parker turned flashing blue eyes upon her
companion, Louise Sidell.
"Well, Penny," responded her chum dryly, "in Riverview persons who park
their cars beside fire hydrants usually expect to get parking tickets."
"But we were only inside the drugstore five minutes. Wouldn't you think a
policeman could find something else to do?"
"Oh, the ticket won't cost you more than five or ten dollars," teased
Louise wickedly. "Your father should pay it."
"He should but he won't," Penny answered gloomily. "Dad expects his one
and only daughter to assume her own car expense. I ask you, what's the
good of having a weekly allowance when you never get to use it yourself?"
"You _are_ in a mood today. Why, I think you're lucky to have a grand new
car."
Louise's glance caressed the highly polished chrome plate, the sleek,
streamlined body which shone in the sunlight. The automobile had been
presented to Penny by her father, Anthony Parker, largely in gratitude
because she had saved his newspaper, _The Riverview Star_, from a
disastrous law suit.
"Yes, I am lucky," Penny agreed without enthusiasm. "All the same, I'm
lonesome for my old coupe, Leaping Lena. I wish I could have kept her.
She was traded in on this model."
"What would you do with that old wreck now, Penny? Nearly every time we
went around a corner it broke down."
"All the same, we had marvelous times with her. This car takes twice as
much gasoline. Another thing, all the policemen knew Lena. They never
gave her a ticket for anything."
Penny sighed deeply. Pocketing the yellow card, she squeezed behind the
steering wheel.
"By the way, whatever became of Lena?" Louise asked curiously, slamming
the car door. She glanced sharply at Penny.
"Oh, she's changed hands twice. Now she's at Jake Harriman's lot,
advertised for fifty dollars. Want to drive past there?"
"Not particularly. But I'll do it for your sake, pet."
As the car started toward the Harriman Car Lot, Louise stole an amused
glance at her chum. Penny was not unattractive, even when submerged in
gloom. Upon the slightest provocation, her blue eyes sparkled; her smile
when she chose to turn it on, would melt a man of stone. She dressed
carelessly, brushed a mop of curly, golden hair only if it suited her
fancy, yet somehow achieved an appearance envied by her friends.
The automobile drew up at the curb.
"There's Lena." Penny pointed to an ancient blue coupe with battered
fenders which stood on the crowded second-hand lot. A _For Sale_ sign on
the windshield informed the public that the auto might be bought for
forty dollars.
"Lena's value seems to have dropped ten dollars," commented Louise. "My,
I had forgotten how wrecky the old thing looks!"
"Don't speak of her so disrespectfully, Lou. All she needs is a good
waxing and a little paint."
The girls crossed the lot to inspect the coupe. As they were gazing at
it, Jake, the lot owner, sidled toward them, beaming ingratiatingly.
"Good afternoon, young ladies. May I interest you in a car?"
"No, thank you," replied Penny. "We're just looking."
"Now here is a fine car," went on the dealer, indicating the coupe. "A
1934 model--good mechanical condition; nice rubber; a lively battery and
fair paint. You can't go wrong, ladies, not at a price of forty dollars."
"But will it run?" asked Louise, smothering a giggle.
"There's thousands of miles of good service left in this little car,
ladies. And the price is only fifteen dollars above the junk value."
The thought of Leaping Lena coming to an inglorious end in a junk yard
was disconcerting to Penny. She walked slowly about the car, inspecting
it from every angle.
"Forty dollars is too much for this old wreck," she said firmly.
"Why, Penny, such disrespect!" mocked Louise.
Penny frowned down her chum. Sentiment and business were two different
matters.
"What _will_ you give?" inquired the car owner alertly.
"Not a cent over twenty-five."
Louise clutched Penny's arm, trying to pull her away.
"Have you lost your mind?" she demanded. "What could you do with this old
car when you already have a new one?"
Penny did not listen. She kept gazing at the coupe as one who had been
hypnotized.
"I'd take it in a minute, only I don't have twenty-five dollars in cash."
"How much can you raise?" asked the dealer.
"Not more than five dollars, I'm afraid. But my father is publisher of
the _Riverview Star_."
Jake Harriman's brows unknitted as if by magic.
"Anthony Parker's daughter," he said, smiling. "That's plenty good enough
for me. I'll sell you the best car on the lot for nothing down. Just come
inside the office and sign a note for the amount. Will that be okay?"
Disregarding Louise's whispered protests, Penny assured the dealer that
the arrangement would be perfectly satisfactory. The note was signed, and
five dollars in cash given to bind the bargain.
"I'll throw in a few gallons of gas," the man offered.
However, Jake Harriman's gasoline did not seem suited to Leaping Lena's
dyspeptic ignition. She coughed feebly once or twice and then died for
the day.
"You have acquired a bargain, I must say!" exclaimed Louise. "You can't
even get the car home."
"Yes, I can," Penny insisted. "I'll tow her. A little tinkering and
she'll be as good as new."
"You're optimistic, to say the least," laughed Louise.
Penny produced a steel cable from the tool kit of the maroon sedan, and
Jake Harriman coupled the two cars together.
"Penny, what will your father say when he learns of this?" Louise
inquired dubiously. "On top of a parking ticket, too!"
"Oh, I'll meet that problem when I come to it," Penny answered
carelessly. "Louise, you steer Lena. I'll drive the sedan."
Shaking her head sadly, Louise climbed into the old car. Although Penny
was her dearest friend she was forced to admit that the girl often did
bewildering things. Penny's mother was dead and for many years she had
been raised by a housekeeper, Mrs. Maud Weems. Secretly Louise wondered
if it were not the housekeeper who had been trained. At any rate, Penny
enjoyed unusual freedom for a high school girl, and her philosophy of
life was summed up in one headline: ACTION.
Penny put the sedan in gear, towing the coupe slowly down the street. The
two vehicles traveled several blocks before a hill loomed ahead. Penny
considered turning back, and then decided that the cars could make the
steep climb easily.
However, midway up the hill the sedan suddenly leaped forward as if
released from a heavy burden. At the same instant Lena's horn gave a
sharp warning blast.
Glancing into the mirror, Penny was horrified to see Leaping Lena
careening backwards down the steep slope. The tow rope had unfastened.
Bringing the sedan to the curb, she jerked on the hand brake, and sprang
to the pavement. Louise, bewildered and frightened, was trying
desperately to control the coupe. The car gathered speed, wobbling
crazily toward the line of traffic.
"Guide it! Guide it!" shouted Penny. "Put on the brakes!"
So confused was Louise that she lost her head completely. Straight toward
a long black limousine rolled the coupe. The chauffeur spun his wheel,
but too late. There was a loud crash as the two cars came together.
Penny raced down the hill to help her chum from the coupe.
"Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously.
Louise shook her head, wailing: "Penny Parker, just see what has happened
now! You never should have bought this stupid old wreck!"
Both the chauffeur and an elderly gentleman who carried a cane, alighted
from the limousine. With grim faces they surveyed the fender which had
been crushed.
"The owner is Mr. Kohl," Louise whispered nervously. "You know, president
of the First National Bank."
The banker did not recognize either of the girls. Addressing them both,
he made several pointed remarks to the effect that irresponsible young
people were very thoughtless to endanger the property of others with
their ancient "jalopies."
"It was entirely my fault, Mr. Kohl," acknowledged Penny meekly. "Of
course, I'll pay for the fender."
The banker softened somewhat, gazing at the girls in a thoughtful, more
friendly way.
"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Kohl." Penny was quick to press for an advantage. "Why, I
am one of your best customers. Ever since I was six years old I've
trusted your bank with my savings!"
"I remember you now," said Mr. Kohl, smiling. "You're the Parker girl."
Adding a mental note that Anthony Parker actually was one of the bank's
largest depositors, he decided it would be excellent policy to make light
of the accident. A moment later as a policeman came to investigate, he
insisted that the incident had been unavoidable and that it would be a
mistake to arrest the girls.
"Mr. Kohl, you were noble, absolutely noble," declared Penny gratefully
after the policeman had gone. "The least I can do is to pay for the
damage."
"I'll stop at Sherman's Garage and have a new fender put on," the banker
responded. "The bill can be sent to your father."
After Mr. Kohl had driven away, Louise helped Penny hook the coupe to the
sedan once more. She remarked cuttingly:
"You've done right well today. One parking ticket, a bill for twenty-five
dollars, and another one coming up. Just what _will_ your father say?"
"Plenty," sighed Penny. "I wonder if it might not be a good idea to break
the news by easy stages? Perhaps he'll take it more calmly if I
telephone."
"Don't be too sure."
The street was a narrow, dingy one with few business houses. Noticing a
Japanese store which bore a sign, "Kano's Curio Shop," she started toward
it, intending to seek a public telephone.
Louise seized her arm. "Penny, you're not going in there!"
"Why not?"
"This is Dorr Street--one of the worst places in Riverview."
"Oh, don't be silly," chuckled Penny. "It's perfectly safe by daylight.
I'll go alone if you're afraid."
Thus challenged, Louise indignantly denied that she was afraid, and
accompanied her chum.
The door of Mr. Kano's shop stood invitingly open. Pausing on the
threshold, the girls caught a pleasant aroma of sandalwood.
So quietly did Louise and Penny enter that the elderly, white-haired shop
owner did not immediately see them. He sat behind a high counter,
engrossed in something he was sewing.
"Good afternoon," said Penny pleasantly.
The Japanese glanced up quickly and as quickly thrust his work beneath
the counter. Recovering poise, he bowed to the girls.
"May we use your telephone if you have one?" Penny requested.
"So very sorry, Miss," the Japanese responded, bowing again. "Have no
telephone."
Penny nodded, absently fingering a tray of tiny ivory figures. The
Japanese watched her, and mistaking curiosity for buying interest,
brought additional pieces for her to inspect. The curios were all too
expensive for Penny's purse, but after endless debate she bought a pair
of wooden clogs. The shop owner padded away into a back room, intending
to wrap the package for her.
Scarcely had he vanished when Penny turned excitedly to her chum.
"Lou, did you notice how funny he acted when we came in here?"
"Yes, he didn't want us to see what he was making evidently."
"Exactly what I thought! But we'll fool Mr. Kano!"
Giving Louise no opportunity to protest, Penny boldly peered behind the
counter.
"Here it is," she whispered. "But _what_ is it?"
Hidden in a pasteboard box lay coil upon coil of what appeared to be
fine, black silk rope. Curiously, she lifted it up, exposing a network of
crossbars.
"Well, of all things!" she exclaimed. "It's a ladder, Lou! A ladder made
of silk!"
CHAPTER
2
_A ROPE OF SILK_
Even as Penny spoke, she felt a hard, warning tug on her skirt. Quickly
she turned around.
In the doorway stood the old Japanese. His smile was not pleasant to
behold.
"We-we were just looking at this rope," Penny stammered, trying to carry
off the situation with dignity. "I hope you don't mind."
The Japanese shopkeeper gazed steadily at the girl, his face an
emotionless mask. Since he spoke no word, it became increasingly evident
that he regarded her with anger and suspicion.
"May I ask what use is made of this silk rope?" Penny inquired. "Do you
sell it for a special purpose?"
The Japanese coldly ignored the direct questions.
"So very sorry to have kept you waiting," he said softly. "Your change
please."
Penny knew that she deserved the rebuke. Accepting the package and coins,
she and Louise hastily left the shop. Not until they were some distance
away did the latter speak.
"Penny, you would do a trick like that! One of these days your curiosity
will get us into serious trouble."
"At least I learned what was hidden behind the counter," chuckled Penny.
"But that Jap didn't seem very eager to answer my questions."
"Can you blame him? It certainly was none of our affair what he kept
inside the box."
"Perhaps not, Lou, but you must admit he acted strangely when we first
entered the shop. You know--as if we had surprised him in a questionable
act."
"He naturally was startled. We came in so quietly."
"All the same, I'm not one bit sorry I looked behind the counter," Penny
maintained. "I like to learn about things."
"I agree with you there!"
"Lou, what purpose do you suppose silk ladders serve? Who uses them and
why?"
"Now, how should I know? Penny, you ask enough questions to be master of
ceremonies on a radio quiz program."
"I can't recall ever having seen a silk ladder before," Penny resumed,
undisturbed by her chum's quip. "Would acrobats use them, do you think?"
"Not to my knowledge," Louise answered. "If I were in your shoes I should
worry about more serious matters than those connected with a mere silk
ladder."
"The world is filled with serious things," sighed Penny. "But mystery!
One doesn't run into it every day."
"You do," said Louise brutally. "If a stranger twitches his ears twice
you immediately suspect him of villainy."
"Nevertheless, being of a suspicious nature won me a new car," Penny
defended herself. "Don't forget Dad gave it to me for solving a mystery,
for telling his newspaper readers what was going on _Behind the Green
Door_."
"Oh, your curiosity has paid dividends," Louise admitted with a laugh.
"Take for instance the time you trailed the _Vanishing Houseboat_, and
again when you lowered the Kippenberg drawbridge to capture a boatload of
crooks! Those were the days!"
"Why dwell in the past, Lou? Now take this affair of the silk ladder--"
"I'm afraid _you'll_ have to take it," Louise interrupted. "Do you
realize it's nearly four o'clock? In exactly ten minutes I am supposed to
be at the auditorium for orchestra practice."
"Lou, you can't desert me now," Penny protested quickly. "How will I get
Lena home? I need you to steer her."
"Thanks, but I don't trust your tow rope."
"At least go as far as the _Star_ office with me. Once there, maybe I can
get one of the reporters to help me the rest of the way."
"Oh, all right," Louise consented. "But the _Star_ office is my absolute
limit."
Deciding not to take time to telephone her father, Penny once more
climbed into the maroon sedan, posting Louise behind the wheel of the
coupe. At a cautious speed the two cars proceeded along the street,
coming presently to a large corner building which housed the _Riverview
Star_. No parking space being available on the street, Penny pulled into
the newspaper plant's loading dock.
"Say, you!" shouted a man who was tossing stacks of freshly inked papers
into a truck. "You can't park that caravan in here!"
Penny's eyes danced mischievously.
"Oh, it's quite all right," she said. "I guess you don't know who I am."
"Sure, I do," the trucker grinned. "But your dad gave orders that the
next time you tried to pull that daughter-of-the-publisher stuff we were
to bounce you! This dock is for _Star_ trucks."
"Why, the very idea," said Penny, with pretended injury. "The night
edition doesn't roll for an hour and I'll be away from here before then!
Besides, this is a great emergency! When Dad hears about all the trouble
I'm in, a little matter such as this won't even ruffle him."
"Okay, chase along," the trucker returned good-naturedly. "But see to it
that you're out of here within an hour."
Penny bade Louise good-bye, and with plaid skirt swinging jauntily,
crossed the cement runway to the rear elevator entrance. Without waiting
for the cage to descend, she took the steps two at a time, arriving at
the editorial floor gasping for breath.
"What's your rush?" inquired an amused voice. "Going to a fire?"
Jerry Livingston, ace reporter for the _Star_, leaned indolently against
the grillwork of the elevator shaft, his finger pressed on the signal
button. He and Penny were friends of long standing.
"Oh, hello, Jerry!" Penny greeted him breathlessly. "Guess what? I've
just come from Dorr Street--Kano's Curio Shop--and I had the most amazing
adventure!"
"I can imagine," grinned Jerry. "If you breezed through the place the way
you do this building, you must have left it in ruins."
"Just for that, I won't tell you a thing, not a thing," retorted Penny.
"What sort of a mood is Dad in today?"
"Well, I heard him tell DeWitt that unless the news output improves on
this sheet, he aims to fire half the force."
"Sounds like Dad on one of his bad days," Penny sighed. "Maybe I should
skip home without seeing him."
"Trouble with the old allowance again?" Jerry asked sympathetically.
"You don't know the half of it. I'm submerged so deeply in debt that I'll
be an old lady before I get out, unless Dad comes to my rescue."
"Well, good luck," chuckled Jerry. "You'll need it!"
Walking through the newsroom, between aisles of desks where busy
reporters tapped on their typewriters, Penny paused before a door marked:
_Anthony Parker, Editor_.
Listening a moment and hearing no voices within, she knocked and entered.
Her father, a lean, dignified man with tired lines about his eyes and
mouth, sat working at his desk. He smiled as he saw his daughter, and
waved her toward a chair.
Instead, Penny perched herself on a corner of the desk.
"Dad, I have a splendid surprise for you," she began brightly. "I've just
accomplished a wonderful stroke of business!"
"Never mind beating about the bush," interrupted Mr. Parker. "Shoot me
the facts straight. What have you done this time?"
"Dad, your tone! I've bought back my old car, Leaping Lena. And it only
cost me a trifling sum."
Mr. Parker's chair squeaked as he whirled around.
"You've done _what_?"
"It's a long story, Dad. Now don't think that I fail to appreciate the
grand new car you gave me last winter. I love it. But between Lena and me
there exists a deep bond of affection. Today when I saw her on Jake
Harriman's lot looking so weather-beaten and unhappy--why, a little voice
inside me whispered: 'Penny, why don't you buy her back?' So I did."
"Never mind the sentimental touches. When I gave you the new car I
thought we were well rid of Lena. How much did you pay for it?"
"Oh, Lena was a marvelous bargain. Five dollars cash and a note for
twenty more. The man said you could pay for it at your convenience."
"Very considerate of him," Mr. Parker remarked ironically. "Now that we
have three cars, and a double garage, where do you propose to keep Lena?"
"Oh, anywhere. In the back yard."
"Not on the lawn, young lady. And what do you plan to do with two cars?"
"The maroon one for style, and Lena when I want a good time. Why, Dad,
she bears the autographs of nearly all my school friends! I should keep
her as a souvenir, if for no other reason."
"Penny, it's high time you learned a few lessons in finance." Mr. Parker
spoke sternly although his mouth twitched slightly. "I regret that I
cannot assume your debts."
"But Dad! I'm a minor--under legal age. Isn't it a law that a father has
to support his child?"
"A child, but not two cars. If you decide to take the case to court, I
think any reasonable judge will understand my viewpoint. I repeat, the
debt is yours, not mine."
"How will I pay?" asked Penny gloomily. "I've already borrowed on my
allowance for a month ahead."
"I know," said her father. "However, with your ingenuity I am sure you
can manage."
Penny drew a deep breath. Argument, she realized, would be utterly
useless. While her father might be mildly amused by her predicament, he
never would change his decision.
"Since you won't pay for Lena, I suppose it's useless to mention Mr.
Kohl's fender," she said despairingly.
"Does he have one?"
"Please don't try to be funny, Dad. This is tragic. While I was towing
Lena, the rope broke and smash went the fender of Mr. Kohl's slinky black
limousine."
"Interesting."
"I had to promise to pay for it to keep from being arrested. Oh, yes, and
before that I acquired this little thing."
Penny tossed the yellow card across the desk.
"A parking ticket! Penny, how many times--" Mr. Parker checked himself,
finishing in a calm voice: "This, too, is your debt. It may cost you five
dollars."
"Dad, you know I can't pay. Think how your reputation will be tarnished
if I am sent to jail."
Mr. Parker smiled and reached as if to take money from his pocket.
Reconsidering, he shook his head.
"I know the warden well," he said. "I'll arrange for you to be assigned
to one of the better cells."
"Is there nothing which will move you to generosity?" pleaded Penny.
"Nothing."
Retrieving the parking ticket, Penny jammed it into her pocket. Before
she could leave there came a rap on the door. In response to Mr. Parker's
"Come in," Mr. DeWitt, the city editor, entered.
"Sorry to bother you, Chief."
"What's wrong now, DeWitt?" the publisher inquired.
"Miss Hilderman was taken sick a few minutes ago. We had to send her home
in a cab."
"It's nothing serious I hope," said Mr. Parker with concern.
"A mild heart attack. She'll be out a week, if not longer."
"I see. Be sure to have the treasurer give her full pay. You have someone
to take her place?"
"That's the problem," moaned DeWitt. "Her assistant is on vacation. I
don't know where we can get a trained society editor on short notice."
"Well, do the best you can."
DeWitt lingered, fingering a paper weight.
"The society page for the Sunday paper is only half finished," he
explained. "Deadline's in less than an hour. Not a chance we can pick up
anyone in time to meet it."
Penny spoke unexpectedly. "Mr. DeWitt, perhaps I can help you. I'm a whiz
when it comes to writing society. Remember the Kippenberg wedding I
covered?"
"Do I?" DeWitt's face relaxed into a broad grin. "That was a real
write-up. Say, maybe you could take over Miss Hilderman's job until we
can replace her."
"Service is my motto." Penny eyed her father questioningly. "It might
save the _Star_ from going to press minus a society page. How about it,
Dad?"
"It certainly would solve our problem," contributed DeWitt. "Of course
the undertaking might be too great a one for your daughter." He winked at
Penny.
"She'll have no difficulty in taking over," said Mr. Parker stiffly.
"None whatsoever."
"Then I'll start her in at once," DeWitt replied. "Come with me, Miss
Parker."
At the door Penny paused and discreetly allowed the city editor to get
beyond hearing. Then, turning to her father she remarked innocently:
"Oh, by the way, we overlooked one trifling detail. The salary!"
The editor made a grimace. "I might have expected this. Very well, I'll
pay you the same as I do Miss Hilderman. Twenty-five a week."
"Why, that would just take care of my debt to Jake Harriman," protested
Penny. "I simply can't do high pressure work without high pay. Shall we
make it fifty a week?"
"So you're holding me up?"
"Certainly not," chuckled Penny. "Merely using my ingenuity. Am I hired?"
"Yes, you win," answered Mr. Parker grimly. "But see to it that you turn
out good work. Otherwise, you soon may find yourself on the _Star's_
inactive list."
CHAPTER
3
_SOCIETY ROUTINE_
Penny followed City Editor DeWitt to a small, glass-enclosed office along
the left hand wall of the newsroom. Miss Hilderman's desk was cluttered
with sheets of copy paper which bore scribbled notations, items
telephoned to the _Star_ but not yet type-written.
"There should be a date book around here somewhere," DeWitt remarked.
Finally he found it in one of the desk drawers. Penny drew a deep breath
as she scanned the long list of social events which must be covered for
the Sunday page.
"Do the best you can," DeWitt said encouragingly. "Work fast, but be
careful of names."
The telephone bell rang. As Penny reached for the receiver, DeWitt
retreated to his own domain.
"Hello, Miss Hilderman?" a feminine voice cooed, "I wish to report a
meeting, please."
"Miss Hilderman isn't here this afternoon," replied Penny politely. "I
will take the item."
Gathering up paper and pencil, she slid into the revolving chair behind
the telephone, poised for action.
"Yes," she urged, "I am ready."
There was a lengthy pause, and then the woman at the other end of the
line recited as if she were reading from a paper:
"'A meeting of the Mystical Society of Celestial Thought, Order of Amar,
67, will be held Tuesday night at eight o'clock in the Temple, 426
Butternut Lane. The public is cordially invited.'"
"What sort of society is the Order of Amar?" Penny inquired curiously,
taking notes. "I never heard of it before."
"Why, my dear, the society is very well known," the woman replied. "We
hold our meetings regularly, communing with the spirits. I do hope that
the item appears in print. So often Miss Hilderman has been careless
about it."
"I'll see that the item is printed under club notices," Penny promised.
"Your name, please?"
The woman had hung up the receiver, so with a shrug, Penny typed the item
and speared it on a wire spindle. For the next hour she was kept busy
with other telephone calls and the more important stories which had to be
rushed through. Copy flowed steadily from her office by way of the
pneumatic tube to the composing room.
Shortly after five o'clock, DeWitt dropped in for a moment to praise her
for her speed and accuracy.
"You're doing all right," he said. "So far I've only caught you in one
mistake. Mignonette is spelled with a double t."
"This job wouldn't be half bad if only brides could learn to carry
flowers with easy names," laughed Penny. "When I get married I'll have
violets and sweet peas!"
DeWitt reached for the copy on the spindle. "What's this?" he asked.
"More to go?"
"Club notices."
The editor tore the sheet from the wire, reading it as he walked toward
the door. Abruptly, he paused and turned toward her.
"Miss Parker, this can't go through."
"Why, what is wrong?" Penny asked in surprise. "Have I made another error
in spelling?"
DeWitt tore off the lead item and tossed it on her desk.
"It's this meeting of the so-called Mystical Society of Celestial
Thought. The _Star_ never runs stuff like that, not even as a paid
advertisement."
"I thought it was a regular lodge meeting, Mr. DeWitt."
"Nothing of the sort. Merely a free advertisement for a group of mediums
and charlatans."
"Oh, I didn't know," murmured Penny.
"These meetings have only one purpose," Mr. DeWitt resumed. "To lure
victims who later may be fleeced of their money."
"But if that is so, why don't police close up the place?" Penny demanded.
"Why doesn't the _Star_ run an expose story?"
"Because evidence isn't easy to get. The meetings usually are well within
the law. Whenever a police detective or a reporter attends, the services
are decorous. But they provide the mediums with a list of suckers."
Penny would have asked DeWitt for additional information had not the city
editor walked hurriedly away. Scrambling the item into a ball, she tossed
it into the waste paper basket. Then upon second thought she retrieved it
and carefully smoothed the paper.
"Perhaps, I'll drop around at the Temple sometime just to see what it is
like," she decided, placing the item in her pocket. "It would be
interesting to learn what is going on there."
For the next half hour Penny had no time to think of the Celestial
Temple. However, at twenty minutes before six, when her father came into
the office, she was well ahead of her work.
"Hello, Penny," he greeted her. "How do you like your new job?"
"Fine and dandy. Only routine items rather cramp one's style. Now if I
were a regular reporter instead of a society editor, I know several
stories which would be my dish!"
"For instance?" inquired Mr. Parker, smiling.
"First, there's an Oriental Shop on Dorr Street that I should
investigate. The Japanese owner acted very mysteriously today when I went
there. Louise and I saw him making a silk ladder, and he refused to
reveal its purpose."
"A silk ladder?" repeated Mr. Parker. "Odd perhaps, but hardly worthy of
a news story."
"Dad, I only wish you had _seen_ that old Japanese--the sinister way he
looked at me. Oh, he's guilty of some crime. I feel it."
"The _Star_ requires facts, not fancy or emotion," Mr. Parker rejoined.
"Better devote your talents to routine society items if you expect to
remain on my payroll."
Penny took the announcement of the Celestial Thought meeting from her
pocket and offered it to the publisher.
"Here's one which might be interesting," she said. "How about assigning
me to it after I get this society job in hand?"
Mr. Parker read the item and his eyes blazed with anger.
"Do you know what this means, Penny?"
"Mr. DeWitt told me a little about the Celestial Temple society. He said
the paper never ran such items."
"Certainly not! Why, I should like nothing better than to see the entire
outfit driven out of town! Riverview is honeycombed with mediums, fortune
tellers and faith healers!"
"Perhaps they mean no harm, Dad."
"I'll grant there may be a small number of persons who honestly try to
communicate with the spirit world," Mr. Parker replied. "My concern is
not with them, but with a group of professional mediums who lately have
invaded the city. Charlatans, crooks--the entire lot!"
"Why don't you write an editorial about it?" Penny suggested.
"An editorial! I am seriously tempted to start a vigorous campaign, but
the trouble is, the police cannot be depended upon to cooperate
actively."
"Why, Dad?"
"Because experience has proven that such campaigns are not often
successful. Evidence is hard to gain. If one place is closed up, others
open in different sections of the city. The mediums and seers operate
from dozens of private homes. When the police stage raids they acquire no
evidence, and only succeed in making the department look ridiculous."
"Yet the mediums continue to fleece the public?"
"The more gullible strata of it. Until recent months the situation here
has been no worse than in other cities of comparable size. Lately an
increasing number of charlatans has moved in on us."
"Why don't you start a campaign, Dad?" Penny urged. "You would be doing
the public a worthwhile service."
"Well, I hesitate to start something which I may be unable to finish."
"At least the public deserves to be warned."
"Unfortunately, Penny, many persons would take the attitude that the
_Star_ was persecuting sincere spiritualists. A campaign must be based on
absolute evidence."
"Can't it be obtained?"
"Not without great difficulty. These mediums are a clever lot, Penny.
They prey upon the superstitions of their intended victims."
"I wish you would let me work on the story, Dad."
"No, Penny," responded her father. "You attend to your society and allow
DeWitt to worry about the Celestial Temple crowd. Even if I should launch
a campaign, I couldn't allow you to become mixed up in the affair."
The telephone bell jingled. With a tired sigh, Penny reached for the
receiver.
"Society desk," she said mechanically.
"I am trying to trace Mr. Parker," informed the office exchange operator.
"Is he with you, Miss Parker?"
"Telephone, Dad," said Penny, offering him the receiver.
Mr. Parker waited a moment for another connection to be made. Then Penny
heard him say:
"Oh, it's you, Mrs. Weems? What's that? Repeat it, please."
From her father's tone, Penny felt certain that something had gone wrong
at home. She arose, waiting anxiously.
Mr. Parker clicked the receiver several times. "Apparently, Mrs. Weems
hung up," he commented.
"Is anything the matter, Dad?"
"I don't know," Mr. Parker admitted, his face troubled. "Mrs. Weems
seemed very excited. She requested me to come home as soon as possible.
Then the connection was broken."
"Why don't you try to reach her again?"
Mr. Parker placed an out-going call, but after ten minutes the operator
reported that she was unable to contact the housekeeper.
"Mrs. Weems never would have telephoned if something unusual hadn't
happened," Penny declared uneasily. "Perhaps, she's injured herself."
"You think of such unpleasant things."
"Something dreadful must have happened," Penny insisted. "Otherwise, why
doesn't she answer?"
"We're only wasting time in idle speculation," Mr. Parker said crisply.
"Get your things, Penny. We'll start home at once!"
CHAPTER
4
_A TURN OF FORTUNE_
Penny immediately locked her desk and gathered up hat and gloves. She was
hard pressed to keep pace with her father as they hastened to the
elevator.
"By the way, you have your car downstairs?" the publisher inquired
absently. He seldom drove his own automobile to the office.
"What a memory you have, Dad!" chuckled Penny. "Yes, I have all two of
them! Parked in the loading dock for convenience."
"Penny, haven't I told you a dozen times--" Mr. Parker began, only to
check himself. "Well, it will save us time now. However, we may discuss a
few matters when we get home."
The elevator shot them down to the first floor. Leaping Lena and the
maroon sedan remained in the loading dock with a string of _Star_ paper
trucks blocking a portion of the street.
"Hey, sister," a trucker called angrily to Penny. "It's time you're
getting these cars out of here." He broke off as he recognized Mr. Parker
and faded behind one of the trucks.
"Dad, do you mind steering Lena?" Penny asked demurely. "We can't leave
her here. You can see for yourself that she seems to be blocking
traffic."
"Yes, I see," Mr. Parker responded grimly.
"Of course, if you would feel more dignified driving the sedan--"
"Let me have the keys," the publisher interrupted. "The important thing
is to get home without delay."
Penny became sober, and slid into her place at the wheel of Leaping Lena.
Amid the smiles of the truckers, Mr. Parker drove the two cars out of the
dock.
Once underway, the caravan made reckless progress through rush-hour
traffic. More than once Penny whispered a prayer as Lena swayed around a
corner, missing other cars by scant inches.
Presently the two automobiles drew up before a pleasant, tree-shaded home
built upon a high terrace overlooking a winding river. Penny and her
father alighted, walking hurriedly toward the front porch.
The door stood open and from within came the reassuring howl of a radio
turned too high.
"Nothing so very serious can have happened," remarked Penny. "Otherwise,
Mrs. Weems wouldn't have that thing going full blast."
At the sound of footsteps, the housekeeper herself came into the living
room from the kitchen. Her plump face was unusually animated.
"I hope you didn't mind because I telephoned the office, Mr. Parker," she
began apologetically. "I was so excited, I just did it before I stopped
to think."
"Penny and I were nearly ready to start home in any case, Mrs. Weems. Has
anything gone wrong here?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Parker. It was the telegram."
"Telegram? One for me, you mean?"
"No, my own." The housekeeper drew a yellow paper from the pocket of her
apron, offering it to the publisher. "My Cousin David died out in
Montana," she explained. "The funeral was last Saturday."
"That's too bad," remarked Penny sympathetically. And then she added:
"Only you don't look particularly sad, Mrs. Weems. How much did he leave
you?"
"Penny! You say such shocking things! I never met Cousin David but once
in my life. He was a kind, good man and I only wish I had written to him
more often. I never dreamed he would remember me in his will."
"Then he did leave you money!" exclaimed Penny triumphantly. "How much
does the telegram say, Dad?"
"You may as well tell her, Mr. Parker," sighed the housekeeper. "She'll
give me no peace until she learns every detail."
"This message which is from a Montana lawyer mentions six thousand
dollars," returned the publisher. "Apparently, the money is to be turned
over without legal delay."
"Why, Mrs. Weems, you're an heiress!" cried Penny admiringly.
"I can't believe it's true," murmured Mrs. Weems. "You don't think
there's any mistake, Mr. Parker? It would be too cruel if someone had
sent the message as a joke."
Before returning the telegram to the housekeeper, Mr. Parker switched off
the radio.
"This message appears to be authentic," he declared. "My congratulations
upon your good fortune."
"What will you do with all your money?" inquired Penny.
"Oh, I don't know." The housekeeper sank into a chair, her eyes fastening
dreamily on a far wall. "I've always wanted to travel."
Penny and her father exchanged a quick, alarmed glance. Mrs. Weems had
been in charge of the household for so many years that they could not
imagine living without her, should she decide to leave. During her brief,
infrequent vacations, the house always degenerated into a disgrace of
dust and misplaced furniture, and meals were never served at regular
hours.
"The oceans are very unsafe, Mrs. Weems," discouraged Penny. "Wars and
submarines and things. Surely you wouldn't dare travel now."
"Oh, I mean in the United States," replied the housekeeper. "I've always
wanted to go out West. They say the Grand Canyon is so pretty it takes
your breath away."
"Mrs. Weems, you have worked for us long and faithfully and deserve a
rest," said Mr. Parker, trying to speak heartily. "Now if you would enjoy
a trip, Penny and I will get along somehow for two or three weeks."
"Oh, if I go, I'll stay the entire summer." The housekeeper hesitated,
then added: "I've enjoyed working here, Mr. Parker, but doing the same
thing year after year gets tiresome. Often I've said to myself that if I
had a little money I would retire and take life easy for the rest of my
days."
"Why, Mrs. Weems, you're only forty-eight!" protested Penny. "You would
be unhappy if you didn't have any work to do."
"At least, I wouldn't mind trying it."
"Such a change as you contemplate should be considered carefully,"
contributed Mr. Parker. "While six thousand seems a large sum it would
not last long if one had no other income."
Before Mrs. Weems could reply, a strong odor of burning food permeated
the room.
"The roast!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "I forgot it!"
Penny rushed ahead of her to the kitchen. As she jerked open the oven
door, out poured a great cloud of smoke. Seizing a holder, she rescued
the meat, and seeing at a glance that it was burned to a crisp, carried
the pan outdoors.
"What will the neighbors say?" Mrs. Weems moaned. "I never did a thing
like that before. It's just that I am so excited I can't think what I am
doing."
"Don't you mind," laughed Penny. "I'll get dinner tonight. You entertain
Dad."
With difficulty she persuaded the housekeeper to abandon the kitchen.
Left to herself, she opened a can of cold meat, a can of corn, a can of
peaches, and with a salad already prepared, speedily announced the meal.
"Mr. Parker, I truly am ashamed--" Mrs. Weems began.
"Now don't apologize for my cooking," broke in Penny. "Quantity before
quality is my motto. Anyway, if you are leaving, Dad will have to
accustom himself to it."
"I'll hide the can opener," said Mr. Parker.
"That's a good idea, Dad."
"Before I go, I'll try to teach Penny a little more about cooking," Mrs.
Weems said uncomfortably. "Of course, you'll have no difficulty in
getting someone efficient to take my place."
"No one can take your place," declared Penny. "If you leave, Dad and I
will go to wrack and ruin."
"You are a pair when you're left to yourselves," Mrs. Weems sighed.
"That's the one thing which makes me hesitate. Penny needs someone to
keep her in check."
"An inexperienced person would be putty in my hands," declared Penny.
"You may as well decide to stay, Mrs. Weems."
"I don't know what to do. I've planned on this trip for years. Now that
it is possible, I feel I can't give it up."
Penny and Mr. Parker regarded each other across the table, and
immediately changed the subject. Not until that moment had they actually
believed that the housekeeper was serious about leaving Riverview.
Somehow they had never contemplated a future without Mrs. Weems.
"I happen to have two complimentary tickets to a show at the Rialto," Mr.
Parker said offhand. "I'll be tied up with a meeting tonight, but you
folks might enjoy going."
"Shall we, Mrs. Weems?" inquired Penny.
"Thank you," responded the housekeeper, "but I doubt if I could sit still
tonight. I thought I would run over to see Mrs. Hodges after dinner.
She'll be pleased to learn about my inheritance, I know."
"A friend of yours?" asked Mr. Parker.
"Yes, Penny and I have been acquainted with her for years. She lives on
Christopher Street."
"Perhaps this is none of my affair, Mrs. Weems. However, my advice to you
is not to tell many persons about your inheritance."
"Oh, Mrs. Hodges is to be trusted."
"I am sure of it, Mrs. Weems. I refer to strangers."
"I'll be careful," the housekeeper promised. "No one ever will get that
money away from me once I have it!"
Penny helped with the dishes, and then as her father was leaving the
house, asked him if she might have the two theatre tickets.
"Since Mrs. Weems doesn't care to go, I'll invite Louise," she explained.
Mr. Parker gave her the tickets. Making certain that the housekeeper was
upstairs, he spoke in a low tone.
"Penny, Mrs. Weems is serious about leaving us. You must try to dissuade
her."
"What can I do, Dad?"
"Well, you usually have a few ideas in the old filing cabinet. Can't you
think of something?"
"I'll do my best," Penny said with a twinkle. "We can't let an
inheritance take Mrs. Weems from us, that's certain."
After her father had gone, Penny telephoned Louise, agreeing to meet her
chum at the entrance of the Rialto. Arriving a few minutes early, she
idly watched various cars unloading their passengers at the theatre.
Presently a long black limousine which Penny recognized drew up at the
curb. The chauffeur opened the door. Mr. Kohl and his wife stepped to the
pavement. Observing the girl, they paused to chat with her.
"I see you have the new fender installed on your car, Mr. Kohl," Penny
remarked with a grin. "May I ask how much I owe the garageman?"
"The sum was trifling," responded the banker. "Twelve dollars and forty
cents to be exact. I may as well take care of it myself."
"No, I insist," said Penny, wincing inwardly. "You see, I am one of the
_Star's_ highly paid executives now. I write society in Miss Hilderman's
absence and Dad gives me a salary."
"Oh, really," remarked Mrs. Kohl with interest. "We are giving a dinner
for eight tomorrow night. You might like to mention it."
"Indeed, yes," said Penny eagerly.
Obtaining complete details, she jotted notes on the back of an envelope.
Mrs. Kohl, at Penny's request, was able to recall several important
parties which had been held that week, providing material for nearly a
half-column of society.
After the Kohls had entered the theatre, Penny turned to glance at the
black limousine which was pulling away from the curb. A short distance
away stood a young man who likewise appeared to be watching the car. He
wore a gray suit and a gray felt hat pulled unnaturally low over his eyes
as if to shield his face.
As Penny watched, the young man jotted something down on a piece of
paper. His gaze remained fixed upon the Kohl limousine which was moving
slowly down the street toward a parking lot.
"Why, that's odd!" thought Penny. "I do believe he noted down the car
license number! And perhaps for no good purpose."
CHAPTER
5
_THE MAN IN GRAY_
Deciding that the matter should be brought to Mr. Kohl's attention, Penny
looked quickly into the crowded theatre lobby. The banker and his wife no
longer were to be seen.
Turning once more, the girl saw that the young man in gray had also
disappeared.
"Now where did he go?" thought Penny. "He must have slipped into the
alley. I wish I knew who he was and why he wrote down that car license
number."
Curious to learn what had become of the man, she walked to the entrance
of the alley. At its far end she could barely distinguish a shadowy
figure which soon merged into the black of the starless night.
Penny was lost in thought when someone touched her arm. Whirling, she
found herself facing Louise Sidell.
"Oh, hello, Lou," she laughed. "You startled me."
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," apologized Louise. "I missed my bus.
May I ask what you find of such interest in this alley?"
"I was looking for a man. He's disappeared now."
Penny told Louise what she had observed, mentioning that in her opinion
the man might be a car thief.
"I've heard that crooks spot cars ahead of time and then steal them," she
declared. "I think I should have Mr. Kohl paged in the theatre, and tell
him about it."
"You'll make yourself appear ridiculous if you do," Louise discouraged
her. "The man may not have taken down the license number at all. Even if
he did, his purpose could have been a legitimate one."
"Then why did he slip down the alley?"
"It's merely a short-cut to another street, isn't it? Penny, your
imagination simply works at high speed twenty-four hours of the day."
"Oh, all right," said Penny with a shrug. "But if Mr. Kohl's car is
stolen, don't blame me."
"It won't be," laughed Louise, linking arms with her chum. "Not with a
chauffeur at the wheel."
Entering the theatre, the girls were escorted to their seats only a few
minutes before the lights were lowered. Penny glanced over the audience
but failed to see either Mr. Kohl or his wife. The curtain went up, and
as the entertainment began, she dismissed all else from her mind.
The show ended shortly before eleven and the girls mingled with the crowd
which filed from the theatre. Penny watched for Mr. and Mrs. Kohl but did
not see them. As she walked with Louise toward the bus stop she spoke of
her new duties as society editor of the _Star_.
"Lou," she asked abruptly, "do you mind going home alone?"
"Why, no. Where are you taking yourself?"
"To the _Star_ office, if you don't mind."
"At this time of night?"
"I have a few notes I should type. Unfinished work always makes me
nervous."
"You, nervous!" Louise scoffed. "I'll bet you want to see Jerry
Livingston!"
"No such thing," denied Penny indignantly. "Jerry doesn't work on the
night force unless he's assigned to extra duty."
"Well, you have something besides work on your mind."
"Come along with me, Suspicious, and I'll prove it."
"No, thanks," declined Louise. "It's home and bed for me. You run along."