The advertising office was dark, but blue-white lights glowed weirdly
from the composing room. Only a skeleton night staff occupied the
newsroom.
Without attracting attention, Penny entered her own office. For an hour
she worked steadily, writing copy, and experimenting with various types
of make-up to be used on Monday's page.
The door creaked. Glancing up, Penny momentarily was startled to see a
large, grotesque shadow of a man moving across the glass panel. However,
before she actually could be afraid, Jerry Livingston stepped into the
room.
"Oh, it's you!" she laughed in relief. "I thought it was against your
principles to work overtime."
The reporter slumped into a chair, and picking up a sheet of copy paper,
began to read what Penny had composed.
"I'm not working," he replied absently. "Just killing time." With a yawn
he tossed the paper on the desk again.
"Is my stuff that bad?" inquired Penny.
"Not bad at all. Better than Miss Hilderman writes. But society always
gives me a pain. Not worthy of your talents, Penny."
"I wish you would tell Dad that, Jerry. I'd love to work on a big story
again--one that would rock Riverview on its foundation!"
"I could bear up under a little excitement myself, Penny. Ever since you
broke the Green Door yarn, this sheet has been as dead as an Egyptian
tomb."
"Things may pick up soon."
"Meaning--?"
"Dad is thinking rather seriously of launching a drive against an
organized group of mediums."
"So I hear," nodded Jerry. "You know, for a long while I've thought that
a clever reporter might be able to dig up some evidence at the Celestial
Temple."
"Then you know about the place?"
"I've been there several times."
"What are the meetings like, Jerry?" Penny asked eagerly.
"Similar to a church musical service. At least everything was dignified
when I was there. But I sure had a feeling that the lid was about to blow
off."
"Perhaps you were suspected of being a _Star_ reporter, Jerry."
"Oh, undoubtedly. I could tell that by the way folks stared at me. The
only person who would have a chance to get real evidence would be someone
unknown as a reporter."
"I wish Dad would let me try it."
"I don't," said Jerry flatly. "The Celestial Temple is no place for a
little girl like you."
Penny did not reply as she lowered her typewriter into the cavity of the
desk. She was thinking, however, that if Louise could be persuaded to
accompany her, she would investigate the Celestial Temple at the first
opportunity.
"I'll take you home," Jerry offered as Penny reached for her hat.
The night was a warm, mellow one in early June, marred only by dark
clouds which scudded overhead, threatening rain. Deciding to walk, Penny
and Jerry crossed the park to Oakdale Drive where many of Riverview's
most expensive homes had been built.
"Doesn't Mr. Kohl live on this street?" Penny presently asked her escort.
"Yes," he answered, "in a large stone apartment building. I'll point it
out when we get there."
They walked for a time in silence. Then Penny found herself telling about
the afternoon meeting with Mr. Kohl which had led her to Kano's Curio
Shop. She spoke, too, of the silken ladder which had so aroused her
speculation. Jerry listened with polite interest.
"You and Louise shouldn't have chased around Dorr Street alone," he said
severely. "It's a bad district."
"Oh, it was safe enough, Jerry. I'd like to go back there. I can't help
being curious about that strange ladder which the old Japanese man was
sewing."
"I doubt if there's a story connected with it. The Japanese make any
number of curious articles of silk, you know."
"But a ladder, Jerry! What purpose could it serve?"
"For one thing it would be more convenient to carry than the ordinary
type."
"One couldn't stand it against a wall or use it in the ordinary way,
Jerry. I asked the Japanese about it but he refused to answer."
"He may not have understood you."
"Oh, he understood, all right. Do you know what I think? He was afraid I
might discover something which would involve him with the police!"
"Better forget the Kano Curio Shop," Jerry said tolerantly. "I repeat,
Dorr Street is no place for you."
"And I'm supposed to forget the Celestial Temple, too," grumbled Penny.
"Oh, I see you grinned behind your hand! Well, Mr. Livingston, let me
tell you--"
She paused, and Jerry's hand tightened on her own. Unmistakably, both had
heard a muffled scream. The cry seemed to have come from one of several
large brick and stone buildings only a short distance ahead.
"What was that?" Penny asked in a low tone. "Someone calling for help?"
"It sure sounded like it!" exclaimed Jerry. "Come on, Penny! Let's find
out what's going on here!"
CHAPTER
6
_AN APARTMENT BURGLARY_
Together Penny and Jerry ran down the street, their eyes raised to the
unevenly lighted windows of the separate apartment houses. They were
uncertain as to the building from which the cry had come.
Suddenly the front door of the corner dwelling swung open, and a young
woman in a maid's uniform ran toward them.
Jerry, ever alert for a story of interest to the _Star_, neatly blocked
the sidewalk. Of necessity the girl halted.
"Get a policeman, quick!" she gasped. "Mr. Kohl's apartment has been
robbed!"
"Mr. Kohl--the banker?" demanded Penny, scarcely believing her ears.
"Yes, yes," the maid said in agitation. "Jewels, silverware, everything
has been taken! The telephone wire was cut, too! Oh, tell me where I'll
find a policeman!"
"I'll get one for you," offered Jerry.
The information that it was Mr. Kohl's house which had been burglarized
dumbfounded Penny. As the reporter darted away to summon help, she
showered questions upon the distraught maid.
"I don't know yet how much has been taken," the girl told her excitedly.
"The rooms look as if a cyclone had swept through them! Oh, what will the
Kohls say when they learn about it?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Kohl aren't home yet?"
"No, they went to the theatre. They must have stopped at a restaurant
afterwards. When they hear of this, I'll lose my job."
"Perhaps not," said Penny kindly. "Surely you weren't to blame for the
burglary."
"They'll think so," the maid responded gloomily.
"I am acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Kohl. Perhaps, if I speak a good word
for you it may help."
"I doubt it," the girl responded. "I was supposed to have stayed at the
apartment the entire evening."
"And you didn't?"
"No, I went to a picture show."
"That does throw a different light on the matter," commented Penny.
"I didn't think it would make any difference. I intended to get here
ahead of the Kohls."
"The robbery occurred while you were away?"
"Yes. As soon as I opened the door I knew what had happened! Oh, I'll
lose my job all right unless I can think up a good story."
"I wouldn't lie if I were you," advised Penny. "The police are certain to
break down your story. In any case, you owe it to yourself and your
employers to tell the truth."
A misty rain had started to fall. The maid, who was without a wrap,
shivered, yet made no move to re-enter the building. Overhead, all along
the dark expanse of apartment wall, lights were being turned on.
"I am afraid your scream aroused nearly everyone in the building," said
Penny. "If I were in your place I would return to the Kohl apartment and
not answer many questions until the police arrive."
"Will you stay with me?"
"Gladly."
The apartment door had slammed shut and locked with the night latch.
Fortunately the maid had a key with her so it was not necessary to ring
for the janitor. Ignoring the persons who had gathered in the hall, they
took an automatic lift to the third floor, letting themselves into the
Kohl suite.
"This is the way I found it," said the maid.
She switched on a light, revealing a living room entirely bare of rugs.
Where three small Oriental rugs had been placed, only rectangular rims of
dirt remained to mark their outlines.
Beyond, in the dining room with its massive carved furniture, the
contents of a buffet had been emptied on the floor. Several pieces of
china lay in fragments. A corner cupboard had been stripped, save for a
vase and an ebony elephant with a broken tusk.
"The wall cabinet was filled with rare antiques," disclosed the maid.
"Mrs. Kohl has collected Early American silver for many years. Some of
the pieces she considered priceless."
The bedrooms were in less disorder. However, bureau drawers had been
overturned, and jewel cases looted of everything save the most trivial
articles.
"Mrs. Kohl's pearls are gone, and her diamond bracelet," the maid
informed, picking up the empty jewel box. "I am pretty sure she didn't
wear them to the theatre."
"I wouldn't touch anything if I were you," advised Penny. "Fingerprints."
The maid dropped the case. "Oh!" she gasped. "I never thought of that! Do
you think the police will blame me for the robbery?"
"Not if you tell them the truth. It surely will be unwise to try to hide
anything."
"I won't hold anything back," the maid promised. "It happened just like I
said. After Mr. and Mrs. Kohl left I went to a picture show."
"Alone?"
"With my girl friend. After the show we had a soda together, and then she
went home."
"What time did you get here?"
"Only a minute or two before I called for help. I tried the telephone
first."
"Why didn't you summon the janitor?"
"I never thought of that. I was so excited I ran outside hoping to find a
policeman."
Penny nodded and, returning to the living room, satisfied herself that
the telephone wires actually had been cut.
"You didn't notice anyone in the halls as you went downstairs."
"No one. Old Mr. Veely was on the lower floor when I came from the show,
but he's lived here for seven years. I don't see how the burglar got into
the apartment."
"I was wondering about that myself. You're quite sure you locked the
suite door?"
"Oh, yes, I know I did," the maid said emphatically. "And it isn't
possible to get into the building without a key. Otherwise, the janitor
must be called."
Penny walked thoughtfully to the living room window. The apartment stood
fully thirty-five feet from a neighboring building, with the space
between much too wide to be spanned. Below, the alley was deserted, and
no fire escape ascended from it.
"The burglar couldn't have entered that way," declared the maid. "He must
have had his own key."
Before Penny could respond, a sharp knock sounded on the door. The
servant girl turned to open it. However, instead of the anticipated
police, the apartment janitor, George Bailey, peered into the disordered
room.
"I heard someone scream a minute or so ago," he said. "Some of the
tenants thought it came from this apartment. Maybe they were mistaken."
"There's no mistake," spoke Penny from across the room. "The Kohls have
been robbed. Will you please come inside and close the door?"
"Robbed! You don't say!" The janitor stared with alarmed interest. "When
did it happen?"
Penny allowed the maid to tell what had occurred, adding no information
of her own. When there came a lull in the excited flow of words, she said
quietly:
"Mr. Bailey, do you mind answering a few questions?"
"Why should I?" the janitor countered. "I'll tell you right now I know
nothing about this. I've attended strictly to my duties. It's not my
lookout if tenants leave their suite doors unlocked."
"No one is blaming you," Penny assured him. "I merely thought you might
contribute to a solution of the burglary."
"I don't know a thing about it."
"You didn't let anyone into the apartment building tonight?"
"Not a soul. I locked the service door at six o'clock, too. Now let me
ask this: Who are you, and how did you get in here?"
"That's fair enough," smiled Penny. She told her name, explained that she
was an acquaintance of the Kohls, and had been summoned by the maid.
"Please don't think that I am trying to play detective," she added. "I
ask these questions in the hope of gaining information for my father's
paper, the _Star_."
"Well, it looks to me as if it was an inside job," the janitor replied,
mollified. "Come to think of it though, I've seen a suspicious-acting
fellow hanging around the building."
"You mean tonight?"
"No, several days ago. He stayed on the other side of the street and kept
watching the doorway."
"What did he look like, Mr. Bailey?"
"Oh, I don't remember. He was just an average young man in a gray
overcoat and hat."
"Gray?" repeated Penny alertly.
"It may have been light blue. I didn't pay much attention. At the time I
sized up the fellow as a detective."
Penny had no opportunity to ask additional questions for just then voices
were heard in the hallway. As she opened the door, Jerry Livingston,
followed by a policeman, came toward her.
"Learn anything?" the reporter asked softly in her ear.
"A little," answered Penny. "Let's see how much the officer turns up
before I go into my song and dance."
Making a routine inspection of the rooms, the police questioned both the
maid and the janitor. From an elderly lady who occupied the adjoining
suite he gleaned information that the Kohls' telephone had rung steadily
for fifteen minutes during the early evening hours.
"What time was that?" interposed Penny.
The policeman gazed at her with sharp disapproval. "Please," he requested
with exaggerated politeness.
"Sorry," apologized Penny, fading into the background.
"It rang about eight o'clock," the old lady revealed.
"The information is not significant," said the officer, glancing again at
Penny.
She started to speak, then bit her lip, remaining silent.
"Well, sister, what's on your mind?" he demanded abruptly.
"Excuse me, officer, but I think the information does have importance.
Couldn't it mean that the crooks, whoever they were, telephoned the
apartment to make certain it was deserted before breaking in?"
"Possibly," conceded the policeman. His frown discouraged her. "Any other
theories?"
"No," said Penny shortly.
The policeman began to herd the tenants into the hall. For a moment he
paid no attention to Penny and Jerry, who with the maid were permitted to
remain.
"Never try to show up a policeman, even if he is a stuffed shirt,"
remarked the reporter softly. "It gets you nowhere."
The door closed and the officer faced the pair.
"Now young lady," he said, quite pleasantly. "What do you know about this
burglary? I'll be very glad to listen."
"I don't really know a thing," admitted Penny. "But here's a little clue
which you may be able to interpret. I can't."
Leading the policeman to the window, she started to raise the sash. The
officer stopped her, performing the act himself, his hand protected by a
handkerchief.
"There is your clue," said Penny.
She indicated two freshly made gashes on the window ledge. Separated by
possibly a foot of space, they clearly had been made by a hook or sharp
instrument which had dug deeply into the wood.
CHAPTER
7
_MARK OF THE IRON HOOK_
"What do you think of it?" Penny asked as the officer studied the marks
in silence.
"I'd say they were made by something which hooked over the ledge," the
policeman replied. "Possibly a ladder with curving irons."
Jerry gazed down over the window ledge into the dark alley.
"No ordinary ladder could reach this high," he commented. "Raising an
extension would be quite a problem, too."
The Kohl maid timidly approached the window, gazing at the two deep
gashes with interest. Asked by the policeman if she ever had noticed them
before, she shook her head.
"Oh, no, sir. They must have been made tonight. I know they weren't there
this afternoon when I dusted the window sills."
"Incredible as it seems, the thief came through this window," decided the
policeman. "How he did it is for the detectives at Central Station to
figure out."
Explaining that the rooms must not be disturbed until Identification
Bureau men had made complete fingerprint records, the officer locked
Penny, Jerry and the maid outside the suite. He then went to a nearby
apartment to telephone his report.
"Maybe this is an ordinary burglary, but it doesn't look that way to me,"
remarked Jerry as he and Penny went down the stairway.
"In any case, the story should be front page copy. Anything the Kohls do
is news in Riverview."
"How high would you estimate the loss?"
"Oh, I couldn't guess, Jerry. Thousands of dollars."
Passing groups of tenants who cluttered the hallway excitedly discussing
the burglary, they evaded questioners and reached the street.
"Jerry," said Penny suddenly, "I didn't mention this to the policeman
because he seemed to resent my opinions. But it occurred to me that I may
have seen the man who robbed the Kohls--or at least had something to do
with it."
"How could you have seen him, Penny? We were together when the Kohl maid
yelled for help."
"Earlier than that. It was while I was at the theatre."
Half expecting that Jerry would laugh, Penny told how she had observed
the man in gray note down the license number of the Kohl limousine.
"It came to me like a flash! That fellow may have telephoned the Kohl
apartment after seeing the car at the theatre. Making sure no one was at
home, he then looted the place at his leisure."
"Wait a minute," interrupted Jerry. "The Motor Vehicle Department closes
at six o'clock. How could your man have obtained Kohl's name and address
from the license number?"
"I never thought about the department being closed," confessed Penny.
"How you do love to shoot shrapnel into my little ideas!"
"At least you have original theories, which is more than I do," comforted
Jerry. "Before we leave, shall we take a look at the alley?"
Penny brightened instantly and accompanied the reporter to the rear of
the building. The alley was deserted. Without a light they were unable to
examine the ground beneath the Kohl's apartment window.
Suddenly, both straightened as they heard a sound behind them. The
brilliant beam of a flashlight focused on their faces, blinding them.
"Oh, it's you again," said a gruff voice.
The beam was lowered, and behind it they saw the policeman.
"You young cubs are a pest," he said irritably.
Ignoring them, he moved his light over the ground. There were no
footprints or other marks visible beneath the window.
"If a ladder had stood here it would show," remarked Jerry. "The thief
must have used some other means of getting into the building."
While the policeman was inspecting the ground, the janitor stepped from a
rear basement door, joining the group.
"Officer, I have some more information for you," he volunteered.
"What is it?"
"I was talking with my wife. She says that about two hours ago she
noticed a man walking through the alley. He carried a suitcase, and kept
looking at the upstairs windows."
"No ladder?"
"Only a suitcase."
"I'll have the detectives talk with your wife," the policeman promised.
"They'll be here any minute now."
Penny and Jerry lingered until the two men arrived, bringing a
photographer with them. No new evidence being made available, it seemed a
waste of time to remain longer.
"Don't bother to take me home," Penny insisted. "Dash straight to the
office and write your story. The other papers won't have a word about the
robbery until the police report is made."
"I don't like to abandon you."
"Don't be silly, Jerry. It's only a few blocks farther."
Thus urged, the reporter bade Penny good-bye. As she hastened on alone,
it began to rain and the air turned colder. To save her clothing, she ran
the last block, reaching the porch quite breathless.
The house was dark, the front door locked. Penny let herself in with a
key, switched on the lights, and after getting a snack from the
refrigerator, started upstairs.
From her father's room issued loud snores. However, Mrs. Weems' door
stood open, and as Penny glanced in she was surprised to see that the bed
had not been disturbed.
"Mrs. Weems must still be at the Hodges'," she thought. "Perhaps I should
go after her. She'll have a long walk in this rain."
Penny went to a window and looked out. The downpour showed no sighs of
slackening. With a sigh she found her raincoat and started for the
garage.
During her absence, Mr. Parker had towed Leaping Lena to a vacant lot
adjoining the property. The maroon car awaited her beneath shelter, and
she drove it through dark streets to the Hodges' modest home.
Lights glowed cheerily from the lower floor windows. In response to
Penny's knock, a bent old man, his hands gnarled by hard labor, opened
the door.
"Is it Penelope?" he asked, squinting at her through the rain. "Come in!
Come in!"
"Good evening, Mr. Hodges. Is Mrs. Weems still here?"
"Yes, I am, Penny," called the housekeeper. "Goodness, what time is it
anyway?"
"Nearly midnight."
Penny shook water from her coat and stepped into the spic and span living
room. An unshaded electric light disclosed a rug too bright, wallpaper
too glaring, furniture stiff and old fashioned. Yet one felt at once
welcome, for the seamstress and her husband were simple, friendly people.
"Have a chair, Penelope," invited Mrs. Hodges. She was short like her
husband, with graying hair and an untroubled countenance.
"Thank you, but I can't stay," replied Penny. "I came to drive Mrs. Weems
home."
"I had no idea it was so late," the housekeeper said, getting to her
feet. "Mrs. Hodges and I have been planning my traveling outfit."
"I'll try to have the dresses for you within the next two weeks,"
promised the seamstress. "Your good fortune makes me very happy, Maud.
Isn't the news of her inheritance wonderful, Penelope?"
"Oh, yes, yes, of course," stammered Penny. "Only I hope Mrs. Weems isn't
leaving us within two weeks. What's this about a traveling outfit?"
"I've always wanted fine clothing," said Mrs. Weems dreamily. "Mrs.
Hodges is making me a suit, three silk dresses, a tissue velvet evening
gown--"
"An evening gown!" Penny gasped. "Where will you wear it?"
"I'll find places."
"Maybe she aims to catch a husband while she's galavantin' around out
there in Californy," contributed Mr. Hodges with a sly wink.
"The very idea!" laughed Mrs. Weems, yet with no displeasure.
Penny sagged into the nearest rocking chair. The conversation was paced
too fast for her.
"Evening gowns--husbands--California," she murmured weakly. "Wait until
Dad hears about this."
"Mr. Hodges was only joking," declared Mrs. Weems, reaching for her hat.
"I wouldn't marry the best man on earth. But I definitely am going west
this summer."
"I envy you, Maud," said the seamstress, her eyes shining. "Pa and I want
to go out there and buy a little orange grove someday. But with taxes
what they are, we can't seem to save a penny."
Mrs. Weems squeezed her friend's hand.
"I wish I could take you along, Jenny," she said. "All these years you've
sewed your poor fingers almost to the bone. You deserve an easier life."
"Oh, Pa and I don't complain," the seamstress answered brightly. "And
things are going to look up."
"Sure they are," agreed Mr. Hodges. "I'll get a job any day now."
Penny, who was watching the seamstress' face was amazed to see it
suddenly transformed. Losing her usual calm, Mrs. Hodges exclaimed:
"Pa! It just this minute came to me! Maud getting her inheritance is
another psychic sign!"
Penny rocked violently and even Mrs. Weems looked startled.
"I don't know what you mean, Jenny," she said.
"We said we wouldn't tell anybody, Ma," protested Mr. Hodges mildly.
"Mrs. Weems is my best friend, and Penelope won't tell. Will you,
Penelope?"
"Not what I don't know," replied Penny in bewilderment. "How can Mrs.
Weems' inheritance have anything to do with a psychic sign?"
"You may as well tell 'em," grinned Mr. Hodges, "If you keep the news
much longer you'll bust."
"The strangest thing happened three nights ago," Mrs. Hodges began, her
voice quivering with excitement. "But wait! First I'll show you the
letter!"
CHAPTER
8
_PSYCHIC SIGNS_
As Penny and Mrs. Weems waited, the seamstress went to another room,
returning with a stamped, slit envelope.
"Notice the postmark," she requested, thrusting the letter into Penny's
hand.
"It was mailed from New York," the girl observed.
"I mean the hour at which the envelope was stamped by the postmaster."
"I make it 11:30 P.M. June fifteenth," Penny read aloud. "Does the time
and date have special significance?"
"Indeed, it does," the seamstress replied impressively. "You tell them,
Pa."