man trying to get in. Can't the skylight be locked?"
"Why, I suppose so," Salt agreed. "The only trouble is that this room
gets pretty stuffy in the daytime. We need the fresh air."
"At least it should be locked when no one is here."
"I'll see that it is," Salt promised. "But it's not likely the prowler
will come back again--especially as you nearly caught him."
It was growing late. Convinced that her father had left the _Star_
building, Penny decided to take a bus home. As she turned to leave, she
asked Salt carelessly:
"By the way, did you know Ben Bartell?"
"Fairly well," he returned. "Why?"
"Oh, I met him tonight. He's had a run of hard luck."
"So I hear."
"Salt, what did Ben do, that caused him to be blacklisted with all the
newspapers?"
"Well, for one thing, he socked an editor on the jaw."
"Jason Cordell of the _Mirror_?"
"Yes, they got into a fight of some sort. Ben was discharged, and he
didn't take it very well."
"Was he a hard drinker?"
"Ben? Not that I ever heard. I used to think he was a pretty fair
reporter, but he made enemies."
Penny nodded, and without explaining why the information interested her,
bade Salt goodnight. Leaving the _Star_ building by the back stairway,
she walked slowly toward the bus stop.
As she reached the corner, she heard the scream of a police car siren.
Down the street came the ambulance, pulling up only a short distance
away. Observing that a crowd had gathered, Penny quickened her step to
see who had been injured.
Pushing her way through the throng of curious pedestrians, she saw a
heavy-set man lying unconscious on the pavement. Policemen were lifting
him onto a stretcher.
"What happened?" Penny asked the man nearest her.
"Just a drunk," he said with a shrug. "The fellow was weaving all over
the street, and finally collapsed. A storekeeper called the ambulance
crew."
Penny nodded and started to move away. Just then, the ambulance men
pushed past her, and she caught a clear glimpse of the man on the
stretcher. She recognized him as Edward McClusky, a deep water diver for
the Evirude Salvage Company. She knew too that under no circumstances did
he ever touch intoxicating liquors.
"Wait!" she exclaimed to the startled ambulance crew. "I know that man!
Where are you taking him?"
CHAPTER
9
_THE METAL DISC_
"We're taking this man to the lockup," the policemen told Penny. "He'll
be okay as soon as he sobers up."
"But he's not drunk," she protested earnestly. "Edward McClusky is a
diver for the Evirude Salvage Co. Whatever ails him must be serious!"
The policeman stared at Penny and then down at the unconscious man on the
stretcher. "A deep sea diver!" he exclaimed. "Well, that's different!"
Deftly he loosened the man's collar, and at once his hand encountered a
small disc of metal fastened on a string about his neck. He bent down to
read what was engraved on it.
"Edward McClusky, 125 West Newell street," he repeated aloud. "In case of
illness or unconsciousness, rush this man with all speed to the nearest
decompression lock."
"You see!" cried Penny. "He's had an attack of the bends!"
"You're right!" exclaimed the policeman. He consulted his companions.
"Where is the nearest decompression chamber?"
"Aboard the _Yarmouth_ in the harbor."
"Then we'll rush him there." The policeman turned again to Penny. "You
say you know this man and his family?"
"Not well, but they live only a few blocks from us."
"Then ride along in the ambulance," the policeman suggested.
Penny rode in front with the driver, who during the speedy dash to the
river, questioned her regarding her knowledge of the unconscious man.
"I don't know much about him," she confessed. "Mrs. Weems, our
housekeeper, is acquainted with his wife. I've heard her say that Mr.
McClusky is subject to the bends. Once on an important diving job he
stayed under water too long and wasn't properly put through a
decompression lock when he came out. He is supposed to have regular
check-ups from a doctor, but he is careless about it."
"Being careless this time might have cost him his life," the driver
replied. "When a fellow is in his condition, he'll pass out quick if he
isn't rushed to a lock. A night in jail would have finished him."
"Will he be all right now?"
"Can't tell," was the answer. "Even if he does come out of it, he may be
paralyzed for life."
"Do you know what causes bends?" Penny inquired curiously.
"Nitrogen forms in bubbles in the blood stream," the driver answered, and
drew up at the waterfront.
Penny followed the stretcher aboard the _Yarmouth_. In the emergency of
offering quick treatment to McClusky, no one heeded her. The man was
rushed into the air lock and placed on a long wooden bench.
A doctor went into the chamber with him, signaling for the pressure to be
turned on. Bends could be cured, Penny knew, only by reproducing the deep
water conditions under which the man previously had worked. Pressure
would be raised, and then reduced by stages.
"How long will it take?" she asked a man who controlled the pressure
gauges.
"Ordinarily only about twenty minutes," he replied. "But it will take at
least two hours with this fellow."
"Will he come out of it all right?"
"Probably," was the answer. "Too soon to tell yet."
To wait two hours was out of the question for Penny. After discussing the
matter with police, she agreed to notify Mrs. McClusky of her husband's
difficulty. Glad to be rid of the duty, they dropped her off at the house
on West Newell street.
Mrs. McClusky, a stout, red-faced woman with two small children clinging
to her skirts, seemed stunned by the news.
"Oh, I knew this would happen!" she cried. "Ed has been so careless
lately. Thank heavens, he was taken to the decompression chamber instead
of the police station! A good friend of Ed's lost his life because no one
understood what was wrong with him."
Penny called a taxicab for Mrs. McClusky while she excitedly bundled up
the children.
"Bless you, for letting me know and for helping Ed," the woman murmured
gratefully as she climbed into the cab. "Will you tell me your name?"
"Oh, I'm just a reporter at the _Star_," Penny returned carelessly. "I do
hope your husband suffers no ill effects."
The taxi rattled away. With a tired sigh, Penny hastened on home. Lights
burned downstairs, and both her father and Mrs. Weems had waited up for
her.
"Now don't ask me where I've been," the girl pleaded, as she tossed her
hat into a chair and collapsed on the sofa. "What a night! I've had
enough adventures to fill a book."
Despite her admonition, both Mrs. Weems and her father plied her with
questions. Penny told them about the deep sea diver and then worked back
to the story of what had happened in the photography room.
"Are you certain anyone came through the skylight?" her father asked
dubiously. "It doesn't sound convincing to me."
"Footprints don't lie, Dad. They were on top of the cabinet."
"The janitor may have stood on it to fix a light bulb or something."
Penny became slightly nettled. "I'm sure someone was sneaking around in
that room tonight!" she declared flatly. "And it wasn't the janitor
either!"
"I'll order the skylight kept locked except during office hours," Mr.
Parker declared, yawning. "Any further adventures?"
"Plenty," Penny said, "but they'll keep until morning. There's just one
thing I want to ask you. Are you in need of a good male reporter?"
Mr. Parker came instantly to life. "Just lead me to him," he said. "I'm
desperate."
"Then why not hire Ben Bartell?"
Mr. Parker's face lost all animation. "I couldn't do that," he commented.
"Why not?"
"He's not the type of reporter I want on my paper."
"Exactly what do you mean?"
"Oh, Penny, I don't like to go into all this with you. Ben has a bad
reputation. He's hot tempered and unreliable."
"Because he got into a fist fight with Jason Cordell?"
"Yes, and he foments trouble among employes. I have enough problems
without adding him to the list."
"Ben didn't strike me as a trouble maker. Who told you about him?"
"Why, I don't remember--Jason Cordell, I suppose."
"That's just the point!" Penny cried. "Cordell hated him because Ben
gained damaging evidence against him! Then to protect himself, Cordell
told lies about Ben and got all of Riverview's publishers to blacklist
him!"
"What gave you that idea, Penny?"
"I talked to Ben tonight."
"It strikes me he filled you with hot air," the newspaper owner commented
dryly. "Penny, you must learn not to believe everything you hear."
"Then you'll not consider hiring Ben?"
"Afraid not," her father declined. "I've no special liking for Jason
Cordell, who always impressed me as a stubborn, unscrupulous fellow, but
I certainly can't employ Ben without more evidence in his favor than you
have presented."
"There is more," said Penny, "but I'm too tired to tell you tonight."
She went wearily to bed, and though she slept hard, still felt tired when
the alarm went off the next morning. Hastening through breakfast, she
rode with her father to the office, and en route related to him how Ben
had rescued the stranger from the river.
"Commendable," nodded her father, "but it still doesn't prove he isn't a
trouble maker."
"Oh, Dad, I think you're being unfair to him."
"And I think you have been unduly influenced," Mr. Parker returned.
"However, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll have Mr. DeWitt investigate
the young man. If his findings are good, we'll give him another chance."
"Oh, Dad! That's grand!" Penny cried, squeezing his arm.
At the office, Penny found a letter tucked behind the roller of her
typewriter. Although addressed to her, it had been sent to the _Star_.
Instantly she knew the reason, for it was from Jerry Livingston, who had
worked for the paper many years.
Eagerly, she ripped open the envelope and read the message. Jerry, in an
Army camp in the west, expected to pilot a big bomber to Hawaii within
the next few weeks. "Best regards to the newspaper gang," he concluded.
"Any news from Jerry?" inquired Mr. DeWitt, who had recognized the
handwriting.
Penny gave him the letter to read.
"Let's tack it on the bulletin board," the editor suggested. "Jerry has a
lot of friends here."
Penny allowed him to keep the letter and thought no more of it. Soon she
became absorbed in the morning's work. There were obituaries to write as
usual, but now and then Mr. DeWitt gave her a more interesting task.
Seemingly he had forgotten about her unfortunate experience at the fire.
But Penny had not forgotten. It troubled her that Salt's camera remained
missing. When he came to the desk to drop a handful of finished pictures,
she asked him what he had learned.
"Haven't been able to trace the car yet," he answered. "But we'll locate
it eventually. Don't worry about it, Penny."
The morning wore on. She saw Elda Hunt read Jerry's letter on the
bulletin board, and later giggle and laugh as she talked with other girls
in the office.
"That little witch said something uncomplimentary about me!" Penny
thought. "If I weren't the publisher's daughter, I certainly would tangle
with her! Maybe I will yet!"
At twelve o'clock, she put on her hat, intending to go to lunch. As she
turned toward the wooden barrier gate, she saw that the receptionist was
talking to a male visitor.
"I don't know the name of the girl," she heard him say distinctly, "but
she saved my life. I know she works on the _Star_ and I want to thank
her."
He turned then and saw her. "Why, she looks like the one my wife
described!" he exclaimed.
"Mr. McClusky!" Penny greeted him, extending her hand. "I'm so glad
you're up and around today. How do you feel?"
"Fine!" he boomed in a voice which carried to every desk in the room.
"Thanks to you. Aren't you the girl who saved my life?"
"I asked the police to take you to the _Yarmouth_ if that's what you
mean," Penny said self-consciously. "As for saving your life--"
"You certainly did, and the doc will say the same thing. Another ten
minutes and I'd have been too far gone to have pulled out of it. Now I'll
be okay--at least unless I have another attack of bends."
"I'm very glad you're feeling better," Penny said, edging away. She was
painfully conscious that all of the reporters were listening to the
conversation. All noise in the office had ceased.
"If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know!" the diver
offered heartily.
"Sometime when I need a good waterfront story, I may call on you," Penny
said jokingly.
"If I can give you a tip on anything, I sure will," he promised. "I know
every inch of the river, and most of the folks that live along 'er."
"Have you heard of a boat called the _Snark_?" Penny asked impulsively.
McClusky's expression changed. He lowered his voice. "Sure, I know the
_Snark_," he nodded soberly. "And here's a little tip. If you want a
story--a good hot one with plenty o' trouble hooked up to it, then just
go hunting around her berth. Maybe sometime I can help you."
With a friendly nod, he was gone.
CHAPTER
10
_COUNTRY SKIES_
No more was said to Penny about her unfortunate experience at the Conway
Steel Plant explosion, but she considered herself responsible for Salt's
lost camera. Although the plates no longer would have picture value from
the newspaper standpoint, she thought that they might provide a clue to
the identity of the man who had escaped by automobile.
Police had been unsuccessful in apprehending any of the persons
responsible for the explosion, and the story had died out of the
newspapers.
After working for a week at the _Star_, Penny was tired in body and worn
in mind. However, she was beginning to enjoy the routine. To receive her
first hard-earned pay check gave her a real thrill of pleasure.
Louise Sidell, a school girl friend who lived near the Parker home, asked
Penny how she planned to spend the money.
"I think I'll have the check framed," Penny laughed.
She and Louise were sitting on the front steps of the Parker home,
watching a chattering squirrel on the lawn. It was a warm, sunny day with
scarcely a cloud coasting around in the azure sky.
"Wish we could have a picnic or go to the country," Louise commented
wistfully.
"Why not?" Penny asked, getting up. "I intended to drive to the
waterfront this morning and see how Ben Bartell is making out. Then we
could go out into the country from there."
"Who is Ben Bartell?" Louise inquired with interest.
Penny related her experience near the _Snark_, telling of the stranger
who had been given shelter by the newspaper reporter.
"Ben probably has learned all about him by this time," she added. "Shall
we stop there?"
"Let's," agreed Louise enthusiastically.
Dressed in comfortable slacks, the chums prepared sandwiches, and then,
in Penny's battered old car, drove to the waterfront.
"I haven't much gasoline, so we can't go far," she warned as they parked
not far from the vacant lot where Ben's shack stood. "Wonder if anyone
will be here?"
Walking across the lot which was strewn with tin cans and rocks, they
tapped lightly on the sagging door of the shack. Almost at once it was
opened by Ben who looked even less cheerful than when Penny last had seen
him.
"Well, how is your patient this morning?" she inquired brightly.
"He's gone," replied Ben flatly. "My watch with him!"
"Your watch!"
Ben nodded glumly. "That's the thanks a fellow gets! I saved his life,
took him in and gave him my bed. Then he repays me by stealing my watch
and my only good sweater. It makes me sick!"
"Oh, Ben, that is a shame! You didn't learn who the man was?"
"He wouldn't put out a thing. All I know is that his first name was
Webb."
"Did you try to find him at the _Snark_?" Penny questioned.
"Sure, but there they just raise their eyebrows, and say they never heard
of such a person. So far as anyone aboard that tub is concerned, no one
ever fell into the brink either!"
"Ben, why not report to police?"
"I considered it, but what good would it do?" Ben shrugged. "The watch is
gone. That's all I care about."
"But those men aboard the _Snark_ must be criminals! We know they pushed
Webb off the boat."
"Probably had good reason for doing it too," Ben growled. "But we can't
prove anything--no use to try."
"Ben, you're just discouraged."
"Who wouldn't be? I had planned on pawning that watch. It would have kept
me going for a couple of weeks at least. I'd join the Army, only they've
turned me down three times already."
Penny and Louise had not expected to stay long, but with the reporter in
such a black mood, they thought they should do something to restore his
spirits. Entering the dingy little shack, Penny talked cheerfully of her
newspaper experiences, and told him that she had spoken to her father
about adding him to the editorial staff.
"What'd he say?" the reporter demanded quickly.
"He promised to look into the matter."
"Which means he doesn't want me."
"Not necessarily. My father takes his time in arriving at a decision. But
it always is a just one."
"Well, thanks anyhow," Ben said gloomily. "I appreciate how you've tried
to help, Penny. It's just no use. Maybe I'll pull out of here and go to
another city where I'm not known."
"Don't do that," Penny pleaded. "Sit tight for a few days, and something
will break. I'm sure of it."
Knowing that Ben was too proud to take money, she did not offer any. But
before leaving, she gave him a generous supply of their picnic food, and
invited him to ride along into the country.
"No, thanks," he declined. "I would only spoil the fun. I'm in no mood
today for anything except grouching."
The visit, brief as it was, tended to depress the girls. However, once
they were speeding along the country road, their spirits began to revive.
By the time they had reached a little town just beyond the state line,
they had forgotten Ben and his troubles.
"Let's stop somewhere near Blue Hole Lake," Penny proposed. "This
locality is as pretty as we'll find anywhere. Besides, I haven't much
gasoline."
"Suits me," agreed Louise, amiable as always.
Finding a grove within view of the tiny lake, they spread out their
picnic lunch. Afterwards, they stretched flat on their backs beneath the
trees and relaxed.
"It's getting late," Penny finally remarked regretfully. "Time we're
starting home."
"I want a drink of water first," Louise declared. "Pass me the thermos,
will you please?"
"It's empty." Penny uncorked the bottle and held it upside down. "But we
can stop at a farmhouse. I see one just up the road."
Returning to the car, they drove a few hundred yards down the highway,
pulling up near a large two-story frame house which bore a sign in the
front yard: "Tourist rooms."
In response to their knock on the side door, a pleasant, tired-faced
woman of mid-fifty came to admit them.
"I'm full up," she said, assuming that they wished to rent a room. "My
last suite was taken by the professor and his wife."
Penny explained that all they wanted was a drink of water.
"Goodness, just help yourselves at the well!" the woman exclaimed. "Wait,
I'll fetch a clean glass."
The deep well, which operated with a chain and a crank, was situated in a
vine-covered summer house only a few yards away. The farm woman, who said
her name was Mrs. Herman Leonard, showed them how to operate it. The
water, coming from deep in the earth, was cool and sweet.
"It must keep you quite busy, running a tourist home," Penny said to make
conversation.
"Indeed, it does," sighed the woman. "Most of my roomers aren't so bad,
but this last couple runs me ragged. They seem to expect hotel service."
"The professor and his wife?"
"Yes, Professor and Mrs. Bettenridge."
"Bettenridge," Penny repeated alertly. "I've heard that name before. Does
the professor come from Silbus City?"
"He never said. But he's an inventor, and he brought his invention with
him."
"What sort of invention is it?"
"A light ray machine which explodes mines on land or sea. The affair is
very complicated."
At Penny's expression of doubt, Mrs. Leonard added: "It really works too!
The first night the professor came here, he exploded a mine out in the
lake. Such a splash as it made! I saw it with my own eyes! The professor
expects to sell it to the Army or Navy for a lot of money."
"If it will do all he claims, why hasn't the government taken it over
before this?"
"Oh, it takes a long while to complete negotiations," Mrs. Leonard
replied. "The professor is expecting an officer here tomorrow to witness
another demonstration."
"Where is the machine kept? In your house?"
"Oh, dear no! The professor has it in a little shack down by the lake.
You can see the place from here."
Mrs. Leonard led the girls a short distance from the summer house,
pointing through the trees to a knoll at the edge of Blue Hole Lake.
"The professor and his wife went down there a few minutes ago," she
revealed. "Why don't you ask them to show you the invention? They might
do it."
"I doubt if we have time."
"Oh, let's take time," Louise urged. "It sounds so interesting, Penny."
Thus urged, Penny agreed, and with her chum, walked down the hill toward
the lake.
"It sounds fishy to me," she declared skeptically. "Probably this
professor is just a crack-pot who thinks he has a wonderful invention,
but hasn't."
"Mrs. Leonard said she saw a successful demonstration."
"I know, Lou. But how could a light ray machine explode mines that were
under water? Why, if it could be done, military warfare would be
revolutionized!"
"Unbelievable changes are coming every day."
"This one certainly is unbelievable! I'll take no stock in it unless I
see the machine work with my own eyes!"
Approaching the shack, the girls saw no one. The door was closed. And it
was locked, Penny discovered, upon testing it.
"No one here," she said in disappointment.
"They must be around somewhere," Louise declared, unwilling to give up.
"Maybe that car belongs to them."
A sedan stood in a weed-grown lane not far away. Penny, turning to gaze
carelessly at it, suddenly became excited.
"Lou, this trip has been worth while!" she cried. "Look at the license
number of that auto! It's D F 3005!"
CHAPTER
11
_A FAMILIAR CAR_
Louise gazed again at the automobile parked in the lane and at its
mud-splattered license number.
"D F 3005," she read aloud. "What about it, Penny?"
"Why, that is the number of the car that went off with Salt Sommers'
camera and plates the night of the big explosion," her chum explained
excitedly.
"You're sure it's the same auto?"
"It certainly looks like it. Now I remember! Salt traced the license to
an owner named Bettenridge!"
Hopeful of recovering the lost property, Penny, with Louise close at her
side, tramped through the high grass to the deserted lane. Apparently the
car owner had not gone far, for the doors had not been locked.
Penny climbed boldly in. A glance assured her that the camera or plates
were not on the back seat where they had been tossed. As Penny ran her
hands beneath the cushions, Louise plucked nervously at her skirt.
"Someone is coming, Penny! A man and a woman! They're heading straight
toward this car."
"All the better," declared Penny, undisturbed. "If they own the car, we
may be able to learn what became of Salt's property."
The man, middle-aged, was tall and thin and wore rimless glasses. He
walked with a very slight limp. His wife, a striking brunette, who
appeared many years his junior, might have been attractive had she not
resorted to exaggerated make-up.
"Good afternoon," the professor said, eyeing the girls sharply. "My car
seems to interest you."
"I was searching for something I thought might be on the back seat,"
Penny explained.
"Indeed? I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I was looking for a camera and plates."
"I regret I still fail to follow you," the man said stiffly. "Why should
our car contain a camera? My wife and I take no interest in photography."
"Aren't you Professor Bettenridge?"
"I am."
Penny gazed again at the car. "This must be the automobile," she said,
deeply troubled. "On the night of the Conway Steel Plant explosion, I
tossed a camera and photographic plates into the back seat to prevent
them being destroyed by a mob."
"Not this car," said the professor with quiet finality. "I have not been
in Riverview for nearly a month."
"A woman who resembled your wife was driving the car."
"Are you accusing me of stealing a camera?" the woman demanded angrily.