Taking care to walk softly, the pair stole back to the cabin. Crouching
by the window, they could hear a low murmur of voices inside. At first it
was difficult to catch the trend of the conversation, but gradually
Professor Bettenridge's voice grew louder.
"I don't like it any better than you do," Salt and Penny heard him say,
"but that's the way it is. If we're to finish the deal, we've got to
explode one of Johnson's mines Thursday night. The question is, can we do
it?"
"Depends on the type of mine," Webb replied gruffly. "How soon can we
have it ahead of the test?"
"I'll insist that he deliver it here at least by afternoon. Will that
give you time enough?"
"Sure, it won't take more than a half hour to fix 'er for the test,
providing it can be done. But I ain't makin' no promises until I see the
mine."
"It's a chance we have to take," Professor Bettenridge said. "The deal
would have gone through tonight if it hadn't been for a couple of young
newspaper fools who came nosing around here. They may make us trouble
Thursday night too."
"I ain't aimin' to get mixed with the police," Webb said uneasily. "If
this deal don't go through Thursday night, I'm quitting. We're in a
mighty risky business."
"But we stand to make at least $200,000," the professor reminded him.
"You'll get a third cut. If Johnson holds off Thursday night, I'll drop
to $100,000. The thing we've got to do is to pull off that test okay and
clear out."
Penny and Salt had heard enough to be certain that the men with whom they
were dealing were crooks of the first rank. Slipping noiselessly away,
they trudged to the car.
"Now what do we do?" Penny questioned. "Notify the police?"
"We could," Salt debated, "but so far, it's only our word against
Professor Bettenridge's. He'd probably convince the police he was only a
crack-pot inventor who thought he had a wonderful machine. They might let
him go."
"Any other ideas?"
"A slick trick would be to fix that mine so it won't explode. That
automatically would cause complications and probably delay the deal with
Mr. Johnson."
"Just how do you propose to fix Mr. Johnson's mine?" Penny inquired. "It
would take some doing."
"The mines are all kept in that shack on the beach?"
"Yes, Louise and I saw Webb working on one of them there. Evidently it
was the one the professor exploded tonight."
"He must have doctored it in some special way. Probably an untampered
mine won't explode."
"He'll fix Mr. Johnson's mine the same way, and then the test will appear
successful."
Salt nodded gloomily. He was lost in thought for several minutes, and
then he grinned.
"Maybe I have an idea!"
"What is it, Salt?"
The photographer switched on the car ignition. "Wait until Thursday
night," he replied. "Can you get away from the office early?"
"Well, I really shouldn't--"
"I'll take care of that part," Salt said briskly. "Just sit tight, Penny.
You and I will have some fun out of this affair yet, and maybe we'll save
Mr. Johnson a tidy sum of money."
CHAPTER
17
_MAJOR BRYAN_
It was nearly midnight by the time Penny reached home. Mrs. Weems had
gone to bed, but a light still burned in the study where Mr. Parker was
working on a speech he expected to deliver the following day before the
Chamber of Commerce.
"Well, I'm glad you finally decided to come home," he remarked severely.
"Since my little daughter became Tillie the Toiler, she seems to have
developed independent hours."
"Wait until you hear where I've been," Penny said, sinking into an easy
chair beside his desk. "Dad, you won't blame me for staying out late when
I tell you what I saw and heard."
Eagerly she related all that had occurred, and was pleased to note that
the story interested her father.
"Tell me more about Professor Bettenridge," he urged. "Describe him."
"He looks very scholarly, but his language doesn't fit the part," Penny
recalled. "He's tall and thin and his nose is very pointed. Middle aged,
which might mean forty-five or maybe fifty. That's about all I noticed
except that he has a quick way of darting his eyes about. And he wears
glasses."
"From your description, he sounds like the same person I heard about this
afternoon," Mr. Parker commented.
"Someone told you of his experiments at the lake?"
"Quite the contrary. An Army officer, Major Alfred Bryan called at my
office this afternoon, seeking information about a man who may be
Professor Bettenridge."
"Was he interested in buying the machine for the Army, Dad?"
Mr. Parker dipped his pen in ink, wrote a few lines, and then looked up
again. "No, Major Bryan was sent here to trace a man who has several
charges against him. At one time he impersonated an officer and in recent
months has been swindling persons by various schemes. He pretends to sell
Army or Navy surplus war goods."
"That doesn't sound like Professor Bettenridge, Dad."
"Perhaps not, but from your description it could be the same man. This
secret ray machine business sounds phoney to me. Most crooks try more
than one game--the mine exploding trick may be his latest scheme to
fleece gullible victims."
"Do you think we should report the professor to the police, Dad?"
"It might be a better idea to send Major Bryan to see him," Mr. Parker
returned thoughtfully. "If the professor should prove to be the man he's
after, then the Army would take over."
"Where is Major Bryan now, Dad?"
"He didn't mention the name of his hotel, because at the time he called
at my office, I had no thought I could assist him in any way. However, he
expected to stay in Riverview several days. It shouldn't be so hard to
trace him. I'll get busy tomorrow."
Tired from her adventures of the night, Penny soon went to bed. The next
day Mr. DeWitt gave her several interesting assignments, and when one of
the stories appeared in the final edition of the _Star_, it bore a neat
little "By Penny Parker," under the headline.
"Getting on in the world, I see," Elda Hunt observed sarcastically.
Not even the unkind remark could dull Penny's pleasure. She had earned
her way on the newspaper by hard, routine work. The by-line meant that
she had turned in an excellent well-written story. Elda, whose writing
lacked crispness and originality, only once had seen her own name appear
in the _Star_. Penny felt a trifle sorry for her.
"There's no fairness around here," Elda complained in a whine. "I've
worked over a year. What do I have to show for it? Not even a raise."
Penny did not try to tell the girl it was her own fault, that her
attitude toward her work was entirely wrong. Elda must learn for herself.
Not until Wednesday did Penny have a chance to ask her father if he had
traced Major Bryan.
"To tell you the truth, the matter slipped my mind," he confessed
ruefully. "I've had one conference after another all day long. Tomorrow
I'll certainly try to find him."
Penny reminded him of his promise on the following day. Mr. Parker, after
telephoning several places, found the major registered at the St. Regis
Hotel, not far from the Parker home. However, the army officer had left
for the day, and was not expected to return before nightfall.
"Oh, dear," fretted Penny, "that may be too late. If Professor
Bettenridge is successful in his demonstration tonight, he may rake in
Mr. Johnson's money and skip town before the major even sees him."
"It's unlikely the professor will leave without cashing the check, Penny.
And banks will not be open until nine o'clock tomorrow."
"I'd feel safer to have police take over," Penny sighed. "If only we
could prove charges against Bettenridge!"
"He hasn't swindled anyone yet," her father reminded her. "Learn what you
can tonight, and if the sale goes through, we'll then turn him over to
the police."
"It may be too late then."
"I think not," smiled her father. "You always were a little impatient,
Penny."
Eagerly Penny awaited the arrival of evening and another adventure at
Blue Hole Lake. She and Salt arranged to leave the office at four
o'clock, hoping to reach the farmhouse early enough to observe what
preparations Webb made for exploding Mr. Johnson's mine.
But at three, Salt was sent on an important assignment.
"I'll get back as soon as I can," he promised Penny, pausing beside her
desk. "I may be a little late, but we'll still make it."
"I'll be right here waiting," Penny grinned.
At ten minutes past four Salt returned. Thinking he might have pictures
to develop before he would be free to leave, Penny did not rush him by
going back to the photography room right away. When she had typed her
last story of the day and brought it to the editor's desk for inspection,
she gathered up her purse and hat.
"Leaving early, aren't you?" Elda inquired in a loud voice so that
everyone would notice.
"That's right," Penny replied, without explaining her special mission.
Not wishing to leave the city without ample funds, she first went
downstairs to cash a pay check at the company treasurer's window. He gave
her the crisp five dollar bills, joking with her about skipping town with
so much money.
Penny tucked the bills into her purse and was turning to go back upstairs
again, when through the window she saw a man coming down the alley from
the rear of the _Star_ building. Recognizing him as Mr. McClusky, the
deep sea diver she had assisted, she darted to the window and rapped to
attract his attention.
Not hearing her, he walked hurriedly on, and was lost in the crowd of the
street.
"Wonder what he was doing here?" she thought as she slowly climbed the
stairs. "Perhaps he came to see me. But in that case, he probably would
have come up the front way."
Dismissing the matter from her mind, she sought Salt in the photography
room. The outside gallery was empty, though the photographer's hat and
coat hung on a hook by the window.
"Salt!" she called, thinking he must be in the darkroom.
No one answered. Nevertheless, a strange feeling Penny could not have
explained, took possession of her. She sensed a presence somewhere near
as if she were being watched.
Nervously Penny stepped to the door of the darkroom. She tapped lightly
on it, but there was no answer.
Suddenly fearful, she jerked open the door and groped for a light. As the
tiny room blazed with illumination, she uttered a startled gasp.
Almost at her feet, cheek against the floor, lay Salt Sommers.
CHAPTER
18
_A SECOND TEST_
As Penny knelt beside Salt, he stirred slightly and raised a hand to his
head. She saw then that there was a tiny break in the skin which also was
slightly discolored. Either the photographer had fallen or he had been
slugged.
Before she could go for help, he sat up, staring at her in a bewildered
manner. Penny assisted him to a chair, and dampening a handkerchief with
water from the tap above the developer trays, applied it to his forehead.
"What happened?" she inquired anxiously when Salt seemed able to speak.
"Slugged," he answered in disgust.
"By whom?"
"Don't know. The fellow must have been in the darkroom when I came here
to develop my films. Fact is, I thought I heard someone moving around. I
stepped to the door to see, and bing! That's the last I knew."
"Has anything been taken, I wonder?" Switching on another light, Penny
glanced over the room. The drawer of a filing cabinet where old films,
and plates were kept, remained open.
"Someone may have been looking in there!" she commented. "Salt, whoever
he is, he must be searching for a film he is afraid we'll publish in the
paper."
"Maybe so," Salt agreed, holding a hand to his throbbing forehead. "But I
don't know of any picture we have that would damage anyone."
Penny stepped to the doorway of the darkroom. In the larger room, the
skylight remained closed. It was impossible to tell if anyone had entered
the building in that way.
Some distance down the hall was a seldom-used stairway which led to the
roof. Finding a door opening into it, Penny climbed the steps to look
about. The rooftop was deserted, but in the building directly across from
the _Star_, a corridor window remained open.
"How easy it would be for a man to step out onto the roof from there,"
she thought. "If the skylight or the stairway door were unlocked, he
easily could enter the _Star_ photography room without being seen."
Across the way, in the adjoining building, a man stood at an office
window, watching Penny curiously. Sun glared on the panes so his face was
distorted. But from the location of the window, she felt certain it was
Mr. Cordell.
After a moment, Penny turned and went back down the stairs. The exit at
its base was barred by a door with a rusty key in the lock.
Passing through, Penny locked it, and slipped the key into her purse.
"That should stop our prowler for a few days," she thought.
In the photography room again, she checked the skylight, and finding it
locked, was convinced that this time the mysterious visitor had entered
the building by means of the stairs. She knew the door was usually kept
locked, but undoubtedly the janitor had been careless.
By this time Salt was feeling much better. While Penny waited, he
explained to the editor why the photos would not be ready until morning,
then declared he was ready to start for Blue Hole Lake.
"Do you really feel like going?" Penny asked dubiously.
"Sure thing," the photographer insisted. "It takes more than a little tap
on the head to put me out of running."
Salt walked a trifle unsteadily as they went down the back stairs
together, but once they were in the press car, he seemed his usual jovial
self.
"Now tell me about that plan of yours for tonight," Penny urged as they
jounced along the country road.
"It's not much of a plan," the photographer confessed ruefully. "First,
we've got to learn exactly what Webb does to those mines to make them
explode. Then somehow we'll have to undo the work to cause the
demonstration to turn out a flop."
"It sounds like a big order," Penny sighed. "We'll need plenty of luck to
carry it out. Especially as we're arriving rather late."
Having no intention of announcing their presence, the pair drew up about
a quarter of a mile from the lake, parking in a side road.
Shadows were casting long arms over the ground as they started hurriedly
across the fields toward the beach. They had covered two thirds of the
distance when Penny suddenly caught Salt's arm, pointing toward the lake.
"Look!" she exclaimed. "There they are now!"
Out on the lake a barge-type boat was being steered toward the beach near
the shack where Professor Bettenridge stored the mines. The watching
couple recognized three persons aboard the craft, the professor, Mr.
Johnson and Webb. The barge also bore a large mine, similar in type to
those Penny had seen inside the shack.
"That must be the mine Mr. Johnson is supplying for the test tonight,"
she whispered.
Hand in hand, Penny and Salt crept closer to the shore. The boat grated
on the sand and Webb, with the professor helping him, carried the heavy
mine toward the building.
"If the mine is to be exploded tonight, wouldn't it be easier to leave it
on the barge ready to drop into the lake?" Penny commented. "Webb and the
professor must have a special reason for hauling it ashore."
"I think you have something there," Salt observed. "Obviously, they're
going to doctor it in some way. We'll see what happens."
Webb unlocked the door of the shack and the two men carried the mine
inside. Creeping still closer to the building, Salt and Penny heard Mr.
Johnson say:
"Just a minute. I see you have other mines stored here. How am I to be
sure that the one exploded will be the mine I have provided?"
"You may mark it if you wish," the professor replied. "In fact, we prefer
that you do, so there can be no possible doubt in your mind. Take this
pocket knife and scratch your initials on the covering of the mine. Then
tonight, before it is dumped in the lake, you may check again to see
there has been no substitution."
"You understand, I don't distrust you," Mr. Johnson said, ill at ease.
"But so much money is at stake--"
"I understand your attitude perfectly," the professor replied. "Certainly
you are entitled to take every precaution."
A silence ensued, and Penny and Salt assumed that Mr. Johnson was
scratching his initials on the mine.
"Now suppose we have dinner at the village inn," the professor presently
suggested. "Then we will have the demonstration."
"Must we wait so long before setting off the mine?" Mr. Johnson inquired.
"Yes, village authorities gave permission for the test to be held at nine
o'clock," the professor explained. "My own preference would be to get it
over immediately, but I dare not disobey their orders."
Mr. Johnson made no reply, and a few minutes later, the three men walked
away. No sooner had they disappeared up the lake than Penny and Salt came
out of hiding from among the trees.
"You have to hand it to Professor Bettenridge," commented the
photographer with grudging praise. "He's a smooth talker. I'll bet a
frosted cookie the test could be held at one time as well as another so
far as the village authorities are concerned. He has a special reason for
wanting it at nine o'clock."
"Probably to give Webb time enough to work on the mine or exchange them,"
Penny said, and then frowned thoughtfully. "But what if the machine
actually should work? After all, the professor agreed to explode Mr.
Johnson's mine, and apparently he's marked it with his initials. It won't
be easy to substitute another one now."
"All the same, if I'm any good at guessing, it will be done. Now what
shall we do until nine o'clock? Grab ourselves something to eat?"
Penny was about to suggest that they drive to a village cafe, when she
noticed Webb returning alone from up the beach. Barely did the pair have
time to duck out of sight behind a boulder before he approached.
Walking directly to the shack, he unlocked the door, and entered.
"Now this must be where the hocus-pocus begins!" Salt whispered. "We've
got to find out what he does to that mine."
"Louise and I climbed up in that tree the other day and looked through
the glass in the top."
"Then that's the trick for us! Come on!"
Making no sound, the pair climbed the tree close beside the shack.
Noiselessly, they inched their way toward the skylight, and lying flat,
peered down into the dark interior.
Webb had lighted a lantern which he hung on a wall nail. Unaware that he
was being watched, he squatted in front of the mine which bore Mr.
Johnson's initials, studying it thoughtfully.
Muttering to himself, he next took a powerful ratchet drill, and for a
long time worked with it on the mine, boring a tiny but deep hole.
"I'm getting stiff in this position," Penny whispered. "What is he doing,
Salt?"
"Don't know," the photographer admitted, puzzled. "Apparently, he's
doctoring Mr. Johnson's mine so it will explode tonight, but I'm not
smart enough to figure how the trick will be accomplished."
By now it was so dark that the pair in the tree no longer feared they
would be seen. Keeping perfectly still, they watched the work in the room
below.
"It's clear why Professor Bettenridge set nine o'clock for the
demonstration," Salt whispered. "Webb needed all this time to get the
mine ready."
"And that's why they brought it here instead of dumping it into the
lake," Penny added. "But how can they make the mine explode at exactly
the right moment?"
After Webb had worked for a while longer, he arose and stretched his
cramped muscles. Going to a cupboard, he removed a white powder from a
glass tube, and carefully inserted it in the hole he had just made in the
mine. As a final act, he sealed the tiny hole with another material, and
polished the surface so that the place did not show.
"Slick work!" Salt commented. "By the time he's through, no one ever
could tell the mine has been touched! Certainly not that thick-skulled
Johnson."
Apparently satisfied with his work, Webb put away his tools, made a final
inspection of the mine, and then left the shack. After carefully locking
the door, he disappeared into the night.
"Now what's our move?" Penny asked as she and Salt finally slid down from
their uncomfortable perch. "Shall we tell Mr. Johnson what we just saw?"
"We could, but he might not believe us. Penny, I have a better idea! If
we can get inside the shack--"
"But it's locked!"
"The skylight may be open." Salt climbed up on the roof to investigate,
but to his disappointment, the roof window was tightly fastened from
inside.
"We could smash the glass," Penny suggested dubiously.
Salt shook his head. "That would give the whole thing away. No, I think
we can get inside another way, but we'll have to work fast! Now that Webb
has the mine ready for the demonstration, the professor and Mr. Johnson
may show up here at any minute."
CHAPTER
19
_THE LANTERN SIGNAL_
Salt explained that he intended to pick the lock of the shack door.
"When I worked the police beat, a detective taught me this trick," he
explained. "You keep watch while I work."
Now that Webb had disappeared no one was to be seen near the beach. To
Penny's relief, not a person appeared, and Salt, working swiftly, soon
had the door open.
To make certain they would not be taken unawares, Salt relocked the door
on the inside. Groping about, he found the lantern Webb had left behind,
and lighted it.
Three mines lay on the floor. "Which is the right one?" Penny asked.
"They all look alike!"
"Mr. Johnson's initials must be on the one Webb tampered with."
Salt turned over one of the mines, inspecting it.
"That thing might go off any minute," Penny said, edging away. "Do be
careful, Salt."
Salt chuckled. "If it should go off, we'd never know what hit us," he
said. "This is the one Webb tampered with all right. Penny, how are you
at forging?"
"Forging?" she repeated, not understanding what he meant.
"Can you duplicate Mr. Johnson's initials on another mine?"
"Oh, I don't think so. Not so it would look the same."
"Sure, you can," Salt said, thrusting his pocket knife into her hand. "It
will be dark and no one will look too carefully."
"But why do you want me to do it? You mean to substitute Mr. Johnson's
mine for one of the others?"
"That's the ticket," chuckled the photographer. "Maybe my guess is wrong,
but I have a sneaking suspicion if we use one of the professor's own
mines, it will fail to explode."
"The mine has to be doctored with that powder we saw Webb use!"
"That's my theory, Penny."
"But maybe the other mines have already been treated."
"That's a possibility," Salt admitted thoughtfully. "No way of telling
that, because the hole would be covered so skillfully. We'll have to take
a chance on it."
While Salt held the lantern, Penny scratched Mr. Johnson's initials on
the metal covering of the mine. Skilled in art, she was able to copy them
fairly well.
"They don't look exactly the same," Salt said, comparing the two, "but
they're good enough to get by unless Mr. Johnson becomes very critical."
Quickly they moved the two mines, placing Mr. Johnson's well to the back
of the room, and leaving the substitute exactly where the other had been.
"Well, that job is done," Salt chuckled. "Unless I miss my guess--"
He broke off, startled to hear a murmur of voices from a short distance
down the beach. Quick as a flash he blew out the lantern and hung it in
its accustomed place on the wall nail.
"Salt! Those men are coming!" Penny whispered fearfully. "We're trapped
here!"
It was too late to slip out the door, for already the men were very
close, and unmistakably, one of the voices was that of Professor
Bettenridge.
The only available hiding place was a storage closet. Barely in time,
Salt and Penny squeezed into it, closing the door and flattening
themselves against the wall.
The door of the shack swung open to admit the professor, Webb, and Mr.
Johnson.
"Dark as pitch in here," Webb muttered. "Wait and I'll light the
lantern."
In a moment the yellow glow illuminated the dingy little room.
"Which is my mine?" Mr. Johnson asked. "They all look alike."
"And for all practical purposes they are exactly alike," said the
professor smoothly. "So far as my machine is concerned, it makes not a
particle of difference. Webb, which is the mine that Mr. Johnson
supplied?"
"Here it is," the assistant said, tapping the one Salt and Penny had
substituted. "See your initials, Mr. Johnson?"
"Yes, yes," agreed the man.
Inside the closet, Penny and Salt breathed easier.