Produced by Al Haines
[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Penny Nichols and
the Knob Hill
Mystery
_By_
JOAN CLARK
The Goldsmith Publishing Company
CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT MCMXXXIX BY
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. A COTTAGE AT KNOB HILL
II. HELPING A STRANGER
III. A QUEER OLD MAN
IV. INSIDE INFORMATION
V. A NIGHT VISITOR
VI. THE ATTIC DOOR
VII. PENNY'S DISCOVERY
VIII. THE TOY LANTERN CLUE
IX. HERMAN CROCKER'S VISIT
X. SEARCHING THE LOFT
XI. AID FROM MICHAEL
XII. THE MATRON'S STORY
XIII. A BOLT OF CLOTH
XIV. A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD
XV. THE MISSING LETTERS
XVI. A LOST HANDKERCHIEF
XVII. A NEW CLUE
XVIII. INSIDE THE GABLED HOUSE
XIX. MICHAEL'S ADMISSION
XX. ALIAS JAY KLINE
Penny Nichols and the
Knob Hill Mystery
CHAPTER I
A Cottage at Knob Hill
Penny Nichols, hair flying in the wind, came running up the steps of
the Altman porch. She did not need to ring the bell, for just at that
moment Susan, her dark-haired chum, appeared in the open doorway.
"Why, hello, Penny," greeted the Altman girl. "You're all out of
breath."
"I ran most of the way from home," replied Penny.
"I was hoping you'd drop in today. Come on into the house."
"No, I can't, Susan," said Penny hurriedly. "I just ran over to say
good-by."
"Good-by?" echoed Susan blankly. "You're not going away, Penny?"
"Yes, Dad took a sudden notion he wanted to spend a quiet vacation at a
place called Knob Hill. We're motoring down there this afternoon."
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Susan. "You didn't say a thing about it
when we were playing tennis yesterday."
"How could I when I didn't know anything about it myself until an hour
ago? That's the way Dad does things, Susan."
"I suppose you're going off on another one of those exciting mystery
cases," Susan said enviously.
"I only wish we were," sighed Penny. "This vacation won't be a bit
exciting. Dad just wants a complete rest at a quiet place. He says
he'll not even think about work while we're gone."
"What sort of place is Knob Hill?"
"From all I can learn it's just a dead spot on the map," Penny
declared. "And we've rented a cottage sight unseen."
"Oh, it may not be half bad," said Susan encouragingly. "You'll
probably be able to do a lot of interesting things--swim, hike or ride."
"Not at Knob Hill," replied Penny, shaking her head. "It isn't a
summer resort place at all. There will be absolutely nothing to do
except eat, sleep, and grow fat."
Susan laughed as she glanced at her chum's slender figure. Penny was
too active and athletic ever to be plump. She had sparkling blue eyes,
golden hair, and a natural smile. It was very easy for her to make
friends.
"I haven't finished my packing yet," said Penny. "I'll have to get
back home or I'll keep Dad waiting."
"I'm terribly sorry to see you go," Susan told her. "Don't forget to
send me a postcard now and then."
Penny promised that she would write often, and then, aware that time
was slipping away, said a hurried farewell. Reaching her own home, a
large white house on Hilburn Street, she found her father washing the
car in the back yard.
Christopher Nichols was a tall, slim man with graying hair. For many
years he had been in charge of the Nichols Detective Agency and was
well known not only in Belton City but throughout the state. Many
persons believed that Penny had inherited her father's sleuthing
ability, for even at the age of fifteen she had shown remarkable talent
in solving mystery cases.
As Penny paused for a moment to chat with her father before going into
the house, she noticed the tired lines of his face.
"Dad really needs a long rest," she thought. "I ought to be glad we're
both running off to a quiet place like Knob Hill."
"Hello, Penny," Mr. Nichols greeted his daughter. "I'll have this
cleaning job done in another ten minutes. Then I'm ready to start
whenever you are."
"You seem anxious to get away from Belton City," Penny smiled. "You're
not trying to escape from any creditors?"
"Nothing like that," laughed Mr. Nichols. "I'm just sick and tired of
the Nichols Detective Agency. For two weeks I intend to forget
everything remotely connected with investigation work. Why, if a thief
broke into the house tonight and stole our diamonds, I'd not interest
myself in the case!"
"That's what you say now," chuckled Penny. "Anyway, we haven't any
diamonds."
"Inspector Harris tried to tempt me with a case only today," the
detective went on, his face becoming serious again. "I told him I
couldn't take it."
"You've earned the right to your vacation," Penny declared.
Mr. Nichols glanced quickly at his daughter.
"You're not very anxious to go to Knob Hill, are you, Penny?" he asked.
"Why--what makes you think that?" Penny stammered. The question had
caught her off guard.
"I pride myself that I've learned a few simple things during my twenty
years as a detective. Faces aren't hard to read--especially yours."
"Dear me," said Penny, "I didn't suppose I was an open book. Just what
does my face tell you?"
"That you're bored at the thought of going to a dull place such as Knob
Hill. It's selfish of me to drag you along----"
"No, it isn't, Dad!" Penny broke in. "You've needed this rest for
years and I'd not think of letting you go off by yourself. Why, for
all your wonderful detective ability, you can never find your own
slippers!"
"That's so," Mr. Nichols chuckled. "Well, I hope the two weeks won't
turn out to be too monotonous for you."
Penny left her father to finish cleaning the car and ran into the
house. Mrs. Gallup, the kindly housekeeper who had looked after the
girl since the death of her mother, was preparing luncheon in the
kitchen.
"I've laid out all your things on the bed," she told Penny. "And your
suitcase is down from the attic."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gallup," said Penny. "I'll soon have everything
packed."
By the time she had completed the task, the housekeeper announced
luncheon. Throughout the meal Mr. Nichols laughed and carried on in a
high mood, declaring that he felt like a youngster let out of school.
"What shall I do about your mail, sir?" inquired Mrs. Gallup when it
was time for Penny and her father to leave.
"Forward letters to me at Knob Hill in care of Judd Kilkane," the
detective instructed. "But don't give anyone my address unless it is a
matter of great importance."
"I'll be careful about that," Mrs. Gallup promised. "And I do hope you
have a good rest in the country, Mr. Nichols."
She watched from the doorway until the car disappeared down the street.
Penny settled herself for a long ride. She switched on the radio and
from force of habit turned the dial to the police station broadcast.
"Not that station," said Mr. Nichols.
"I forgot, Dad," laughed Penny. "My mistake."
She tuned to a program of band music and they both listened to it as
they drove along. An hour's ride brought them into high hills. From
then on they went more slowly, enjoying the view.
Approaching dusk found Penny and her father still several miles from
Knob Hill.
"I thought we'd be settled in our cottage by this time," said Mr.
Nichols, frowning. "Perhaps we ought to spend the night at a hotel."
"We can decide about that when we reach Knob Hill," Penny replied.
"But let's stop somewhere for an early supper. Otherwise, we'll have
to buy supplies and carry them with us."
Mr. Nichols turned in at the next roadside cafe. He and Penny enjoyed
an excellent meal and then went on once more toward Knob Hill.
It was nearly dark by this time. As they rounded a sharp curve, Mr.
Nichols reached down to switch on the headlights. At the same moment
Penny gave a little cry of alarm.
"Oh, Dad! There's a car in the ditch!"
Mr. Nichols slammed on the foot brake, for he had seen the wreck at the
same instant. A high-powered blue sedan lay on its side in the
rain-gutted ditch to the right of the road. One tire was down, and Mr.
Nichols judged that a blow-out had caused the accident.
"I wonder if anyone was hurt?" Penny gasped.
Just then a short, squat little man in a long gray overcoat and felt
hat stepped out from behind the overturned car. He held up his hand as
a signal to Mr. Nichols.
"I see you've had an accident," said the detective as he brought his
own car to a standstill at the side of the road. "Anything we can do
to help?"
Penny could not see the stranger's face clearly, for his soft felt hat
was pulled low over his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was husky.
"Sure, you can give me a lift if you will. My tire blew out when I was
doing seventy. First thing I knew I was in the ditch."
"You're lucky it wasn't a worse accident," replied the detective.
"What's lucky about it?" demanded the stranger irritably.
"Your car doesn't appear much damaged," replied Mr. Nichols, studying
the man curiously. "And you don't seem to be hurt. You easily might
have been killed traveling at that speed."
"What is this--a lecture in motor safety?" asked the man angrily.
"Not at all," said Mr. Nichols. "Did you say you wanted a ride?"
"Yes; how far are you going?"
"Only to Knob Hill."
"I'll ride along that far anyway," said the stranger.
"My name is Christopher Nichols," the detective introduced himself,
"and this is my daughter, Penny."
"Pleased to meet you," muttered the man, without looking directly at
either of them. He hesitated, and then added: "I'm Walter Crocker."
"The name sounds familiar," commented Mr. Nichols.
"You may be thinking of my uncle, Herman Crocker. He's well known in
these parts."
"I don't believe I know him," replied the detective.
"I'm on my way to see him now," said the man. His voice was bitter.
"Herman Crocker is a disreputable crook, even if he is my uncle. He's
been stealing from me for years, but it's at an end now! I'll force
him to give me my inheritance even if I have to tear him limb from
limb----"
"I'd not get so excited if I were you," interrupted Mr. Nichols calmly.
"You're probably upset because of the accident."
"It did shake me up a bit," replied Crocker, with an abrupt change of
tone.
"Just climb in and we'll take you to town with us," Mr. Nichols invited.
Penny started to move over so that the man could sit beside her.
"Never mind," he said quickly. "I'll ride in the rumble."
"It's not very comfortable," Mr. Nichols warned.
"No matter. I'd rather sit back there."
He climbed into the rumble and Mr. Nichols drove on down the road. Now
and then when Penny would glance back through the glass she could see
the man gazing intently at her. His scrutiny made her feel very
uncomfortable. She wondered if her father shared the feeling. Mr.
Nichols was paying close attention to the road, and his masklike face
revealed none of his thoughts.
Soon the car drove into the little sleepy village of Kendon which had
been settled at the foot of Knob Hill.
"Look for Judd Kilkane's real estate office," the detective told Penny.
"There it is!" she cried a moment later. "On the north side."
Mr. Nichols parked the car in front of the building.
"I'll be back in just a minute," he said to Walter Crocker. "I want to
get the key to our cottage from Judd Kilkane."
The man in the rumble made no reply. He sat hunched over in the seat,
head bent low.
"Wait a minute, Dad," called Penny. "I'll go with you."
They entered the building, which was little more than a one-story frame
shack. The door had been left unlocked, yet Judd Kilkane's office
appeared to be deserted.
"This is annoying," said Mr. Nichols. "He's probably out to supper,
but it means we may have a long wait."
"We ought to tell Walter Crocker," returned Penny. "Dad, I don't like
that fellow. He gives me the creeps."
"He is a bit queer," the detective admitted with a short laugh.
"Dad, do you suppose----"
"No," interrupted Mr. Nichols, "I don't think he's an escaped crook or
anything of the sort. Even if he were, I'd not be interested. This is
my vacation."
"Oh, all right," laughed Penny. "I was just thinking aloud."
Mr. Nichols opened the door and they walked toward the car together.
Suddenly Penny halted, staring toward the rumble seat.
"Why, Dad!" she exclaimed. "Walter Crocker has gone!"