A Queer Old Man
"My name is Penelope Nichols," the girl introduced herself after she
had recovered from astonishment. "Are you Mr. Crocker?"
"I am," replied the old man grimly. "What do you want here?"
"Why, my father and I rented your cottage," Penny told him quickly.
"Would you mind calling off your dog? He acts as if he'd enjoy chewing
me to pieces."
"Rudy has been trained to attack anyone who tries to come up the lane,"
Herman Crocker said evenly.
He stepped through a gap in the hedge and spoke sharply to the hound.
Rudy went reluctantly to the side of his master.
Penny could not help but stare at the old man. He was short and
stooped and his clothes were not very clean. She saw that he was
carrying a shotgun.
Herman Crocker studied the girl shrewdly.
"What is it you want of me?" he asked gruffly. "I told Kilkane he was
to handle everything about the cottage. I don't want to be bothered."
"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Crocker, but there are a few details which must
be settled if my father and I are to remain."
"What's your complaint?"
"The electricity hasn't been turned on, Mr. Crocker. The cottage needs
cleaning. There is no wood. I can't find half enough dishes or
cooking pans. We'll need more linen and blankets."
"You can't expect me to fix up the place like it was a palace,"
complained the old man. "You're only paying fifteen dollars a week."
"If you're unwilling to do anything about it then we'll leave this
morning." Penny turned to walk away.
"Here, wait," called the old man. "I'm willing to do anything that's
reasonable. Come up to the house and I'll give you some clean linen."
Penny walked with Mr. Crocker up the lane, trying not to show that she
felt uneasy. The old man caught her staring at his shotgun.
"I was hunting squirrels early this morning," he explained.
"Isn't this out of season?" Penny asked before she stopped to think.
Herman Crocker glanced at her with an expression which she was unable
to fathom.
"Seasons make no difference to me," he answered shortly. "I go hunting
when I please."
They walked on in silence. When they were near the house Penny said
casually:
"Oh, by the way, my father and I met your nephew last night."
"My nephew?"
"Why, yes, Walter Crocker. He told us he was on his way to visit you."
Penny saw the old man glance quickly toward her. She could tell that
her words had disturbed him.
"Oh, I couldn't think who you meant at first," he muttered. "Yes,
Walter was here last night. But he's gone back to the city."
Penny allowed the subject to drop, yet she wondered if Herman Crocker
were telling the truth. Had the younger man really visited his uncle
for the purpose of claiming an inheritance? He had seemed very bitter
toward the old fellow. From her observation of Walter Crocker she did
not believe that he was a person who would be easily discouraged in his
ambitious designs.
Penny had learned from past experience that if one wished to avoid
trouble it did not pay to ask too many questions. More than once an
inquiring turn of mind had involved her in strange adventures. Not so
many months before this same trait of curiosity had drawn her into a
detective case which had baffled the Belton City police. Her clever
work, which resulted in the capture of a daring group of auto thieves,
is recounted in the first volume of this series, "Penny Nichols Finds a
Clue."
Even more recently, Penny had solved a mystery which concerned a queer
sculptured figure called The Black Imp. By exposing an unscrupulous
dealer in paintings who sought to betray his patrons, she saved many
persons from being swindled and at the same time gained honor for
herself.
At the moment, Penny was not eager to involve herself in trouble. She
determined to say no more about Walter Crocker unless the old man
reopened the subject.
"I'll get the things for you," said Herman Crocker as they reached the
kitchen door. "Just wait here."
Penny was a little surprised because the old man did not invite her
into the house.
"It won't take me long," he said, deliberately closing the door behind
him.
Penny seated herself on the steps of the sagging porch and kept her eye
upon Herman Crocker's dog which had stationed himself only a few feet
away.
"That animal is vicious," she thought uneasily. "I don't see why
Crocker keeps him around."
Hearing a slight sound Penny gazed toward the right and was surprised
to observe a small boy peering at her from the corner of the house. He
was tall and very thin but did not appear to be more than nine or ten
years of age.
"Hello there," said Penny in a friendly voice.
"Hello," answered the boy. He moved slowly toward her, staring rather
blankly.
"You're not Mr. Crocker's little boy?" Penny asked, hoping to draw him
into conversation.
"I'm his grandson."
"Oh, his grandson," repeated Penny, studying the lad with interest. He
bore slight resemblance to Herman Crocker. "And is Rudy your dog?"
"No!" replied the lad bitterly. "I hate him. If I tried to go away
from here he'd attack me. My grandfather has trained him to do that."
Penny was not certain that she had understood correctly. She could not
believe that Herman Crocker deliberately kept his grandson a prisoner
on the property.
"You don't mean----" she began, but the words died away.
The kitchen door had opened. Herman Crocker stood scowling at his
grandson.
"Perry!" he said harshly. "Get inside! There's work to be done!"
"Yes, sir," replied the boy meekly.
With a frightened glance directed toward Penny he scuttled into the
house. Mr. Crocker closed the door again.
"I do believe that old man was afraid to have me talk with his
grandson!" Penny thought shrewdly. "How strange!"
She did not have long to reflect upon the queer actions of her new
landlord, for in a very few minutes he reappeared with an armload of
linen and blankets.
"I've telephoned the electric company for you," he told her. "Your
lights ought to be on before night."
"And will you have the cottage cleaned for us?" Penny requested.
"I can't do the work myself," scowled the man. "But if you want to get
Mrs. Masterbrook, I'll pay the bill."
"Who is she?" inquired Penny.
"I'll give you her address. She does cleaning work by the day."
Penny was not very well pleased with the arrangement because it meant
that she must make a special trip to find Mrs. Masterbrook. However,
there seemed no other way since the landlord had proved himself to be
such an unaccommodating person.
"You'll likely be going in to town sometime to-day?" ventured Mr.
Crocker as Penny turned to leave.
"Why, I imagine so. We'll need supplies."
The man hesitated, and then said in a tone which he tried to make sound
casual: "It might be just as well for you not to mention to folks that
you saw my nephew. Not that I have any secrets to keep. I just don't
like folks nosing into my affairs. Anyway, Walter's gone now and it's
no one's business but my own."
"I am a stranger in the community," replied Penny. "I'd have no
occasion to speak of your nephew."
"That's what I thought," said Herman Crocker in a tone of relief.
"Well, if there's anything more you need, let me know. And I'll see
that you get a supply of wood before nightfall."
"Thank you," Penny responded.
She permitted herself a smile as she walked down the lane with the arm
load of bedding. It was easy enough to see why Mr. Crocker had become
so obliging. He expected a favor in return--her silence regarding
Walter Crocker.
"He acts almost as if he is ashamed of his nephew," she thought. "I
wonder why he doesn't wish folks to learn about him."
Mr. Nichols had finished shaving by the time Penny reached the cottage.
"Well, I hope you rounded up some breakfast for us," he remarked.
Penny shook her head as she dropped the pile of linen on the table.
"No such luck, Dad. I asked Mr. Crocker for so many things I didn't
try to get any food. He's the strangest man!"
"What's so strange about him?"
"I suspect he's a miser or something of the sort. Anyway, he keeps a
wicked looking dog and goes around the premises with a shotgun. He
won't let his grandson talk with strangers, either."
"You didn't learn much, did you?"
"Well, I didn't have a very good chance," Penny grinned. "You see, he
wouldn't let me into the house. I had to wait on the porch while he
brought the things."
"Penny, are you making all this up?"
"Of course not!" she retorted indignantly. "Wait until you meet Mr.
Crocker. He's a very mysterious character."
"Then I'd just as soon not meet him," laughed the detective. "In my
present mood he'd not interest me a bit."
"I'll tell you about the practical results of our talk," smiled Penny.
"We're to have all the wood we need and our electric lights should be
hooked up by nightfall. Mr. Crocker has promised to pay for having the
cottage cleaned. He gave me the name and address of a woman who will
do the work."
"That's fine," said the detective. "If she's any good as a
housekeeper, why not hire her ourselves by the week? Then you'd be
free to roam around and have a good time."
"The idea sounds all right to me," Penny declared quickly. "To tell
you the truth, I don't know much about cooking on an old-fashioned
stove."
"Let's drive down to the village now," suggested the detective. "We'll
have breakfast and then find the cleaning woman."
Penny and her father rode down Knob Hill to the little town of Kendon.
Fortified by an excellent meal at the Florence Cafe they set forth to
find the home of Anna Masterbrook. They were told that she was a
spinster who lived two miles from the village.
"Why, this is the same road we came over last night," Penny observed as
they drove along.
"Yes, it is," agreed Mr. Nichols. "For half a cent I'd keep right on
going until we reached Belton City."
"Oh, we'll both like it after we get the cottage in order," Penny said
cheerfully. "Mrs. Masterbrook may easily turn out to be a diamond in
the rough."
"I hope so," sighed Mr. Nichols. "But our luck isn't running very
well."
The car rolled over a low hill and Penny observed a curve just ahead.
"Dad, didn't we pick up Walter Crocker at just about this point?" she
asked.
"I think this was the place," he agreed.
The car swung slowly around the bend. Both Penny and her father turned
their heads to glance toward the ditch. They were surprised to see
Walter Crocker's automobile still tipped over on its side. Apparently
it had not been greatly damaged.
"Well, that's certainly odd," said Penny as they drove on past the
scene of the accident.
"Meaning just what, Penny?"
"Why, it seems queer to me that the car hasn't been towed to a garage,"
she replied thoughtfully. "Mr. Crocker told me his nephew had gone
back to the city. If that is true, why did the man abandon a good
automobile?"