Searching the Loft
While Penny stood listening to the sounds in the attic she saw Mrs.
Masterbrook coming up the path to the cottage. The housekeeper paused
by the gate to stare at Mr. Crocker's car and then glanced quickly
about.
"What is Herman doing here?" she asked abruptly as Penny met her on the
porch.
"I'm sure I don't know," replied the girl. "He said he wanted to get
something from the attic."
"The attic!" repeated Mrs. Masterbrook. "Oh!" And for no apparent
reason she began to laugh.
"What do you find so funny?"
"Oh, nothing," replied the housekeeper, passing quickly into the
cottage.
Penny stared after the woman, thoroughly bewildered by her actions.
She felt certain that Mrs. Masterbrook knew why old Herman Crocker had
come to the cottage.
Penny sat down on the porch steps to wait. Fifteen minutes elapsed
before she heard Mr. Crocker coming down the attic stairway. As he
stepped out on the porch she noticed that he had nothing in his hands
and he seemed somewhat disturbed.
"Did you find what you were after?" asked Penny.
"Oh, yes--yes," replied the old man absently.
Mrs. Masterbrook had emerged from the kitchen in time to hear the
remark.
"Did you really?" she inquired with a slight smirk.
The words were spoken casually enough but Penny thought she detected a
note of triumph in the woman's voice. Mr. Crocker noticed it too for
he glanced sharply at the housekeeper. Her face was expressionless.
"Well, I'll have to be getting back," the old man said. He walked
slowly to the car.
Mrs. Masterbrook waited on the porch until he had driven down the road.
The housekeeper was highly pleased about something. Penny thought that
she looked exactly like a cat which had drunk its fill of rich cream.
"Mrs. Masterbrook knows what Herman came here for," the girl reflected.
"I'd question her only it wouldn't do a bit of good."
Penny hoped that if she showed no interest the housekeeper might offer
a little information. She was disappointed. Without a word Mrs.
Masterbrook walked back into the cottage.
"I'd like to find out what is in the attic," Penny thought. "When the
coast is clear I'm going up there and look around."
Throughout the morning she lingered near the cottage, but it seemed
that always either the housekeeper or Michael Haymond was at hand to
observe her actions. When Mr. Nichols returned from his walk Penny did
not tell him about Herman Crocker's mysterious visit to the attic for
she felt certain that he would not consider it mysterious at all. He
was deeply absorbed in his own case and would sit for an hour at a time
lost in thought.
"Are you worrying about toy lanterns, Dad?" Penny asked mischievously.
"That's right," he agreed with a smile. "I talked with Inspector
Harris this morning from the village store. He's not progressing very
well in tracing down the lantern clue. It seems there are dozens of
companies which manufacture toys exactly like the one you found at
Kirmenbach's place."
"Then you've reached a dead end?" asked Penny.
"For the time being, yes. But I've not given up. I still believe that
it may be possible to trace the thief by means of the clue. After all,
the toy lantern had one distinguishing feature--the cloth wick."
"It's too bad all this had to come up on your vacation," Penny said
sympathetically. She could see that the lines of worry had returned to
her father's face.
"I wish I had kept out of the case," he returned. "But now that I'm in
it, I'll have no peace of mind until it's solved. There's something
about that toy lantern clue which challenges me!"
"I feel the same way regarding Herman Crocker," Penny nodded.
"What was that?" Mr. Nichols looked up quickly.
"I meant that our landlord's queer personality fascinates me. He's
always doing such strange things."
"Let me see," Mr. Nichols said jokingly. "How many queer characters
have you discovered since we came here?"
"Only three, Dad. Mrs. Masterbrook, Michael and old Herman. Unless
you count Walter Crocker and Mr. Madden."
"How about the postman? I noticed you were talking with him yesterday."
"Purely upon a matter of business," Penny laughed. "His name isn't
down on my list of suspects yet."
She said no more for just then Michael Haymond came up the path with an
armful of wood.
After carrying it to the kitchen he returned to the porch. Mr. Nichols
motioned him into a rocker.
"I'm afraid I'm not doing very much to earn my wages," the young man
said apologetically. "My chief occupation around here seems to be
eating and sitting."
"I'm well satisfied," replied the detective.
Although Penny had thought that her father was unwise to hire Michael
she liked the young man a great deal. He was quiet, unassuming, and
did his tasks willingly. Whenever he had a spare moment he usually
spent it with a book. Penny had read the titles with surprise.
Michael devoted himself to volumes of philosophy and history and he
studied textbooks of mathematics and French.
"Rather deep stuff," Mr. Nichols had commented, looking at one of the
philosophy volumes.
"I never had a chance to attend college, sir," Michael had replied,
flushing. "I'm trying to educate myself a little."
During the afternoon both Mr. Nichols and Michael absented themselves
from the cottage. Mrs. Masterbrook decided that she would walk down to
the village. Penny was delighted to be left alone in the house.
The moment that everyone was gone she hastened to the attic. It was a
low-ceiling room, dimly lighted by two gable windows. Dust and cobwebs
were everywhere.
The attic contained an old chest of drawers, the footboards of a bed,
two trunks, a chair with a broken leg, and several boxes of dishes.
As Penny's gaze roved over the objects she observed that a faint
scratch on the floor showed where the trunks had been recently moved.
Some of the dust had been brushed off from the lids.
"Herman must have been looking at the trunks," the girl thought. "I
wonder what he expected to find?"
She lifted the lid of the nearest one and was pleased that it was
unlocked. There was nothing in the top tray but beneath it she found
old fashioned clothing which had belonged to a woman. The garments had
been very carefully packed in moth balls.
Penny opened the second trunk. It too was filled with clothing in a
style worn some fifteen years before. In the bottom she came upon an
old picture album and a packet of letters. All were addressed to
Herman Crocker and appeared to be of a business nature.
Penny was tempted to read the letters, but she put aside the thought.
After all it was not very honorable of her to pry into Mr. Crocker's
personal affairs without a stronger motive than curiosity.
"If there is any occasion for learning more about the man, I can read
the letters later," Penny reflected. "Dad would be ashamed of me if he
knew what I was doing."
She replaced the packet in the trunk and closed down the lid. Then
after making certain that the chest of drawers contained nothing of
interest, she hastened down stairs again and washed the grime from her
hands.
Later in the afternoon Mrs. Masterbrook came back from Kendon and it
seemed to Penny that she was more subdued than usual. Even Mr. Nichols
noticed a change in the woman.
"I wonder what is the matter with her?" he remarked. "She seems to be
losing her fire!"
"I guess she's just tired from the long walk to town," Penny replied.
However, she watched Mrs. Masterbrook closely, and was inclined to
agree that something had gone amiss. The housekeeper looked worried.
"Aren't you feeling well, Mrs. Masterbrook?" she inquired kindly.
"Of course I'm feeling well," the woman snapped.
After supper that night Michael Haymond left the house, but Penny did
not know whether or not he went to call upon Herman Crocker. She went
to bed about ten, and heard the young man return to the cottage shortly
after that hour. By eleven o'clock everyone had gone to bed.
Penny went off to sleep soon after her head touched the pillow. It was
hours later that she awoke to hear the kitchen clock chiming three
o'clock.
In the hallway a board creaked.
Penny sat up and listened. She was certain that someone was tiptoeing
down the hall. For a moment she was frightened. Then she crept out of
bed and flung open the door.
At the end of the hall she saw the figure of a man. He fled before she
could speak or make an outcry. Penny heard the outside door slam shut.
She hurried to a window and was in time to see someone running swiftly
toward the woods.
"Dad!" she screamed excitedly. "Wake up! Wake up!" And to emphasize
her words, Penny ran to her father's bedroom and pounded on the door
with her clenched fist.