those men had anything to do with Atherwald's disappearance, and it looks
as if they did, then we are duty bound to hand our clues over to the
police. By trying to handle it alone, we might let them escape."
"Guess maybe you're right at that," Jerry acknowledged.
As she saw that the reporter was rapidly recovering strength, Penny left
him to the care of her father and went forward to speak with Harry
Griffith.
"Where are we now?" she inquired.
"Just comin' to the Kippenberg estate," he told her.
"Only that far? We don't seem to be making very fast time."
"We're buckin' the current, Miss. And there's a right stiff wind
blowing."
She had not noticed the wind before or how overcast the sky had become.
One could not see many yards in advance of the boat.
Ahead loomed the drawbridge in open position as usual. But Penny could
not see the red lantern which she had noticed upon the trip down. Had the
light been blown out by the wind?
In any case, it would not greatly matter, she reflected. Few cars
traveled the private road. And any person who came that way would likely
know about the bridge.
And then, above the steady hum of the motor boat engine, Penny heard
another roar which steadily increased in intensity. A car was coming down
the road at great speed!
"The lantern must be there," Penny thought. "It's probably hidden by a
tree or the high bank. Of course it's there."
She listened with a growing tension. The car was not slowing down. Even
Harry Griffith turned his head to gaze toward the entrance ramp of the
drawbridge.
It was all over in an instant. A scream of brakes, a loud splintering of
the wooden barrier. The speeding automobile struck the side of the steel
bridge, spun sideways and careened down the bank to bury itself in the
water.
CHAPTER
19
_A DARING RESCUE_
Those in the motor boat who had witnessed the disaster were too horrified
to speak. They could see the top of the car rising above the water into
which it had fallen, but there was no sign of the unfortunate driver or
other possible occupants.
Penny began to kick off her shoes.
"No!" shouted her father, divining her purpose. "No! It's too dangerous!"
Penny did not heed for she knew that if the persons in the car were to be
saved it must be by her efforts. Her father could not swim well and Harry
Griffith was needed at the wheel of the motor boat.
Scrambling to the gunwale, the girl dived into the water. She could see
nothing. Groping her way to the overturned coupe, she grasped a door
handle and turned it. All her strength was required to pull the door
open. Her breath was growing short now. She worked faster, with frantic
haste.
A hand clutched her own. Before she could protect herself she felt the
man upon her, clawing, fighting, trying to climb her shoulders, upward to
the blessed air.
His grasp was loose. Penny ducked out of it but held fast to his hand.
She braced her feet against the body of the car and pushed. They both
shot upward to the surface.
Griffith and her father lifted the man out of the water into the motor
boat.
"Have to go down again," Penny gasped. "There may be others."
She dived once more, doubling herself into a tight ball, and giving a
quick, upthrust of her feet which sent her straight to the bottom. She
swam into the car and groped about on the seat and floor. Finding no
bodies, she quickly shot to the surface again. Her father pulled her over
the side, saying curtly: "Good work, Penny."
The victim she had saved seemed little the worse for his ducking. With
Griffith's help he had divested himself of his heavy coat and was
wringing it out.
Penny had obtained no clear view of the man, nor did she ever, for just
at that moment, Jerry raised himself to a sitting position. He stared at
the bedraggled one and pointed an accusing finger.
"That's the fellow!" he cried in an excited voice. "The one I was telling
you about--"
The man took one look at Jerry and gazed quickly about. By this time the
motor boat had drifted close to shore. Before anyone could make a move to
stop him, the man hurled himself overboard. He landed on his feet in
shallow water. Splashing through to the shore, he scuttled up the steep
bank and disappeared in the darkness.
"Don't let him get away!" shouted Jerry. "He's the same fellow I saw in
the woods!"
"You're certain?" asked Mr. Parker doubtfully.
"Of course! If you think I'm out of my head now, you're the one who's
crazy! It's the same fellow! Oh, if I could get out of this boat!"
Griffith brought the craft to shore. "I'll see if I can overtake him," he
said, "but he's probably deep in the woods by this time."
The boatman was a heavy-set man, slow on his feet. Penny and her father
were not surprised when he came back twenty minutes later to report he
had been unable to pick up the trail.
"The overturned car may offer a clue to his identity," Mr. Parker said,
as they started up the river once more. "The police will be able to check
the license plates."
"I wonder what the man was doing at the estate?" Penny mused.
She groped her way toward the cabin, thinking that she would divest
herself of some of her wet garments. Suddenly she stopped short.
"Dad, that fellow took off his coat!" she exclaimed. "He must have left
it behind!"
"It's somewhere on the floor," Harry Griffith called to her.
Penny found the sodden garment lying almost at her feet. She straightened
it out and searched the pockets. Her father moved over to her side.
"Any clues?" he asked.
Penny took out a water-soaked handkerchief, a key ring and a plain white
envelope.
"That may be something!" exclaimed Mr. Parker. "Handle it carefully so it
doesn't tear."
They carried the articles into the cabin. Mr. Parker turned on the light
and took the envelope from his daughter's hand. They were both elated to
see that another paper was contained inside.
Mr. Parker tore off the envelope and flattened the letter on the table
beneath the light. The ink had blurred but nearly all of the words could
still be made out. There was no heading, merely the initials: "J. J. K."
"Could that mean James Kippenberg?" Penny asked.
The message was brief. Mr. Parker read it aloud.
"Better come through or your fate will be the same as Atherwald's. We
give you twenty-four hours to think it over."
"How strange!" Penny exclaimed. "That man I pulled out of the water
couldn't have been James Kippenberg!"
"Not likely, Penny. My guess would be that he had been sent here to
deliver this warning note. Being unfamiliar with the road, and not
knowing about the dangerous drawbridge, he crashed through."
"But James Kippenberg isn't supposed to be at the estate," Penny argued.
"It doesn't make sense at all."
"This much is clear, Penny. Jerry saw the man talking with the two
seamen, and they all appear to be mixed up in Grant Atherwald's
disappearance. We'll print what we've learned, and let the police figure
out the rest."
"Dad, this story is developing into something big, isn't it?"
He nodded as he moved a swinging light bulb slowly over the paper,
hastening the drying process.
"After the next issue of the _Star_ is printed, every paper in the state
will send their men here. But we're out ahead, and when the big break
comes, we may get that first, too."
"Oh, Dad, if only we can!"
"Count yourself out of the case from now on, young lady," he said
severely. "You scared the wits out of me tonight, risking your life to
save that no-good. Now shed those wet clothes before you come down with
pneumonia."
He tossed her an overcoat, a sweater and a crumpled pair of slacks which
Griffith had found under one of the boat seats. Leaving the cabin, he
closed the door behind him.
Penny did not change her clothes at once. Instead, she sat down at the
table, studying the warning message.
"'Better come through,'" she read aloud. "Does that mean Kippenberg is
supposed to pay money? And what fate did Atherwald meet?"
CHAPTER
20
_AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW_
Those same questions were pounding through Penny's mind the next morning
when she read the first edition of her father's paper. Propped up in bed
with pillows, she perused the story as she nibbled at the buttered
muffins on her breakfast tray.
"Is there anything else you would like?" Mrs. Weems inquired, hovering
near.
"No, I'm quite all right," smiled Penny. "Not even a head cold after my
ducking. Have you heard about Jerry?"
"Your father said he was doing fine."
"Did he leave any message for me before going to the office?"
"He said he thought you should stay in bed all day."
"Dad would," Penny pouted. "Well, I feel just fine. I'm getting up right
away." She heaved aside the bed clothes.
Then, because she couldn't get the Kippenberg case out of her head, she
dressed quickly and went downstairs. She was going out the front door
when Mrs. Weems stopped her.
"Now where are you going, Penny?"
Penny's bright eyes twinkled and she flashed the housekeeper an arch,
provocative smile.
"Not sure just where I'm going," she replied, her smooth forehead
creasing with thought. "But if Dad should get curious, you can tell him
he shouldn't be surprised if he finds me visiting with the Kippenbergs."
"Penny! You're not going there again?"
"Why not? I'm after a story for the _Riverview Star_ and I mean to get
it. See you later."
With a wave of her hand Penny walked jauntily off. A few moments later
Mrs. Weems heard the clatter of Penny's Leaping Lena careening down the
street in the direction of Corbin. First, however, she called for her
chum, Louise, who was eager to accompany her on the long ride.
"I won't be able to stay long, Penny," said Louise. "Mother wants me to
go shopping with her later this afternoon."
"That's all right," responded Penny as the old car bolted along the road.
"If I get delayed, you can take Leaping Lena back home, and I'll follow
later on."
With both girls keeping up a steady run of conversation they soon reached
their destination.
Penny wondered if she would be able to enter the Kippenberg estate
without being challenged by the bridgeman or a servant. Her anxiety
increased upon approaching the river, for she saw that a large group of
persons had gathered by the drawbridge.
No one paid the slightest attention to the two girls as they abandoned
the car and proceeded to the water's edge. Penny was pleased to find the
youthful boatman at his usual haunt on the river. He rowed the girls
across to the estate, promising to await their return.
Penny escorted Louise through the trees to the Kippenberg house. Boldly
she rang the doorbell which was answered by a butler.
"I should like to speak with Mrs. Kippenberg," she requested.
"Madam will see no one," began the man.
Footsteps sounded behind him in the hallway and Mrs. Kippenberg stood in
the door.
"So it is you?" she asked in an icy voice. "Julius, see that this person
is ejected from the grounds."
"One moment please," interposed Penny. "If I leave now, I warn you that
certain facts will be published in the _Star_, facts which will add to
your embarrassment."
"You can print nothing which will humiliate us further."
"No? You might like to have me mention the alligator in your lily pool.
And the reason why you and your daughter are so anxious to be rid of it
before the police ask questions."
Mrs. Kippenberg's plump face flushed a deep red. But for once she managed
to keep her temper.
"What do you wish of me?" she asked frigidly.
"First, tell me about that painting, 'The Drawbridge' which was presented
to your daughter as a wedding gift. Was it not given to her by your
husband?"
"I shall not answer your question."
"Then you prefer that I print my own conclusions?"
"You are an impudent, prying young woman!" Mrs. Kippenberg stormed. "What
if the picture was given to Sylvia by her father! Is that any crime?"
"Certainly not," said Penny soothingly. "It merely proves that you both
know the whereabouts of Mr. Kippenberg."
"Perhaps I do. But I'll tell you nothing, absolutely nothing!"
"I have a few questions to ask about your new gardener," Penny went on,
unmoved. "For instance, why does he wear a wig?"
The door slammed in her face.
"That certainly was a very cold reception," remarked Louise as the girls
walked away, the sound of the slamming door still ringing in their ears.
Penny shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "That's nothing. When you're a
reporter you have to expect those things." She looked about the deserted
estate. "Well, I think I'll do some more sleuthing in the vicinity of the
pool."
Louise looked at her wristwatch. "Goodness, it's getting late," she
stated. "I'd like to stay, Penny, but I think I'd better be getting home
to meet Mother."
"Go ahead," said Penny. "You take Leaping Lena. The boy in the boat will
row you across."
"But how will you get home, then?"
"Don't worry about me. I'll find a way. You just go on. I only hope the
old bus holds up all the way home."
Louise laughed and then the two girls walked to the boat dock. In a few
moments the boy in the rowboat appeared and took Louise across.
Afterward, Penny turned back through the trees and went on to the
forbidden part of the estate.
She spent a long time about the pool, examining the earth all about it,
but she failed to learn anything new. Finally, she retraced her steps to
the river. She expected to find the boy waiting for her, but he had
disappeared. She walked through the trees to the boat dock and stood
there until the old watchman on the other side observed her predicament.
He obligingly lowered the drawbridge and she crossed the river, pausing
at the gear house to chat with him.
Penny listened without comment to his story of the automobile accident.
Thorny had his own version of how it had occurred and she did not correct
any of the details.
"I wish I had a way to get into Corbin," she remarked when he had
finished his lengthy account.
"If you walk down to the main road you kin catch the county bus," he told
her. "It runs every hour."
A long hike along a dusty highway, an equally tedious wait at a
crossroad, and finally Penny arrived in Corbin. She went directly to the
Colonial Hotel, placing a telephone call to her father's office.
"What are you doing in Corbin, Penny?" her father demanded as he
recognized her voice.
Penny answered him eagerly. "I've made an important discovery which may
blow your case higher than a kite. No, I can't tell you anything over the
telephone. The reason I am calling is that I may need help. Is Jerry
still in the hospital?"
"He never was there," responded her father. "I couldn't make him go. He
and Salt are out on the river looking for the men who cracked him over
the head. I expect they'll call in any time now."
"If you do get in touch with Jerry, ask him to meet me at the Colonial
Hotel," urged Penny. "I have a hunch the big story is about to break. In
any event I'll need a ride home."
There was a great deal more to the conversation, with Mr. Parker
delivering a long lecture upon the proper deportment for a daughter.
Penny closed her ears, murmuring at regular intervals, "Yes, Dad," and
finally went back to her post in the lobby.
CHAPTER
21
_THE WHITE CRUISER_
For at least an hour she waited. She watched the clock until the hands
pointed to six o'clock. Tantalizing odors came to her from the dining
room, but she resolutely downed her hunger. She did not wish to give up
her vigil even for a few minutes.
Finally Penny's patience was rewarded. She saw a man moving across the
lobby toward the desk. He wore well-cut tailored clothes and a
low-brimmed felt hat, yet the girl recognized him at a glance. He was the
Kippenberg gardener.
The man paused at the desk and asked for a key.
"Good evening, Mr. Hammil," said the clerk, handing it over.
Penny had noted that the key was taken from a mailbox which bore the
number, 381.
"So my friend, the gardener, has an alias," she mused. "Several of them,
perhaps."
Another half hour elapsed while the girl waited patiently in her chair.
Each time the elevator descended she watched the people alight. At
exactly six forty-five Mr. Hammil stepped out of the lift, and without
glancing toward the girl, dropped his key on the desk and went into the
dining room.
The clerk, busy with several newcomers at the hotel, did not notice.
Thinking that she saw her chance, Penny slipped from her chair, sidled
toward the desk and picked up the key. Her heart pounded as she walked
toward the elevator, but no one called to her. Her action had passed
unobserved.
"Third floor," said Penny, and the elevator shot upward.
She located room 381 at the far end of the hall, and with a quick glance
in both directions, unlocked the door and entered.
An open suitcase lay upon the luggage rack by the dresser. In systematic
fashion Penny went through it, finding an assortment of interesting
articles--a revolver, and two wigs, one of gray hair, the other black.
There were no letters or papers, nothing to positively identify the owner
of the luggage. But in the very bottom of the case Penny came upon a
photograph. It was a picture of Sylvia Kippenberg.
Penny slipped the picture into the front of her dress, hastily replaced
everything as she had found it, relocked the door, and returned to the
lobby. As she went toward the desk intending to rid herself of the key,
she stopped short.
Jerry Livingston stood there talking earnestly with the clerk.
"But I was told to come here," she heard him protest.
"There was a girl in the lobby a few minutes ago," the clerk replied.
"She went off somewhere."
"No, here I am, Jerry!" Penny cried.
The reporter turned around and his face lighted up.
"Come outside, Jerry," Penny said before he could speak. "I have a great
deal to tell you."
"And I have some news of my own," returned the reporter.
They left the hotel together. Once beyond hearing, Penny made a complete
report of her afternoon adventure, and showed Jerry the picture of Sylvia
Kippenberg which she had taken from room 381.
"Now for my story," said Jerry. "I've located a place not far from here
where those two seamen buy supplies. The owner of the store told me they
tie their boat up there nearly every night."
"Where is Salt now, Jerry?"
"He's keeping watch at the place. I came into town to telephone the
_Star_ office. Your father said I was to stop here and take you in tow."
"You're not starting back to Riverview?" Penny asked in dismay.
"I don't want to, Penny. I have a feeling our big story is just about
ready to break!"
"So have I, Jerry. Let's stay with it. I'll explain to Dad when we get
home."
"Then let's be on our way," the reporter said crisply. "No telling what
has developed while I've been in town."
In the press car, the couple took the river road which led east from the
Kippenberg estate. As they bounced along, making all possible speed,
Jerry told Penny how he and Salt had traced the two seamen. They had made
inquiry all along the river, and quite by chance had encountered a
fisherman who had given them a valuable tip.
"But so many rumors are false, Jerry," Penny said.
"This tip was straight. Salt and I found the white cruiser tied up at the
dock not far from this store I was telling you about. We've been watching
it for the past two hours, and Salt is still there."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"Wouldn't have done any good. The men we're after haven't been there all
day. The only person on board is a girl."
"A girl?"
"Well, maybe you would say a young woman. About twenty-two, I'd guess."
"Jerry, you must be watching the wrong boat."
Jerry shook his head as he drove the car into the bushes at the side of
the road. "It's the right one, I'm sure of it. Well, we're here."
Penny was hard pressed to keep up as the reporter led her through the
trees down to the winding Kobalt river. They found Salt in his hiding
place, behind a large boulder.
"Anything happen since I left?" Jerry demanded.
Salt scarcely noticed Penny's presence save to give her a quick nod of
welcome.
"You got back just in time," he replied to the question. "The girl went
away a minute ago. Took a basket and started for the store."
"Then why are we waiting?" asked Jerry. "Come on, we'll take a look
inside that boat."
"Someone ought to stay here and keep watch," Salt returned. "She may come
back any minute."
"You're elected guard then. Penny and I will look the boat over and see
what we can find. If the girl starts back, whistle."
Darting across the muddy shore, Penny and Jerry reached the dilapidated
boat which had been tied up at the end of a sagging dock. They jumped
aboard and after a hasty glance over the deck, dived down into the cabin.
The room was dirty and in great disorder. Boots lay on the floor,
discarded garments were scattered about, and a musty odor prevailed.
"Nothing here," said Jerry.
"Let's look around carefully," insisted Penny. "We may find something."
Crossing the cabin she opened a closet door. Save for a pair of oilskins
which hung from a nail, it was quite empty.
"Listen!" commanded Penny suddenly.
Jerry stood absolutely still, straining to hear. A long, low whistle
reached his ears.
"The warning signal!" he exclaimed. "Come on, Penny, we're getting out of
here."
CHAPTER
22
_TRAPPED IN THE CABIN_
Penny opened the door of the cabin only to close it quickly. She and
Jerry both had heard men's voices very close to the boat.
"It's too late," she whispered. "Those men have come back."
"Not the girl?"
"No, they're alone. But we're in a trap. What shall we do?"
"We could make a dash for it. If we have to fight our way out, Salt will
be there to help."
"Let's stick and see what happens, Jerry. We're after information. We
must expect to take a chance in order to get it."
Jerry had been thinking more of Penny's safety than his own. But thus
urged, he turned the key in the lock, bolting the door from the inside.
A low rumble of voices reached the couple as they stood with ears pressed
against the panel. But they were unable to distinguish words. Then
presently, one of the seamen moved close to the companionway.
"I'll get it, Jake," he called. "It's down in the cabin."
Jerry and Penny kept quiet as the man turned the door knob. He heaved
angrily against the panel with his shoulder.
"Hey, Jake," he shouted, "what's the idea of locking the door?"
"I didn't lock it."
"Then Flora did." Muttering under his breath, the seaman tramped back up
on deck.
Perhaps ten minutes elapsed before Penny and Jerry heard a feminine voice
speaking.
"That must be Flora," whispered Penny. "What will happen when she tells
them that she didn't lock the door?"
The voices above rose louder and louder until the two prisoners were able
to distinguish some of the words. Jake berated the girl as stupid while
his companion showered abuse upon her until she broke down and wept.
"I never had the key," they heard her wail. "I don't know what became of
it. You always blame me for everything that goes wrong, and I'm good and
sick of it. If I don't get better treatment I may tell a few things to
the police. How would you like that?"
Jerry and Penny did not hear the response, but they recoiled as a loud
crashing sound told them the girl had been given a cruel push into a
solid object. Her cry of pain was drowned out by another noise, the
sudden clatter of the motor boat engine.
Penny and Jerry gazed at each other with startled eyes.
"We're moving," she whispered.
Jerry started to fit the key into the door lock, only to have Penny
arrest his hand.
"Let's stay and see it through," she urged. "This is our chance to learn
the hide-out and perhaps solve the mystery of Atherwald's disappearance."
"All right," the reporter agreed. "But I wish you weren't in on this."
From the tiny window of the cabin, he and Penny observed various
landmarks as the boat proceeded downstream. Perhaps half an hour elapsed
before the cruiser came to the mouth of a narrow river which emptied into
the Kobalt. From that point on progress became slow and often the boat
was so close to shore that Penny could have reached out and touched
overhanging bushes.
"I didn't know this stream was deep enough for a motor boat," Jerry
whispered. "We must be heading for a hide-out deep in the swamp."
"I hope Salt has sense enough to call Dad and the police," Penny said
with the first show of nervousness. "We're going to be a long way from
help."
The boat crept on for perhaps a mile. Then it stopped, and Penny assumed
they had reached their destination. Gazing out of the window again, she
saw why they were halted. A great tree with finger-like branches had
fallen across the river, blocking the way.
"Look, Jerry," she whispered. "We'll not be able to go any farther."