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The Secret
Pact
_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT
_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
_Illustrated_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK
_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES
_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT, 1941, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.
The Secret Pact
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
1 ABOARD THE GOODTIME _1_
2 THE RIVER'S VICTIM _11_
3 THE OCTOPUS TATTOO _19_
4 A PROSPECTIVE TENANT _27_
5 COBWEBS AND RUST _36_
6 HEADLINES AND HEADACHES _45_
7 PETER FENESTRA _54_
8 THE STORM CAVE _62_
9 A FALLEN TREE _70_
10 A WORD TO THE WISE _77_
11 MR. JUDSON'S DAUGHTER _85_
12 OLD HORNEY _91_
13 PAPER PROBLEMS _101_
14 AN EMPTY BEDROOM _109_
15 INFORMATION FROM TILLIE _116_
16 BEHIND THE LILACS _123_
17 THE ART OF TATTOO _131_
18 PAULETTA'S EXPLANATION _138_
19 MRS. WEEMS' REPORT _150_
20 PICNIC BY MOONLIGHT _159_
21 ELLIS SAAL'S CUSTOMER _167_
22 GHOSTS OF THE PAST _176_
23 PENNY'S PLIGHT _185_
24 A BARRIER OF FLAMES _193_
25 SAILORS' REVENGE _201_
CHAPTER
1
_ABOARD THE GOODTIME_
A blanket of fog, thick and damp, swirled about the decks of the
excursion steamer, _Goodtime_, cautiously plying its course down the
river. At intervals, above the steady throb of the ship's engines, a fog
horn sounded its mournful warning to small craft.
"I hope we don't collide with another boat before we make the dock,"
remarked Louise Sidell who stood at the railing with her chum, Penelope
Parker.
"That would be a perfect ending for an imperfect day," returned Penny,
fitting her coat collar more snugly about her throat.
"An imperfect day! I call it a miserable one. Rain and fog! Rain and fog!
It's made my hair as straight as the shortest distance between two
points."
"Mine's as kinky as wool." Impatiently Penny brushed a ringlet of golden
hair from her eyes. "Well, shall we go inside again?"
"No, I'd rather freeze than be a wallflower," the dark-eyed girl
responded gloomily. "We haven't been asked to dance once this evening."
"That's because we came without our own crowd, Lou. Except for that
couple yonder, we're practically the only persons aboard unattached to a
group."
Penny jerked her head in the direction of a young man and girl who slowly
paced the deck. Earlier in the evening their peculiar actions had
attracted her attention. They kept strictly to themselves, avoiding the
salon, the dining room, and all contact with other excursionists.
"I wonder who they are?" mused Louise, turning to stare. "The girl wears
a veil as if she were afraid someone might recognize her."
"Yes, I noticed that, and whenever anyone goes near her, she lowers her
head. I wish we could see her face."
"Let's wander over that way," proposed Louise.
Arm in arm, they sauntered toward the couple. The young man saw them
coming. He touched his companion's arm and, turning their backs, they
walked away.
"They did that to avoid meeting us!" Louise declared in an excited
undertone. "Now why, I wonder?"
The couple had reached the end of the deck. As the young woman turned to
glance over her shoulder, a sudden gust of wind caught her hat. Before
she could save it, the head-gear was swept dangerously close to the
railing.
Not giving the young man an opportunity to act, Penny darted forward.
Rescuing the hat, she carried it to the couple.
"Thank you," the girl mumbled, keeping her head lowered. "Thank you very
much."
Quickly she jammed the felt hat on her head and replaced the veil, but
not before Penny had seen her face clearly. The young woman was unusually
pretty with large brown eyes and a long, smoothly brushed black bob.
"This is certainly a miserable night," Penny remarked, hoping to start a
conversation.
"Sure is," replied the young man with discouraging brevity.
He tipped his hat and steered his companion away from the girl.
Ruefully Penny returned to Louise who had been an interested spectator.
"Did you get a good look at the pair?" she asked eagerly.
"Yes, but I've never seen either of them before."
"They wouldn't talk?"
"No, and the girl lowered her veil as soon as she could."
"Perhaps she's a movie actress traveling in disguise."
"Aboard a river excursion boat? I'm afraid not, Lou."
"Then maybe she's a criminal trying to elude the police."
"I fear the mystery of her identity must remain forever unsolved,"
chuckled Penny. "We'll dock in another five minutes."
Through the fog could be seen a dim glow of lights along the Riverview
wharf. The _Goodtime_, its whistle tooting repeated signals, was
proceeding more slowly than ever. Sailors stood ready to make the vessel
fast to the dock posts when she touched.
Passengers began to pour from the salon, and Penny and Louise joined the
throng. Many persons pushed and jostled each other, trying to obtain a
position close to the gangplank.
Suddenly a girl who stood not far from Penny gave an alarmed cry.
"My pocketbook! It's gone!"
Those near her expressed polite concern and assisted in searching the
deck. The missing purse was not found. Before the captain could be
notified, the gangplank was lowered, and the passengers began to
disembark from the steamer.
The girl, whose pocketbook had been lost, remained by the railing, quite
forgotten. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Excuse me," said Penny, addressing her, "is there anything I can do to
help?"
Disconsolately, the girl shook her head. She made a most unattractive
picture, for her blouse was wrinkled and her skirt was spotted with an
ugly coffee stain. Beneath a brown, misshapen roll-brim hat hung a tangle
of brown hair.
"Someone stole my pocketbook," she said listlessly. "I had twelve dollars
in it, too."
"You're sure you didn't leave it anywhere?" Louise inquired.
"No, I had it in my hand only a minute ago. I think someone lifted it in
the crowd."
"A pickpocket, no doubt," Penny agreed. "I've been told they frequent
these river boats."
"Nearly everyone has left the steamer now, so I suppose it would do no
good to notify the captain," commented Louise.
She and Penny started to turn away, then paused as they noticed that the
girl remained in the same dejected posture.
"You have friends meeting you at the boat?" Penny inquired kindly.
"I haven't any friends--not in Riverview."
"None?" Penny asked in surprise. "Don't you live here?"
"No," answered the girl. "I've been working as a waitress at Flintville,
up-river. The job played out last week. Today I took this boat, thinking
I might find work in Riverview. Now I've lost my purse and I don't know
what to do or where to go."
"Haven't you any money?" inquired Penny.
"Not a cent. I--I guess I'll have to sleep in the park tonight."
"No, you won't," declared Penny. Impulsively, she opened her own purse
and, removing a five dollar bill, thrust it into the girl's hand. "This
isn't much, but it may tide you over until you can find work."
"Oh, you're kind to help me. I'll pay you back just as soon as I get a
job."
"Don't worry about that," replied Penny. "However, I should like to know
your name."
"Tillie Fellows."
"Mine is Penelope Parker and my friend is Louise Sidell. Well, good luck
in finding that job."
Edging away from Tillie who would have detained them indefinitely, the
girls crossed the gangplank to shore.
"You were generous to give a stranger five dollars, Penny," commented
Louise when they were beyond hearing.
"Oh, she needed it."
"Your allowance money, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I couldn't allow the girl to go hungry or sleep in the park."
"No, I suppose not," replied Louise.
Penny paused, scanning the crowd on the dock. Her father, Anthony Parker,
had promised to meet the excursion boat, but there was no sign of him or
his car.
"Dad must have been detained at the newspaper office," she remarked. "I
suppose we must wait here until he comes."
Removing themselves from the stream of traffic, the girls walked a short
distance along the dock, halting beside a warehouse. The throng rapidly
dispersed, and still Mr. Parker did not arrive.
"I hope we haven't missed him," Penny remarked anxiously. "In this fog
one can't see many yards."
They had waited only a few minutes longer when Louise suddenly touched
her chum's arm.
"Penny, there she is! Alone, too!"
"Who, Louise?"
"Why, that girl whose hat you recovered on the _Goodtime_. See her coming
this way?"
Penny turned to stare at the young woman who was walking hurriedly along
the dock. At first glance she was inclined to agree with Louise that it
was the same girl, then she was uncertain. The one who approached wore an
expensive fur and carried a distinctive beaded bag.
"I don't believe I ever saw her before," she commented.
"I guess I was mistaken," admitted Louise. "She's too well dressed."
Apparently the girl did not observe Penny and her chum, for she passed
them without a glance. Hurriedly she walked a short distance down the
wharf. Then, with a deft movement, she took a package from beneath her
smart-fitting coat, and tossed it into the water.
Turning, she retraced her steps to the gangplank of the _Goodtime_. A
moment later the girls saw her meet a young man in topcoat and derby who
had emerged from the crowd on the dock. Entering a gray sedan, they drove
away.
"I wonder what she threw into the river?" mused Penny. "Didn't you think
she acted as if she were afraid someone would see her, Lou?"
"Yes, I did. Whatever it was, it's gone to the bottom of the river."
Curiously the girls walked to the edge of the dock. Penny glanced over
the side and gave an excited cry. Instead of falling into the water, the
package had caught fast on a jagged dock post.
"It's hanging by the string!" she exclaimed.
Eagerly Louise peered down. "You're right!" she agreed. "But we can't get
it."
"I'm going to try."
"Please don't," pleaded Louise. "It's too far down. You'll tumble into
the water."
"Not if you sit on my heels."
Undisturbed by what anyone who saw her might think, Penny stretched flat
on the dock. With Louise holding to her, she jack-knifed over the edge,
clutching at the bundle which dangled an inch above the water.
"Got it!" she chuckled. "Haul away, Lou."
Louise pulled her friend to safety. Eagerly they examined the package
which was wrapped in ordinary newspaper.
"I'll venture it contains nothing more than the remains of a lunch,"
declared Louise. "This is going to be a good joke on you, Penny."
"A joke?" quavered Penny.
Her gaze had focused upon a hole in the paper. Through the opening
protruded a long strand of dark hair.
Louise saw it at the same instant and uttered a choked, horrified scream.
"Human hair--" she gasped. "Oh, Penny! Turn it over to the police!"
"It can't be that," said Penny in a calmer voice.
With trembling fingers she untied the string. The paper fell away and
several objects dropped at Penny's feet. Stooping, she picked up a girl's
long black wig. In addition, there was a dark veil, a crushed felt hat,
and a cheap cloth jacket.
"A disguise!" exclaimed Louise.
"Yes, the girl who tossed this bundle into the river was the same one we
saw aboard the steamer! But why did she wear these things and then try to
get rid of them?"
"Why, Penny, don't you understand?" Louise demanded impressively. "She
was a crook just as I thought. And she must have been the one who robbed
Tillie Fellows!"
CHAPTER
2
_THE RIVER'S VICTIM_
Penny stared at the curious array of objects found in the discarded
bundle. Unquestionably, they had been worn by the mysterious young woman
observed aboard the _Goodtime_. However, she was not certain she agreed
with Louise that the girl or her escort had robbed Tillie Fellows.
"I never heard of a professional pickpocket bothering with a disguise,"
she said doubtfully.
"Why else would the girl wear one?"
"I haven't an idea," admitted Penny. "Everything about it is queer. For
instance, what became of her escort after the steamer docked? And who was
that other young man in the gray car?"
"He appeared to be fairly well-to-do."
"Yes, he did. For that matter, the girl was elegantly dressed."
Louise kicked at the bundle with her foot. "What shall we do with these
things? Toss them away?"
"Indeed, not!" Penny carefully rewrapped the wig, jacket, and other
articles in the crumpled newspaper. "I shall take them home with me. One
never knows what may develop."
Before Louise could inquire the meaning of her chum's remark, a taxi drew
up nearby. The door swung open and out leaped a lean young man in a
well-tailored blue suit and snap-brim hat.
"Why, it's Jerry Livingston!" exclaimed Penny, recognizing one of her
father's reporters.
The young man saw the girls and came toward them. "Hello," he greeted
cheerily. "Swell night for a murder."
"I hope you're not carrying concealed weapons," laughed Penny. "Where's
Dad?"
"Delayed at the _Star_ office. He sent me to meet the boat in his place.
The fog made traffic slow. That's why I'm late."
Taking each of the girls by an elbow, he steered them to the waiting
taxi.
"_Riverview Star_," he instructed the driver, and slammed the car door.
The fog was not so dense after the cab left the docks, but the entire
river valley was blanketed, making it necessary for automobiles to
proceed with headlights turned on.
"Have a nice time?" Jerry inquired as the cab crept along the waterfront
streets.
"Not very," answered Penny, "but we ran into a little adventure."
"Trust you for that," chuckled the reporter. "City Editor DeWitt was
telling the boys at the office that he'd bet you would come home dragging
a mystery by its tail!"
"Here it is," Penny laughed, thrusting the newspaper bundle into his
hands. "Lou and I did a little fishing from the dock and this is what we
hooked."
While Jerry examined the contents of the strange package, the girls
competed with each other in relating their experiences aboard the
steamer. Although the reporter was deeply interested, he could offer no
theory to explain why the young woman had discarded the bundle of
clothing.
"Louise's guess seems as good as any," he commented. "The girl may have
been the one who robbed Tillie Fellows."
"Pickpockets usually frequent crowds," said Penny. "During the entire
trip both the girl and her escort kept strictly to themselves."
Jerry retied the bundle, tossing it into her lap.
"Your mystery is too much for me," he said lightly. "Afraid you'll have
to solve it yourself."
Penny lapsed into meditative silence, yet oddly her thoughts centered
upon nothing in particular. For a reason she never tried to explain, the
waterfront seldom failed to cast its magical spell over her. She loved
the medley of sounds, deep-throated blasts of coal boats mingling with
the staccato toots of the tugboats, the rumble and clank of bridges being
raised and lowered.
Always Penny had felt an intimate connection with the river, for her home
overlooked the Big Bear. Not many miles away flowed the Kobalt, so
closely associated with Mud-Cat Joe and the Vanishing Houseboat. It was
the Kobalt which very nearly had claimed Jerry's life, yet had brought
the _Star_ one of its greatest news stories.
Ever since she was a little girl, Penny had loved newspaper work. Her
entire life seemed bound up with printer's ink and all that it connoted.
She had learned to write well and Mrs. Weems, who had served as the
Parker housekeeper for many years, predicted that one day the girl would
become a celebrated journalist.
The taxi came to a sudden halt and with a start Penny emerged from her
reverie. Jerry leaned forward to ask the driver why they had stopped.
"I can't see the road very well," the man replied. "And there's a bridge
ahead."
As the car crept forward again, Penny peered from the window. Through the
swirling gray mist the indistinct lights which marked the arching steel
bridge were faintly visible. A pillar gradually emerged, and beside it
the shadowy, slouching figure of a man. His burning cigarette made a pin
point of light as he tossed it into the river.
Suddenly Penny's blood ran cold, for a second man appeared on the bridge.
Stealthily he approached the one who gazed with such absorption into the
inky waters. His purpose was shockingly clear to those who watched.
Penny screamed a warning; the taxi driver halted his cab, shouting
huskily. Their cries came too late.
They saw the attacker leap upon his victim. There was a brief, intense
struggle, then a body went hurtling from the bridge, fifty feet to the
water below.
"You saw that?" cried Penny. "That man was pushed off the bridge! He'll
drown!"
"We've got to save him," said Jerry.
As the cab came to a standstill, Jerry, the driver, and the two girls,
sprang to the pavement. In the murky darkness the bridge appeared
deserted, but they could hear the pounding footsteps of the attacker who
sought to escape.
"Leave that guy to me!" exclaimed the cab driver. "I'll get him!"
Abandoning his taxi, he darted across the bridge in pursuit.
Jerry and the girls ran to the river bank. Below they could see a man
struggling in the water and hear his choked cry for help.
Jerry kicked off his shoes.
"Wait!" commanded Penny. "You may not need to jump in after him. That
boat will be there in a minute."
She indicated a tugboat which had passed beneath the bridge and was
swerving toward the struggling man. As the young people anxiously
watched, they saw it lay to while the captain fished the victim from the
water with a boat-hook.
"Thank goodness for that," murmured Penny. "I hope the poor fellow is all
right."
"And I hope our driver catches the man who did the pushing," declared
Louise feelingly. "I never witnessed a more vicious attack in my entire
life!"
As she spoke, the cabman recrossed the bridge, scrambling down to the
river bank.
"The fellow got away," he reported. "He had a car waiting."
"You didn't see the license number?" Jerry inquired.
"Not a chance."
"Too bad."
Penny was watching the tugboat which had been tied up only a short
distance from the bridge.
"Jerry, let's go down there," she proposed. "I want to be certain that
man is all right."
The reporter hesitated, then consented. Leaving Louise with the cab
driver, he and Penny descended the steep, muddy slope.
The boat had been made fast to a piling. Face downward on the long
leather seat of the pilot-house, lay the rescued man. Working over him
was the captain, a short, stocky man with grease-smeared hands and
clothing saturated with coal dust.
"Anything we can do?" called Jerry from shore.
"Don't know yet if he'll need a doctor," answered the tugboat captain,
barely glancing up. "It was a nasty fall."
Jerry leaped on deck, leaving Penny behind, for the space was too wide to
be easily spanned.
Inside the cabin Captain Dubbins was expertly applying artificial
resuscitation, but he paused as the man on the seat showed signs of
reviving.
"Struck the water flat on his back," he commented briefly. "Lucky I saw
him fall or I never could have fished him out. Not on a night like this."
"The fellow didn't fall," corrected Jerry. "He was pushed."
Captain Dubbins glanced up, meeting the reporter's gaze steadily. He
offered no comment for the man on the seat groaned and rolled over.
"Steady," said the captain. "Take it easy. You'll tumble off the seat if
you don't stay quiet."
"My back," mumbled the man.
In the glare of the swinging electric light his face was ghastly white
and contorted with pain. Jerry judged him to be perhaps thirty-two. He
wore tight-fitting blue trousers and a coarse flannel shirt.
"My back," he moaned again, pressing his hand to it.
"You took a hard wrench when you hit the water," commented the captain.
"Here, let's see."
He unbuttoned the shirt, and rolling the man over, started to strip it
off.
"No!" snarled the other with surprising spirit. "Leave me alone! Get
away!"
Jerry stepped forward to assist the captain. Ignoring the man's feeble
struggles, they pulled off his shirt.
Immediately they understood why he had tried to prevent its removal.
Across his bruised, battered back had been tattooed in blue and black,
the repulsive figure of an octopus.
CHAPTER
3
_THE OCTOPUS TATTOO_
Jerry bent closer to examine the strange tattoo. Between the two foremost
arms of the octopus was sketched a single word: ALL.
"'All,'" he read aloud. "What does that signify?"
His question angered the man on the couch. Snatching the shirt from
Captain Dubbins, he made a feeble, ineffectual effort to get his arms
into it.
"I want out o' here," he muttered. "Quit starin', you two, and give me a
hand!"
"Take it easy," advised the tugboat captain soothingly. "We was just
tryin' to see if your back was badly hurt."
"Sorry," the man muttered. Relaxing, he leaned weakly against the leather
cushions. "I ain't myself."
"You swallowed a little water," remarked the captain.
"A little?" growled the other. "Half the river went down my gullet." As
an afterthought he added: "Thanks for pullin' me out."
"You're welcome," responded the captain dryly. "Ex-sailor, aren't you?"
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"I can usually tell 'em. Out of work?"
"No." The man's curt answers made it clear that he resented questions.
"You haven't told us your name."
"John Munn," the man replied after a slight hesitation.
"We tried to catch the man who pushed you off the bridge," contributed
Jerry. "He got away."
The sailor gazed steadily, almost defiantly at the reporter.
"No one pushed me off the bridge," he said. "I fell."
"You fell?" echoed Jerry. "Why, I thought I saw you and another man
struggling--"
"You thought wrong," the sailor interrupted. "I was leaning over, lookin'
into the water an' I lost my balance. That was how it happened."
"As you please, Mr. Munn," said Jerry with exaggerated politeness. "Oh,
by the way, what's the significance of that octopus thing on your back?"
"Leave me alone, will you?" the sailor muttered. "Ain't a man got any
right to privacy?"
"Better not bother him while he's feeling so low," said the tugboat
captain significantly. "I'll get him into some dry clothes."
"Nothing I can do?"
"No, thanks, he'll be all right."
"Well, so long," Jerry said carelessly. With another curious glance
directed at the sailor, he left the pilot-house, leaping from the deck to
shore. Penny stood waiting.
"Jerry, what was the matter with that fellow?" she demanded in a whisper.
"What did he have on his back? And why did he lie about being pushed off
the bridge?"
"You heard us talking?"
"I couldn't help it. You were fairly shouting at each other for awhile."
"Mr. John Munn wasn't very grateful to the captain for being saved. He
took offense when we tried to look at his back."
"I thought I heard you say something about an octopus. Was it a tattoo,
Jerry?"
"Yes, and as strange a one as I've ever seen. The picture of an octopus.
Between its forearms was the word: 'All.'"
"What could that mean?"
"I tried to learn, but Mr. John Munn wasn't in a talkative mood."
"It seems rather mysterious, doesn't it?"
"Oh, I don't know." Jerry took Penny's arm to aid her in making the steep
climb. "Sailors have some funny ideas regarding self-decoration. This
Munn was a peculiar fellow."
"It was odd that he would lie about being pushed off the bridge. Jerry,
will you write it for the paper?"
"The story isn't worth more than a few lines, Penny. We can't say that
Munn was pushed off the bridge."
"Why not? It's true."
"Munn would deny it, and then the _Star_ would appear ridiculous."
"If I owned a paper, I certainly would use the story," declared Penny.
"Why, it has wonderful possibilities."
"I fear your father never would agree. You talk him into printing the
yarn and I'll be glad to write it."
"Oh, I suppose we must forget about it," Penny grumbled. "All the same,
I'd like nothing better than to work on the story myself."
Reaching the pavement, they cleaned mud from their shoes before walking
on to the waiting taxi. Louise immediately plied them with questions,
displaying particular interest in the octopus tattoo.
"Do you suppose the man knew who pushed him off the bridge?" she inquired
thoughtfully.
"I'll venture he did," replied Penny. "Probably that was the reason he
wouldn't tell."
The taxi crossed the bridge and made slow progress away from the river.
As the road gradually wound toward higher ground, the fog became lighter
and the driver was able to make faster time. A clock chimed the hour of
eleven.
"How about stopping somewhere for a bite to eat?" Jerry suddenly
proposed.
"Won't Dad be waiting at the _Star_ office?" Penny asked.
"He suggested that I keep you girls entertained until around
eleven-thirty if I could."
"That being the case, we'll accept your invitation with alacrity,"
laughed Penny. "How about the Golden Pheasant?"
"Oh, no, you don't! Phillip's Bean Pot is nearer my speed."
A block farther down the street Jerry paid the driver and escorted the
girls into a clean but low-priced restaurant.
"No item on the menu over ten cents," he chuckled. "Do your worst. I can
take it."
Penny and Louise ordered sandwiches, while the reporter fortified himself
with a plate of scrambled eggs, two doughnuts, and a cup of coffee.
Returning to the front counter for a forgotten napkin, he nodded
carelessly at an elderly man who sat alone, sipping a glass of orange
juice.
The man acknowledged the greeting in an embarrassed way, quickly lowering
his head. Within a few minutes he left the cafe.
"Jerry, who was he?" Penny inquired curiously. "I am sure I've seen him
before, yet I can't remember where."
"That was old man Judson. Matthew Judson."
"Not the former publisher of the _Morning Press_!"
"Yes, the old man's been going to pieces fast since he closed his
newspaper plant. Looks seedy, doesn't he?"
"His clothes were a bit shiny. I thought he seemed rather embarrassed
because you spoke to him."
"Old Judson feels his come-down I guess. In the flush days he wouldn't be
caught dead in a beanery."
"Is he really poor, Jerry?"
"Probably down to his last hundred thousand," the reporter grinned.
"What you say is conflicting," declared Penny impatiently. "First you
imply that Mr. Judson is poor, and then that he's rich. I wish you would
make up your mind."
"Frankly, I don't know. Judson owns a fine home on Drexell Boulevard
which he's allowed to run down. I've been told he sold the _Morning
Press_ building several months ago. Some say he has plenty of cash salted
away, others that he's broke."
"How did he lose so much of his money, Jerry?"
"No one seems to know for certain. According to rumor he plays the stock
market heavily."
"It's strange he closed down the _Morning Press_," Penny remarked
thoughtfully. "I always thought it was a profitable paper."
"So did everyone else. The _Press_ had a large circulation. But one
bright Monday morning Judson posted a notice, closed the plant, and threw
over a thousand employes out of work."
"That was nearly a year ago, wasn't it, Jerry?"
"Thirteen months to be exact. Why this sudden interest in Judson?"
"Oh, I don't know," Penny replied vaguely. "His case seems rather
pathetic. Then, too, he reminds me of someone I've seen recently. I wish
I could recall--"
Jerry glanced at the wall clock, swallowing his coffee with a gulp.
"Time to move along," he announced. "We mustn't keep your father waiting,
Penny."
They left the cafe and Jerry hailed a passing taxicab.
"It's only four blocks to the _Star_ building," protested Penny. "Aren't
you being too lavish with your money, Jerry?"
"Oh, I'll add this item to my expense account," he laughed. "Jump in."
The taxi turned left at Adams street, rolling slowly through the downtown
business section. Jerry peered from the car window at a large, four-story
stone building which occupied a corner.
"That place sure looks like a morgue these days," he commented. "_The
Morning Press._"
Penny and Louise likewise twisted sideways to stare at the dark, deserted
building. Windows were plastered with disfiguring posters and the white
stone blocks, once so beautiful, were streaked with city grime.
"When the _Press_ closed, machinery, furniture and everything else was
left exactly as it stood," remarked Jerry. "Too bad an enterprising
newspaper man doesn't take over the place before it's a complete loss.
The present owner doesn't even employ a watchman to protect the
property."
"It does seem a shame--" Penny began, only to break off. "Why, that's
funny!"
"What is?" inquired Jerry.
Penny had turned to glance back at the _Morning Press_ plant.
"The building isn't deserted!" she exclaimed. "There's a light in one of
the upstairs rooms!"
CHAPTER
4
_A PROSPECTIVE TENANT_
Jerry rolled down the window beside him and, thrusting his head through
it, glanced back at the _Morning Press_ building.
"Where do you see a light?" he demanded.
"It was on the third floor," declared Penny. "I can't see it myself now."
Jerry grinned as he settled back into his place between the two girls.
"You certainly get a kick out of playing jokes," he accused.
"But it wasn't a joke, Jerry. Honestly, I saw a light. Didn't you,
Louise?"
"Sorry, but I didn't. I'm afraid your imagination works overtime, Pet."
"I know what I saw," insisted Penny.
As Jerry and Louise smiled, she lapsed into injured silence. However, she
was certain she had not been mistaken. Distinctly she had observed a
light on the third floor, a moving light which had been extinguished
before her companions had noticed it.
The car presently drew up at the curb in front of the _Star_ building.
Anthony Parker, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm, stepped from the
vestibule where he had been waiting. He was a tall, slender man, alert
and courageous in following his convictions. Under his management the
_Riverview Star_ had grown to be one of the most influential papers in
the state.
"Hope we haven't kept you waiting, Mr. Parker," Jerry greeted him,
swinging open the cab door.
"Only a minute or two. Thanks, Jerry, for bringing the girls from the
boat. May we offer you a ride home?"
"No, thanks, Chief. I'll walk from here. Good evening."
Jerry tipped his hat politely to Penny and Louise as the cab drove away.
Mr. Parker asked the girls if they had enjoyed their trip aboard the
_Goodtime_.
"The boat wasn't very well named, I'm afraid," answered Penny. "The trip
proved to be rather terrible but we met some interesting people."
During the drive to the Sidell home, she and Louise talked as fast as
they could, telling Mr. Parker about Tillie Fellows, the mysterious young
woman who had dropped a bundle of clothing into the water, and
particularly the man with the strange octopus tattoo.
"You'll have to tell the rest of it, Penny," laughed Louise as she bade
her chum good-bye. "Thanks for bringing me home."
The cab rolled on, and Penny glanced questioningly at her father.
"What do you think of the tattoo story?" she asked hopefully. "Won't it
make a dandy feature for the _Star_?"
"I regret to say it sounds like first-grade fiction."
"Why, Dad! Louise and Jerry will confirm everything I've said."
"Oh, I don't doubt your word, Penny. I am sure everything occurred as you
report. Nevertheless, were we to use the story our readers might question
its veracity."
"Don't crush me with such big words, Dad."
"Veracity means truth, Penny. Now your story is very interesting, but I
think you may have placed your own interpretation upon certain facts."
"For instance?"
"Well, according to John Munn's statement, he fell from the bridge and
was not pushed."
"But I saw it with my own two eyes, Dad."
"The night is foggy. You easily could have been mistaken. As for the
octopus tattoo, what is so strange about it? Sailors compete in striving
for startling decorative effects."
"Dad, you could rationalize the national debt," accused Penny. "Very
well, since you scorn my story I'll give it to the High School paper!"
"An excellent idea. That is, if your editor favors highly colored
journalism."
Penny made a grimace, knowing that her father was deliberately teasing
her. It was a constant source of irritation that a boy named Fred Clousky
had been elected editor of the Riverview High School Chatter instead of
Penny by the margin of one vote. She disapproved of Fred, his pimples,
and particularly the way he blue-penciled the occasional stories which
she submitted.
"The Riverview High Chatter is just as silly as its name," she announced.
"If I had that sheet I'd make it into a real paper."
"Sour grapes?" inquired her father softly.
"Maybe," grinned Penny. "But Fred is such an egg, even more conservative
than you."
The cab drew up before the Parker home. A light still burned in the
living room where Mrs. Weems, the housekeeper, sat reading a magazine.
"I am glad you have come, Penny," she remarked, switching on another
light. "I was beginning to worry."
Since the death of Mrs. Parker many years before Mrs. Weems had taken
complete charge of the household, caring for Penny and loving her as her
own daughter. There were occasions when she found the impulsive girl
difficult to restrain, but certainly never dull or uninteresting.
Mrs. Weems soon went to bed, leaving Penny and her father to explore the
refrigerator. As they helped themselves to cold ham, potato salad, and
celery, Penny spoke of the light which she had seen in the abandoned
_Morning Press_ building.
"It may have been a watchman making his usual rounds," commented her
father.
"Jerry tells me the building has no watchman."
"Could it have been a reflection from a car headlight?"
"I don't think so, Dad."
"Well, I shouldn't lose sleep over it," remarked Mr. Parker lightly.
"Better run along to bed now."
Penny arose at six-thirty the next morning, and before breakfast had
written a two-page story about John Munn for the Riverview High School
Chatter. She read it twice and was very well pleased with her work.
"Editor Fred is lucky to get this," she thought. "He should make it the
lead story."
Off to school at a quarter to nine, Penny deposited her literary treasure
in a box provided for journalistic contributions. All that day she went
from class to class, warmed by the knowledge that she had accomplished an
excellent piece of writing. To Louise she confided that she thought the
work might improve her grade in English Composition.
"I'm glad you've decided to contribute to the paper again," declared her
chum. "It's time you and Fred buried the hatchet."
"Oh, I don't bear him any grudge," returned Penny. "Of course, everyone
knows he campaigned for the editorship with free candy and soda pop."
At three-thirty, a minute before the closing bell rang, Fred Clousky
sauntered down the aisle. With a flourish he dropped two pages of copy on
Penny's desk, face upward. Across one of the pages in huge blue letters
had been written: "Too imaginative for _Chatter_. Language too flowery.
Spelling bad. Try us again sometime."
A red stain crept over Penny's cheeks. Her blue eyes began to snap.
"The poisonous little mushroom!" she muttered. "If he thinks he can do
this to me--"
The closing bell rang, and immediately a group of sympathetic friends
gathered about Penny. They all tried to soothe her feelings.
"Don't let it bother you," Louise advised her chum. "Of course, he did it
just to make you peeved."
"'Spelling bad,'" Penny read aloud. "Look at this word he underlined!
Anyone could tell I merely struck a wrong letter on my typewriter!"
Crumpling the page, she tossed it into the waste paper basket.
"'Too imaginative,'" she muttered. "'Language too flowery'!"
"Oh, forget it, Penny," laughed Louise, leading her toward the locker
room. "Fred always has been jealous of you because you've had stories
published in the _Star_. Don't let him know that you're annoyed."
"I guess I am acting silly," admitted Penny, relaxing. "What I must do is
to give this problem a good, hard think. Editor Fred will hear from me
yet!"
Declining an invitation to play tennis, she went directly home. For an
hour she lay on the davenport, staring at the ceiling.
"Penny, are you ill?" inquired Mrs. Weems anxiously.
"No, I'm in conference with myself," answered Penny. "I am trying to
arrive at a momentous decision."
Presently, she began to scribble figures on a sheet of paper. When her
father came home at five o'clock he found her engaged in that occupation.
"Well, Penny," he remarked, hanging up his hat, "how did it go today? The
editor of _Chatter_ accepted your contribution I hope."
Penny grinned ruefully. "If you don't mind, let's discuss a less painful
subject," she replied. "Suppose you tell me what you know about Matthew
Judson and the _Morning Press_."
"Why this sudden display of interest?"
"Oh, I saw Mr. Judson last night at the Bean Pot. He looked rather
depressed."
Mr. Parker sat down on the arm of the davenport. "It's too bad about
Judson," he remarked. "I always admired him because he was a clever
newspaper man."
"Clever? Didn't he mis-manage the paper so that it had to close?"
"Not that anyone ever learned. No, I never could figure out why Judson
quit. The _Press_ had a large circulation and plenty of advertisers."
"What became of the building?"
"It's still there."
"No, I mean who owns it," Penny explained. "Not Mr. Judson?"
"The building was taken over a few months ago by a man named George
Veeley. Come to think of it, I once brought him home with me. You should
remember him, Penny."
"I do. He was rather nice. I wonder what he plans to do with the _Press_
building and its equipment."
"Hold it for speculation, I assume. In my opinion he'll have it empty for
a long while."
"I rather doubt it," said Penny. "He has a prospective tenant now, only
he doesn't know it."
"Indeed? Who?"
"You're looking at her."
"You!" Mr. Parker smiled broadly.
"I have it all planned," announced Penny with quiet finality. "What this
town needs is a good, live newspaper, and an imaginative editor to run
it."
"Oh, I see." With difficulty Mr. Parker kept his face composed. "And
where do you propose to start your newspaper? In the old _Press_
building?"
"You took the words out of my mouth, Dad. Everything is there, awaiting
the touch of my magic wand."
"There's a little matter of rent. Several thousand a month."
"I have a solution for that problem."
"Your staff?"
"I'll gather it as I prosper."
"The necessary capital?"
"A mere detail," said Penny grandly. "I meet only one obstacle at a time.
Tomorrow I shall accost Mr. Veeley with an attractive proposition. If he
falls into my net, Riverview's newest paper, _The Weekly Times_, makes
its bow to the public."
CHAPTER
5
_COBWEBS AND RUST_
"My dear young lady, do I understand you correctly? You are asking for
the use of the _Morning Press_ building without the payment of rent."
Mr. Veeley, slightly bald and with a bulging waistline, regarded Penny
across the polished mahogany desk. Upon arriving at his office that
Saturday morning, he had found the girl awaiting him. For the past ten
minutes she had stunned him with her remarkable figures and plans.
"Yes, that's about the size of it," Penny acknowledged. "What Riverview
needs is a newspaper unhampered by the conservatism of over-aged minds.
Now you have a fine building and equipment which is standing idle, fast
falling into decay--"
"Decay?" Mr. Veeley inquired mildly.
"Expensive machinery soon rusts and becomes practically worthless unless
kept in use," declared Penny with authority. "If you'll agree to my
proposition, I'll publish a weekly paper there, see that your property is
kept in good condition, and turn the plant back to you whenever you can
find a prosperous renter."
"Your father sent you here?"
"Oh, goodness, no! Dad thinks it's all a great joke. But it isn't! I
_know_ I can make a success of the paper if only I have a chance to test
my ideas."
Mr. Veeley could not fail to be impressed by Penny's earnest, appealing
manner. The novelty of her plan both amused and intrigued him.
"I wish I could help you start your paper," he said. "However, I doubt if
you comprehend the cost of such a venture. Even should I permit the use
of my building rent free, how would you meet such expenses as light,
water and heat?"
"Oh, I have a plan for everything," insisted Penny grandly. "All I need
is a building. I'll have the windows washed for you and do a good job of
house cleaning. With me in charge you'll be able to dismiss your
watchman."
"I haven't one."
"No watchman?" Penny inquired innocently. "Last night when I drove past
the building I saw a light on the third floor. Evidently someone is
prowling about there, Mr. Veeley."
"You're certain you saw a light?" the man inquired, disturbed by the
information.
"Oh, yes, indeed. Excuse me for advising you, Mr. Veeley, but you really
should have someone to guard your property."
Mr. Veeley smiled broadly. "You are a very convincing young lady. While I
realize it is a foolish thing to do, I am tempted to let you have the
key."
"Oh, Mr. Veeley, that's wonderful! You'll never regret it!"
"I'll allow you the use of the building for a month," resumed Mr. Veeley.
"At the end of that time we'll discuss the future."
Penny was thrown into such a frenzy of excitement that she scarcely could
remain outwardly serene until she had left the office. Once on the street
she ran the entire distance to the _Star_ building, dashing into her
father's suite with all the sound effects of a laboring steam engine.
"Dad!" she cried dramatically. "I have it! The key to the _Morning Press_
plant! Now I'm on my way to draw my savings from the bank."
"What's that?" demanded Mr. Parker. "Don't tell me Mr. Veeley listened to
your crazy scheme!"
"He's heartily in favor of it, Dad. Now I must rush off to the bank."
"Come back here," her father commanded as she started for the door. "I
can't allow you to withdraw your savings."
"How can I launch the _Weekly Times_ without capital?"
"You're really determined to try it?"
"Of course."
Mr. Parker reached for a cheque book. "How much will you need?"
"Oh, just sign your name at the bottom and leave the amount blank."
"Sorry, I prefer not to financially cripple myself for life. One hundred
dollars is my limit. I'm throwing it down a sink-hole, but the lessons
you'll learn may be worth the cost."
"I can do a lot with a hundred dollars," said Penny. "Thanks, Dad."
She picked up the cheque before the ink was dry and, dropping a kiss
lightly on her father's cheek, was gone.
From the corner drugstore Penny telephoned Louise, telling her the news
and asking her to come downtown at once. Fifteen minutes later her chum
met her at the entrance to the _Morning Press_ building.
"Just think, Lou!" she murmured, unlocking the front door. "This huge
plant all mine! I'm a publisher at last!"
"You're completely insane if you ask me," retorted Louise. "This place is
a dreadful mess. You'll never be able to clean it up, let alone get out
an issue of the paper!"
The girls had passed through the vestibule to the lower floor room which
once had served as the _Press_' circulation department. Behind the high
service counter, desks and chairs remained untouched, covered by a thick
layer of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling light fixtures and festooned
the walls.
Climbing the stairs, the girls glanced briefly into the newsroom, and
then wandered on to the composing room. Penny's gaze roved over long rows
of linotype machines and steel trucks which were used to hold page forms.
There were bins of type, Cheltenham, Goudy, Century--more varieties than
she had ever seen before.
Passing the stereotyping department, the girls entered the press room
where slumbered ten giant double-decked rotary presses. Lying on the
roller of one was a torn strip of newspaper, the last issue of the
_Morning Press_ ever printed.
"It gives one a queer feeling to see all this," said Louise. "Why do you
suppose Judson closed the plant when it was prosperous?"
"No one seems to know the answer," Penny replied, stooping to peer into
an empty ink pot. "But it doesn't seem possible a man would give up his
business, throw so many persons out of work, without a good reason."
"His bad luck seems to be yours," Louise remarked gloomily. "Well, since
you've fallen heir to all this, what will you do with it? It will take a
sizeable chunk of your hundred dollars just to get the place cleaned."
"Not according to my calculations," chuckled Penny. "Let's choose our
offices and then we'll discuss business."
"Our offices?" echoed Louise. "I'm not in on this brain-storm of yours."
"Oh, yes, you are. You'll be the editor."
"But I thought you were that!"
"I'll be the managing editor," said Penny gently. "You'll have your
office, and oodles of authority. Of course, you'll have to work hard
keeping our staff in line."
"What staff?"
"We'll recruit from Riverview High, concentrating on the journalism
majors. Now I think Jack Malone will be our new advertising manager."
"Jack Malone! Why, Penny, he hasn't an ounce of push."
"I know, Lou. But his father is president of the Malone Glass Company. I
figure if his son is in charge of advertising--"
"I get the idea," interrupted Louise. "Penny, with a head like yours, we
should land all the important accounts in town."
"I aim to win several fat ones away from the _Star_," Penny said with
quiet confidence. "If we don't, it will be bankruptcy before the first
issue of the paper is off the press."
Louise glanced dubiously at the dusty machinery.
"There's no denying you're a genius, Penny. Even so, I don't see how you
expect to get these presses running."
"We'll only need one."
"True, but you can't recruit pressmen or linotype operators from
Riverview High."
"Unfortunately, no," sighed Penny. "The first issue of the _Times_ will
be printed at the _Star_ plant. Dad doesn't know it yet. After
that--well, I'll think of something."
"How do you propose to get this place cleaned?"
"Every person who works on our paper must wield a broom, Lou. After we've
chosen our offices, we'll scamper forth and gather our staff together."
Returning to the second floor, the girls inspected the offices adjoining
the newsroom. Penny selected for hers the one which previously had been
occupied by Matthew Judson. His name remained on the frosted-glass door,
and the walls bore etchings and paintings of considerable value.
In the top drawer of the flat-top desk there remained an assortment of
pens, erasers, thumbtacks, and small articles. All letters and papers had
been removed.
"Mr. Judson apparently left here in a great hurry," she remarked. "For
some reason he never returned for the paintings and personal trifles."
Louise chose an office adjoining Penny's new quarters. They both were
admiring the view from the window when her chum suddenly drew herself
into an attitude of attention.
"What's wrong?" inquired Louise, mystified.
"I thought I heard someone moving about," whispered Penny. "Quiet!"
They remained motionless; listening. A board creaked.
Darting to the door, Penny flung it open. The newsroom was deserted, but
she was almost certain she heard footsteps retreating swiftly down the
hall.
"Lou, we're not alone in this building!"
"I thought I heard someone, too."
The girls ran through the newsroom to the hall, and down the stairway.
Three steps from the bottom, Penny suddenly halted. On the service
counter of the advertising department lay a man's grimy felt hat.
"Look at that," she whispered. "Someone _was_ upstairs!"
"He may still be here, too. Penny, did you leave the entrance door
unlocked?"
"I guess so. I don't remember."
"A loiterer may have wandered into the building, and then left when we
gave chase."
"Without his hat?"
"It probably was forgotten."
"Anyhow, I intend to look carefully about," declared Penny. "After all, I
am responsible for this place now."
Both girls were uneasy as they wandered from room to room. Penny even
ventured into the basement where a number of rats had taken refuge. The
building seemed deserted.
"We're only wasting precious time," she said at last. "Whoever the
intruder was, he's gone now."
Retracing their way to the advertising department, the girls stopped
short, staring at the counter. The hat, observed there only a few minutes
before, had vanished.
CHAPTER
6
_HEADLINES AND HEADACHES_