entering the room. Disregarding the order to remain behind, she followed
him inside.
"I might have expected this!" he muttered.
Penny's gaze swept the room. A chair lay overturned on the floor. The
bed, still bearing the imprint of a man's body, was empty.
"Why, where's Joe?" murmured Penny. "His clothing is gone, too!"
Mr. Moyer strode to the open window.
"You think he left that way?" Penny questioned. "He must have heard us
talking!"
The government man nodded as he stepped through the opening to the
ground.
"He heard us all right. There's no question now that he's the man I am
after! And I'll get him, too!"
Briefly examining the ground beneath the window, Mr. Moyer turned and
walked swiftly toward the river.
CHAPTER
15
_INFORMATION FROM TILLIE_
Penny lost no time in telling Mrs. Weems that Anchor Joe had disappeared.
"Well, of all things!" exclaimed the housekeeper as she saw the deserted
bedroom. "He was here a half hour ago. I know because I came in while he
was sleeping."
"He must have heard Mr. Moyer inquiring about him," declared Penny.
"Obviously he ran away to avoid the interview."
"Then that means he's guilty."
"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Weems. What do you suppose he did to have a
government man after him?"
"He may have been a gangster."
"Anchor Joe?" asked Penny, smiling. "He hardly looked the type."
"In any event, we're fortunate to be rid of him."
"I wish we could have questioned him," Penny said gloomily. "Now I may
never learn about that octopus tattoo."
"You and your tattoo!" scoffed Mrs. Weems, beginning to strip linen from
the bed. "Anchor Joe certainly deceived me. He seemed such a pleasant
sort and I was sorry for him."
"I still am," said Penny. "The poor fellow is in no condition to be
wandering around. I rather hope Mr. Moyer overtakes him soon. Then at
least he'll get the medical attention he requires."
While Mrs. Weems straightened the bedroom, she wandered to the river's
edge. Only a few stars were pricking the sky, and it was impossible to
see very far. There was no sign either of Mr. Moyer or the man he
pursued.
Penny returned to the cottage to eat supper with Mrs. Weems.
"Now that Anchor Joe has gone, I may as well go home tonight," declared
the housekeeper. "I can't leave, though, until I've cleaned the cottage
and set it to rights."
"How much longer will it take?"
"Oh, an hour or two."
"While I am waiting I may walk over to Peter Fenestra's place," Penny
remarked. "I shouldn't mind seeing Tillie Fellows again."
"You'll be cautious in crossing the river?"
"Of course," laughed Penny. "I won't be gone long."
She washed the dishes for Mrs. Weems and then set forth for the Fenestra
farmhouse. Frogs croaked as she crossed the swaying bridge, and far
upstream she heard the faint chug of a motorboat. Otherwise, the night
was unusually still.
Emerging from among the trees, Penny saw a light glowing in the distance.
Knowing that it came from the Fenestra house, she used it as a beacon to
guide her.
Passing the barn, she climbed a fence and entered the yard. The house was
dark save for a single light burning in the kitchen. She could see Tillie
Fellows moving about.
Penny knocked on the side door. Through the window she observed Tillie
freeze into a tense attitude of fear. To reassure the girl she called her
name in a loud voice.
Immediately Tillie ran to open the door.
"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed in relief. "I was frightened."
To Penny's surprise Tillie wore a silk dress. Pocketbook, hat and gloves
lay upon the kitchen table.
"I am afraid I've come at an awkward time," she apologized. "You were
going somewhere?"
"I'm leaving here," Tillie answered grimly. She closed the door behind
Penny.
"You mean for good? You've found another job?"
Tillie shook her head. "I've been discharged. He didn't give me a week's
advance wages either."
"Oh, that's too bad," said Penny sympathetically. "But you'll find a
better place. You said you didn't like it here anyway."
"I've hated it. Peter Fenestra is such a suspicious person. Why do you
think he discharged me?"
"I can't guess, but I should like to know."
"He accused me of prying!"
"How unjust."
"Well, in a way, I was trying to learn about things I shouldn't," Tillie
admitted honestly. "It was that storm cave."
"Did you get down into it?" Penny asked.
"No, but I tried. Old Peter was gone this afternoon and I decided to find
out what he keeps hidden underground."
"The padlock wasn't locked?"
"Usually it is, but today he forgot. I got the door open. Just as I
started down the steps he grabbed me by the shoulder. I was scared half
to death."
"You mean Fenestra had hidden himself in the cave?" Penny questioned in
astonishment.
"Yes, it was a trick to catch me prying. He said so himself, Penny. He
only pretended to go away, then lay in wait."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No, he just told me to get out and never come back. It wouldn't surprise
me if he leaves here himself soon."
"Why do you say that, Tillie?"
"Because he's afraid of his own shadow. But I don't blame him for being
nervous. This house is being watched!"
As if fearing that unfriendly eyes were upon her at that very moment,
Tillie went to the window and after peering into the yard, lowered the
blind.
"Twice I've seen men hiding in the wheat field just back of this place,"
she confided. "The first time there was only one, but yesterday I saw
three."
"Are you sure they were watching this house, Tillie?"
"Oh, yes, they were lying on the ground. For an hour they scarcely
moved."
"Didn't you tell Fenestra?"
"I was afraid to do it, but I think he knew. All day he kept inside the
house, and I saw him at the windows. He was as jumpy as a cat. Another
thing--I saw him loading his revolver."
"He must fear for his life."
"I'm sure of it, Penny. Even if he's only going to the barn he carries
the revolver with him."
A clock on the shelf above the stove struck eight times.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Tillie, "I must hurry or I'll never get away before
Old Peter returns. Excuse me while I run upstairs for my suitcase."
"Where is Fenestra now?" Penny inquired before the girl could leave.
"In Riverview I suppose. He went away right after supper."
"Run along and get your suitcase," Penny advised. "I'll drive you into
town."
"Oh, thanks," the girl answered gratefully. "It won't take me long."
After Tillie had gone, Penny walked to the window and rolled up the
blind. Across the yard she could see the disfiguring mound of earth and
cement. What secret did the storm cave guard? Why was it always kept
padlocked?
Abruptly she went to the foot of the stairs and called:
"Oh, Tillie, I'm going outside for a minute. I'll come back."
"All right," agreed the girl. "Sorry to keep you waiting but I still have
a few things to pick up."
Leaving by the side door, Penny paused on the porch for a moment.
Carefully she glanced about the yard and surrounding fields. A thin
quarter moon rising over the pine trees gave dim shape to the barn and
silo. She could see no one, yet Tillie's revelation that strange men
spied upon the house, made her attentive to danger.
Swiftly she crossed the lawn to the storm cave. As she had fully
expected, the slanting door was padlocked.
"Oh, shoot!" she exclaimed impatiently. "I want to get down there!"
She jerked at the padlock several times, and then accepting the
situation, turned toward the house. As she walked, Penny's eyes fastened
absently upon a clump of lilac bushes some twenty yards from the cave.
They were moving gently as if stirred by a wind. Yet there was no wind.
Penny did not pause, but every sense became alert. Her heart pounded.
Distinctly she could see a man crawling on hands and knees behind the
lilacs.
CHAPTER
16
_BEHIND THE LILACS_
Without disclosing by her actions that she had observed anything amiss,
Penny walked steadily on toward the house. Her first thought had been
that it was Peter Fenestra who spied upon her. However, as the figure
straightened she knew she had been mistaken. The man was not Fenestra.
Before she could see his face, he moved to another clump of bushes, and
then was enveloped by darkness.
Entering the house, Penny blew out the kerosene lamp and stood by the
window, watching. She could not see the man. He had vanished completely.
"That proves that Tillie was correct," she thought. "This house _is_
being watched. I wonder why."
As she waited, Tillie came down the stairway, carrying her luggage.
Observing that the kitchen was dark, she paused in alarm.
"It's all right," Penny called reassuringly. "I blew the light out so
that I wouldn't be seen from outside."
"Is anyone there?" Tillie demanded, coming quickly to the window. Her
pallid features were rigid with fear and her breathing quickened.
"He's gone now, I think."
"There was someone a moment ago?"
"Yes, a man, hiding behind the lilacs. I believe he must have been
watching the house--or possibly the storm cellar!"
"Then you see I was right," Tillie declared. "Oh, this is a dreadful
place, and I'll be glad to leave it."
"I almost wish you were staying," said Penny slowly. "You might be able
to learn what's hidden in that cave."
"Not with Peter Fenestra so suspicious. Anyway, you couldn't hire me to
remain even if he would allow it. I'd rather starve."
"You have no place to go, Tillie?"
"I'll find work. If not in Riverview then I can return to the country.
Anything will be better than what I've had."
Penny groped in the dark for the lamp, relighting it.
"Tillie," she said, "how would you like to work at our place for a few
days?"
"You don't mean it."
"I do if it can be arranged," Penny affirmed. "We have a housekeeper, but
it occurred to me that she might take your place here."
"She'd be very foolish to give up a good job for this."
"It would only be temporary. I think I can induce her to make the change
for a few days. The question is, can we get Peter Fenestra to accept
her?"
"I doubt if he'll hire anyone now that I am leaving. Why do you want your
housekeeper in such a place as this, Penny?"
"Only for one reason. To learn what's going on here. I confess you've
made me very curious about the storm cave."
"Fenestra would watch her every minute, the same as he did me. It won't
work."
"It will if Mrs. Weems can get the job," declared Penny confidently.
"First of all, we must make Fenestra so uncomfortable he'll want someone
to take care of the house. Is he a good cook?"
"Oh, wretched. And the trick of keeping a good fire going is simply
beyond him. Why, if we turned the damper, it never would occur to him to
change it."
"Thanks for the idea," laughed Penny. "Let's hide the breakfast supplies,
too."
Tillie was quite certain that her friend did not know what she was doing,
but she offered no objection to the plan. Before leaving the house they
altered the stove damper, hid the coffee pot, and placed salt in the
sugar bowl.
"If Old Peter doesn't get his coffee in the morning he'll simply rave,"
chuckled Tillie. "Missing it may be the one thing which will make him
hire a new housekeeper."
The girls were watchful as they crossed the yard, but they observed no
one lurking about the premises. Evidently the man who had hidden behind
the lilacs had taken himself elsewhere.
Penny escorted Tillie to the parked automobile, leaving her there while
she went to the cottage for Mrs. Weems. The housekeeper was ready and
waiting by the time she arrived.
"Penny, I nearly gave you up," she sighed. "Why did it take so long?"
"I've been busy finding you a new position," chuckled Penny. "Starting
tomorrow morning, you're to work for Peter Fenestra instead of us."
In the act of locking the cottage door, Mrs. Weems turned to face the
girl.
"Penny," she said, "I am tired tonight and in no mood for your jokes."
"This isn't a joke, Mrs. Weems. I really do want you to change jobs with
Tillie Fellows. You remember I told you about her."
Not giving the housekeeper an opportunity to speak, she rapidly outlined
her plan.
"Early tomorrow morning I'll drive you to Fenestra's farm," she ended
gleefully. "You're to knock on the door, and say you're looking for a job
at very low wages. Fenestra will be so desperate he'll welcome you with
open arms. Then as soon as he's off his guard you learn what is hidden in
the storm cave."
"How lovely," said Mrs. Weems. "I've listened to your crazy schemes for
years, Penny, but this one takes the prize!"
"You'll do it, won't you?"
"I certainly will not." The housekeeper spoke with biting emphasis.
"Oh, Mrs. Weems," Penny moaned. "You don't realize how much this means to
me! If only you'll go there, I may be able to get a wonderful scoop for
the _Weekly Times_."
"I wish you never had started that paper. I declare, ever since you took
over the old _Press_ plant, you've done the wildest things."
"This isn't wild," Penny argued. "It's absolutely logical. I would try
for the job myself only I know Fenestra wouldn't give it to me. Besides,
I am kept busy at the plant."
"I refuse to play detective for you, Penny. That's final."
Completely downcast, Penny followed Mrs. Weems along the river trail.
However, she had no intention of giving up so easily.
"Then if you won't," she remarked, "I must take Tillie to a charity home.
She had intended to start working at our place."
"The girl may spend the night with us, if you like. We have an extra
room."
"Tillie would never accept such a favor," insisted Penny. "More than
anything else she wants a job. Mrs. Weems, please reconsider--"
"It's a crazy scheme!"
"No, it isn't," Penny refuted, and noting indications of weakening,
launched into another lengthy argument.
Mrs. Weems drew a deep sigh. "I don't know why I allow you to twist me
around your finger the way you do."
"You'll try for the job?"
"I suppose so. But what will your father say?"
"He'll call it clever journalism," chuckled Penny. "Don't you worry about
Dad. Just leave everything to me."
During the ride to Riverview Mrs. Weems was further influenced by Tillie
Fellows' account of Fenestra's peculiar actions. Gradually she began to
share Penny's opinion that the man might have reason to fear for his
life. However, she could not agree with the girls that anything of great
value was hidden in the cave.
"Perhaps we're wrong," Penny conceded, "but you must go there with an
open mind, Mrs. Weems. Observe everything you can and report to me.
Particularly I want to learn what Fenestra knows about John Munn and the
octopus tattoo."
"I shan't try very hard to get the job," threatened the housekeeper.
At seven the next morning Penny awakened Mrs. Weems from a sound slumber,
reminding her that it was time to start for the Fenestra farm. Protesting
that the idea seemed crazier than ever, the housekeeper snuggled down
beneath the covers again.
"You promised you would go," reminded Penny brutally. "Please hurry,
because I must get you established before I go to school."
By the time Mrs. Weems was dressed, breakfast and the car awaited her.
She drank the bitterly strong coffee and, still protesting, allowed Penny
to drive her within view of the Fenestra farm.
"Is that the place?" she inquired with distaste as the automobile halted.
"Yes, I don't dare go any closer for fear Fenestra will see me. You know
the story you're to tell him."
"Which one? You've suggested so many that my mind is a-whirl."
"Then make it simple. Just say you're a widow, out of work, and that
you're a wonderful housekeeper. I'll wait here. If you go inside I'll
know you've been given the job."
"When will you come for me?"
"I'll try to see you tomorrow. But hold the fort until I arrive even if
it's a week."
A bundle of clothing under her arm, Mrs. Weems trudged on down the road.
Penny watched her with misgiving. The adventure was not to the
housekeeper's liking, and it was doubtful that her application for work
would be an enthusiastic one.
Turning the car in the road, she pulled to one side and waited. Mrs.
Weems had reached the farmhouse. Following instructions, she knocked at
the side entrance. In a moment or two the door was opened by Peter
Fenestra.
Anxiously, Penny watched. The interview seemed to be taking a long while,
but at least Fenestra had not closed the door in the housekeeper's face.
Then, to her delight, Mrs. Weems followed the man into the house.
"The job is hers!" she thought exultantly. "If she doesn't fail me, I may
yet break an important story in my paper! I feel in my bones that Peter
Fenestra's cave soon will yield its secret!"
CHAPTER
17
_THE ART OF TATTOO_
At school, during the afternoon assembly period, Penny received a note
from Louise which read:
"The _Weekly Times_ is in urgent need of feature stories for our next
issue. Any ideas?"
Penny scrawled a huge zero on the paper, decorated it with angel wings,
and sent it down the aisle. An answer came immediately.
"You'll have to do something about it. All of our reporters are taking a
vacation until after monthly exams. Can't you write some sort of story?"
Penny considered the problem as she studied her history lesson. Just as
the dismissal bell rang an inspiration seized her.
"Lou, I do have an idea!" she declared, linking arms with her chum. "How
about an interview with Ellis Saal?"
"Who is he?" inquired Louise, somewhat dubiously.
"A tattoo artist who has a little shop on Dorr Street. He takes passport
pictures, too. I noticed the place weeks ago."
"What makes you think the story would be worth printing?"
"Tattooing is a fascinating subject."
"It is to you. I doubt if our readers share your enthusiasm."
"They will when they read my story," countered Penny.
Early the next morning she presented herself at Mr. Saal's place of
business, a den-like crack in the wall, barely wide enough to accommodate
a door.
Pausing, she stared at a sign which proclaimed that for a nominal sum Mr.
Saal would tattoo or photograph all comers. In a glass frame were
displayed many samples of tattooing--bleeding hearts, clasped hands,
sailing ships, birds in flight and other artistic conceptions.
Penny entered the shop. The front end of the long, narrow room was
unoccupied, but the sound of hammering led her to the rear. A man of some
sixty-odd years was engaged in making a new shelf. As he saw her the
hammer dropped from his hand.
"Good morning," said Penny in her friendliest tone. "Are you Mr. Saal?"
"That's me," he replied, regarding her curiously.
"Excuse me for bothering you," apologized Penny, "but I should like to
interview you for my newspaper."
Mr. Saal's intelligent but somewhat child-like eyes fixed her in a steady
stare.
"A reporter," he said finally in a long suffering tone. "They wouldn't
respect a man's privacy--or anything else for that matter, I reckon."
"There is one thing I am sure all reporters respect, Mr. Saal," responded
Penny. "Art. From the samples of your work which I saw out front I am
sure you are a great tattoo artist."
Mr. Saal melted like a lump of butter on a hot stove. Penny had struck
his weakest spot.
"You flatter me," he said, a faint pattern of a smile etching his face.
"I admit I'm good, although maybe not quite the best in the business.
What do you want to know?"
"A story about the tattooing business in general and you in particular,
Mr. Saal. How do you do it? How did you start? Who was the most famous
person you ever tattooed? What is your favorite design? Do you think a
tattoo looks better on the arm or the chest? What--?"
"Hold it, young lady, hold it. You seem to be a living question mark."
Mr. Saal motioned for Penny to follow him to the front of the shop. As he
offered her a chair she took a quick glance at a row of dirty, smeary
bottles of chemicals on a shelf above her head.
"Now let's take your first question," said Mr. Saal, seating himself
opposite the girl. "I can't tell you how to tattoo--that's a secret of
the profession."
"How much do you charge for one?"
"Depends upon how much a fellow is willing to pay. Take this town--it's a
cheap place. Nobody has any money. The King of England paid fifty dollars
for his tattoo and what do I get? I'm lucky if it's a dollar. And mostly
hoodlums to work on. You can't give a man much of a tattoo for a dollar."
"Do you ever remove tattoos, Mr. Saal?"
"It's against the law," the man replied briefly.
"I didn't know that," said Penny in surprise. "Why?"
"Crooks can be identified by their tattoos. Oh, it's easy for a fellow to
get one on, but not so easy to get it off."
"But it can be done?" Penny persisted. "Have you ever removed one?"
"I'm the only man in the state who can take off a tattoo so it doesn't
show," boasted Mr. Saal. "The surgeons have tried, but you always can see
where it was."
"Tell me about some of the tattoos you've removed," urged Penny.
"I've told you more than I should now," said Mr. Saal. "You'll print it
in the paper and then I'll get into trouble with the police."
"This will be strictly confidential," promised Penny.
"It's this way," Mr. Saal justified himself. "I never do any work for
crooks--not me. But if a law-abiding, respectable citizen comes here and
says he's sick of his tattoo, then sometimes I take it off for him if
he's willing to pay the price. Fact is, I'm workin' on a mighty
interesting case right now. It's a design that's rare--an octopus."
Penny did not trust herself to speak for a moment. Carefully she
controlled her voice as she said casually:
"How interesting, Mr. Saal, An octopus tattoo! Was the man a sailor?"
"He was an old salt all right, though he denied it."
"What is his name?"
"I couldn't tell you that," answered Mr. Saal. "I have to protect my
customers."
"Tell me more about the tattoo," urged Penny.
"It's just a figure about so large--" Mr. Saal demonstrated with his
hands, "on the man's back. Funny place for a tattoo, ain't it?"
"I should say so," agreed Penny. "Is it merely a figure of an octopus? No
words or anything like that?"
"There are two words. I took 'em off last week."
"Two?" inquired Penny. "What are they, Mr. Saal?"
"They don't make sense. The words are _For One_."
"I once saw an octopus tattoo such as you describe," declared Penny. "But
I distinctly recall that the design used only a single word. It was
_One_."
"Is that so?" inquired Mr. Saal. "Maybe the tattoo isn't as uncommon as I
thought. But I never saw one like it before."
"I wonder what can be the significance of the words?"
"I was asking my customer about it. He pretended he didn't know, but I
figure maybe he and some buddies had a sentence tattooed on 'em."
"You mean that if one were able to read several tattoos together, the
words would make sense?"
"That's right," nodded Mr. Saal. "I don't know about this octopus tattoo,
but I figure it may have been that way."
"Did your customer have any other tattoos on his body?" Penny questioned.
"An anchor, for instance?"
"Didn't notice 'em if he did."
"I suppose it takes a long while to remove a tattoo. Does your customer
come often?"
"Every Tuesday and Thursday night. He complains because I don't do the
work faster, but I tell him if he wants a good job it has to be done
carefully."
Before Penny could ask another question, two young sailors swaggered into
the shop. Ellis Saal, scenting business, immediately arose.
"Be careful what you write up," he warned as he left her. "There's been a
lot of articles on tattooin', but not a one that's right. It just ain't
possible for a reporter to write a true story unless it's about a murder
or a fire!"
"I'll be careful," promised Penny.
Leaving the shop, she walked slowly to her parked car. The information
obtained from the tattoo artist both excited and mystified her.
"I don't believe Mr. Saal could have been mistaken about the words which
were incorporated in the design," she thought. "And I'm equally certain I
wasn't mistaken about Anchor Joe's tattoo. It had only the single word,
'One.'"
Mr. Saal's declaration that his customer was not the possessor of a
tattooed anchor caused Penny to wonder if the person could be Joe Landa.
However, the man was wanted by government agents and it seemed reasonable
to believe that he might seek to remove tell-tale markings.
"I know what I'll do," she decided. "Thursday night I'll watch Mr. Saal's
shop. In that way I may be able to learn the identity of his mysterious
customer!"
CHAPTER
18
_PAULETTA'S EXPLANATION_
Penny compressed the facts given her by Ellis Saal into a brief, lively
feature story for the _Weekly Times_. She was careful not to divulge that
the man had removed a tattoo from a customer, but to Louise she confided
the entire story.