enthusiastically. "It will be a gigantic step forward if I learn the
identity of his mysterious customer."
"What's to be gained by it?" asked Louise as she slugged a story and
speared it on a hook. "What will be proven?"
"Well, if I'm ever going to solve the mystery I must gather every fact I
can," Penny said defensively. "I aim to learn the meaning of those
strange tattoos and, above all, the reason why John Munn was pushed from
the bridge."
"You have your work cut out for you," responded Louise dryly.
"But Mr. Saal's information helps. You remember I told you that John
Munn's tattoo bore the word _All_. Anchor Joe's was exactly the same
except for the word, _One_. And now Ellis Saal has a customer with two
words on his back: _For One_. Why, I believe I have it!"
Penny sprang from her chair, eyes dancing with excitement.
"You have what?" asked Louise calmly.
"It came to me like a flash--the meaning of those tattooed words! If we
haven't been dumb!"
"Kindly stop jumping around, and explain."
"Mr. Saal told me he thought several sailors might have had a sentence
incorporated in their tattoo. That is, only a word or two was used in
each design, but taken as a whole it would make sense."
"And you think you have the phrase?"
"I do, Louise! Why couldn't it be: _All for one, one for all_?"
"If the men were close friends, that would be fairly logical. But the
words we have to juggle don't make such a sentence, Penny."
"Obviously there must be a fourth sailor whose tattoo includes the words,
'for all,'" argued Penny. "Then it would fit perfectly."
"Just because four men were pals, you think they would have such nonsense
tattooed on their backs?"
"That's my theory."
"If you're right, then the mystery is solved."
"Far from it," corrected Penny. "I haven't learned who pushed John Munn
from the bridge or why. You remember how Anchor Joe talked about someone
who had 'ratted'? The four of them must have been in on a scheme, and one
man betrayed his comrades."
"Better bridle that imagination before it takes you for too wild a ride,"
chuckled Louise.
"Then you think there's nothing to my theory?" Penny demanded in an
injured tone.
"I think that if you speculate upon it much longer we'll never get any
work done," Louise replied, turning once more to her typewriter. "These
headlines must be composed if ever we expect to get another paper on the
street."
Disappointed that her chum did not take the matter more seriously, Penny
went to consult Old Horney in the composing room. The pressman had proven
to be worth many times the small salary which the girls paid him. Not
only had he made the rotary presses ready for service, but he had cleaned
and oiled every useable piece of machinery in the building. Eagerly he
awaited the day when Penny would print the _Weekly_ in her own plant.
"Everything's all set," he told her with a worshipful grin. "Whenever you
give the word, we can go to press."
"That's fine," Penny praised. "Louise and I have been having a few
difficulties, financial and otherwise. But I hope it won't be long now."
She talked with Old Horney about various technical problems, then
returned to her desk. Slipping a sheet of paper into her typewriter, she
composed a letter to a well known steamship, the _Dorasky_.
Slipping it into her pocket, she opened the door of Louise's office.
"Do you mind staying here alone for awhile?"
"No, of course not. Where are you going?"
"To mail an important letter. Then I want to drive out to Fenestra's farm
and see Mrs. Weems."
"I'll look after everything until you get back," Louise promised. She
glanced curiously at the letter but did not ask to whom it was directed.
Penny dropped the stamped envelope into a convenient corner mailbox, and
then drove toward the outskirts of the city. Nearing Drexel Boulevard it
suddenly occurred to her that she never had found time to revisit Matthew
Judson's home.
"Pauletta owes me an explanation for the way she acted the other day,"
she thought. "I have a notion to stop and see if she's alone."
Penny impulsively spun the wheel, and followed the boulevard to the
Judson home. The iron gate stood open. She drove through, up the curve of
cement to the house.
In response to her knock, an untidy colored maid admitted her to a dark,
dusty living room. As she awaited Pauletta, her wandering gaze noted a
number of significant details. The walls had not been decorated in many
years, upholstered furniture had assumed a moth-eaten appearance, and the
entire room seemed spiritless.
Pauletta came slowly down the circular stairway. She hesitated as she
recognized Penny, but could not retreat.
"How do you do," she said somewhat stiffly. "Nice of you to call."
"I think you know why I came," said Penny. "We were unable to talk when I
was here before."
"I've told you all there was to it," Pauletta declared, seating herself
opposite the girl. "Frankly, I can't see that the affair is any of your
concern. I wore the disguise because I didn't wish to be recognized on
board the _Goodtime_."
"Your explanation isn't very satisfactory, I'm afraid. Tillie Fellows is
staying at our home now."
"What of it?"
"She was robbed that night on the boat."
"We discussed it before," Miss Judson said in exasperation. "You insult
me by suggesting that I may have snatched the girl's pocketbook! Why
should I steal when my father is wealthy? I've always had everything I
want."
"I should like very much to believe you," said Penny quietly. "But unless
you are willing to offer a complete explanation, I am afraid I can't."
"Very well, if I must, I'll tell," Miss Judson replied angrily. "You may
have read in the newspapers that I am engaged to marry Major Howard
Atchley?"
"The story escaped me."
"I admire Howard very much," resumed Pauletta, still in an icy tone. "He
comes from an excellent family, is well-to-do, and in Father's opinion
will make me a good husband."
"Your opinion differs?" Penny inquired softly.
"I do not love Howard, and I never shall. On the night you saw me aboard
the _Goodtime_ I had gone with another friend of mine, Carl Feldman,
intending to enjoy the excursion trip."
"Your father knew nothing about it?"
"I told him I was going with another girl."
"Oh, I see."
"There was nothing wrong about it," Pauletta said irritably. "But I'm
fairly well known. I realized that if I were recognized, Father or Howard
might learn about it. Then there would be trouble, for Howard is a very
jealous person."
"So you resorted to the wig and glasses?"
"Yes, that was my sole reason. Major Atchley met me at the boat. Before
joining him I threw the bundle of clothing into the river. Now are you
satisfied with my explanation?"
"I am," said Penny. "In fact, I never believed that you had robbed
Tillie."
"You certainly acted that way."
"Perhaps, I only wanted to learn the truth."
Miss Judson did not reply. Her cold stare made it evident that she
disliked Penny and regarded her as a meddler.
"Is there anything else you wish to know?" she asked after a lengthy
silence.
"Nothing, Miss Judson. I was only thinking that I would like to help you
and your father."
"Thank you. We don't require assistance."
"Perhaps you don't," said Penny, "but your father needs friends. He
admitted to me that if it weren't for you he would be tempted to end
everything."
The words stunned Pauletta. "Father never said that!" she exclaimed.
"He did."
"I can't believe it. Why, Father's the most cheerful person in the
world!"
"In your presence, possibly. The loss of the _Morning Press_ must have
been a heavy blow to him."
"Father wasn't forced to give up the paper," Pauletta protested. "He did
it because he was tired of working so hard."
"Was that what he told you?"
"Why, yes. I know of no other reason."
"The general belief seems to be that your father speculated on the stock
market, losing large sums of money."
"That can't be true," denied Pauletta. "To my knowledge Father never
gambled. He may have bought a few stocks from time to time, but only for
investment."
"Then you feel sure he did not dispose of the _Press_ because he needed
money?"
Pauletta hesitated before she answered. "It never occurred to me before,
but Father has been rather close the past year. I thought it was sheer
carelessness when he let this place run down. He always gave me
everything I wanted."
"Why does he favor your marriage to the Major?"
"Perhaps money does enter into it," Pauletta said slowly. "Many times
Father has reminded me that I would have every luxury as Howard's wife."
"Your friend Carl is poor?"
"He has a fairly good position, but not much money. Father always seemed
to like Carl. That was why I couldn't understand when he asked me not to
see him again."
"I am sure your father thinks only of your welfare."
"But I would rather marry Carl and be poor always than to have riches
with Howard."
"You've not told your father that?"
"Why, no. It never occurred to me that money had influenced him."
"There's another rumor," said Penny. "I suppose I shouldn't mention it."
"I wish you would."
"I've heard it said that your father disposed of the _Press_ because he
had been blackmailed."
"By whom?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. It was only a rumor."
"There may be truth in it," Pauletta replied in a low voice. "You've
opened my eyes, Miss Parker. I've been very blind."
"Then you think someone may have forced your father to pay money?"
"I don't know. But Father has acted strangely ever since he gave up the
paper. Once a month, on the fourth, he receives a visit from a queer
looking man. Always he tries to get me out of the house before the fellow
comes."
"Don't you know his name?"
"No, Father has never told me. The man seldom stays longer than ten
minutes."
"Can you describe him?"
"Not very well because I never saw him at close range. I should say he's
middle-aged, dark and cruel looking. Not at all the sort Father would
choose for a friend."
"Your father offers no explanation as to why the man comes?"
"None. He refuses to discuss the subject. I've noticed, though, that for
days after the fellow leaves he's very nervous and uneasy."
"Excuse me for asking so many questions, Miss Judson, but do you know of
any reason why your father might be blackmailed?"
"No, I don't. I am sure he's never been involved in anything
dishonorable."
Penny had no more to tell, and she was convinced that Pauletta had given
a truthful account of the situation. Feeling that she was not
particularly welcome, she arose to leave.
"I am glad you came," Pauletta said, extending her hand. "Please excuse
my rudeness. There were so many things I failed to understand."
"You must forgive me, too," replied Penny. "I didn't mean to meddle. I
truly want to help your father."
"I wish I could help him, too," said Pauletta in a troubled voice. "In
the past I fear I've been very selfish and inconsiderate."
"There's a way to help if you're willing to do it."
"I don't understand."
"You say that on the fourth of each month a man comes here to see your
father. If you tried could you learn his name?"
"I might drop in upon them at an awkward moment, compelling Father to
introduce me."
"Are you willing to do it?"
"Why, yes, but I fail to see what will be gained."
"Perhaps nothing, perhaps a great deal," replied Penny. "If the man is a
blackmailer, it should help for us to know his name."
"I'll learn what I can."
"Then until the fourth, good-bye. And please, not a word to Mr. Judson.
We must work secretly."
Reflecting upon the information given her by Pauletta, Penny drove on
toward Peter Fenestra's home. A quarter of a mile away she parked the
car, and set off afoot, hoping to attract no attention should the owner
be at home.
It was well that she took the precaution. She was three hundred yards
from the grounds when suddenly she saw a man emerge from behind the barn.
At a glance she observed that he was too short to be Peter Fenestra.
As Penny paused to watch, the man moved stealthily across the yard to the
front door of the farmhouse. His face turned slightly in her direction,
and she recognized Anchor Joe.
"What can he be doing here?" she thought in amazement.
The question soon was answered. Glancing quickly about, Anchor Joe
dropped a white envelope on the front porch. Then he pounded several
times on the door before darting to the shelter of the lilac bushes.
CHAPTER
19
_MRS. WEEMS' REPORT_
Several minutes elapsed before the door was opened by Peter Fenestra. He
glanced alertly about the yard, and then his gaze fell upon the envelope.
Penny heard him mutter to himself as he picked it up.
Fenestra's face became convulsed with rage as he tore open the flap and
saw the message. Still muttering, he crumpled the paper and thrust it
into his pocket. Entering the house, he slammed the door.
With Peter at home Penny dared not try to see Mrs. Weems. As she
hesitated, debating, Anchor Joe came from his hiding place. He did not
see the girl.
"Joe!" she called softly.
The sailor turned. Recognizing her, he ran in the opposite direction
across the yard. Keeping low behind a hedge, he started toward the river.
"Joe! Come back!" Penny called again.
Paying no heed, the sailor fled through the fields. Soon he was hidden by
tall trees and bushes.
Penny felt deeply disturbed, wondering if Anchor Joe made a practice of
watching the Fenestra home. She was inclined to believe that this had not
been his first visit there.
Unexpectedly the farmhouse door swung open. Penny barely had time to step
behind a large maple before Peter Fenestra came down the path. He went
directly to the barn, and a few minutes later backed out his automobile.
"Good!" thought Penny. "He's likely driving to Riverview. Now I can talk
to Mrs. Weems without fear of interruption."
As soon as the car had disappeared down the main road, she ran to the
kitchen door and knocked. When it was not opened immediately, she thrust
her head inside and called the housekeeper's name.
"Here I am," answered Mrs. Weems, hurrying from the dining room. "I hope
you've come to take me home, Penny Parker!"
"No, only to receive your report." Penny sank into a chair beside the
stove. "You don't act very pleased with your new job."
"It's a dreadful place. I was crazy to say I would stay here."
"Haven't you learned anything?"
"I've learned that Peter Fenestra is one of the most disagreeable men I
ever met in my life! There's no satisfying him. He requires a slave, not
a housekeeper!"
"But what about the storm cave?" Penny asked. "Were you able to find out
what Fenestra stores in it?"
"Of course not. The padlock always is locked, and he keeps the key in his
pocket."
"But he does have something hidden there?" Penny questioned eagerly. "He
goes down into it at night?"
"I've seen him enter the cave once since I came here."
"When was that?"
"Last night after I had gone to bed. I heard the door close, so I went to
the window and watched."
"How long did he stay there, Mrs. Weems?"
"About three hours I'd judge. It was after two o'clock when he returned
to his room."
"What _can_ he have hidden in the cave?"
"Nothing in my opinion," declared Mrs. Weems. "I think he cooks
something. At least he builds a fire."
"What makes you think that?"
"I could see smoke seeping out from the cracks of the cave door."
Penny frowned. "I can't guess what he could be cooking," she said.
"Surely he doesn't have a still down there."
"I doubt it very much. Probably you've built up a great mystery about
nothing."
Pouring hot water over the dishes, Mrs. Weems began to wash them. Penny
picked up a towel and automatically wiped and stacked them away.
"I didn't imagine that this house was being watched," she replied. "Only
a few minutes ago I saw Anchor Joe steal to the door and leave a letter
for Mr. Fenestra."
"Anchor Joe!"
"Mr. Moyer never caught him it seems. But why should the fellow come
here? What message did he leave Fenestra?"
"I heard a knock on the front door," Mrs. Weems admitted. "Fenestra
answered it, and when he came back into the kitchen he was in a dreadful
temper."
"The letter upset him?"
"I didn't know he had received one."
"Yes, Anchor Joe left it on the doorstep. It may have been a threatening
note. I'd give a lot to know."
"Fenestra has been very nervous since I came here," Mrs. Weems
contributed. "If he hears any unusual sound in the yard he immediately
becomes alert."
"As if he were afraid for his life?"
"Yes, he does act that way. I doubt if he'll stay here much longer. His
clothes are all packed in suitcases."
"That _is_ important information," declared Penny. "Oh, dear, if only we
knew why he's being threatened, and why he intends to leave! I believe
I'll go upstairs and inspect his room."
"You'll learn nothing there," responded Mrs. Weems. "Fenestra is a
careful man. He leaves no papers lying about."
"It will do no harm to look."
Penny climbed the creaking stairs and was followed by Mrs. Weems.
"This is his room," said the housekeeper, opening a door. "I haven't made
the bed yet."
She busied herself smoothing covers while Penny wandered about. The room
had no rug. It was furnished with an old fashioned dresser, a wash stand
and a bed with a high headboard.
Penny opened the closet door. The hangers were dangling together, without
clothing. Everything had been packed into two suitcases which stood
against the wall.
"I've already inspected the luggage," said Mrs. Weems as the girl bent to
open one of the bags. "You'll find nothing except clothing. I tell you,
Peter Fenestra is a very cautious man."
"I can believe it," agreed Penny. "This room is as bare of evidence as
Mother Hubbard's cupboard."
"Just what do you hope to find?"
"Well, I don't know. What's this?" Penny picked up a sheet of notebook
paper from the dresser.
"Don't get excited over that," laughed Mrs. Weems.
"It's only a grocery list which Fenestra made up. He doesn't trust anyone
to spend his money for him."
"Is this Fenestra's writing?" Penny studied the paper with intense
interest.
"Yes, it is."
"Mrs. Weems, I've seen this writing before!" Penny exclaimed. "I'm almost
certain of it. There's a marked resemblance!"
"A resemblance to what, Penny?"
"Why, to a threatening note I received. I guess I never told you. Someone
left a message on my desk at the newspaper office, warning me to give up
my paper."
"And you think Peter Fenestra left it there?" inquired the housekeeper,
smiling.
"This looks like the same writing."
"Probably you are mistaken, Penny. Why should he have any interest in
your paper?"
"He came to the office one day, questioning me about a story I ran
concerning John Munn. I shall keep this and compare it with the note."
Carefully folding the paper, Penny slipped it into her dress pocket. Mrs.
Weems had finished making the bed and was ready to leave.
"I've learned everything I can for you," she said. "Now I hope you're
willing to let me return home."
"Please stay another day," pleaded Penny. "I feel in my bones that we're
about to make an important discovery."
"Those bones of yours!" complained the housekeeper. "Tell me, how is
Tillie Fellows getting along?"
"Well, she tries hard, but I'll admit Dad doesn't like the arrangement."
"Then I must return. It's nonsense for me to stay here."
Penny was paying no attention to Mrs. Weems' words. She had picked up the
waste paper basket and was examining the contents. There were a few
advertising circulars, an unaddressed envelope and a crumpled ball of
paper. The latter, Penny carefully smoothed.
"Mrs. Weems!" she exclaimed. "Look at this!"
The housekeeper hastened to her side. Curiously, she examined the paper.
It bore no writing, only a crude drawing of an octopus.
"This must be the paper which Anchor Joe left on the doorstep only a few
minutes ago!" cried Penny excitedly.
"You think it may have been intended as a warning to Peter Fenestra?" The
housekeeper regarded the drawing rather dubiously.
"I'm sure of it, Mrs. Weems! Don't you see? The drawing is a copy of the
tattoo which both Anchor Joe and John Munn had on their backs!"
"Yes, it does look the same as Joe's marking," conceded the housekeeper.
"But what does it mean? Why was it sent to Fenestra?"
"I wish I knew."
"One thing is clear. That boatman your father hired is a downright
scamp."
"He's wanted by the government. We know that. But Fenestra may be a
rascal, too. Why should Anchor Joe threaten him unless he's done
something he shouldn't?"
"Why indeed? This is a case for the police, not one for you or me,"
declared Mrs. Weems with finality. "I am ready to leave here whenever you
are. I've decided not to bother giving Fenestra notice."
"You can't go now. You can't!" moaned Penny. "Stay until after Thursday,
at least. I'm positive everything will be cleared up by then."
"Why Thursday?"
"Well, I have a little matter coming up on that day. Besides, I've sent
off a letter which may help solve the mystery. Please, Mrs. Weems, do
this one favor and I'll never ask another."
"Until next time, you mean. But to please you I'll stay until Friday. Not
a day longer. However, I warn you, if I see Anchor Joe prowling about, I
shall summon the sheriff."
"That's all right with me," grinned Penny. "I must skip now before
Fenestra gets back from town. Just keep your eye on him and report to me
if anything unusual happens."
CHAPTER
20
_PICNIC BY MOONLIGHT_
Penny had never found it necessary to explain fully to her father what
had become of Mrs. Weems. She had mentioned rather carelessly that the
housekeeper was helping out at the Fenestra home for a few days, and he
had accepted the substitution of Tillie Fellows without too many
questions.
At breakfast on Wednesday morning, the publisher waited until Tillie had
gone to the kitchen, and then asked in an undertone:
"How much longer is this to continue? When is Mrs. Weems coming home?"
"Friday morning, Dad. Don't you like Tillie's cooking?"
"It's awful," he whispered. "These eggs taste as if they had been fried
in lard."
"They were," chuckled Penny. "Tillie was brought up to be frugal. She
never wastes butter."
The discussion was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of Tillie.
Mr. Parker immediately switched to another subject, that of a barbecue
picnic which he gave each summer to the _Star_ employes. Penny had
forgotten that the outing was scheduled for that night at the cottage.
"I'm glad you reminded me, Dad," she said. "I'll be there with bells to
eat my share of roast beef. Mind if I bring Old Horney?"
"Invite him if you like," replied Mr. Parker. "But no others. This is a
newspaper picnic, not a bread line as you made it last year."
After school that afternoon Penny worked as usual at the _Times_ office.
She was busy figuring advertising space when she glanced up and saw Fred
Clousky standing in the doorway.
"Are--are you busy?" asked the boy diffidently.
"Yes, I am," said Penny with discouraging brevity.
"I don't want to bother you," Fred murmured, "but I was wondering--do you
have a job for me around here? I'd like to work on a real paper. Being
editor of _Chatter_ is okay but you don't get any practical experience."
"Oh, so you want a job?" inquired Penny. Inclined to give him a short
answer, she thought better of it. "Everything considered," she said,
"what you need, Fred, is to learn about different kinds of type. It's so
easy to get name-plates and various headlines mixed!"
Fred kept his gaze on his shoes.
"I have just the job for you," resumed Penny. "You can sort and clean the
type when it's broken out of the page forms. If you do that well, perhaps
you can work up later on."
"When do I start?" Fred asked in a crushed voice.
Penny was surprised for she had expected him to decline such a dirty,
menial job. In a far more friendly tone she directed him to seek Old
Horney who would be found in the composing room.
"Fred isn't so bad after all," she thought after he had gone. "I'll give
him an office job next week."
Penny returned to her work. In need of an extra sheet of paper, she tried
to open the lower drawer of her desk. It was stuck fast. She tugged at it
several times, finally pulling it out entirely. A folded newspaper
clipping dropped to the floor.
Wondering what it might be, she picked it up. The torn sheet, yellow with
age, bore the picture of a young man. The face was vaguely familiar
although the name beneath it read, Matthew Jewel.