young man. He must have changed his name!"
The two column headline drew her attention.
MATTHEW JEWEL BEGINS TEN YEAR SENTENCE IN NEW YORK PRISON FOR
MISAPPROPRIATION OF BANK FUNDS
The clipping, she noted, had been cut from a New York paper and was dated
twenty years earlier. It reported Matthew Jewel's conviction, following
an admission that he had stolen two thousand dollars belonging to the
Berkley Savings Bank.
Penny studied the picture again. Not the slightest doubt entered her mind
that the young man of the story and Matthew Judson were the same
individual. Evidently the clipping had been saved by the former
publisher, and in some manner had become lodged beneath the drawer.
"I'm sure no one in Riverview ever knew that Judson served a term in
prison," she thought. "He came here years ago with his daughter, and to
all appearances had led an upright life."
After perusing the item again, she returned it to the drawer which she
carefully locked. She knew that the information was of utmost importance.
Was it not possible that she had stumbled upon a motivation for Judson's
strange behavior of the past year? Could not the data contained in the
clipping have provided an unscrupulous person with a basis for blackmail?
"But why should Judson ruin his career rather than face exposure?" she
reflected. "Other men have made mistakes in their youth and started over
again. The truth might have humiliated him, but Riverview people would
have taken a charitable attitude."
Deeply troubled, Penny gathered together her belongings and went in
search of Old Horney. Finding him initiating Fred Clousky in his new
duties, she discreetly invited him to attend the picnic.
"Thank you mightily," responded the pressman, "but I'm not dressed for
it. These pants are so shiny you could use 'em for a mirror."
"Don't you worry about your clothes, Horney. Besides, it will be so dark
no one will notice. Dad gave you a special invitation."
"Did he now?" The old pressman could not hide his pleasure. "Well, if you
think he really wants me, maybe I'll go."
"You wash up while I get the car," Penny urged. "We're rather late."
Within ten minutes, Old Horney met her at the front entrance. His hair
was combed, he wore a frayed coat, and had contrived to polish his shoes.
"Horney," Penny said abruptly as they drove toward the river, "did you
ever hear that Matthew Judson had been in trouble before he gave up his
paper?"
"You mean financial?" the pressman inquired.
"No, I meant of a personal nature. I've been thinking over your theory
that Judson was blackmailed."
"Maybe I oughtn't to have said what I did. It was just my own idea."
"I'm inclined to believe there may be something to it, Horney. Now
supposing that Judson had stolen money or had been in prison--"
"It couldn't have been that," interrupted the pressman. "Why, Judson was
so honest he bent over backwards."
Penny was tempted to tell Horney about the clipping, but refrained from
doing so. However, she was satisfied that employes of the _Morning Press_
had gained no inkling of Mr. Judson's prison record.
The picnic was well under way by the time Penny and the pressman arrived
at the river cottage. A caterer had taken complete charge, and with his
crew of helpers, prepared to serve nearly two hundred boisterous, hungry
newspaper employes.
Always a favorite, Penny immediately was surrounded by a group of
friends. Assured that Horney had found welcome with pressmen
acquaintances, she entered wholeheartedly into the frivolity.
Jerry Livingston, frowning away all other young men, became her escort
for the evening. After supper had been served, he guided her firmly away
from the group.
"We don't want to hear any speeches," he said. "Let's go look at the
moon."
"Can't we see it here?" countered Penny.
"A moon to be appreciated properly must be seen from a sandy beach,"
chuckled Jerry. "Preferably from a nice comfortable shoulder."
Breaking away, Penny raced ahead of him, along the beach to the
suspension bridge. She was halfway across when he overtook her, rocking
it so violently that she had to cling to him for support.
"Stop that, Jerry Livingston! You'll break the bridge!"
"Then don't try to run away from me. Will you let me show you the moon?"
"No, I know you, Jerry. You show it to all the girls."
"If I do, it's just as a rehearsal. You see, Penny, I've hoped that
someday I might get a chance to show it to you."
"What a line you have," laughed Penny. "But I won't play. As a
moon-shower your technique is terrible. Better practice some more."
Jerry chuckled and slipping his hand in hers, led her on across the
bridge.
"If you won't look at the moon," he said, "then take a squint at Old Man
River."
"I believe I prefer the moon after all," Penny returned, raising her eyes
to the disc of light sailing serenely through the star-pricked sky. "It
_is_ beautiful."
Her reverie was broken by Jerry's voice. His hand tightened on her own.
"Penny!" he exclaimed. "Look over there!"
Farther down the river in an open space, the forms of two struggling men
were silhouetted in the moonlight.
"Oh, Jerry," Penny cried, "they're fighting!"
"And to the death," added Jerry grimly. "Come on, before it's too late!"
CHAPTER
21
_ELLIS SAAL'S CUSTOMER_
Penny followed the reporter, quickly overtaking him. Their pounding
footsteps were heard by the two men who abruptly ceased their desperate
struggles. Observing the pair, they turned and fled, one toward the
river, the other toward the road.
"Well, we broke that up in a hurry!" exclaimed Jerry. "Wonder what made
them run?"
"They must have been afraid we would recognize them," answered Penny.
"Didn't you think that one man looked like Peter Fenestra?"
"I never have seen him to my knowledge. He was the fellow who ran along
the river?"
"No, the other. Fenestra's farmhouse is across the fields." Penny pointed
toward a light shining dimly from a window.
"They've both disappeared now," Jerry commented, moving to the river
bank. "Wonder how the row started anyway?"
"Fenestra has been threatened," revealed Penny. "Yesterday Anchor Joe
left a drawing of an octopus on his doorstep."
"What was the idea?"
"It must have been intended as a warning of some sort. Anchor Joe, and
other men, too, keep watch of the house."
"How did you learn that, Penny?"
"I've made observations. Besides, Tillie Fellows, who worked there, told
me what she had seen. Fenestra is afraid for his life."
"Maybe it was Anchor Joe who attacked him tonight."
"It may have been. I wish we could have seen those men at close range."
Penny walked on to the clearing where the pair had fought. Grass had been
beaten down over a large area, indicating that the struggle had not been
a brief one. A shiny object gleamed in the moonlight. Penny picked it up,
then called softly to Jerry who had remained by the river bank.
"What is it?" he asked, coming quickly to her side.
"I've found a key, Jerry! It was lying here on the ground."
"One of the men must have lost it from his pocket."
"This may have been what they were fighting over, Jerry!"
"What makes you think that?"
"Doesn't the key look as if it belonged to a padlock?"
"Yes, it does, Penny."
"Then I am convinced this key will fit the lock on Peter Fenestra's storm
cellar! His attacker was trying to get it away from him!"
"Just a minute," remonstrated Jerry. "You're traveling too fast for me.
Explain the storm cellar part."
"You'll promise not to use anything I tell you for the _Star_?"
"That's fair enough."
Satisfied that Jerry would keep his promise, Penny told him everything
she had learned at the Fenestra farm. The reporter asked many questions
about the storm cave.
"So you believe this key may unlock the door?" he mused.
"I'd like to try it, at least."
"Now?"
"There never will be a better time. Mrs. Weems thinks that Fenestra is
getting ready to leave Riverview."
Jerry hesitated only briefly. "All right, I'm with you," he said. "Lead
the way."
They were leaving the river when both were startled to hear the
suspension bridge creak beneath human weight. As they paused, listening,
a familiar voice called:
"Jerry! Hey, Jerry!"
"Here!" responded the reporter.
A figure emerged from the trees, and they recognized Salt Sommers, the
_Star_ photographer.
"Say, I've been lookin' everywhere for you," he complained. "You're
wanted back in Riverview."
"What is this, a gag?" Jerry asked suspiciously.
"It's no gag. The Fulton Powder Company just blew up. Joe, and Gus, and
Philips are already on their way. DeWitt sent me to get you."
"The Fulton Powder Plant!" Jerry exclaimed, falling into step with Salt.
"That's a big story!"
"It sure is, and we're late! Get a move on, brother."
Jerry glanced toward Penny, remembering that she too had a "story" to be
covered.
"We'll go to Fenestra's place tomorrow," he promised hurriedly.
Knowing that Penny might try to investigate the cave alone, he hooked his
arm through hers, pulling her along.
"Back you go to camp," he said. "This is no place for a little girl at
night."
Penny's protests went unheeded. Jerry and Salt marched her between them
to the cottage. Unceremoniously turning her over to her father, they
leaped into a press car, and were gone.
Hours later the picnic came to an end. Riding home with her father after
taking Horney to the _Times_ building, Penny was startled to observe a
light in an upstairs window of the Parker house.
"Why, that's in Mrs. Weems' room!" she exclaimed. "She can't be home!"
Penny was mistaken. Upon hastening upstairs to investigate, she was met
at the bedroom door by the housekeeper.
"Why, Mrs. Weems! I thought you intended to stay on the farm until
tomorrow!"
"I decided a few hours would make no difference. Penny, the place was
unbearable."
"How did you get home?"
"By taxicab."
"Oh, I wish you had stayed one day longer," sighed Penny. "Did you learn
anything since I saw you last?"
"Nothing of value. Fenestra came home a short time before I left. He was
in a dreadful temper."
"Had he been in a fight?" Penny asked quickly.
"There was a black and blue mark across his cheek."
"Then I was right!" exclaimed Penny triumphantly. "I wish I knew for
certain who attacked him."
Questioned by Mrs. Weems, she described the scene witnessed at the river,
and proudly displayed the key.
"Why, it does resemble one I've seen Fenestra use," declared the
housekeeper.
"Then it must unlock the cave! Tomorrow I'll go there and find out!"
"You'll do no such thing," replied Mrs. Weems firmly. "That is, not
without your father's permission."
"But you know Dad won't be in favor of it," groaned Penny. "I simply must
go there and get a scoop for the _Weekly_."
"No, Penny, you need to be protected from your own recklessness. Your
father must be consulted before you visit the farm again."
"Either he'll say I can't go, or if he thinks there's anything to the
story, he'll turn it over to a _Star_ reporter. Whichever he does, I
lose."
"Penny, I am in no mood to listen to your pleadings," Mrs. Weems said
wearily. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go to bed."
Grumbling at the decision, Penny went to her own room. She did not feel
equal to a spirited discussion with her father that night.
"Here, I'm on the verge of solving a great mystery," she grieved.
"Perhaps the most stupendous of my life! And now I'm told I must stay
away from Fenestra's farm. It's enough to turn my hair gray."
Penny overslept the next morning, barely awakening in time to reach
school by nine o'clock. A surprise oral history quiz caught her
completely unprepared. She missed three questions in succession, and was
told that she must remain after school for a special study session.
Released at four-thirty, Penny hastened to the _Star_ office. Neither her
father nor Jerry were there, nor could anyone tell her when they would
return. Discouraged, she sought Louise who as usual was working at the
_Times_ plant.
"Such luck as I am having," Penny complained. "Mrs. Weems says I can't go
to Fenestra's farm without Dad's permission, and he's hiding from me."
"I wish you would forget that storm cave and the octopus tattoo," said
Louise unsympathetically. "Maybe then we could get out another issue of
this old paper."
Penny gazed at her rather queerly. "You're sick of it, aren't you?" she
asked.
"No," Louise denied, "it's been fun, and we've learned a lot. But there's
so much work. It never ends."
"It will soon," replied Penny quietly. "Our advertisers are dropping off
one by one. Sales are falling, too."
"We always can quit," said Louise cheerfully.
"No, we can't," Penny's mouth drew into a tight line. "Fred Clousky would
taunt me to my dying day. I'll never close the plant except in a blaze of
journalistic glory!"
"But you just said we're failing--"
"What the _Weekly_ needs and must have is a tremendous story! Somehow I'm
going to get it!"
"You're nothing if not persistent," said Louise admiringly. "Oh, before I
forget it, Old Horney has been up here several times inquiring for you."
"More bad news I suppose."
"He didn't say why he wished to talk with you. I thought he seemed rather
disturbed, though."
"I'll see what he wants."
Penny sought Horney in the composing department and pressroom, and even
ventured into the basement. The old man was not to be found. Concluding
that he had left the building, she gave up the search.
She helped Louise read proof until six o'clock, and then telephoned home
to inquire if her father were there. Learning from Mrs. Weems that he did
not expect to come until later, she decided to remain downtown for her
own dinner.
"Why don't you stay with me, Lou?" she invited. "Afterwards, I'll take
you on a little adventure."
"Not to Fenestra's?" her chum demanded suspiciously.
"Unfortunately, no. I shall do a bit of spade work by watching Ellis
Saal's shop. This is Thursday, you know."
"It will be a long, tedious wait."
"I'll consider it well worth the time if I learn the identity of Saal's
customer. You don't care to come?"
"On the contrary, I do. I'll telephone Mother."
The girls dined at a cafe not far from the _Weekly Times_ and soon
thereafter stationed themselves a half block from Ellis Saal's shop. An
hour elapsed. Several times they became hopeful as persons paused to gaze
at the exhibits in the show window, but no one entered. A cold wind made
their vigil increasingly uncomfortable.
"If we don't get action in another fifteen minutes I am going home,"
chattered Louise.
A clock struck eight-thirty. Five minutes later Penny observed a familiar
figure coming briskly down the street. She touched her chum's arm.
"It's Peter Fenestra," Louise murmured. "You don't think he's the one?"
"We'll soon see."
Fenestra was too far away to notice the girls. As they watched, he walked
to the doorway of Ellis Saal's shop. Quickly he glanced about as if to
ascertain that the street was deserted. Then he slipped into the shop,
closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER
22
_GHOSTS OF THE PAST_
"Peter Fenestra," murmured Louise. "Can there be any doubt that he is the
customer Ellis Saal meant?"
"Not in my opinion," rejoined Penny.
"Isn't it possible that he went into the shop to have a photograph taken,
or for some other reason?"
"Possible but not probable. No, Lou, we should have guessed long ago that
Fenestra is an ex-sailor. It's all becoming clear now."
"Then I wish you would explain to me."
"Don't you see? Anchor Joe, John Munn, Fenestra, and perhaps a fourth man
must have been good friends at one time. They had their tattoos with that
phrase, _All for one, one for all_, pricked on their backs. Then Fenestra
must have done something which made the others angry. They followed him
here to get even with him."
"What makes you think that?" Louise asked dubiously.
"Anchor Joe gave us a good broad hint. Then we know that he and at least
one other man have kept watch of the Fenestra farm."
"What can the man have done to offend them?"
"I can't guess that part," admitted Penny. "Another thing, why should
Fenestra decide to have his octopus tattoo removed?"
"And who pushed John Munn off the bridge?" Louise added. "We're as much
in the dark as ever."
"Not quite," amended Penny. "I feel that if only we could get into that
storm cave, we might learn the answer to some of our questions."
"You're not thinking of investigating it tonight?"
Penny shook her head. "I can't without Dad's permission. It's a pity,
too, because I know a big story is awaiting me, if only I could go out
there and get it."
"I'm sure of one thing. We'll never dare print a word against Fenestra
without absolute proof."
"No," agreed Penny, her eyebrows knitting in a frown, "it would lead to
legal trouble."
Deciding that nothing more could be learned by waiting, the girls
returned to the parked car. Motoring toward Louise's home, they discussed
various angles of the baffling case. Confronting them always was the fact
that Peter Fenestra's reputation in Riverview was excellent, while Anchor
Joe and John Munn appeared to be persons of questionable character.
"You never learned why Joe was wanted by the authorities?" Louise
inquired, alighting at her doorstep.
"No, I haven't seen Mr. Moyer since that day at the cottage. I'm
reasonably sure Joe is still at liberty."
"He may be the one at the bottom of all the trouble," declared Louise.
"We tend to suspect Fenestra of evil doing because we dislike him so
heartily."
"That's so, Lou. The best way is to have no opinions and wait for facts.
But waiting wears me to a frazzle!"
After parting from her chum, Penny did not drive home. Instead, she
turned into Drexel Boulevard, and presently was ringing the doorbell of
the Judson home.
The door was opened by Matthew Judson. Penny had not expected to meet the
former publisher. Somewhat confusedly she inquired for Pauletta.
"My daughter isn't here now," replied Mr. Judson. "I expect her home
within a few minutes. Won't you wait?"
"No, thank you," Penny declined. "I'll drop in some other time."
"I wish you would stay," urged Mr. Judson. "I find an empty house so
depressing."
Penny hesitated, and then followed the former publisher to the living
room. Mr. Judson had been reading the newspaper. He swept it from a chair
so that the girl could sit opposite him.
"Tell me how you are getting on with your newspaper," he urged in a
friendly tone.
Penny talked entertainingly, relating the various difficulties which
beset a young publisher.
"I've even received threatening notes," she revealed. "Or rather, one. I
think it was left on my desk by a man named Peter Fenestra."
"Fenestra?" Mr. Judson's face darkened.
"Yes," answered Penny, watching the publisher attentively. "Do you know
him?"
"Only by reputation. He's a scoundrel!" His voice grew quite intense.
"Can you tell me anything definite against him?"
"No--no, I can't. I only advise you to have nothing whatsoever to do with
him."
The telephone rang and Mr. Judson arose to answer it. During his absence,
Penny thought swiftly. Dared she mention the clipping which she had found
in the publisher's desk? She did not wish to antagonize him, yet there
were many questions she longed to ask.
Mr. Judson presently returned. Penny decided to risk his anger.
Casually she introduced the subject by mentioning that she was using Mr.
Judson's former office and desk as her own.
"Yesterday I came upon a clipping caught beneath the lower drawer," she
said quietly. "It concerned a man named Matthew Jewel. He bore a striking
resemblance to you."
The publisher raised his eyes to stare intently at Penny. His hands
gripped the chair arms so hard that the knuckles became a bluish-white.
Splotches of red appeared on his forehead.
"Matthew Jewel?" he murmured at last.
"Yes, Mr. Judson, but you have nothing to fear from me. I shall not
expose you."
"Then you know?"
"The likeness was unmistakable. I read the clipping, too."
The publisher arose, nervously walking to the fireplace. His hands
trembled as he fingered an ornament on the shelf.
"I searched everywhere for that clipping when I cleaned out my desk," he
mumbled. "I've gone through every imaginable torture fearing it would be
found. And now I am to be exposed!"
"But I assure you I have no intention of telling anyone," said Penny
earnestly. "Your past is your own."
"A man's past never is his own," responded Mr. Judson bitterly.
"I shouldn't have mentioned it. I hoped I might be able to help you."
"You haven't told Pauletta?"
"No, nor any other person."
Mr. Judson's tenseness relaxed slightly. He paced across the room and
back, then faced Penny.
"All my life," he said very quietly, "I have tried to spare Pauletta the
knowledge that her father was--a convict. I haven't much to offer, but
I'll give anything within reason to keep the story out of the paper."
"You don't understand," interrupted Penny. "I have no intention of
printing the information, or of telling anyone. I want nothing from you.
But I do wish you would tell me the true story. I am sure there were
extenuating circumstances."
Mr. Judson sagged into an armchair. "None," he said. "None whatsoever. I
used money which did not belong to me. My wife was desperately sick at
the time and I wanted her to have the care of specialists. She died while
I was serving my sentence."
"Why, you did have a reason for taking the money," said Penny kindly.
"You should have been granted a pardon."
"A theft is a theft. When I left prison, I made a new start here, and
devoted myself to Pauletta who was then a little girl."
"How old was she?" inquired Penny.
Mr. Judson gave no indication that he heard the question. He resumed:
"The truth had been kept from Pauletta. She believes that I was abroad
during those years I spent in prison. Here in Riverview I prospered,
people were kind to me. I made money and made it honestly. The future was
very bright until a year ago."
"Then you gave up your newspaper," commented Penny. "Why?"
"Can't you guess?"
"Blackmail?"
Mr. Judson nodded. "One day a man came to me, a man I had known in
prison. He threatened to expose me unless I paid him a large sum of
money."
"And you agreed?"
"I did."
"Wasn't that rather foolish? People would have been charitable if you had
admitted the truth."
"I considered it from every angle, particularly from Pauletta's
standpoint. I gave the man what he asked, although it cost me the
_Morning Press_. But that was not the end."
"He still bothers you?"
"Yes, I'll pay as long as I have a penny. I've thought of taking Pauletta
and going away, but he would trace me."
"Who is the man, Mr. Judson?"
"I can't tell you."
"Is it either Anchor Joe Landa or Peter Fenestra?"
Mr. Judson's face did not alter. "I can't tell you," he repeated.
"I wish you would talk to Dad," Penny said after a moment. "He might be
able to help you."
"No," returned Mr. Judson, growing agitated again, "you gave your promise
that you would not tell."
"Of course, I'll keep it," responded Penny. "It does seem to me, though,
that the easiest thing would be to admit the truth and be rid of the man
who robs you. Pauletta would understand."
Mr. Judson shook his head. "I have made my decision," he said. "As long
as I can, I shall abide by it."
There was nothing Penny could do but bid Mr. Judson good evening and
leave the house. His secret troubled her. If he had told her the entire
truth, it seemed very foolish of him to meet the demands of a
blackmailer.
"I wonder if Mr. Judson did tell me everything?" she mused. "I had a
feeling that he was keeping something back."
The car rolled into the driveway of the Parker home. As Penny jumped out
to open the garage doors, a man, who had been sitting on the back
doorstep, arose. His face was hidden, but she knew it was not her father.
"Who is it?" she called uneasily.
The voice was reassuring. "It's Horney, Miss Penny. I've been waitin' for
you."
"What brings you here?" she asked, hurrying to meet him. "I hope nothing
bad has happened at the _Times_."
"Everything's fine there. I've got a letter I thought you would want to
see right away. Found it tonight when I was sweeping up. It answers a lot
of questions you've been askin'."
Penny took the paper from Old Horney's gnarled hand. "Not about Matthew
Judson?" she asked.
"Read it and you'll see," encouraged the pressman. "Judson was
blackmailed just as I always thought. And by the man who signed this
letter."
CHAPTER
23
_PENNY'S PLIGHT_