Inside the Trunk
Penny instantly halted the car on the driveway, peering in the
direction which her chum indicated.
"I don't see anyone," she insisted. "Perhaps the shadow you saw was
caused by that big tree."
She pointed to a large oak which shaded the rear porch of the Nichols'
home. Its swaying boughs did produce grotesque silhouettes upon the
path near the lilac bushes.
"You may be right," Susan admitted reluctantly. "Only I was almost
positive I saw someone."
"I think your nerves are a tiny bit on edge to-night," Penny laughed.
Even so she was not quite sure Susan was mistaken.
She drove the sedan into the dark garage. As she was preparing to
close the heavy double doors she thought she heard a step on the gravel
path.
"Is that you, Mrs. Gallup?" she called.
There was no answer.
"I _was_ right," Susan whispered tensely. "Someone is prowling about
the grounds."
"There's no one about," Penny maintained after peering carefully
around. "Probably I imagined that I heard footsteps. Come on, let's
go to the house."
It was reassuring to see a light burning in the kitchen. The window
shades had not been drawn and from the outside, Mrs. Gallup could be
observed washing dishes. As the girls came in she greeted them in
obvious relief.
"I'm so glad you're back, Penny. I was beginning to be afraid that
something had happened to you."
"Quite a bit did happen," Penny laughed. "By the way, you haven't seen
anyone prowling about the yard this evening, have you?"
"Why, no, I've been so busy that I've scarcely glanced out the window.
Early this afternoon a tramp stopped at the door for food. After I
gave him a sandwich he went off. I hope he hasn't come back to make
trouble."
"Oh, no," Penny assured her quickly, "I'm sure there's no need for
alarm."
"Then why did you ask?"
Penny was forced to relate what the policeman had told her, although
she realized that the warning would worry the housekeeper.
"Dear me, I don't feel safe with your father gone. To think that so
much has been going on around here and I didn't know a thing about it!
Why, I haven't even locked the doors!"
"I doubt that it will be necessary now," Penny said, peering into the
refrigerator to see what she could find for a belated supper. "Dad
will soon be home anyway."
"I'm going to lock all the doors and windows this minute," Mrs. Gallup
insisted firmly. "With so much silverware in the house, it isn't wise
to take any chance."
Lowering the window blinds in the dining room, the housekeeper went
directly to the buffet, removing a quantity of choice silverware which
had been in the Nichols family for several generations. Leaving the
girls to forage their own supper, she carried the box upstairs,
intending to lock it in her own bureau drawer. Returning again to the
lower floor she scurried about closing doors and slamming down windows.
"Since she's bent upon doing such a thorough job, I suppose I should
help," Penny remarked to her chum. "Finish your supper while I lock
the back door."
"Don't forget to set out the milk bottle before you barricade us in,"
Susan laughed.
Penny picked the bottle up from the kitchen table and crossed the porch
to place it on the step. It took her so long outside that Susan came
to the door to learn what detained her. She was astonished to behold
Penny standing as rigid as a statue, her eyes riveted upon the garage
door.
"What's wrong?" Susan inquired.
"Didn't I close that door when I put the car away?" Penny demanded in a
low tone.
"Why, yes, I'm sure you did. The wind must have blown it open."
Penny shook her head.
"The door has a special catch so I know it couldn't have opened by
itself. Susan, I believe someone has sneaked into the garage since we
left it!"
Susan's eyes dilated with fear. Involuntarily, she took a step
backwards, turning toward the kitchen door.
Penny caught her by the hand.
"Don't tell Mrs. Gallup or she'll go into hysterics. Let's find out if
there really is anyone in the garage before we call the police."
At first Susan hung back, but when she found that Penny was determined
to investigate the garage alone, she reluctantly followed her chum down
the path.
Cautiously, they peeped into the garage. It appeared to be deserted.
"I'll get Dad's flashlight from the sedan pocket," Penny whispered.
She tiptoed across the cement floor. Groping about inside the car she
found the light, but before she could turn it on she was startled to
hear a slight sound overhead.
Penny's heart began to beat a trifle faster. She was almost certain
that someone was hiding in the little room above the garage. In former
years it had been occupied by a chauffeur whom Mr. Nichols employed,
but now that the detective drove his own car it was used only for the
storage of a few old boxes and trunks.
"Don't you dare go up there!" Susan whispered tensely, sensing the
thought in her chum's mind. "It isn't safe."
"It's safe enough if you stand guard here at the door," Penny insisted.
"If anything goes wrong scream for Mrs. Gallup."
Before Susan could stop her she tiptoed across the cement floor and
quietly crept up the stairway leading to the storage room.
Reaching the top step Penny paused to listen. She could hear no
unusual sound, yet a certain intuition warned her that someone was in
the room.
Systematically, she flashed the beam of her light over the walls.
Nothing appeared amiss.
"My imagination is running riot tonight," she thought in disgust.
"There's no one here."
She started toward the stairway, but paused, unable to rid herself of
the conviction that all was not as it should be. Then her light
chanced to focus for an instant upon an old trunk in one corner of the
room. Beside it in a crumpled heap lay an old rug.
From her father Penny had learned to be an unusually keen observer.
She was positive that upon her last visit to the storeroom, the carpet
had covered the trunk, protecting it from dust.
Summoning her courage, she cautiously approached the trunk. She paused
to listen again. Distinctly, she could hear the sound of soft
breathing.
Suddenly she flung back the lid. A man cowered inside.
"Don't make a move," Penny warned coolly, blinding him with the light.
Protected as she was by the darkness, he could not know that she had no
weapon.
"Don't shoot!" he pleaded, stepping from the trunk with hands held
above his head.
It was then that Penny observed that her prisoner was a mere boy. He
did not appear to be more than a year or two older than herself.
"March down the stairs in front of me and don't try any tricks," she
ordered, trying to keep her voice steady.
She had grown a little frightened at her own daring. It appeared
reasonable to suppose that the youth she had captured was the same
crook whom the police had warned her against and yet the boy seemed too
young to be a hardened criminal.
Penny decided upon a bold move.
"Susan, stand guard at the outside door," she directed.
As her chum took the position, Penny reached up and switched on the
garage light.
"I have no weapon," she admitted, knowing that the youth had perceived
the fact instantly. "But it will do you no good to try to escape for
the police are combing the neighborhood."
Her words had the desired effect. Blinking in the unexpected glare of
the light, the young fugitive shrank back against the wall, his face
twisted by fear.
"Do they suspect I'm here?" he questioned. "Have they surrounded the
district?"
"I talked with an officer only a few minutes ago," Penny answered
truthfully. "He advised me that our property was being watched."
She was studying the boy with increasing interest. He was exceedingly
well dressed and while his garments were in need of pressing they
fitted him perfectly, disclosing a fine physique. He had broad
shoulders and powerful muscles. It struck Penny that he looked more
like a football player than a crook. Yet, as she studied his face, she
realized that it lacked character.
"Don't turn me over to the police," the boy begged. "I've done nothing
wrong."
"Then why were you hiding in my garage?"
"It's true the police were chasing me," he admitted reluctantly, "but
they mistook me for someone else."
"If you weren't guilty why did you run?" Penny demanded suspiciously.
"Why didn't you wait and explain?"
"You can't explain to a cop," the boy told her with a scornful curl of
his lip. "You see, I have a juvenile court record--it doesn't amount
to much but the police won't give me a chance. I've been trying to go
straight, but every move I make they watch me."
"Tell me your name."
The boy hesitated, then said quietly:
"Jerry Barrows."
"I mean your real name," Penny smiled.
A telltale flush crept over the youth's face, but he threw back his
head a trifle defiantly.
"It is my real name. I'm no thief either. I admit I've been in a
little trouble before this, but today it wasn't my fault. Another
fellow and myself were standing in a crowd when an old lady let out a
holler that someone had picked her pocketbook. The police came
running. They spotted me right off. I hadn't been near the old lady,
but she was so excited she was ready to identify anyone. When the cops
tried to arrest me on suspicion I took to my heels."
"What sort of juvenile court record do you have?" Penny asked.
"Nothing of consequence. Once I was in a gang that took some apples
from a pushcart. It was done in fun, but the judge put me on probation
on account of it."
Penny occasionally had visited juvenile court sessions and in many
respects the stories she had heard there corresponded to Jerry Barrows'
account of his difficulties. Yet in some ways his tale did not ring
true. Obviously, he was trying to convey the impression that he had
never had a chance and yet he wore expensive clothing. She suspected
too that he had been educated in a school fully as good as the one she
attended.
"I am sorry, but I must turn you over to the police," she told him. "I
don't believe your story. It doesn't hang together."
A strange change came over the boy's face. The last trace of arrogance
left him as he turned pleading eyes upon the two girls.
"I lied about my name," he admitted, "but I did it because I want to
protect my mother. If she learns that I am in trouble again it will
kill her. Please, won't you let me go free?"
Even as the boy spoke, his eyes were roving to the door. It would not
be difficult for him to overpower the two girls and escape if he really
chose.
"If I should let you go will you promise not to get into any more
trouble?" Penny asked suddenly.
The boy nodded.
"I'll find a job and keep straight."
"Would you really work if you had a position?" Penny questioned.
"Would I? Just try me!"
"Then I'm going to turn you loose," she decided. "Come to my father's
office tomorrow at nine o'clock. I'll ask him to help you find a
position."
"Where is his office?" the boy inquired.
"In room 305 of the Leader building. You'll see his name on the door.
Christopher Nichols."
"Nichols, the detective?" the boy questioned uneasily.
"Yes, but you needn't be afraid he'll turn you over to the police.
Wait now, and I'll see if the coast is clear."
Opening the garage door a tiny crack, Penny peered out. As she had
expected there were no officers lingering about the neighborhood.
"It's safe to leave," she informed.
He started away, then paused and offered his hand to Penny.
"Thanks for giving me a break," he told her gratefully. "I really
meant what I said about going straight."
With that he darted through the open door and was lost in the night.