A Threat
Betty Davis wheeled quickly about. She laughed to cover her confusion.
"Why, Miss Nichols! How you startled me!"
"I didn't mean to do that," Penny smiled. "If you're on your way home,
can't I take you there in my car?"
The girl hesitated, and involuntarily, her eyes wandered toward the
cafe. Then she stepped into the car.
"It's very kind of you to take me home, Miss Nichols. I'm not out
alone this late in the evening as a rule, but something important came
up. I searching for my brother."
"Jimmie?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"I think your father mentioned his name."
"He didn't say anything about----" Betty broke off, finishing with an
embarrassed laugh: "but then I know he didn't."
"Your father only mentioned that he had a son by that name," Penny
said, eyeing her companion curiously.
"Jimmie is a good boy but he's caused father a great deal of worry,"
Betty added, feeling that some explanation was required. "Lately he's
fallen in with bad companions."
"That is a pity," Penny murmured. "You mentioned that you were looking
for him. Can't I help you?"
"Oh, no," Betty told her hastily, "I don't think I'll bother after all."
Penny permitted the matter to drop but she was not mistaken in
suspecting that the reason her companion had decided to give up the
search was because she already had located her brother at the cafe.
"Won't you come in for a few minutes?" Betty urged when the car stopped
at her door. "Father isn't due home until late tonight and I'm all
alone."
"I might stop a little while," Penny agreed.
Despite Betty's somewhat queer actions, she had liked the girl from the
very first, and was eager to become better acquainted.
The Davis home was modestly furnished, yet with excellent taste. Penny
could not refrain from referring to the clever color scheme which had
been carried out so successfully in the living room.
"I'm glad you like it," Betty smiled. "You see, I'm studying to be an
interior decorator."
"Why, how interesting."
"I attend night school," Betty explained. "Or rather I did. Just now
Father is a little pressed for money so I've given it up for a few
months."
"I hope you'll be able to go on with it again."
"Yes, so do I, for it's the one ambition of my life. I think after
Jimmie is a little older it will be easier. Just now he's at the age
where he feels he must have fine clothes and plenty of spending money."
"Perhaps you're too indulgent a sister," Penny smiled.
"Jimmie is only a year younger than I," Betty explained, "but since
Mother died five years ago, I've always felt responsible for him.
Lately I've been terribly worried."
"On account of the company he keeps?"
"Yes, that and other things." Betty arose and nervously crossed over
to the fireplace. "I don't mean to unburden myself upon you, but
lately Jimmie has been doing wild things. Father doesn't half suspect
the truth. I'm half sick with trying to decide if I should tell him or
not."
"Probably it would relieve your mind if you did," Penny advised kindly.
"Yes, but Father has always taken such pride in Jimmie. I can't bear
to hurt him."
"Perhaps he could bring your brother to his senses."
"I'm afraid it may be almost too late. Jimmie is so headstrong. He
won't listen to anyone. He's changed so much the last few months."
"It seems to me that your father should know the truth," Penny said
quietly.
Betty Davis' face had grown slightly pale.
"I realize I should tell him," she acknowledged, "but I can't. There's
a special reason why--don't ask me to explain." Abruptly, she tried to
change the subject, saying lightly: "My brother is very handsome, I
think. Would you care to see his photograph?"
"Indeed I would," Penny returned politely.
She waited while Betty went into an adjoining room after it. As the
girl returned, a car was driving slowly past the house.
"That must be Father," Betty declared, moving toward the window.
Penny heard the automobile halt at the curbing. The next instant a
hard object crashed through the windowpane, dropping with a thud at
Betty's feet. Almost by a miracle she had escaped being struck by the
flying splinters of glass.
Penny sprang to her feet, rushing to the door. She caught only a
fleeting glimpse of the retreating car.
Betty was staring at a piece of paper which lay upon the carpet. It
had been wrapped around a small stone.
"You read it," she begged Penny. "I'm afraid."
Penny reached down and picked it up. The message had been printed on
cheap brown wrapping paper. It bore the warning:
"JEROME DAVIS, THIS IS THE LAST
WARNING YOU WILL RECEIVE FROM US.
WE GIVE YOU TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO
CHANGE YOUR MIND."
"It's a threat from the Molberg gang!" Betty declared tensely as Penny
finished reading the message aloud. "Oh, I'll never feel easy again
until every member of that outfit has been placed behind bars! What do
you think they will do when Father defies them?"
"Probably nothing," Penny comforted. "Most anonymous notes are sent by
cowards and the threats seldom carried out. At least Dad doesn't
regard them very seriously. He's been threatened by the Molberg gang
too."
"And have they made no attempt to harm him?" Betty asked.
"Not to my knowledge. Dad seems more than able to look after himself,
and I'm certain your father knows how to protect himself too."
"He should," Betty admitted. "He's one of the best marksmen on the
police force."
"Then I think Rap Molberg is the one who should be on his guard," Penny
smiled.
By making light of the threatening note she tried to relieve Betty of
anxiety. Her efforts were not very successful. When she left the
house a half hour later the girl was still excited and overwrought.
Not until Penny was nearly home did it occur to her that she had
forgotten to look at the photograph of Jimmie Davis.
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," she thought.
As she drove the roadster into the garage, Mrs. Gallup came down the
path to meet her.
"I'm sorry to be so late," Penny said quickly before the housekeeper
could take her to task. "A million and one things detained me. Dad's
home, I suppose?"
"No, he isn't. But someone has been trying to get you on the telephone
for the past hour."
"Probably it was Dad."
"It may have been, but it didn't sound like his voice. Listen, isn't
that the phone now?"
They could hear the bell ringing inside the house. Penny ran to answer
it. As she took down the receiver, she was greeted by a masculine
voice. But it was not the detective who had telephoned.
"Is this Miss Nichols?" she was asked.
"Yes," Penny returned quietly, aware from the other's tone that she
must prepare herself for bad news.
"Don't be alarmed, Miss Nichols, but your father has been hurt."
"Oh! Badly?"
"We're not sure yet. He is still unconscious. Can you come at once?"
"Yes, yes, of course! Which hospital?"
"He has been taken to a private home."
"Then tell me how to get there."
"It won't be necessary. A taxi has already been sent for you. It
should be there by this time."
"I'll be waiting," Penny promised.
She hung up the receiver and turned to the housekeeper who was hovering
anxiously at her elbow.
"Dad's been hurt," she said tersely to hide her emotion. "I don't know
how badly for I couldn't learn the details. I must go to him at once."
"Oh, you poor thing," Mrs. Gallup swept the trembling girl into her
arms.
They clung to one another for an instant, then Penny resolutely brushed
away her tears.
"It probably isn't as bad as we fear," she said hopefully.
Catching up her pocketbook from the table, she hurried out upon the
porch to wait for the taxicab.