"But how can I reach him?"
"Didn't he leave an address at the office?"
"I don't think so."
"Then there's no way to reach him." Exhausted from so much talking,
DeWitt fell silent. At length however, he aroused himself and asked:
"Have you tried your father's safe?"
"For Jerry's address?"
"No, the names of the tire-theft gang. If the police had something to
work on--"
"Dad took a lot of papers out just before he started for the Prosecutor's
office," Penny replied thoughtfully. "But some of the evidence may have
been left. It's worth investigating."
The nurse returned to the room with a vase for the flowers.
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to remain much longer," she said
regretfully.
As she arose to go, Penny remembered to deliver Old Charley's message.
"How's everything at the office?" Mr. DeWitt asked. "Who's in charge?"
"Harley Schirr."
Mr. DeWitt's forehead wrinkled. "Now I know I've got to roll out of
here!" he declared. "Things will be in a nice state by the time I get
back."
Penny did not wish to worry him. "Oh, everything will go along," she
soothed. "Mr. Schirr is very efficient in his methods."
"And opinionated," muttered DeWitt. "Oh, well, I'll be back on the job in
ten days."
Penny did not disillusion him. Saying goodbye, she returned to the
newspaper office. Pausing at the downstairs advertising department, she
talked to Bud Corbin, a close friend of Jerry's.
"This is the only address Jerry gave me," Mr. Corbin said, taking a card
from his billfold. "A wire might reach him. But there's a good chance it
won't. When he left here, he wasn't sure he'd stop at Elk Horn Lodge."
Grateful for the address, Penny composed a telegram which the advertising
man offered to send for her. In the message she not only told of her
father's strange disappearance, but asked for a complete duplication of
material lost in the portfolio.
"At least I've started the ball rolling," she thought, with renewed hope
in her efforts. "I believe Jerry can help if only he gets the wire."
Penny had not forgotten Mr. DeWitt's suggestion that some evidence
against the tire-theft gang might be found in Mr. Parker's safe.
"I hate to open it while Dad is away," she reflected. "Still, I know the
combination, and I'm sure he would want me to do it."
To brave Harley Schirr a second time was a duty not to Penny's liking.
She debated waiting until after four o'clock when the editor doubtless
would leave the building. But time was precious and she could not afford
to wait.
"What am I, a coward?" she prodded herself. "Why should I be afraid of
Harley Schirr? When Dad gets back on the job, he'll bounce him back where
he belongs."
Penny's reappearance in the newsroom created a slight stir. However, no
one spoke to her as she walked straight to her father's office. The door
was closed.
"Mr. Schirr isn't in conference?" she asked one of the copy readers.
"No, just go right on in," the man returned carelessly.
Without knocking, Penny opened the door. On the threshold, she paused,
startled. Harley Schirr was down on his knees in front of the open safe.
Evidently he had been going through Mr. Parker's private papers in
systematic fashion for he was circled by little piles of manila
envelopes.
Mr. Schirr was even more startled than Penny. He sprang to his feet, the
picture of guilt. Then, recovering his poise, he scowled and demanded:
"Here again?"
Penny carefully closed the office door before she spoke. Then her words
were terse.
"Mr. Schirr, kindly explain what you are doing in my father's safe."
"Looking for information about the tire-theft gang."
"A story you say the _Star_ never should print."
"That's neither here nor there." A deep flush had crept over Schirr's
cheeks but his manner remained confident. "As editor I have to know
what's going on."
"Who gave you permission to open the safe?"
"You forget that I am editor here, Miss Parker."
"At least I've been reminded of it enough times," Penny retorted. "How
did you learn the combination?"
"I've known it."
"You saw the numbers written on Dad's desk," Penny accused.
Mr. Schirr did not deny the charge. Turning his back, he started to
remove a rubber band from a small stack of yellowed letters. The act
infuriated Penny, for she recognized the packet. Years before, the
letters had been written by her own mother, and Mr. Parker always had
treasured them.
"Don't you touch those!" she cried, darting forward. "They're personal."
Snatching the packet from Mr. Schirr, she gathered up the other papers
and envelopes from the floor. Thrusting everything into the safe, she
closed and locked the door.
"Well!" commented the editor scathingly.
"You're through here!" said Penny, facing him with blazing eyes. "Do you
understand? I'm discharging you."
Mr. Schirr looked stunned. Then he laughed unpleasantly.
"So _you're_ discharging me," he mocked. "By what right may I ask?"
"This is my father's plant."
"Which doesn't necessarily make you the editor or the owner, Miss
Penelope Parker. You're a minor as well as a nuisance. If your father
proves to be dead, the court will step in--"
"Get out!" cried Penny, fighting to keep back the tears. "You don't care
about Dad, or anything but your own selfish interests!"
"Now you're hysterical."
Penny's anger subsided, to be replaced by a cool determination that
Harley Schirr should not remain in charge of the _Star_ another hour.
"I meant just what I said," she told him quietly. "Please go."
Schirr smiled grimly. Seating himself at the desk, his eyes challenged
hers.
"I remain as editor here," he announced. "If you wish to contest my
right, take your case to court. In the meantime, keep out of my private
office."
CHAPTER
10
_TALE OF A GHOST_
Beaten and close to tears, Penny stumbled out of Harley Schirr's office.
As she paused just beyond the closed door, every eye in the newsroom
focused upon her. Salt Sommers, camera box slung over his shoulder, went
over and spoke to her.
"Penny, we all heard that row. If you say the word, we'll walk out of
here in a body."
Penny smiled, touched by the expression of loyalty. "That would do no
good," she replied. "Thanks just the same."
"We're through taking orders from Schirr!" Salt went on. "He always has
been a pain in the neck, and now that he has authority, there's no
holding him down. How about it, boys?"
A chorus of approval greeted his words. One of the reporters picked up a
paper weight and would have hurled it against the closed door, had not
another restrained him.
"I'm sure Dad would want everyone to carry on," Penny said quietly. "The
paper must be published the same as always."
"We could do our work and do it well, if Schirr would just leave us
alone," growled one of the copy readers.
"That's right!" added another. "Why don't you take over, Penny?"
"Mr. Schirr just reminded me that I'm not the editor. I know nothing
about running a newspaper."
"How about the time you ran the High School weekly?" Salt reminded her.
"Why, you did a bang up job of it, and uncovered _The Secret Pact_ story
to boot! Don't try to tell us you don't know how to run a newspaper!"
"A weekly high school sheet and the _Star_ are two different
propositions."
"But your father has a fine organization here," Salt argued. "If Schirr
can be kept from breaking it up, everything will go along. The boys all
know their jobs."
Penny's eyes began to sparkle. But she said: "I don't see how I could
take over, much as I would like to do it. Schirr has staked out rights in
Dad's office and nothing will move him short of a court order."
"You don't need a fancy office to run a paper," Salt grinned. "We'll just
take our orders from you. Schirr can sit until he's had enough of it."
Penny gazed at the eager, loyal faces about her. Nearly all of the men
were old employees, personally trained by her father and Mr. DeWitt. She
knew she could depend on them.
"We'll do it!" she exclaimed suddenly. "As your new editor, I wish to
issue my first order. Please, let's not publish any more sensational
stories about Dad's disappearance."
"Okay Chief," grinned one of the desk men. "That suits us all fine."
Penny was given a seat of honor at the slot of the circular copy desk.
There she was able to read and pass upon every story which flowed from
the typewriters of the various reporters. With the courteous help of one
of the deskmen, she remade the front page of the noon edition. A
particularly sensational story about Mr. Parker, prepared earlier in the
day, was promptly "busted."
Penny found her new duties exacting, but surprisingly easy. Over the
years it was astonishing how much she had learned about the workings of a
newspaper plant. At different times she had served as reporter, society
editor and special feature writer. As for the editorial policy of the
_Star_, she was thoroughly familiar with it, for her father frequently
aired his views at home.
Shortly after the noon edition rolled from the press, the buzzer in Mr.
Schirr's office sounded. Mr. Parker's private secretary did not answer.
The buzzer kept on for nearly five minutes. Then the door was flung open.
"What the blazes is the matter with everyone?" Schirr shouted.
His gaze fastened upon Penny at the copy desk.
"Meet our new editor, Mr. Schirr," said Salt, who had that moment come
out of the camera room.
Schirr ignored Penny. Snatching up one of the noon editions, still fresh
with wet ink, he glanced at the front page. His eyes flashed.
"Eckert," he said to the head copy man, "come into my office. I want to
talk to you."
"Oh, sure," said Eckert, but he did not follow Schirr into the adjoining
room.
Soon the ex-editor came storming out to learn what was wrong. This time
his expression was baffled.
"Mr. Eckert," he said with exaggerated politeness. "Will you please step
into my office?"
"Sorry," replied the copy reader. "You may as well know right now that
you're not giving the orders around here!"
"We'll see about that!" cried Schirr.
Darting to one of the speaking tubes, he called the foreman of the press
room.
"Schirr talking!" he said curtly. "Stop the presses! Kill that noon
edition! We're making over the front page!"
"Can't hear you," was the reply, for word had been passed to the men in
the pressroom. "Louder!"
Schirr shouted until he was nearly hoarse. Then suddenly conscious that
he was making a spectacle of himself, he slammed into his office. A
minute later he reappeared, hat jammed low over his eyes.
"This is a very clever scheme, Miss Parker," he said, facing her. "Well,
it won't work. I'm leaving, but I'll be back. With a lawyer!"
He strode from the newsroom, banging the door so hard the glass rattled.
"Don't worry about that egg," Salt advised Penny. "He's mostly bluff."
"I think he does mean to get a court order," she returned soberly.
"He may try," Salt shrugged. "We can handle him."
Following Schirr's departure, everything moved smoothly at the _Star_
plant. One edition after another rolled from the presses. Penny was kept
busy, and frequently she was worried and in doubt. Nevertheless, everyone
made the way easy for her, and as the day wore on she gained confidence.
Throughout the afternoon, news stories kept pouring into the _Star_
office, but no encouraging information came in regard to Mr. Parker.
Several times Penny called the police station and also talked with Mrs.
Weems. The housekeeper, fearful that the girl would become ill, insisted
upon bringing a hot evening meal to the office.
"Penny, you've been here all day," she chided anxiously. "You must come
home with me."
"I can't just yet," Penny replied. "There's too much to do. By tomorrow,
if Schirr doesn't make trouble, things will smooth out."
"You're working so hard you'll be sick abed!"
"I want to work," Penny said grimly. "It keeps me from thinking. Anyway,
Dad would want me to do it."
Mrs. Weems sighed as she gathered up the lunch basket and thermos bottle.
Penny barely had tasted the food.
"When will you be home?" the housekeeper asked.
"I can't say exactly. After the night editions are out. Don't sit up for
me."
"You know I couldn't go to bed until you are home," Mrs. Weems responded.
"You'll take a taxi?"
"Of course," promised Penny.
After the housekeeper had gone, she plunged into her duties once more.
With the force short of two men, DeWitt and Schirr, there really was too
much work for the desk men to do unassisted. Penny wrote headlines,
copy-read stories, and passed on all matters of policy. So busy did she
keep, that when at length she glanced at her watch, it was eleven-thirty.
"Gracious!" she thought. "And Mrs. Weems will be waiting up for me!"
Saying goodnight to the men who would carry on in her absence, she went
down the back stairs to the street. As she glanced about for a taxicab,
she saw Old Mose Johnson shuffling toward the loading dock.
"Good evening," she greeted him. "I'm glad to see you're ahead of time
tonight."
"Good evenin', Miss Penny," the colored man said, doffing his tattered
hat. "Yas'm. I'se heah, but I seed dat same ghost a-lurkin' behind de
gate!"
"I hope that ghost isn't becoming a habit with you, Mose."
"Deed Miss Penny, he's mo' dan a habit," the colored man sighed. "He's a
suah-nuff live ghost. De fust time I seed him I thought he wasn't no
imagination ghost. But when I saw him agin' tonight I was dead suah of
it."
"What happened this time, Mose?"
"Well, Miss Penny, I was a walking along dat same road, down by de ole
Harrison place when I seed him again. He was a-cavortin' behind dat same
iron gate. And he was dressed de same too, in a long white robe."
"And you ran the same too, I suppose?" smiled Penny.
"Ah made myself scarce around dat gate, but I didn't run home dis time. I
was a-skeered of mah ole woman. I beats it to de restaurant on de co'ner
and waits dere 'till a bus comes. Oh, I'se gettin' good, Miss Penny! I
can see a ghost and git to work on time, all de same evenin'!"
"Well, keep up the good work," Penny said jokingly as she turned away.
The meeting with Old Mose had served to divert the girl's mind from her
own difficulties. Riding home by taxi, she caught herself reviewing the
details of the colored man's outlandish tale.
"Mose couldn't have seen a ghost," she thought, "but he's honest about
being frightened. If I didn't have so many serious troubles, I'd be
tempted to investigate the old Harrison estate myself."
Penny alighted at her home and walked wearily up the shoveled path. Snow
was falling once more. Already the exposed porch was covered with a
half-inch coating of feathery flakes.
Inside the house a light flashed on. The bright beam shining through the
window drew Penny's attention to a series of freshly-made footprints
criss-crossing the porch.
"Mrs. Weems must have had a visitor," she thought, observing that the
heel marks were made by a woman's shoe.
As Penny reached for the door knob, her glance fell upon a long, narrow
envelope which protruded from the tin mailbox. She removed it, wondering
why the housekeeper had neglected to do so.
Mrs. Weems opened the door.
"Thank goodness, you're home at last, Penny. I fell asleep on the
davenport. There isn't any word--"
"Not a scrap of news," Penny completed.
Dropping the letter on the center table, she removed her wraps and flung
herself full length on the davenport.
"You poor child!" Mrs. Weems murmured. "You're practically exhausted.
Please go straight to bed. I'll fix some warm milk and perhaps you can
sleep."
"I don't feel as if I'd ever sleep again," Penny declared. "I'm tired,
but I feel so excited and tense."
Mrs. Weems picked up the girl's coat and cap. Shaking them free of snow,
she hung the garments in the closet.
"Did you have a bad time of it today?" Penny asked after a moment.
"It wasn't exactly pleasant," Mrs. Weems replied. "Reporters and
photographers came from every paper in Riverview. The police
too--although I was glad to have them. And the telephone! I counted
twelve calls in an hour."
"You must be dead. You shouldn't have waited up for me."
"I wanted to, Penny. About an hour ago I thought I heard your step on the
porch, but I was mistaken."
Penny sat up. "Haven't you had a caller during the last hour, Mrs.
Weems?"
"No, I've been alone."
"But I saw footprints on the porch! And I found this in the mailbox!"
Penny snatched the long envelope from the table. Holding it beneath the
bridge lamp, she noticed for the first time that it bore no stamp.
Strangely, it was addressed to her.
"Why, where did you get that letter?" cried Mrs. Weems.
"Found it in the mailbox." Penny's hand trembled as she ripped open the
flap.
A sheet of writing paper, high quality and slightly perfumed, slid from
the envelope. The message was terse and bore no signature at the end. It
read:
"Offer a suitable reward and information will be provided as to the
whereabouts of your father. Make your offer known in the _Star_."
CHAPTER
11
_BY A CEMETERY WALL_
Penny and Mrs. Weems reread the anonymous message many times, analyzing
every word.
"Plainly this note was written by a woman of some means for the paper is
fine quality," Penny commented. "She must have sneaked up on the porch
about an hour ago."
"Call the police at once," urged Mrs. Weems. "They'll tell us what we
should do."
"Whoever left the note may be watching the house."
"We must risk that, Penny. I'll call the station myself."
While Mrs. Weems busied herself at the telephone, Penny switched off the
living-room light. She could see no one loitering anywhere near the
house. Slipping on her coat, she went outside to inspect the footprints
left on the porch. Only a few remained uncovered by snow. There was no
way to tell in which direction the writer of the anonymous message had
gone.
Mrs. Weems had completed her telephone call by the time Penny reentered
the house.
"Two detectives will be here in a few minutes," she revealed. "You keep
watch for them while I run upstairs and get into something more suitable
than a lounging robe."
Within ten minutes a car drew up in front of the house. Penny already was
acquainted with Detectives Dick Brandon and George Fuller, and had great
confidence in their judgment. Anxiously she and Mrs. Weems waited while
the men scanned the anonymous message.
"This might be only a crank note," commented Brandon. "Someone who's read
of Mr. Parker's disappearance, and hopes to pick up a little cash."
"Then you don't think it came from the tire-theft gang?" Penny asked.
"Not likely. A professional kidnaper never would have sent a note like
this. The handwriting hasn't even been disguised."
"Will it be possible to trace the person?"
"It should be if we have a little luck." Detective Brandon pocketed the
letter. "Now this is what you must do, Miss Parker. Offer a reward--say
five thousand dollars--for information about your father."
"I'll get the story in every edition of the _Star_ tomorrow. And then
what am I to do?"
"You'll likely hear from the writer of this anonymous message, either by
letter or telephone. If you contact the woman, arrange a meeting. Then
notify us immediately."
The discussion went on. When at length the two detectives left, Penny and
Mrs. Weems were hopeful that within another twenty-four hours they might
know Mr. Parker's fate.
In the morning, after only five hours of sleep, Penny was back at her
desk. Her first act was to dictate the story offering a
five-thousand-dollar reward for information about her father. Not even to
Salt Sommers did she confide that she had received an anonymous message.
"Everything's going well here at the plant," he assured her. "Harley
Schirr hasn't so much as stuck his nose through the door."
"I hope we're through with him," replied Penny soberly. "However, I don't
feel that we are. By the way, no telegram has come from Jerry?"
"No message yet. Guess he didn't get your wire."
Throughout the morning, Penny worked tirelessly at her desk. Although her
father's office now was vacant, she did not take possession. Even when
she occasionally entered to get papers from the file, it gave her a
queer, tight feeling. Her father's old neck-scarf still hung on the
clothes tree. The rubbers he hated to wear stood heel to heel against the
wall.
"Dad is alive and well," she told herself whenever her courage faltered.
"By tomorrow he'll be back. I know he will."
At noon Salt brought Penny a sandwich which she ate without leaving her
desk. As she struggled with the last mouthful, the telephone rang.
"Is this Miss Parker?" inquired a woman's voice.
Penny gripped the receiver tightly. Her pulse began to pound. Although
she had no real reason for thinking so, she suddenly knew that she was in
contact with the mysterious writer of the anonymous message.
"Yes," she replied, keeping her voice calm.
"You offered a reward in your paper today. Five thousand dollars for
information about Mr. Parker."
"True. Can you tell me anything about his disappearance?"
"I can if you're willing to pay the money."
"I'll be glad to do it."
"And no questions asked?"
"No questions," Penny promised. "If you actually can provide information
that will help me find my father, I'll be happy to give you the money."
There was a long silence. Fearful lest the woman had lost her nerve and
was about to hang up, Penny said anxiously:
"Where shall I meet you? Will you come to my home?"
"That's too risky."
"Then where shall I meet you?"
"Tonight at eight. You know the cemetery out on Baldiff Road?"
"Baldiff Road?" Penny repeated doubtfully.
"You'll find it on a county map," the woman instructed. "Meet me at the
cemetery wall promptly at eight. And don't bring anyone with you. Just
the money. I'll guarantee to tell you where you can find your father."
The receiver clicked.
Greatly excited, Penny made a futile attempt to trace the telephone call.
Failing, she set off for the police station to talk to Detectives Fuller
and Brandon.
"The woman must be a rank amateur or she wouldn't have arranged a meeting
in the way she did!" Detective Brandon assured Penny. "Now let's find out
where Baldiff Road is located."
Using a large map, he circled an area several miles south of Riverview.
Penny was surprised to note that Baldiff Road branched off from the same
deserted thoroughfare which she and Louise had followed on the night of
the blizzard. The cemetery, Oakland Hills, was situated perhaps a mile
from the old Harrison place where Mose Johnson had claimed to have seen a
ghost.
"It shouldn't be hard to nab the woman when she shows up," Detective
Fuller declared. "Dick and I will get there early and keep watch."
"Just what am I to do?" Penny inquired. "Shall I take the reward money
with me?"
"We'll give you a package of fake money," the detective answered. "Drive
to the cemetery alone at the appointed hour. If the woman shows up, talk
to her, try to learn what she knows. We'll attend to the rest."
Penny returned home to consult with Mrs. Weems. How to reach the cemetery
was something of a problem. Her own car, minus its wheels, remained at
the Yacht Club, and Mr. Parker's automobile had been hauled to a garage
for extensive repairs.
"Can't you borrow a car from someone at the _Star_ office?" suggested the
housekeeper. "And do take a man with you when you drive to the cemetery."
"No, I must go alone," insisted Penny. "That part is very important."
In the end she was able to borrow Salt Sommer's coupe. A little after
seven o'clock she set off for Baldiff Road with the package of fake money
in her possession. The night was not cold, but a stiff wind blew through
the evergreens; whirlwinds of snow chased one another across the
untraveled road.
"What a dreary place for a meeting," Penny shivered as she glimpsed the
bleak cemetery on a hilltop.
The area, a full half-mile from any house, was bounded by a high
snow-covered brick wall. Beyond the barrier, starlight revealed a cluster
of rounding tombstones layered with white. No one was visible, neither
the woman nor members of the police force.
Penny glanced at her watch. It lacked ten minutes of eight o'clock. She
parked not far from the cemetery entrance and switched off the engine.
Twenty minutes elapsed. Nervous and cold, Penny climbed from the car and
tramped back and forth to restore circulation. She had begun to doubt
that the woman would keep the appointment.
Then, coming swiftly down the road, she saw a strange looking figure. The
one who approached wore a long, tight-fitting coat. A hat with a dark
veil covered the woman's face.
"There she is!" thought Penny, every nerve tense.
The woman came closer. While still some distance from the cemetery
entrance, she suddenly paused. Her head jerked sideways. Then to Penny's
dismay, she turned and fled toward the woods.
"Wait!" Penny shouted. "Don't be afraid! Wait!"
The woman paid no heed. Lifting her coat the better to run, she
disappeared among the trees.
CHAPTER
12
_FLIGHT_
As Penny wondered what to do, Detectives Brandon and Fuller leaped from
their hiding place behind the cemetery wall. Their car had been secreted
in a clump of bushes farther down the road. By pure mischance, the woman
in the black veil had seen it as she approached, and fearing treachery,
had fled.
"Quick, Dick, or she'll get away!" Fuller shouted.
Penny did not join in the pursuit. Reentering her car, she waited
anxiously. From the crashing of underbrush, she knew the detectives were
having difficulty in following the woman. In the dark forest it would be
very easy for her to elude the officers.
Three quarters of an hour elapsed before the men returned.
"We lost her," Detective Brandon reported. "No use searching any longer."
Sick at heart, Penny drove slowly toward home. Her hopes had been
completely dashed. Not only had she failed to contact the mysterious
woman, but there now seemed little likelihood of doing so.
"I may receive another telephone message," she thought, "but I doubt it.
That woman probably will be too badly frightened to try to contact me
again."
At the exit of Baldiff Road, Penny headed down the winding hillside
highway which she and Louise had followed on the night of the blizzard.
The route, although slightly longer, would take her close to the
Riverview Yacht Club.
"I'll go that way and see if my car is still there," she decided. "Then
tomorrow I can have it hauled home and jacked up. I should have looked
after the matter long ago."
The coupe rounded a curve and the road dipped between an avenue of
swaying, whispering pines. To the left, shrouded in snow, loomed the old
Harrison house. The estate was picturesque in itself, and Mose Johnson's
tale about a ghost had intensified the girl's interest.
"Wonder who owns the place now?" she speculated. "Probably not any member
of the Harrison family, as I believe they were old-timers in Riverview."
Penny slowed the car to idling speed. Deliberately keeping to the left
hand side of the road, she studied with deep interest the long,
snow-frosted fence which bounded the grounds. The barrier was an
unfriendly one, high and spiked at the top.
Suddenly her attention focused upon a well-beaten path in the snow just
inside the fence. The footprints, plainly visible in the bright
moonlight, extended the full width of the grounds.
Into Penny's mind flashed the wild yarn told by Mose Johnson.
"Ghost tracks!" she thought. "At least those prints must have been made
by whatever he saw beyond the gate."
So interested was Penny in the path that for an instant she completely
forgot her driving. The front left wheel of the car struck a tiny mound
of ice and snow at the road's edge.
Barely in time to avoid an accident, the girl twisted the steering wheel
and brought the car back on the highway.
"Another second and I'd have been in the ditch!" she thought shakily. "If
I must look for a ghost, guess I'll do the job right."
Penny pulled up, this time at the opposite side of the road. Getting out,
she crossed to the iron fence and peered through it. The path which had
attracted her attention had been pounded hard by someone who had walked
just inside the enclosure.
"Odd!" she reflected. "Maybe Old Mose's ghost has more substance than I
thought."
Penny glanced toward the big house, dark and majestic in its setting of
evergreens. Obviously the place had been closed for the winter. Walks
were not shoveled, blinds had been drawn, and no tire tracks led to and
from the three-car garage.
"Wonder who or what could have made that path?" she mused. "Certainly not
an animal."
Unable to solve the mystery, Penny turned to re-enter the parked coupe.
Before she could cross the road, a light went on in a third floor room of
the estate house. Startled, she stared at it. As she watched, it was
extinguished.
"Someone must live here!" thought Penny. "Or am I seeing spooks myself?"
For a long while she watched the upper floor of the house. The light did
not reappear. At length, wearying of the vigil, she returned to the car.
Penny started the engine and bent down to open the fins of the heater.
Straightening, she cast a last, careless glance toward the old estate.
Her heart did a flip-flop.
Beyond the iron gate, in the garden area, a white-robed figure slowly
paced back and forth!
"My Aunt!" whispered Penny. "Am I seeing things or am I seeing things?"
For a moment she sat very straight, watching. The ghostly figure, white
from head to toe, moved with measured steps toward the high gate.
"There aren't any ghosts," she encouraged herself. "But if that's not a
spook, it must be someone dressed up like one! And who would play
Hallowe'en games on a cold night like this?"
Alone, frankly nervous, Penny had no overpowering desire to investigate
the white-robed figure at close range. A large, spreading evergreen
half-blocked her view of the gate. She could not see the ghost plainly,
but she distinctly heard the rattle of a chain as the apparition tested
the lock.
"Real or imaginary, that spook is trying to get out!" Penny thought with
a shiver. "If Mose were here now I'd challenge him to a race!"
The white-gowned figure shook the gate chain a second time, then slowly
retreated. Penny watched for a moment, before abruptly swinging open the
car door. She had decided to investigate.
As she crossed the road, the white figure moved away from her. By the
time she reached the gate, it had disappeared around a corner of the
house.
"At least Mr. Spook wasn't carrying his own tombstone!" Penny observed to
herself. "Mose exaggerated that part."
She waited, leaning against the gate post. Within three minutes a light
went on in the upper part of the house. For a fleeting instant before the
blind was pulled, she saw someone standing in front of an old-fashioned
dresser.
"Mr. Ghost seemingly has turned in for the night," thought Penny. "But is
it a he, she, or it?"
Soon the bedroom light was extinguished. Cold and tired, Penny decided
that the mystery must remain unsolved. However, as she drove on, she kept
thinking about what she had seen. Of one thing she now was certain. The
estate was not deserted!
Without stopping at the Yacht Club grounds, Penny made certain that her
stripped car and ice boat remained as she last had seen them. Driving on
to Riverview, she left Salt's car at the _Star_ plant, then taxied home
to tell Mrs. Weems of her failure at the cemetery.
"Don't feel badly about it," the housekeeper comforted. "Surely the woman
who telephoned will make another attempt to reach you."
"I doubt it," Penny replied gloomily. "She'll know now that the police
are watching for her."
"This entire affair is so bewildering," sighed Mrs. Weems. "How could
your father have been kidnaped? If what we've learned is true, he left
the scene of the accident of his own free will."
"I never was so baffled in my life," Penny returned, throwing herself on
the davenport. "I used to think I was good at solving puzzles. Now I know
I'm just plain dumb."
"Have you thought about employing a private detective?"
"It might be a good idea!" Penny agreed, encouraged. "I'll see what I can
do tomorrow."
As she started wearily up the stairs to bed, Mrs. Weems called after her
to say that Louise Sidell had telephoned earlier in the evening. Penny
nodded absently, assuming that her chum had phoned to express sympathy.
She did not think of the matter again until the next morning at
breakfast. As she was leaving the table, Mrs. Weems came in to report
that Louise once more was on the telephone.
"Penny, I can't tell you how shocked I was to learn about your father,"
her chum began breathlessly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I'm afraid not, Lou."
"What are you using for a car? You must need one badly."
"Salt Sommers let me have his last night. I'll get along."
"Penny, I know how you can buy tires!" Louise went on. "In fact, that's
what I wanted to talk to you about."
"How can I buy tires? Rubber is supposed to be scarce."
"When I was having my hair fixed at the beauty parlor yesterday I heard
two women talking!" Louise declared excitedly. "It seems there's a garage
where you can get them if you pull the right strings!"
"Oh! A Black Market place?"
"I suppose that's what you would call it."
"I don't want to get tires illegally," Penny said. "I'm not interested,
Lou."
"You don't even care to know the name of the garage?"
"What good would it do?"
"None perhaps, but it might give you a surprise."
"A surprise?" Penny repeated. She glanced at the clock, impatient because
the conversation was being prolonged. A great deal of important work
awaited her.
"You don't want to know the name of the place?" Louise persisted.
"Yes, I do. On second thought, it might be well worth while to find out
what I can about Black Market operations in tires."
The conviction had come suddenly to Penny that all the evidence contained
in her father's lost portfolio must be gathered anew. No word had been
received from Jerry Livingston. In the quest for information, she must
depend upon her own efforts.
"It's going to give you a real shock to learn the name of the place,"
Louise went on.
"I'm shock proof by this time," answered Penny. "Let 'er fly."
But Louise was unwilling to divulge the information over the telephone.
"I don't dare tell you now," she replied. "Just sit tight for ten minutes
and I'll deliver my bombshell in person."
CHAPTER
13
_A BLACK MARKET_
Ten minutes later Louise was at the front door with the Sidell family
car. She tooted the horn until Penny put on her coat and went outside.
"Jump in and I'll take you to the place of mystery," Louise greeted her.
"On second thought, you'd better drive. I hate icy roads."
Penny slid behind the steering wheel. "But where are we going?" she
protested. "Honestly, Lou, I haven't much time--"
"Mattie Williams' garage is the place that sells the tires! Now, are you
interested?"
"Am I? Why, we stopped there with Salt Sommers!"
"We did indeed. Remember the big truck?"
"Lou, you may have stumbled into something really important!"
"Glad you think so, chum. But you're not interested in Black Markets."
"I've changed my mind! I want to talk to Mattie Williams right away!"
Penny started the car. Driving with a mechanical, unthinking efficiency
born of many years' practice, she questioned Louise as to the source of
her information. The girls were deep in a discussion when they heard
someone shout. Salt Sommers had hailed them from the curb.
"Why, hello," Penny greeted him, stopping the car with a jerk. "Any
trouble at the _Star_?"
"Not from Schirr," grinned Salt. "I'm hot-footing it to the Ladies Club
to mug some dames pouring tea! For the society page."
"Poor Salt!" smiled Penny, knowing how he hated trivial assignments.
"On your way to the office?" the photographer questioned.
Penny hesitated, then decided to confide in Salt. She repeated what
Louise had told her about the Mattie Williams' garage.
"Well, can you beat that!" the photographer exclaimed. "I don't know
Mattie and her partner well, but I always supposed they were honest. So
they're dealing in stolen tires!"
"We don't know for sure," Penny said hastily. "Our information is mostly
founded on rumor."
"And the tires may not be stolen ones," contributed Louise. "I only heard
they can be bought there."
Penny added that she would not take time to run down the Black Market
story save that her father's disappearance might have a connection with
the tire-thief gang.
"I aim to learn the names of those men Dad intended to expose," she said
earnestly.
Somewhat startled by the grim note of Penny's voice, Salt warned her that
she might be venturing on dangerous ground.
"We all admire your courage," he said, "but you mustn't take foolish
risks. Your father would turn thumbs down on that idea."
"It's because of Dad that I must investigate every angle of the
tire-theft racket."
"Quite an ambitious assignment," Salt said dryly. "Now as soon as Jerry
gets back from Canada--"
"We can't wait! Something has to be done right away!"
"I know how you feel," responded Salt, "but there's such a thing as being
too courageous."
"I'm not courageous," Penny denied. "Last night at the cemetery I was
scared half to death. And then when I saw the ghost--"
"What ghost?" interrupted Louise.
Penny had not intended to speak of what she had seen at the Harrison
estate. The slip of tongue made it necessary to tell of the path by the
gate, the retreating figure, and the mysterious light.
"That's funny," commented the photographer, regarding her with a peculiar
expression. "Since I've been on duty at the observation tower I've never
seen any activity at the estate."
"I don't believe in ghosts, but I saw one all that same!" Penny insisted.
"Just watch some night and see for yourself!"
Annoyed by Salt's smile, she shifted gears and drove on down the street.
Turning to Louise, she asked earnestly: "You believe I saw something
wandering about the estate last night, don't you?"
"Well," Louise hesitated, unwilling to offend her chum. "You must have
been quite upset after failing to meet that woman at the cemetery. Under
the circumstances...."
"I was as calm as I am now," Penny cried indignantly. "I saw it, I tell
you!"
"Of course you did, dear," Louise soothed. "Do please watch your driving
more carefully, or I'll have to take over."
Penny suddenly relaxed. "Okay, have it your own way," she shrugged. "I
wouldn't believe Mose Johnson, so why should you believe me? It's just
one of those things."
For a long while they rode in silence. Few cars were on the road and
there was little business activity at Kamm's Corner. Penny parked in
front of the Mattie Williams' garage.
"What excuse will we have for questioning her?" Louise asked dubiously.
"I'm not going to make an excuse," said Penny. "I'll just come right out
and ask her if she sells tires without a special order."
The girls entered the warm little office, stamping snow from their
galoshes.
"Just a minute," called a voice which belonged to Mattie Williams.
The garage owner was busy with a customer. Soon however, she came in from
the main part of the building, wiping her oily hands on a piece of waste.
"What can I do for you?" she inquired briskly.
"You remember us, don't you?" asked Penny, leading into the subject of
tires as gradually as possible. "We're friends of Salt Sommers."
"Oh, sure!" the woman's face lighted. "You came in with him the night of
the bad storm."
"My car had been stripped of its tires. Ever since, I've been wondering
how to get new ones."
A slightly guarded expression came over Mattie Williams' face. She said
nothing.
"I was told I might obtain some here," Penny plunged on.
"You can," said Mattie. "Provided you have an order from your Ration
Board."
"Not without it?"
Mattie gazed at Penny with undisguised scorn. "What sort of a place do
you think we run here?" she demanded. "Of course we don't sell tires
without an order."
"But we were told--"
"Well, you were told wrong," snapped Mattie. "Sorry. I can't help you."
Picking up a wrench from the desk top, the woman left the office.
"I guess I didn't approach her the right way," remarked Penny sadly.
"Either that, or our information was incorrect. Louise, are you sure--"
"Oh, I am!" her chum insisted. "The two women I overheard, distinctly
said Mattie Williams' garage. Of course, they might have been wrong about
it."
Before Penny and Louise could leave the office, a middle-aged man with
glasses came in through the street door.
"Sam Burkholder here?" he demanded, warming himself by the stove.
Penny started to say that she did not know. Just then Mattie Williams'
partner came in the other door.
"Hi, Sam!" the stranger greeted him. "I've got the car parked around
back. Are you ready to put on that tire?"
Sam frowned, darting a quick glance at the two girls.
"Oh, the one I patched for you!" he returned. "Sure, it's fixed. Drive
your car in the back entrance and I'll take care of it."
Both men went out into the main part of the garage. Just beyond the door
they paused for a whispered conference, then separated.
"Shall we go?" inquired Louise, glancing at her chum.
"Not just yet," replied Penny. "I'm curious to see that patched tire.
Let's kill a little more time here."
Pretending to warm themselves by the stove, they waited ten minutes.
Then, without attracting attention, they sauntered out onto the main
garage floor. Mattie Williams was busy washing a car and did not see
them.
The garage workroom was divided into sections, separated by a double door
which was closed. Penny strolled over and pushed it open just enough to
see through the crack.
Sam Burkholder was working on the stranger's car. He had removed an old
tire and wheel, and was replacing it with one whose tread appeared new.
"A patched tire, my left eye!" Penny whispered to Louise. "It's just as
we thought! This garage must be a Black Market place!"
CHAPTER
14
_A FAMILIAR FIGURE_
Only for a moment did the girls dare remain at the door watching Sam
Burkholder mount the tire. Then, their curiosity satisfied, they moved
quietly away. Without speaking to Mattie Williams, they returned to the
parked automobile.
"Well, wasn't I right?" Louise demanded triumphantly. "What do you think
we should do?"
The question plagued Penny. "I don't know," she confessed. "If only we
were absolutely sure the tire was new--"
"It certainly looked new."
"Yes, but it could have had some wear. It's possible, too, that the
customer had a legal right to buy a new tire."
"Then you don't intend to report to the police, Penny?"
"I want to talk to Salt about it first. We must move carefully, Lou. You
see, my main objective is to learn the names of the higher-ups involved
in the tire-theft racket."
"And where does this garage fit into the picture?"
"If it fits at all, my guess is that Sam and Mattie are buying illegal
tires--perhaps from the same men who stripped my car and threatened Dad."
Driving slowly toward Riverview, Penny reviewed what she had seen. She
was convinced the information was valuable, yet she scarcely knew how to
use it.
"If Salt suggests that I report to the police, that's what I'll do," she
decided.
Enroute home, Penny stopped at another garage to make arrangements to
have her stripped coupe hauled into the city.
"How about the _Icicle_?" Louise asked, thinking her chum had forgotten
the iceboat.
"It will have to stay where it is for the time being," Penny replied. "If
it's stolen, I won't much care."
At the Sidell home, the girls separated. Thanking Louise for the use of
the car, Penny returned afoot to the _Star_ office. Salt Sommers was
absent on assignment, so she did not linger long. As she rounded a street
corner on her way home, a newsboy for a rival paper blocked her path.
"Read all about it!" he shouted. "Anthony Parker Believed Kidnaped!
Paper, Miss?"
Penny dropped a coin into the lad's hand and hastily scanned the front
page. The story of her father's disappearance was a highly colored
account, but contained not a useful item of information. Tossing the
sheet into a street paper-container, she moved on.
She was passing the Gillman Department Store when her attention was drawn
to a woman who waited for a bus.
"I've seen her somewhere before," thought Penny, pausing. "Last night--"
The woman wore a small black hat and a long, old-fashioned dark coat
which came nearly to her ankles. It was the shape of the garment and its
unusual length which struck Penny as familiar. Why, the woman resembled
the one who had fled from the cemetery!
Penny pretended to gaze into the store window. Actually she studied the
woman from every angle. She might have been forty-seven years of age and
was large-boned. Her face was heavily lined, and her long hands were
covered by a pair of cheap, black cotton gloves.
"Can it be the same woman?" thought Penny in perplexity.
A bus bearing a county placard glided up to the curb. The woman in black
was the only passenger to board it.
"That bus goes out toward Baldiff Road and the cemetery!" Penny told
herself. "And that's where I'm going too!"
An instant before the folding doors slammed shut, she sprang aboard.
Paying her fare, she sought a seat at the rear of the bus.
No sooner was the coach in motion than Penny regretted her hasty action.
What could she hope to gain by pursuing the strange woman? She was not
certain enough of her identification to make a direct accusation. County
buses ran infrequently. In all likelihood, she would find herself
stranded in the country.
Penny arose to leave the bus. Then changing her mind a second time, she
sat down. Try as she would, she could not rid herself of a conviction
that the woman she followed was the same one who had visited the
cemetery.
The bus made few stops in the city. Once beyond the city limits, it sped
along at a brisk speed. To Penny's satisfaction, the woman in black soon
began to gather up her packages. She pressed a button and the bus skidded
to a stop at a crossroads.
With no show of haste, Penny followed the woman from the bus. Pretending
to enter a grocery store at the corner, she waited and watched.
Apparently the woman lived nearby, for she started off down a narrow,
winding road which ran at right angles to the main highway.
"Why that's the road that runs past the Harrison place," Penny thought.
"Wonder if she can be going there?"
Waiting until the woman was nearly out of sight, she trudged after her.
Walking was difficult for the road had not been cleared by a snow plow.
Fortunately for Penny, the woman did not once glance behind her. She kept
steadily on until she came within view of the big estate house on the
hill. Just before she reached the boundary fence, she cut across a field,
approaching the dwelling from the rear.
Penny remained at the road, watching. The woman took a key from her
pocket, unlocking a small, padlocked gate at the rear of the grounds. She
snapped the lock shut again, and disappeared into the house.
Penny perched herself on top of an old-fashioned rail fence to think over
what she had seen. The woman, whoever she was, obviously lived at the
estate. Yet the cheap quality of her clothing suggested that she could
not be the owner of such an expensive establishment.
"Probably a servant or caretaker," Penny reasoned. "But is she the one
who ran away last night?"
Far over the hills in a lonely grove of pines stood Oakland Cemetery. On
either side of Baldiff Road stretched dense woods, a growth that crept to
the very boundaries of the Harrison estate. Penny instantly noted that it
would be possible for a person to flee from the cemetery to the very door
of the estate without once leaving the shelter of trees.
"Perhaps it was the same woman!" she thought. "If she lives here, it
would be logical for her to specify Oakland Cemetery as a meeting place!
And escape would be easy for her, too!"
Penny slid down from the fence. It would do no good to question the
woman. Rather, if she were guilty, questions might serve to place her on
the alert. Far better, she reasoned, to bide her time.
"I'll learn everything I can about that woman," she thought. "Tonight
I'll watch the house."
In making her plans, Penny did not take into account Mrs. Weems'
attitude. Upon reaching home late in the afternoon, she found the
housekeeper in a most discouraged mood. No favorable news had been
received from any source.
"I've been worried about you too, Penny," Mrs. Weems confessed. "Where
did you go after you left the _Star_ office?"
Penny told of her trip to Mattie Williams' garage and later to the
Harrison estate. In particular she described the mysterious woman she had
followed by bus.
"I plan to go back there tonight," she concluded. "For the first time
since Dad disappeared, I feel I may have stumbled into a valuable clue!"
Mrs. Weems looked troubled. "But Penny," she protested, "you can't go to
the estate alone!"
"I thought perhaps Louise would accompany me."
"Two girls alone at night! I can't give my consent, Penny. It's not
safe."
"But I don't wish to call the police just yet, Mrs. Weems. I've no real
evidence. Will you come with me?"
The housekeeper hesitated. Naturally a timid woman, she had no desire to
stir from her own fireside that night. But she knew where her duty lay.
"Yes, I'll go with you, Penny," she consented. "Shall we start soon?"
"Not until after dark. One can't expect a ghost to show up in broad
daylight."
"A ghost!" Mrs. Weems quavered. "Penny, what are you letting me in for?"
"Frankly, I don't know. Some strange things have been going on at the
Harrison estate. Tonight I hope to solve part of the mystery at least."
Pressed for an explanation, Penny repeated Mose Johnson's story and told
of seeing the strange white-robed figure with her own eyes. The tale did
not add to Mrs. Weems' comfort of mind.
"We're crazy to go out there," the housekeeper protested. "Must we do
it?"
"I think it may be our one hope of gaining a clue which will lead to
Dad."
"Then I'm willing to risk it," agreed Mrs. Weems. "However, we'll drive
out in a taxi. And I shall personally select the driver--a man to be
depended on in an emergency."
So excited was the housekeeper that she had difficulty in preparing the
evening meal. In the end Penny took over, shooing her out of the kitchen.
"I declare I don't know why I am so nervous," Mrs. Weems shivered. "I
haven't felt so shaky since the time I attended a seance at Osandra's."
"You saw ghosts a-plenty on that occasion," smiled Penny. "I only hope we
have as much luck tonight."
By eight o'clock everything was in readiness for the journey into the
country. Dressing warmly and carrying an extra blanket, Penny and Mrs.
Weems walked to a nearby cab station. There the housekeeper selected a
driver, a burly man who looked as if he might have been an
ex-prizefighter.
"Sure, Ma'am," he said as Mrs. Weems questioned him, "you can depend on
me to look after you."
"How are you at capturing ghosts?" inquired Penny, climbing into the cab.
The driver looked a trifle startled. "Swell!" he rejoined. "Bring on your
spook, and if he don't weigh no more than two hundred pounds, I'll nail
him!"
Penny and Mrs. Weems were satisfied that they were in good hands. They
instructed the man, Joe Henkell, to drive directly to the old Harrison
estate.
"By the way, do you know who owns the property?" Penny asked as the cab
rolled toward the country.
"Fellow from the East," Joe flung over his shoulder. "I'm not sure. Think
his name is Deming--George Allan Deming. Wealthy sportsman. Has his own
plane an' everything."
"Married?"
"Couldn't tell you. The estate has been closed up this winter."
The cab soon approached the familiar grounds. Penny directed the driver
to pull up some distance from the dark house.
"Switch off the headlights," she instructed. "We'll wait here. It may be
a long time too, so make yourself comfortable."
Joe, taking Penny at her word, began to smoke a vile-smelling cigar which
nearly drove Mrs. Weems to distraction. After an hour had elapsed, the
housekeeper scarcely could endure the stuffy air of the cab.
"Penny, must we wait any longer?" she asked plaintively.
"Why, it's early, Mrs. Weems. I expect to stay until midnight at least."
"Midnight!" The housekeeper quietly collapsed.
Just then the cab driver turned around, touching Penny's arm. He directed
her attention to the house by saying briefly: "A light just went on."
Penny and Mrs. Weems focused their attention on the upper floor of the
estate. A single light could be seen burning there, but as they watched
it blinked off.
"Now if a ghost is to appear this is the time!" announced Penny. "Why
don't we get closer?"
She sprang from the cab. Mrs. Weems and the taxi driver followed with
less enthusiasm. The housekeeper, quivering and shaking, clutched the
man's arm as she struggled against the wind.
"Joe, you stay right beside me!" she ordered.
"Sure, Ma'am," he said soothingly. "I couldn't get away if I had a mind
to."
Penny, a step ahead, held up her hand as a warning for silence. She had
seen the familiar white figure rounding a corner of the house.
"There's the ghost!" she whispered. "See! Beyond the gate!"
Joe whistled softly.
"A spook, sure's I'm alive!" he muttered.
"And you promised to nail him," reminded Penny, starting forward along
the fence. "We'll creep a little closer. Then Joe, I shall expect you to
do your stuff!"
CHAPTER
15
_GHOST IN THE GARDEN_
The three investigators moved stealthily along the high fence. Through
the iron palings they could see a white-garbed figure walking with
measured tread amid the shrubs of the frozen garden. Back and forth the
apparition strolled, following a well-trod path between the shrunken
snowdrifts.
Penny, Mrs. Weems, and the taxi driver crept closer. The ghostly one did
not note their approach. Hooded head bent low, he glided to the gate,
testing chain and padlock.
"Poor restless soul!" whispered Mrs. Weems.
Penny gave the housekeeper a tiny pinch to break the spell which had
fallen upon her. "That's no ghost," she whispered. "Don't you see! It's a
man wearing a heavy white bathrobe over his clothing. He's pulled the
wide collar up over his head like a hood!"
"It's a man all right," added the taxi driver. "You can tell by the way
he walks. Ghosts kinda slither, don't they?"
"I believe it's someone imprisoned on the grounds!" Penny whispered
tensely. "Watch!"
The ghost, his face shadowed, rattled the chain again. Then with a
distinct, audible sigh, he turned and tramped back along the fence away
from the gate.
"Aw, that spook could get out if he wanted to," muttered the taxi driver.
"Why don't he climb over the fence?"
"Perhaps the man is a sleep walker," suggested Mrs. Weems nervously.
"Whoever he is, the poor fellow should be in his bed."
Penny was determined to learn the identity of the man. Moving to the
gate, she called softly. The figure in white whirled around, looking
straight toward her.
Penny caught a fleeting impression of a lean, startled face. Then the man
turned and fled toward the house. No longer could there be any doubt that
he was a man, for as he ran the legs of his woolen pajamas showed beneath
the white robe.
"Wait!" Penny called. "Please wait!"
The ghostly one hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder. But the next
moment he was gone, having vanished through a side door into the house.
Penny, weak from excitement, clung to the gate. "Mrs. Weems!" she cried.
"Did you see him?"
"Yes, you frightened him away when you shouted."
"But didn't you notice his face? As he turned toward me, I caught a
glimpse of it. Mrs. Weems, the man looked like Dad!"
"Oh, Penny," the housekeeper murmured, taking her arm, "you can't be
right. How could it be your father?"
"It looked like him."
"Not to me," said Mrs. Weems firmly. "Why, if it had been Mr. Parker, he
would have answered when you called. He wouldn't have run away."
Penny was compelled to acknowledge the logic of the housekeeper's
reasoning. "I guess that's true," she said reluctantly. "I'll admit I
didn't see his face plainly. I wanted it to be Dad so badly I may have
imagined the resemblance."
A light was switched on in an upstairs room of the estate house. However,
blinds were lowered, and those on the ground did not obtain another
glimpse of the mysterious man who haunted the snowy garden. Finally Mrs.
Weems induced Penny to return to the taxi.
Speeding toward Riverview, neither of them had much to say. Penny could
not blot from her mind the vision of a startled, bewildered face. Reason
told her that Mrs. Weems was right--the man could not be her father. Who
then, was he? Why had he refused to talk to her at the gate?
"The man may have been a sleep walker," she thought. "Possibly the owner
of the estate, Mr. Deming."
The cab had reached the business section of Riverview. Upon impulse Penny
decided to stop at the _Star_ plant to make sure that everything was
going well.
"It won't take me long," she assured Mrs. Weems. "Why don't you wait in
the cab?"
Only a skeleton night force was on duty at the _Star_ office. The
advertising department had been closed, and on the floor above, scrub
women were busy mopping up. A sleepy-eyed desk man greeted Penny as she
entered the deserted newsroom.
"Everything's Okay," he assured her. "The final edition's out, and most
of the boys have gone home. I was just taking a little cat nap."
"Any news?"
"Not about your father. The police have been kept busy chasing down false
rumors. About four hours ago a report came in your father had been seen
in Chicago."
"Chicago!"
"Just a fake report."
"Oh, I see," said Penny weakly. "No word from Jerry, I suppose?"