Penny's eyes burned. "You say that only to torture me!"

"It's the truth. If you weren't so blind you'd acknowledge it. Your

father tried to run a gang of professional tire-thieves out of this town,

and they did for him."

"You seem very certain of your facts, Mr. Schirr. Perhaps you know some

of the higher-ups personally."

"How would I?"

"Your knowledge is so complete," Penny said scathingly.

"I'm only telling you my opinion," Schirr growled, now on the defensive.

"If you want to ride along in a sweet dream that's Okay with me."

"I want to get at the truth," said Penny shortly. "Do you have one scrap

of evidence that Dad has fallen into the hands of enemies?"

Schirr hesitated, knowing well that an affirmative answer might lead to

questioning from the police.

"I don't have any knowledge of the case," he said. "At least not for

publication!"

Flashing a superior smile, he pushed past Penny, and went out of the

building.

CHAPTER

16

_A DOOR IN A BOX_

Penny scarcely knew what to think of Harley Schirr's actions. All her

accusations were true, of that she was sure. But she was unable to decide

whether or not he had any information about her father's strange

disappearance.

"The old snooper may be hand in glove with the tire thieves!" she thought

bitterly. "I wouldn't put it past him. If I could prove anything,

wouldn't I like to turn him over to the police!"

Climbing the stairs, Penny explained briefly to the _Star_ deskman what

had occurred.

"Shirr here again!" he exclaimed. "Why, I'm sure he never came through

the newsroom."

"No, he got into Dad's office by means of that old hall door. Tomorrow I

want a new lock put on."

"I'll have it taken care of myself," promised the deskman.

Reentering her father's office, Penny gathered up the mail and carefully

locked both doors. She then returned to the waiting taxicab. During the

ride home she made no mention of Mr. Schirr, preferring not to worry the

housekeeper.

Later in Mr. Parker's study, she and Mrs. Weems examined every letter

written in response to the reward offer. Not even one of them offered the

slightest promise.

"I'll turn everything over to the police," Penny said with a sigh. "Maybe

they'll find a clue I've not considered important."

Both she and Mrs. Weems were feeling the effects of such a long period of

strain. Meals had been irregular, appetites poor. Penny in particular had

lost so much weight that she looked thin and sallow. Yet somehow she

managed to keep up her strength and to face each day with hope.

"Mrs. Weems," she said the next morning at breakfast, "if you'll advance

me some money, I'm going on another taxi jaunt today."

"Not to the Harrison place."

"No, out to Mattie Williams' garage. I'm convinced that place is dealing

in stolen tires. If only I can reconstruct the evidence which disappeared

in Dad's portfolio, I may get a clue that will lead to him."

Without protest, Mrs. Weems gave Penny the money. Secretly she thought

that the girl would do much better to turn all of her information over to

the police. However, she realized that Penny needed activity to keep her

from brooding, so she wisely did not discourage her.

"Don't get into any trouble," she warned anxiously.

"No danger of that, Mrs. Weems. I've not enough pep for it these days."

Engaging the same cabman who had served her so well the previous night,

Penny motored to the Williams' garage. She had made no plans and scarcely

knew what she would say when she entered the place. As she debated, the

big doors of the building opened, and a tow car drove away with Mattie at

the wheel.

"There she goes!" thought Penny, disappointed. "I'm afraid my interview

will have to wait."

Getting out, she sauntered into the garage office. Mattie's partner, Sam,

was nowhere to be seen. Nor did he appear to be working in the main part

of the building.

Penny waited a few minutes, then wandered about the floor where a number

of cars had been stored. No workmen were in evidence.

"This might be a good time to do a bit of looking around!" she thought

suddenly. "I'll never have a better chance."

Penny opened the doors into the room where she had observed Sam

Burkholder mount a new tire on the car of a customer. One wall was

stacked high with large wooden boxes, not unlike those she and Louise had

seen delivered by the truck driver, Hank Biglow, on the night of the

blizzard.

She thumped one of the boxes with her knuckles. It gave off a hollow,

empty sound. She tried another box with no better luck. Some of the big

crates had been opened. They contained nothing except a little brown

wrapping paper.

Disappointed, Penny turned away. But as she moved toward the exit, her

eyes flashed upon one of the boxes which had escaped her attention.

Boards were loose at one end, and could be hinged back on their nails

like a door.

Intrigued, Penny crossed to the crate. As she pulled on one of the

boards, all swung back as a unit.

"Why, it's like a door!" she thought. "A door in a box!"

Penny gazed into the box and was further amazed. It had no back wall.

Instead, she saw a long, empty tunnel formed by several crates piled one

in front of the other. And at the very end stood a real door!

"Maybe this is the pay-off!" thought Penny excitedly.

Pulling the boards into place behind her, she stooped and made her way

through the tunnel to the door. It was locked.

"I'll bet a cent stolen tires are stored in that room!" reasoned Penny.

"If only I could get in there!"

Her mind did not dwell long on the problem. A moment later she was

alarmed to hear a low murmur of voices. Someone was approaching the

storage room from the main part of the garage. Unless she wished to be

trapped in the tunnel of boxes, she must abandon the investigation!

Penny started hurriedly toward the opening. Before she could get through

the tunnel, the big double doors squeaked open and she heard heavy

footsteps in the room. Peering out through a knothole in one of the

boxes, she saw Mattie Williams and her partner, Sam. They were arguing

and their voices came to her plainly:

"Guess you didn't look for me back quite so soon, Sam," Mattie

reprimanded her partner. "When I went off in the tow car you figured I'd

be gone a long time. Thought it would give you a good chance to tamper

with the books!"

"That's not so, Mattie. I was marking up some expenses like I always do."

"I've been aiming to have a straight talk with you for a long time, Sam,"

the woman resumed. "That's why I asked you to step back here in the

storage room. No use having the customers know about our differences."

"I don't see what you've got to squawk about," Sam retorted. "Ain't you

made more money since I teamed up with you than you ever did before?"

"Yes."

"But you're always afraid I'll cheat you out of a penny."

"I've caught you in some dishonest tricks. About those tires--"

A loud, insistent tooting of an automobile horn broke up the

conversation. Abandoning the argument, Mattie and Sam went to serve the

impatient customer.

Penny did not tarry. Crawling from the tunnel, she glanced about for a

means of escape. Fortunately, the room had an outside exit. Making use of

it, she returned to the waiting taxi, without seeing either Sam or Mattie

again.

"Police station, Joe," she instructed.

"How do you want to go?" the cab driver inquired. "This road or No. 32?"

"Let's drive past the old Harrison place."

"Sure," grinned Joe. "Maybe we'll see that spook again!"

The cab bumped along the frozen road, soon coming within view of the

hillside estate. Joe slowed down without being requested to do so.

"I was tellin' the boys about that place last night," he flung over his

shoulder. "They tell me the owner is this guy Deming. He's gone East for

the winter. A big, fat, bald-headed man."

"Our ghost was a thin person."

"Yeah, I was thinking that," agreed Joe. "Maybe Deming's got a sick

relative or something."

The explanation did not satisfy Penny. With troubled eyes she gazed

toward the rambling old house which by daylight looked so deserted. No

smoke curled from the chimneys. Had it not been for a trail of footprints

along the fence, she easily could have convinced herself that she had

imagined the events of the previous night.

"Say, who's that trackin' through the fields?" Joe suddenly demanded.

Penny turned to glance in the direction that the cabman pointed. Her

heart did a little flip-flop. A woman in a long black coat, market basket

on her arm, was hastening toward the rear door of the estate house.

"Stop the cab, Joe!" she cried.

The car came to a halt with a little sideways skid. Leaping out, Penny

plunged through the drifts and was able to confront the woman at the rear

gate of the premises.

"How do you do," she greeted her breathlessly.

The woman was so startled that she nearly dropped her market basket.

Confused, she stammered a reply and started to unlock the gate.

"Just a moment, please," requested Penny. "May I come inside and talk to

you?"

"About what?"

"My father's disappearance. You made an appointment to meet me at the

cemetery. Why did you run away?"

The bold attack was not without an effect. The woman gasped, and fumbled

nervously with the key to the padlock.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she muttered.

"Unless you tell me everything you know regarding my father's

disappearance, I'll call the police!"

"The police--" the woman repeated, plainly frightened.

"Yes," Penny went on relentlessly, "this is a serious matter. It will do

you no good to bluff."

The woman gave up trying to unlock the gate. Setting her basket down in

the snow she said weakly: "You advertised a reward--"

"I'll still be glad to pay it for worthwhile information. What do you

know about my father?"

The woman drew a deep breath. "Well, I picked him up in my car after the

accident."

"You did?" Penny became jubilant. "Where is he now?"

"I can't tell you that. Mr. Parker asked me to take him to Mercy

Hospital. I let him off at the entrance to the grounds. That's the last I

saw of him."

"My father entered the hospital?"

"I don't know. I didn't remain to watch."

The story was disappointing. If true, Mr. Parker's disappearance remained

as mysterious as ever. Penny was silent a moment and then she asked the

woman why she had fled from the cemetery.

"Because I saw a police car parked behind the bushes," the other answered

defiantly. "And those detectives chased me, too! I only intended to be

helpful and maybe win a reward. Now I want nothing to do with the case.

I've told you everything I know."

The woman unlocked the gate and started to enter the grounds.

"You're not Mrs. Deming?" Penny asked quickly.

"Who I am is my own business."

"I suppose the ghost is your own affair too!"

"Ghost? What ghost?"

"You live here, yet you haven't learned that the grounds are haunted?"

Penny inquired significantly. "Nearly every night a man in white wanders

back and forth in the garden."

"I don't know anything about it!" the woman said nervously. "I'll not

answer any more questions either!"

Plainly frightened, she snapped shut the padlock of the gate and fled

into the house.

CHAPTER

17

_ADVENTURE BY MOONLIGHT_

A moment Penny stood gazing at the estate house. She considered climbing

the iron fence and trying to gain entrance to the dwelling. Then,

deciding that nothing would be achieved by again accosting the strange

woman, she returned to the waiting taxi.

"Where to?" asked the cabman.

"It's still the police station," directed Penny, repeating an earlier

order. "I have twice as much to report now."

As the cab pulled away, she noticed a movement of curtains at the front

of the estate house. Evidently the woman who had fled, was watching.

Joe made a quick trip to Riverview, depositing Penny at the doorstep of

Central Station.

"Will you need me any more?" he asked hopefully.

"I may."

"Okay," said Joe, slamming the cab door. "I'll stick around. You know, I

kinda like this job."

Once inside the police station, Penny inquired for Chief Jalman. Unable

to see him, she asked to speak to the two detectives who had been

assigned to her father's case. Both men were away from the building.

"Why not talk to Carl Burns?" suggested the desk sergeant. "He's familiar

with the case."

Penny was sent to see a heavy-set man who warmed himself by a steaming

radiator. Evidently he had spent several hours in an unheated police car

for he stamped his feet to restore circulation.

"Mr. Burns?" inquired Penny.

The man turned, staring at her. Penny returned the stare. She had seen

the officer before and the recollection was not entirely pleasant. He was

the same officer she had met near Mattie's garage on the night of the

blizzard.

"What may I do for you?" he asked.

Uncomfortably aware of the officer's scrutiny, Penny began to tell of her

visit to the Williams' garage. She stammered a bit and lost confidence.

"You say you saw some big boxes at the garage," he demanded. "What's so

suspicious about that?"

Penny tried to explain about the tunnel of boxes which led to a hidden

storage room. Even to her own ears the story had a fantastic sound.

"What you _think_ or _surmise_ doesn't go in this business!" the officer

said rather rudely. "Did you actually see any stolen tires?"

"Well, no, I didn't," Penny admitted. "The door was locked."

"Are you willing to swear out a warrant charging Mattie and her partner

with dealing in stolen merchandise?"

"I don't suppose I'd dare do that. I thought if police would

investigate--"

"We can't go on suspicions, Miss Parker. We act only on sound evidence."

"Well, it doesn't matter so much about the stolen tires," Penny said

desperately. "I have another clue--a really important one. I've found the

woman who eluded Detectives Brandon and Fuller at the cemetery!"

"Now we may get somewhere," replied the officer. "Who is the woman? Where

did you see her?"

Penny told everything she knew about the woman who had taken her father

to Mercy Hospital. Word for word she repeated their recent conversation

together.

"I'll turn this evidence over to Detective Fuller," the policeman

promised. "He'll probably want to question the woman himself."

"I hope he does it right away," replied Penny. "She may take it into her

head to skip out of town."

Officer Burns smiled wearily. "Just trust us to handle the case," he

said. "We know our business."

Penny left the station feeling none too satisfied. Although she had

nothing against Mr. Burns, she sensed that he did not like her. She

wondered if she could depend on him to repeat her story as she had told

it.

"If that estate house isn't investigated immediately, I'll do something

myself!" she thought.

Joe, the cabman, still waited. Signaling him, Penny regretfully explained

that she would have no further use for his services.

"Well, if you change your mind and want to do some more ghost huntin'

tonight, just give me a ring," Joe grinned. "My number's 20476."

Penny carefully wrote it down. She then walked to the nearby _Star_

building where many matters awaited her attention. There she worked

without interruption until late afternoon, taking only enough time to

call the police station. Detective Fuller was not available. So far as

she could learn, no investigation had been made of the Harrison estate.

Thoroughly annoyed, Penny tramped home to dinner. Only a cold meal

awaited her. Mrs. Weems, ill with a headache, had set out a few dishes on

the kitchen table, and gone to bed.

"It's nothing," the housekeeper insisted as Penny questioned her

anxiously. "I've just worried too much the past few days."

"Let me call Doctor Barnell."

"Indeed not," Mrs. Weems remonstrated. "I'll be all right tomorrow."

Penny brewed a cup of tea and made the housekeeper as comfortable as she

could. By the time she had eaten a snack and washed the dishes it was

eight o'clock. Debating a long while, she went to the telephone and

summoned a cab.

"Number 20476," she requested.

Penny was zipping on her galoshes when the doorbell rang. Without giving

her time to answer it, Louise Sidell marched into the kitchen bearing a

freshly baked lemon pie.

"Mother sent this over," she explained. "I slipped on the ice coming over

and nearly had a catastrophe!"

Carefully Louise deposited the pie on the kitchen table. Cutting short

Penny's praise of it, she inquired alertly: "Going somewhere?"

Penny explained that she intended to motor to the Harrison estate.

"Not alone?" Louise demanded.

"I'll have to, I guess. Mrs. Weems is sick, so I can't take her along."

"You could invite me," Louise said eagerly. "I'll telephone mother to

come over and stay with Mrs. Weems while we're gone!"

The arrangement proved satisfactory to everyone. Mrs. Sidell came

immediately to the house, and very shortly thereafter the girls sped away

in Joe's taxicab.

The night was a pleasant one, mildly cold, but with a bright moon.

"Park before you get to the estate," Penny directed the driver. "We don't

want to be seen. It might defeat our purpose."

Joe drew up in a clump of trees some distance from the Harrison grounds.

He then walked with the girls to the spiked fence. There was no sign of

activity.

Two hours elapsed. During that time nothing unusual occurred. No lights

were visible inside the house. Even Penny began to lose heart.

"This is getting pretty boring," she sighed. "I don't believe the ghost

is going to show up tonight."

"We may have been observed," suggested Louise. "One can see very plainly

tonight."

After another half hour had elapsed Penny was willing to return to the

cab. The three started away from the fence. Just then they heard a door

slam inside the house. Instantly they froze against the screen of bushes,

waiting.

"There's the ghost!" whispered Louise.

A figure had appeared in the garden beyond the gate. But the one who

walked alone was not a ghost. Plainly he was garbed in street clothes

rather than white. Over his suit he wore a heavy overcoat. A snap-brimmed

hat was pulled low on his forehead.

Penny could not see the man's face, but the silhouette seemed strangely

familiar.

"That looks like Dad!" she whispered, clutching Louise's hand. "It is he!

I'm sure!"

"Oh, it can't be--"

Penny paid no heed to her chum's protest. Breaking away, she ran toward

the gate.

The man in the garden became suddenly alert. As he heard the approaching

footsteps he gazed toward the road. Upon seeing Penny he started to

retreat.

"Wait!" she called frantically. "Don't you know me, Dad? It's Penny!"

The words seemed to convey nothing to the man. He shook his head in a

baffled sort of way, and walked swiftly toward the house.

Penny ran on to the gate. It was locked, but she vaulted over, landing in

a heap on the other side. By the time she had picked herself up, the man

had vanished into the house.

"Are you hurt?" Louise cried, hurrying to the gate.

Penny brushed snow from her coat and did not answer.

"That man couldn't have been your father," Louise said kindly. "Do come

back, Penny."

"But it was Dad! I'm sure of it!"

"You called to him," Louise argued. "If it had been Mr. Parker he

couldn't have failed to recognize your voice."

"It was Dad," Penny insisted stubbornly. "He's being held a prisoner

here!"

"But that's ridiculous! Whoever that man is, he could escape from the

grounds just as easily as you climbed the gate."

Penny did not wish to believe, yet she knew her chum was right.

"Anyway, I'm going to talk to him," she declared. "Now that I am inside

the grounds, I'll ring the doorbell."

Leaving Louise and Joe on the other side of the fence, Penny went boldly

to the front door. She knocked several times and rang the bell. There was

no response.

"Why doesn't someone answer?" she thought impatiently.

At the rear of the house a door slammed. Suddenly Louise called from the

gate: "Penny! A woman is leaving the estate by the back way!"

Penny darted to the corner of the house. The same woman she had met

earlier that day had let herself out the rear gate. Holding the skirts of

her long black coat, she fairly ran across the snowy fields.

"Shall I nab her?" called Joe, eager for action.

Penny's reply was surprisingly calm.

"No, let her go," she decided. "While that woman is away, I'll get into

the house. I think Dad is in there alone, and I'm going to find him!"

CHAPTER

18

_THROUGH THE CELLAR WINDOW_

Penny returned to the front porch and rang the doorbell many times. No

one came to admit her. She tested the door, finding it locked. Windows

above the porch level could not be raised.

"I'll try the back door," she said, refusing to accept defeat.

Louise and Joe followed her to the rear of the dwelling, but remained on

the outside of the fence.

As Penny had feared, the back door also was locked. She tested eight

windows. Finally she found one which opened into the cellar. To her

delight the sash swung inward as she pushed on it.

"Here I go!" she called to Louise. "You and Joe stay where you are and

keep watch."

Penny crawled through the narrow opening and swung herself down to the

cellar floor. She landed with a thud beside a laundry tub. The room was

dark. Groping her way toward a stairway, she tripped over a box and made

a fearful clatter.

"I've certainly advertised my arrival!" she thought ruefully.

At the top of the stairway Penny found a light switch and boldly turned

it on. The kitchen door was not locked. She opened it and stepped out

into another semi-dark room.

A doorbell at the front of the house began to ring. Penny was

dumbfounded. Then she became annoyed, thinking that Louise and the cab

driver were trying to get in.

Groping her way through the house, she unlocked the door and flung it

open.

"For Pity Sakes!" she exclaimed, and then her voice trailed off.

A uniformed messenger boy stood on the porch.

"Mrs. Botts live here?" he asked, taking a telegram from his jacket

pocket.

Penny did not know what to answer. Thinking quickly, she replied: "This

is the Deming estate."

The messenger boy turned the beam of his flashlight on the telegram.

"Mrs. Lennie Botts, Stop 4, Care of G. A. Deming," he read aloud. "This

is the place all right."

"But Mrs. Botts isn't at home now."

"I've had a lot of trouble getting here," the boy complained. "Even had

to climb over the gate. How about signing for the telegram?"

"Oh, all right," agreed Penny, accepting the pencil. "I don't know why I

didn't think of that idea myself!"

In return for the telegram she gave the boy a small tip. The moment he

had gone, she closed the front door and switched on a table lamp.

Penny found herself in a luxuriously furnished living room. The rug

underfoot was Chinese, the furniture solid mahogany, hand carved.

However, she had no interest in her surroundings. Rather tensely, she

examined the telegram. Dared she open it?

"What's ten years or so of jail in my young life?" she cajoled herself.

"I'm willing to spend it in Sing Sing if only I can find Dad!"

Penny ripped open the envelope. The message, addressed to Mrs. Lennie

Botts was terse and none too revealing:

"HAVE CHANGED PLANS. WILL RETURN THE TWENTY-SEVENTH BY PLANE. PLEASE HAVE

EVERYTHING IN READINESS."

The telegram was signed by the owner of the estate, G. A. Deming.

"Today is the twenty-seventh of the month," thought Penny. "This message

must have been several hours delayed."

The telegram had provided little information. Evidently the woman who had

refused to tell her name was Mrs. Lennie Botts. Regretting that she had

opened the message, Penny tossed it carelessly on the table.

Footsteps sounded on the floor directly above. Penny had taken no pains

to be quiet. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened as she heard someone pad

to the head of the stairway. A muffled voice called: "Who's there?"

Penny's heart leaped for she was sure she recognized the tones. Fairly

trembling with excitement, she darted to the foot of the circular

staircase. On the top landing in the heavy shadows stood a man whose face

she could not see.

"Dad!" she cried. "I'm Penny."

"Penny?" the man demanded impatiently as if the name meant nothing to

him. "Where is Mrs. Botts?"

"Why, she went away."

"And how did you get into the house?"

"Through a cellar window."

"I thought so! Young lady, I don't know what you're doing here in Mrs.

Bott's absence. Unless you leave at once I'll summon the police."

Penny was not to be discouraged so easily. She started slowly up the

stairway.

"Stand where you are!" the man ordered sharply. "I've been sick, but I'm

still a match for any house-breaker. I have a revolver--"

So dark was the stairway that Penny could not know whether or not the man

was bluffing. His voice, startlingly similar to her father's, sounded

grim and determined. Knowing that a stranger would have good reason to

treat her as a burglar, she was afraid to venture further.

"Dad--" she began.

"Don't keep calling me Dad!" he snapped.

"Who are you?" asked Penny, completely baffled.

"Who am I?" the man repeated. "Why, I'm Lester Jones, a salesman. I room

here."

The answer dumbfounded Penny. "Then you're not being held a prisoner by

Mrs. Botts?" she faltered.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Botts has been very kind to me. Especially since

I've been sick."

Penny's perplexity increased. "But I've seen you wandering in the garden

at night," she murmured. "Why do you do it?"

"Because--oh, hang it! Do I have to explain everything to you? My head's

aching again. Unless you go away and stop bothering me, I'll call the

police."

Penny was completely crushed. She had been so sure that the man was her

father! Seemingly she had made a very stupid mistake.

"I'll go," she said quietly.

Retreating down the stairway, she left the opened telegram on the

living-room table and switched off the light. Then unlocking the kitchen

door, she rejoined Louise and Joe.

"I guess you didn't have any luck," her chum commented, observing her

downcast face.

Penny ruefully admitted that the man who had been seen in the garden was

Lester Jones.

"I knew he wasn't your father," Louise replied. "You wouldn't listen to

reason--"

"All the same, his voice was similar," Penny cut in. "Why, the man even

used one of Dad's pet expressions."

"What was it?" Louise inquired curiously.

"'Oh, hang it!' That's the expression Dad uses when he's irritated."

Louise helped her chum over the back fence and guided her toward the

parked taxi. Midway there Penny paused to stare up at the dark windows of

the second floor.

"Lou!" she exclaimed. "That man must have been Dad even if he didn't know

me!"

"Oh, Penny, don't start that all over again," Louise pleaded. "You're

only torturing yourself."

"I'm going back!"

"No, we can't let you, Penny."

Louise held her chum's arm firmly. Joe opened the door of the taxi and

they pushed her in. Penny protested for a moment, then submitted.

"All right, but we're going straight to the police station!" she

announced. "I'll not be satisfied until that man positively is identified

as Lester Jones."

A few minutes later, at the police station, Detective Fuller heard the

entire story. It was the first he had learned about Mrs. Botts, for

Penny's earlier message had not been delivered by Policeman Burns.

"For that matter, I've not seen Burns today," the detective explained.

"I'll go to the estate at once and question the woman."

Again Penny and Louise taxied to the estate, this time trailed by a

police car. Detective Fuller broke the padlock on the gate and led the

party to the front door.

A light now burned in the living room. To Penny's astonishment, the door

was opened by Mrs. Botts.

"Good evening," she greeted the visitors pleasantly.

Detective Fuller flashed his badge. "We want to ask you a few questions,"

he said. "May we come in?"

With obvious reluctance the woman stepped aside, allowing the party to

enter the living room. Penny's gaze roved to the center table. The

telegram which she had opened no longer was there.

Mrs. Botts did not offer chairs to the callers. Glaring at Penny with

undisguised dislike, she said coldly: "I suppose I am indebted to you for

this visit. What is it you want?"

"I understand you have a roomer here," began Detective Fuller.

"A roomer?" Mrs. Botts echoed blankly.

"Yes, a man by the name of Lester Jones."

"Ridiculous! You don't seem to realize that this is the Deming estate."

"Are you an employee here?"

"I am the housekeeper. During Mr. Deming's absence I look after the

property. I assure you no one but myself lives in the house at present."

"No roomer ever has stayed here?"

Mrs. Botts drew herself up proudly. "Would Mr. Deming be likely to annoy

himself with roomers? He has a very substantial fortune."

"You might try to pick up a few dollars yourself."

"Mr. Deming would not hear of such a thing! He pays me well."

Detective Fuller asked additional questions, trying to learn whether or

not the woman was the one who had fled from the cemetery. Mrs. Botts

frankly admitted that she had taken Mr. Parker to the hospital, but she

denied ever trying to collect a ransom.

"What you say now doesn't agree with your original story," Penny

protested. "You admitted to me--"

"I admitted nothing," Mrs. Botts broke in indignantly. "I have no secrets

to hide!"

"But I'm sure Mr. Jones is living in this house," Penny said stubbornly.

"He's upstairs."

"Indeed?" mocked Mrs. Botts. "Perhaps you'd like to search the house."

"Yes, we would," said Detective Fuller.

Mrs. Botts remained undisturbed. Bestowing upon Penny a look of deep

contempt, she motioned toward the stairway.

"Very well, search the house," she invited with cool assurance. "I've

told you the truth. You'll find no one here but myself."

CHAPTER

19

_A BAFFLING SEARCH_

In systematic, unhurried fashion, Detective Fuller went through every

room in the Deming house. The bed chambers, nine in number, were in

perfect order. Only Mrs. Botts' suite over the kitchen appeared to have

been used recently.

As the search progressed, Penny's bewilderment increased. She knew that

Lester Jones had been in the house an hour earlier, yet there was no sign

of him. Personally she inspected clothes closets and bureau drawers. Not

an article could she find that ever had belonged to her father. She did

come upon a white woolen bathrobe. Believing it to be the garment worn by

the "ghost" she called it to Detective Fuller's attention.

"Oh, that robe belongs to my employer, Mr. Deming," explained Mrs. Botts.

Penny indicated water stains along the hem which suggested that the

garment had been allowed to trail in the snow.

"Sometimes I wear the robe when I go outside to bring in the washing,"

replied Mrs. Botts. "It is warmer than my coat."

Try as she would, Penny could not trip the woman into making any damaging

admissions. Mrs. Botts had changed her original story and would not

acknowledge that she had fled from the cemetery. Stubbornly, she

maintained that she had told everything she knew about Mr. Parker's

disappearance.

"I took him to Mercy Hospital in my employer's car," she repeated to

Detective Fuller. "That's the last I saw of him."

"In what condition was Mr. Parker when you left him?" questioned the

detective.

"He seemed all right. Perhaps he was a bit dazed."

"Why didn't you report to the police?"

"Because I didn't see the newspapers for a day," Mrs. Botts replied

sullenly. "Later I read Miss Parker's offer of a reward."

"Then you did write, requesting me to run the ad in the _Star_!" Penny

cried triumphantly.

"No, of course not," Mrs. Botts retorted, "I merely read the item."

Penny knew Mrs. Botts was not telling the entire truth, but to prove it

seemed an impossible matter. Neither could she establish that a man who

claimed to be Lester Jones had been living in the house. True, Louise and

the taxi driver would support her story, but it would only be their word

against Mrs. Botts'. The situation had become hopelessly confusing.

Detective Fuller was not entirely satisfied with the housekeeper's story.

"Guess we'll have to take you along to the station for questioning," he

concluded.

Only then did Mrs. Botts lose her composure.

"No, don't take me away!" she pleaded anxiously. "My employer is coming

home tonight. I just received the telegram. If I'm not here when he

arrives, I may lose my job!"

Actually Detective Fuller had little evidence against Mrs. Botts and

doubted that he could hold her many hours in jail. Far more might be

gained by allowing the woman her freedom and keeping watch of the house.

"We'll let you stay here," he decided after a moment's thought. "However,

you'll be wanted for questioning a little later. Make no attempt to leave

the premises."

"I won't try to go away," Mrs. Botts promised. "I want to cooperate with

the police. All I ask is that my employer, Mr. Deming, doesn't hear of

this. I'm innocent and it's not right for me to lose a good job."

Very shortly the party bade the woman goodbye and left the estate.

Detective Fuller assigned a policeman to keep watch of the property and

then returned to Riverview. Louise and Penny, completely bewildered, left

with their driver, Joe, debated their next action.

"Where to?" the cabman inquired. "Home?"

"I suppose so," sighed Penny. "I never was in such a muddle in all my

life. What became of that man I thought was Dad?"

"He must have left the house while we were at the police station," Louise

declared. "It was a surprise finding Mrs. Botts there too! She must have

returned in a hurry after we went away."

"Mrs. Botts got rid of Lester Jones somehow," Penny said with conviction.

"Oh, she's a slick one!"

As Joe shifted gears, the girls observed a dark figure approaching the

estate from down the road.

"Wait!" Penny instructed the cabman. "Let's see who it is."

A moment later the figure emerged from the shadow cast by a giant tree.

Penny was surprised to recognize Mose Johnson. The old colored man

carried a basket on his arm and evidently had been doing a little late

marketing at the crossroads store.

"Good evening, Mose," Penny greeted him as he approached the cab.

"Evenin', Miss Penny," he beamed, pausing. "I'se suah astonished to see

yo' all out dis way. Has yo' been lookin' for dat ghost?"

"I'm afraid I have," Penny admitted ruefully. "I've certainly had no

luck."

Mose shifted the market basket to his other hand. "Dat ole ghost ain't

been around so much lately," he explained. "I comes by dis spot half an

hour ago on my way to de sto' to get some victuals. Dere wasn't no ghost

around den either. If dere had a been I'd have seen him, you kin be suah

o' dat. I was mighty skittish and ready to make mahself absent in about

two shakes."

"And you didn't see a thing?" inquired Penny.

"Well now, I can't rightly say dat," Old Mose corrected. "I didn't see no

ghost but I did see a taxicab."

"Ours, I suppose."

"Not dis one, Miss. De cab I see was a yelleh one."

The information interested Penny. "Which way was it going, Mose?" she

asked quickly.

"It wasn't goin', Miss Penny. It was standin' right at de gate. Den I

sees two dark lookin' white men git out and go into de big house."

"You did?" Penny demanded eagerly. "Then what happened? Did the cab drive

away?"

"It waited 'till de two men came back, 'cept when dey comes back dere is

three of 'em!"

"Three men?" Penny cried, her excitement mounting. "What did the third

man look like, Mose? Think hard! It's very important."

"Well," said Mose, "he was tall and he had something in his hand. A funny

lookin' little satchel. I guess you calls it a quick-case."

"You don't mean a brief case?"

"Yes, dat's it," Mose grinned. "Anyways, dey all gits in de taxicab and

off dey snorts. And dat's all I sees. Dere wasn't no ghost."

The colored man's rambling information served to confirm Penny's own

suspicions. Mrs. Botts had lied. A roomer known as Lester Jones had been

held at the house and later hustled away. Perhaps the man _was_ her

father!

"Mose," she cried, "the person you saw may have been Dad! Did it look

like him?"

"Why, now yo' speaks of it, dere was somethin' about dat man dat look

like Mr. Parker," the colored man agreed. "Kinda de way he walked. I

couldn't see his face cause he kept it sort o' tucked down in his

collar."

"All the same, it must have been Dad!" Penny exclaimed. "The brief case

practically proves it! Tell me, which way did the cab go?"

"Straight down de road," said Mose, pointing. "But de car's been gone a

long time now. If you figures on catchin' dose men, you all bettah be

travelin'."

CHAPTER

20

_ACCUSATIONS_

Alarmed and excited by Mose Johnson's revelation, Penny glanced about for

the policeman who had been assigned to watch the Deming mansion. The

officer had taken cover somewhere and was not to be seen.

"Joe, drive as fast as you can to the airplane spotting station!" she

ordered the cabman. "I'll telephone the police station from there."

As the taxi bounced along over the frozen road, the girls kept close

watch for the yellow cab Mose Johnson had mentioned. They did not expect

to overtake it. If the old colored man's story was accurate, the taxi

bearing Mr. Parker had left the mansion at least a half hour earlier.

"Dad must have been spirited away immediately after I talked to him!"

Penny said. "He's been drugged or something! Otherwise he would have

known me."

"But according to Mose, your father must have gone willingly with those

men," Louise returned.

"That's the queer part."

"Of course, you're not certain the man is your father."

"Yes, I am!" Penny insisted. "I was almost sure of it earlier this

evening. Now I know! Oh, Lou, something terrible has happened to Dad!"

Louise drew her chum into the hollow of her arm. "Brace up!" she said

sternly. "You're not going to cave in now, are you?"

Penny's slumping shoulders stiffened. She brushed away a tear. "Of course

I'm not going to cave in!" she replied indignantly. "I'll find

Dad--tonight, too!"

Enroute to the airplane spotting station, the cab neither met nor passed

any vehicle. Leaving Louise in the taxi, Penny clattered up the tower

steps and burst into the overheated room where Salt Sommers was making

out a report. Her words fairly tumbled over one another as she told him

what had happened.

"Will you notify police for me?" she pleaded.

"Of course," Salt assured her, reaching for a telephone. "My relief's due

in five minutes now, so I'll be free to join in the search."

While the photographer waited impatiently for a connection, Penny asked

him if he had seen a yellow taxi pass the tower.

"Not since I've been on duty. The cab must have taken another road."

Salt completed the call to the Riverview Police Station and was told that

every radio-equipped cruiser in the city would be ordered to watch for

the yellow cab. As he hung up the receiver, a low humming sound was heard

outside the tower.

"Listen!" commanded Salt. "A plane!"

Distinctly they both could hear the roar of a motor to the eastward.

"That's an unidentified ship," Salt declared, reaching for another

telephone. Taking down the receiver he said tersely: "Army Flash," and

went on to report the position of the passing airplane.

Penny had gone to the doorway. She could see the wing lights of the

passing ship. As she watched, the lights descended in a steep glide.

"Salt!" she called. "The plane is landing!"

The photographer darted to the platform to see for himself. "You're

right!" he exclaimed. "It's coming down at the Deming estate!"

"Mr. Deming is due home tonight from the East," Penny added. "That must

be his plane."

Salt went inside to complete his report to headquarters. As he rejoined

Penny, they saw a man trudging along the road toward the tower.

"My relief," said the photographer. "I'm free to go."

Gathering up his belongings, he followed Penny to the waiting taxicab.

There a brief conference was held. The girls were in favor of searching

for the yellow taxi, but Salt pointed out that the chance of finding it

was a slim one. He proposed that they return to the mansion and try to

force information from Mrs. Botts.

"Detective Fuller had no luck," replied Penny. "She has one story and she

sticks to it. Her one fear is that she'll lose her job."

"Then this is the time to make things merry for her!" urged the

photographer. "If Mr. Deming just arrived home, we'll toss a few

firebrands around and find out what he has to say!"

The suggestion appealed to Penny. From the first she had distrusted Mrs.

Botts and felt that police had been entirely too lenient with her.

"All right, let's go!" she agreed. "If Mrs. Botts loses her job, I'm sure

it's no more than she deserves."

Joe drove the party once more to the Deming mansion. No policeman was in

evidence near the premises. Actually he had gone to the crossroads store

to report to his superiors the arrival of Mr. Deming's airplane, but at

the moment Penny assumed the man was neglecting his duties.

"If this case ever is solved, we must do it ourselves!" she declared,

thumping on the front door. "I'm in no mood to take any slippery answers

from Mrs. Botts!"

After a long delay the door was opened by the caretaker. Recognizing

Penny and her friends, the woman sought to lock them out.

"Oh, no you don't!" said Salt, pushing her firmly aside. "We want to see

Mr. Deming."

"He's not here," Mrs. Botts replied nervously. "Please leave me alone. Go

away!"

Ignoring the plea, Penny, Louise, and the photographer walked boldly into

the living room. A fire burned in the grate and there were fresh flowers

on the table.

"Where is Mr. Deming?" asked Salt in a loud voice.

Footsteps sounded on the circular stairway. A portly, bald-headed man

with a pleasant face came heavily down the steps.

"Did someone ask for me?" he inquired.

"You're Mr. Deming?" asked Salt.

"I am. Flew in from New York about ten minutes ago and was just changing

my clothes. What may I do for you?"

"I've been trying to tell these folks you can't see them tonight, Mr.

Deming," broke in Mrs. Botts. "You're too tired."

"Nonsense," replied the mansion owner impatiently. "Sit down by the fire,

everyone. Tell me what brought you here."

Mrs. Botts began to edge toward the kitchen door. Observing the action,

Salt called sharply:

"Don't go, Mrs. Botts. We want to talk to you in particular."

"I've nothing to say," the caretaker retorted tartly.

"Sit down, Mrs. Botts," ordered her employer. "For some reason you have

seemed very nervous since I arrived home tonight."

"It was upsetting to get your telegram so late," Mrs. Botts mumbled,

sinking down on the sofa.

"Mr. Deming," began Penny, "a great deal has happened here tonight."

"I intended to tell you about it myself," interrupted Mrs. Botts,

addressing her employer. "I've not had a chance."

"Be quiet, please," commanded Mr. Deming. "Do continue, Miss--"

"Parker," supplied Penny. She introduced Salt and Louise, then resumed

her story.

As the tale unfolded, Mr. Deming listened with increasing amazement. Now

and then he focused his gaze upon the crestfallen Mrs. Botts, but he did

not speak until Penny had finished.

"This is a very serious charge you have made against my housekeeper," he

said then. "Mrs. Botts, what have you to say?"

"There's not a word of truth in it!" the woman cried. "Why, I've worked

for you ten years, Mr. Deming. I've been a loyal, faithful servant. Why

should I deceive you by taking a stranger into the house?"

"It does seem fantastic," replied the perplexed Mr. Deming. "Miss Parker,

what proof have you that your accusations are true?"

"The proof of my own eyesight," Penny said quietly. "For that matter, a

number of persons saw the ghost wandering about the grounds."

Mrs. Botts tossed her head. "I've already explained that part. Frequently

when I go outdoors, I put on your old white bathrobe, Mr. Deming. It's

warmer than my coat."

"The ghost happened to be a man," Penny said. "And here is something you

don't know, Mrs. Botts. I was in this house earlier this evening while

you were away. I talked with your mysterious roomer, and I'm satisfied it

was my father."

"So _you_ were here!" Mrs. Botts cried angrily. "Mr. Deming, this girl

opened the telegram you addressed to me!"

"I did indeed," admitted Penny, unabashed.

Mr. Deming arose and walking over to the fire, stood with his back to it.

"I confess I don't know what to say," he said. "I've never had reason to

distrust Mrs. Botts."

"Thank you, sir." The housekeeper smiled triumphantly.

Penny realized that Mr. Deming was on the verge of swinging to Mrs.

Botts' side. So far the interview had gained nothing. She had told the

entire story. There was no further information she could add.

"I suppose we may as well go," she said, looking miserably at Salt.

Penny arose. Suddenly her eyes lighted upon a small object lying half

hidden between the cushions of the sofa. Before Mrs. Botts realized what

she was about, she had pounced upon it.

"Dad's spectacle case!" she cried triumphantly.

Opening the lid, she held up a pair of dark horn-rimmed glasses.

"I'm sure I don't know where the case came from," Mrs. Botts stammered.

"When Dad reads on the sofa at home, he often loses his case between the

cushions!" Penny went on excitedly. "Mrs. Botts, you thought you were

very clever getting him away from here and removing all the evidence!"

"A salesman who wore glasses was here last week--" the housekeeper began

weakly.

"You can't talk yourself out of this," Penny cut her short, "Mr. Deming,

let me show you something."

She reopened the lid of the case and pointed to the initials "A. P."

engraved in gold letters.

"Anthony Parker," she said impressively. "Dad had them stamped there

because he lost the case so many times. Does this prove my story?"

"It does," said Mr. Deming. Sternly he faced the housekeeper. "Mrs.

Botts, you have deeply humiliated me. I shall turn you over to the

police."

Mrs. Botts began to weep. Stumbling across the room, she clutched her

employer's arm.

"Please don't turn me away from here," she pleaded. "Just give me a

chance and I'll explain everything. Please, Mr. Deming! This time I

promise to tell the truth!"

CHAPTER

21

_MRS. BOTTS' REVELATION_

"Very well, tell your story," Mr. Deming bade the housekeeper. "What do

you know about Mr. Parker's disappearance?"

"It was just like I said," Mrs. Botts began in an aggrieved voice. "I was

driving not far from the railroad station when I saw the auto accident."

"You say you were driving?" Mr. Deming interposed. "In whose car, may I

ask?"

"I used yours, Mr. Deming. I didn't think you would care."

"We'll skip that. Go on with your story."

"Well, I saw the accident. A coupe driven by a young man, crowded Mr.

Parker's car off the road."

"Purposely?" asked Penny.

"I don't know. Two men were in the car and they were speeding. I read

part of the license number too. It was F-215 something."

"Why didn't you give this information to the police immediately?"

demanded Mr. Deming.

"I'm trying to explain. I stopped my car--your car, I mean. Mr. Parker

seemed stunned so I offered to take him to the hospital. Of course at

that time I didn't know who he was."

"Dad didn't seem much hurt?" Penny inquired quickly.

"He had a few scratches, but nothing serious. We started for the

hospital. Before we got there Mr. Parker changed his mind and decided he

didn't want to go. He asked me to take him to a hotel or a rooming

house."

"How strange!" exclaimed Penny. "Why didn't he ask to go home?"

"Because he didn't remember he had a home," Mrs. Botts replied. "I guess

the accident must have stunned him. Anyway, he said his name was Lester

Jones. Since he wanted a room and was willing to pay, I figured I could

bring him here."

"So you turned my home into a hotel," Mr. Deming remarked rather grimly.

"I--I didn't think you would be back this winter. I wouldn't have done

it, Mr. Deming, only I needed extra money. My sister in Kansas has been

sick and I've had to send her funds."

"Mrs. Botts, I've always paid you well," her employer responded. "Had you

told me you needed more money, I would have assisted you. But go on."

"Well, I brought Mr. Parker here and gave him a room. Right off I noticed

how queer he acted. He didn't seem to be sure who he was, and he kept

going through some papers he carried in a portfolio, trying to puzzle

things out."

"All this while you made no attempt to contact police?" Mr. Deming

questioned severely.

"I was wondering what to do when I saw a picture of Mr. Parker in the

paper."

"And then you dropped an unsigned letter in my mailbox?" Penny probed.

Mrs. Botts knew that the net was closing tightly about her. Although she

tried to slant her story in such a way that she would not appear too much

at fault, the facts remained bald and ugly.

"Yes, I left a note at your house," she acknowledged reluctantly. "Later

I telephoned and made an appointment to meet you at the cemetery."

"Why didn't you go through with it?" asked Penny. "Were you afraid?"

"I began to realize I might be held for something I never intended to do.

Folks started to watch this house. I tried to keep my roomer out of

sight, but he'd do such queer things."

"Such as stroll in the garden at night," supplied Penny.

"Yes, I felt sorry for the poor man. He had such dreadful headaches and

was so bewildered."

"Evidently you weren't sorry enough to tell him who he was," reprimanded

Mr. Deming. "Really Mrs. Botts, I can't understand why you acted as you

did."

"I just kept getting in deeper and deeper," the housekeeper whined. "Mr.

Parker paid me three dollars a day for his room and board. It didn't seem

wrong to take the money as long as he was satisfied."

"Where is my father now?" Penny broke in. "That's the important thing."

Mrs. Botts regarded the girl with a trace of her former arrogance. "I

don't know what became of Mr. Parker after he left here," she said

coldly.

"You sent him away when you knew Mr. Deming was coming home!" Penny

accused. "You thought you could keep the truth from your employer!"

"And I would have too, if it hadn't been for you!" Mrs. Botts flared.

"I've not done any harm, but you've made a lot out of it, and now I'll be

discharged."

"You are quite right about that," agreed Mr. Deming in a quiet voice.

"However, there's far more at stake than a job, Mrs. Botts. Even now you

don't seem to realize the seriousness of your offense."

"You won't turn me over to the police, will you, Mr. Deming?"

"It will not be in my hands to decide your fate. I strongly advise you to

tell everything you know. Where did Mr. Parker go when he left here?"

"I've no idea." Mrs. Botts covered her face. "Oh, leave me alone--don't

ask me any more questions. My head buzzes."

"A taxicab with two men in it was seen at the door earlier this evening,"

Penny went on relentlessly. "What have you to say about that?"

"They were friends who came for Mr. Parker."

"Your friends?"

"Well, no, I found the names and addresses in Mr. Parker's brief case.

They were men in the tire business."

This latest scrap of information fairly stunned Penny. As she well knew,

her father's portfolio contained only evidence pertaining to the

tire-theft case.

"Who were the men?" she demanded.

"One was named Kurt Mollinberg--Ropes Mollinberg his friend called him. I

forget the other."

"Ropes Mollinberg!" exclaimed Salt Sommers who had listened quietly to

the story. "Why, he's one of the lowest rats in this town! Connected with

the numbers racket and I don't know what else!"

"Why did you summon those men, of all persons?" Mr. Deming questioned.

"Well, I found their addresses in the portfolio. I had to get rid of Mr.

Parker before you came and I was afraid to call his house."

"You're a cruel, heartless woman!" accused Penny. "You sent my father

away with two of the most notorious rascals in Riverview. Why, those men

have been waiting for a chance to waylay him! They wanted to get

possession of vital evidence Dad had in his portfolio."

"I didn't know," murmured Mrs. Botts. "When they came in the taxi, they

offered me money."

"And you took it?"

"I tried not to, but they forced it on me."

Penny sprang to her feet. Only by the greatest effort of will could she

keep from telling the housekeeper what she thought of her contemptible

actions.

"You sent Dad away with those men," she repeated mechanically. "Didn't he

realize who they were?"

"I told him they were his friends. I really thought so. He went willingly

enough."

Penny was sick with despair. From the first, the situation had been

grave, but now there seemed little hope. From Mrs. Botts' story she could

only conclude that her father suffered from a brain injury. Even if she

were fortunate enough to find him, he would not be likely to recognize

her as his daughter.

"Oh, Salt," she pleaded, turning to the photographer. "What are we to do?

What can we do?"

His reply though prompt, was not completely reassuring.

"We've already put every policeman in Riverview on the trail of those

men!" he answered soberly. "And we'll scour every nook and cranny of this

town ourselves! Chin up, Penny! Why, we've only started to fight!"

CHAPTER

22

_A PARK BENCH_

Penny and her friends were heartsick with the knowledge that Mr. Parker

had fallen into the hands of ruthless members of the tire-theft gang. The

taxi which had borne him away had left the mansion fully an hour earlier.

There seemed little likelihood that the trail could be picked up quickly.

"I'll telephone the boys at the newspaper office," Salt offered. "The

police too! We'll put a description on the radio. We'll have everybody in

Riverview watching for that yellow taxi."

"Call the cab companies too," urged Penny. "We may be able to trace it

through the driver."

Salt made good use of the Deming telephone which had not been

disconnected during the winter months. While he phoned, Penny ran outside

to find the policeman assigned to guard the mansion. She soon returned

with him and placed Mrs. Botts in his custody.

"Oh, Mr. Deming, don't let them take me to jail," the housekeeper

pleaded. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

"Mrs. Botts, I can't help you," her employer returned coldly. "Your

offense is a very serious one. The court must decide your fate."

The housekeeper broke into tears again and for several minutes was quite

hysterical. When her act moved no one, she resigned herself to the

inevitable. Packing a few articles in a bag, she prepared to leave the

house in the custody of the policeman.

"I'm sorry about everything," she said as she bade the girls goodbye. "I

hope Mr. Parker is found. I really do."

After Mrs. Botts had gone, Penny was too upset to remain quietly in a

chair. She longed to join in an active search for the yellow taxi. Common

sense told her that the cab undoubtedly had reached its destination, yet

she hoped she might pick up a clue.

"By questioning filling station attendants, we may be able to learn which

way it went from the crossroads," she urged.

"Come on, then," said Salt.

Joe, faithful as ever, waited in his cab outside the mansion. Penny chose

to ride beside him, as the front seat offered an unobstructed view of the

road.

The cab turned away from the mansion and swept down the familiar twisting

highway. At the first bend, the bright headlights illuminated a patch of

snow along the ditch. Penny thought she saw a small, dark object lying on

the ground.

"Stop the car!" she cried.

Joe brought the cab to a standstill a little farther down the road.

Penny leaped out and ran back to the ditch. Lying just at its edge was a

leather portfolio. A glance satisfied her that it had belonged to her

father.

"Salt! Louise!" she shouted. "I've found Dad's satchel!"

The others came running. By that time Penny had examined the portfolio.

It was empty.

"Just as I thought," she muttered. "Those men were after the evidence Dad

carried! And they got it, too!"

Salt and Joe examined the snowy ditches for a long distance. There were

no footprints. They could only conclude that the portfolio had been

thrown from a window of the moving cab. Evidently Mr. Parker remained a

prisoner.

"Now that those men have what they want, maybe they'll release Dad,"

Penny said hopefully. "Don't you think so, Salt?"

The photographer glanced at Joe. Neither spoke.

"You believe they'll harm Dad!" Penny cried, reading their faces. "Maybe

I'll never see him again--"

"Now Penny," Salt soothed, guiding her toward the taxi.

The cab rolled on, its tires crunching the hard-packed snow. At the

crossroads, they met a police car and hailed it. Penny turned the empty

portfolio over to one of the officers, explaining where it had been

found.

"Every road is being watched," she was told in return. "The alarm has

been broadcast throughout the State, too. If that yellow cab still is on

the road, we'll get it."

For an hour longer, Penny and her party scoured roads in the vicinity of

Riverview. Many times they stopped at filling stations and houses to

inquire if a yellow cab had been seen to pass. Always the answer was in

the negative.

"Don't you think we ought to go home?" Salt suggested at length. "For all

we know, police may have found Mr. Parker by this time. We'd never learn

about it while we're touring around."

"All right, let's go home," agreed Penny.

The taxi turned toward Riverview. Arriving at the outskirts, Joe chose a

boulevard which wound through the park. The trees, each limb and twig

glistening with ice, were very beautiful.

Penny gazed absently toward the frozen lake where a few boys were

skating. Suddenly her gaze fastened upon a man who sat on a park bench

beneath a street lamp. He wore no hat. His overcoat was unbuttoned.

"That man!" she cried. "Salt, it looks like Dad! And it is he! It is!"

The man on the bench had turned slightly so that she was able to see his

face.

Joe brought the cab to a halt with a jerk. Penny leaped out, followed by

the others. The first to reach the bench, she fairly flung herself

headlong at the disheveled man who sat so dejectedly alone.

"Oh, Dad, I've found you at last! How thankful I am you're safe!"

The man on the bench stared blankly at her.

"Who are you?" he asked in a dazed voice.

"Why, I'm Penny--your daughter."

"I have no daughter," the man answered bitterly. "No home. Nothing. Not

even a name."

Salt, Louise and Joe reached the bench.

"Who are these people?" the man asked. "Why do they stare at me?"

"Why, Mr. Parker," said Salt, taking his arm. "You remember me, don't

you?"

"Never saw you before in my life."

"You're my father--Anthony Parker," Penny said desperately. "You were in

a bad accident. Don't you remember?"

"I remember that I was taken by two men in a taxicab. They pretended to

be my friends. As soon as we were well away from Mrs. Botts' home, they

robbed me of my money and portfolio. Then they pushed me out of the cab.

I started walking. I kept on until I came here."

"You're cold and tired," said Salt, trying to guide him toward the taxi.

"Who are you?" Mr. Parker demanded suspiciously. "Why should I let you

take me away? You'll only try to rob me--"

"Oh, Dad, you don't understand," Penny murmured. "You're sick."

"Come along, sir," urged Salt. "We're your friends. We'll take you to the

doctor."

Mr. Parker planted his feet firmly on the ground.

"I'm not going a step!" he announced. "Not a step!"

"Sorry, sir, but if you're so set about it, we'll have to do it this

way."

Salt nodded to Joe. Before Mr. Parker knew what was coming, they caught

him firmly by the arms and legs. Although he resisted, they carried him

to the cab.

"Take us home as fast as you can!" Penny directed Joe. "Then I'll want

you to go for Doctor Greer, the brain specialist. Dad's in very serious

condition."

"Serious, my eye!" snorted the publisher. He struggled to free himself

from Salt's grip. "Let me out of here!"

"Dad, everything will be all right now," Penny tried to soothe him.

"You're with friends. You're going home."

"I'm being kidnaped!" Mr. Parker complained. "Twice in one night! If I

were strong enough to get out of here--"

Again he tried to free himself. Failing, he edged into a corner of the

seat and averted his face.

CHAPTER

23

_FORGOTTEN EVENTS_

In the upstairs bedroom, Penny moved with velvet tread. Noiselessly she

rearranged a vase of flowers and closed the slat of a Venetian blind.

"You needn't be so quiet," said Mr. Parker from the bed. "I've been awake

a long time now."

Penny went swiftly to his side. "How are you feeling this afternoon,

Dad?"

"Afternoon?" Mr. Parker demanded, sitting up. "How long have I been

sleeping?"

"Roughly, about two days."

Mr. Parker threw off the covers.

"Oh, no, you don't," said Penny, pressing him back against the pillow.

"Doctor Greer says you are to have absolute bed rest for several days.

It's part of the treatment."

"Treatment for what?" grumbled Mr. Parker. "I feel fine!"

"That's wonderful," declared Penny, with a deep sigh of relief. "I'll

have Mrs. Weems bring up something for you to eat."

She called down the stairway to the housekeeper, and then returned to the

bedside. Her father looked more like his former self than at any time

since the strange motor accident which had caused him to lose his memory.

His voice too, was more natural.

"Guess I must have had a bad dream," Mr. Parker murmured, his gaze roving

slowly about the room. "I seem to recall riding around in a taxi, and

being pushed out into the snow."

"You know where you are now, don't you?" asked Penny.

"Certainly. I'm at home."

Mrs. Weems came into the room bearing a tray of food. Hearing Mr.

Parker's words, she looked at Penny and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Doctor Greer was right," she whispered. "His memory is slowly coming

back. How thankful I am!"

"What's all this?" Mr. Parker inquired alertly. "Will someone kindly tell

me why I am being imprisoned in this bed?"

"Because you've been very, very sick," Penny said, arranging the food in

front of him. "You know who I am now, don't you?"

"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Parker indignantly. "You're my daughter.

Your name is--now let me think--"

"Penny."

"To be sure," agreed Mr. Parker, in confusion. "Fancy forgetting my own

daughter's name!"

"You've forgotten a number of other things too, Dad. But events gradually

are coming back to you. Suppose you tell me your name."

"My name?" Mr. Parker looked bewildered. "Why, I don't remember. It's not

Jones. I took that name because I couldn't think of my own. What's wrong

with me?"

Penny tucked a napkin beneath her father's chin and offered him a

spoonful of beef broth.

"What's wrong with me?" Mr. Parker demanded again. "Am I a lunatic? Can't

either of you tell me the truth?"

"You're recovering from a severe case of amnesia," revealed Penny. "The

doctor says it was brought on by overwork in combination with the shock

of being in an auto accident. Since you were hurt you've not remembered

what happened before that time."

"I do recall the auto mishap," Mr. Parker said slowly. "Another car

crowded me off the road. The crash stunned me, and my mind was a sort of

blank. Then a pleasant woman took me to her home."

"A pleasant woman, Dad?"

"Why, yes, Mrs. Botts gave me a nice room and good food. I liked it

there. But one night a girl broke in--could that have been you, Penny?"

"Indeed, it was."

"When Mrs. Botts came home she was very excited," Mr. Parker resumed

meditatively. "She said I had to leave. She hustled me out of the house

with two strangers."

"One of the men was Ropes Mollinberg, a member of the tire-theft gang."

"Yes, that was his name!" Mr. Parker agreed. "Speaking of tire thieves,

I've been intending to write an editorial for the paper. Penny, please

have my secretary come in. I'll dictate the material while it is fresh in

my mind."

Mrs. Weems looked slightly distressed. Penny, however, whisked away the

tray of food. Getting pencil and paper she again sat down beside her

father.

"Your secretary isn't available just now, but I'll take down what you

want to say."

Penny could not write shorthand so she only pretended to jot down notes.

Mr. Parker led off with a few crisp sentences, then wandered vaguely from

one idea to another.

"I can't seem to think straight any more," he complained. "Type that up

please and let me see it before it goes to the compositors."

"How shall I sign the editorial?" Penny inquired.

"Why, with my name--Anthony Parker."

Penny jumped up and fairly laughed with joy.

"Dad, events are coming back to you! You've just recalled your name and

that's a big step forward."

"Anthony Parker," the publisher murmured. "Yes, that's it! Now there's

another matter that troubles me. I had a brief case--"

"It was stolen by those men who took you away," Penny supplied eagerly.

"Dad, if only you could remember what those lost papers contained, we'd

expose the entire tire-theft gang!"

Mr. Parker thought for a long while, then shook his head.

"Mind's a blank, Penny. What does the doctor say? Is there a chance my

memory ever will return?"

"Of course," returned Penny heartily. "You've already recalled a number

of important things. Me, for instance! Doctor Greer thinks that with

rest, events will gradually return to mind. Or another shock, perhaps a

blow somewhat similar to the one you had, might bring everything back."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Mr. Parker joked. "Go get the sledge

hammer!"

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid."

"I'm afraid not, either," sighed Mr. Parker wearily. "Guess I'll sleep

some more now. I feel pretty tired."

During the days that followed, the publisher made a slow but steady

recovery. At first Penny did not worry him by mentioning how matters had

gone at the _Star_ office. Only after Mr. Parker was well enough to spend

several hours a day at the plant, did she reveal how Harley Schirr had

sought to establish himself as editor of the paper.

"That fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Parker in annoyance. "Why, I meant to

discharge him and he knew it. I have evidence in my safe showing that

Schirr accepted money from a local politician."

"You did have evidence," Penny corrected. "While you were away, Mr.

Schirr went through your safe."

Amazed by the boldness of his former employee, Mr. Parker immediately

examined the contents of both his desk and strongbox. To his chagrin he

found that Penny was right. Every document pertaining to Schirr was

missing.

"Well, it doesn't matter," the publisher said philosophically. "He'll

never set foot in this office again, nor in any other Riverview

newspaper!"

"Dad," said Penny, "I've wondered if Schirr may not be hooked up with the

tire-theft gang. What do you think?"

"My poor thinker isn't much good these days. However, I very much doubt

it, Penny. Schirr always was a snoop and not above taking money for

writing biased stories. My judgment would be that he has no connection

with the Mollinberg outfit."

"If only you could remember what was in your stolen portfolio!" Penny

sighed.

"If only I could!" agreed Mr. Parker. "Sometimes I doubt I'll ever fully

recover my memory."

"Oh, you will, Dad. You're doing better every day."

Penny seldom spoke of the automobile accident which had caused her

father's trouble for the subject was a painful one to them both. Although

the publisher had been absolved of all blame, police had not succeeded in

tracing the hit-skip driver.

Mr. Parker seemed well and strong. Each day he went to the office for

longer and longer periods. Gradually his memory was returning, yet he had

been unable to recall data which might bring about the capture of the

tire-theft gang. Strangely, he could remember nothing of his intention to

call at the State Prosecutor's office. Nor could he disclose a scrap of

evidence which had been carried in the stolen portfolio.

"If only Jerry would wire or return from his vacation!" Penny commented

anxiously. "I can't understand why he doesn't reply to my message."

The reporter's long absence had caused considerable worry at the _Star_

office. Jerry was the one person who could divulge the contents of the

stolen portfolio documents, but repeated wires failed to bring any

response.

"Jerry will show up one of these days," Mr. Parker said confidently. "The

only trouble is, by that time the higher-ups of the tire-theft gang may

have skipped town."

"Dad, can't you remember the men who took you away in the taxi?"

"Only vaguely. I've described them to police as best I can. So far, no

action."

Penny was silent for a moment. In her mind she had been turning over a

way to bring the crooks to justice. It seemed to her that the men might

be identified through Black Market operators with whom they must have

dealings.

"Now what are you keeping from me?" inquired Mr. Parker lightly.

"I was thinking about a place known as Mattie Williams' garage," replied

Penny. "I've good reason to suspect it deals in stolen tires."

She went on to tell of her recent adventure in the storage room of the

garage. The information did not excite Mr. Parker as she had feared it

might. Instead, it fired him with a determination to get at the truth of

the matter.

"Penny, we'll break our story yet!" he exclaimed, reaching for his hat.

"Let's go to Mattie's place now!"

"Unless we actually see the inside of the storage room we'll learn

nothing. You may be sure Mattie and her partner won't cooperate."

"We'll get into that room somehow," returned Mr. Parker grimly. "I'll

take along a few pet skeleton keys just for luck."

At the Williams' garage an hour later, they found Mattie and Sam busy

with repair work.

"Be with you in a minute," the woman called to Mr. Parker.

"No hurry," replied the publisher. "No hurry whatsoever."

He and Penny wandered aimlessly about. Choosing a moment when both Sam

and Mattie were inside the office, they slipped unnoticed into the room

where the empty boxes had been stored.

"Now show me the tunnel," urged the publisher. "We'll have to work fast!"

Penny swung back the hinged boards of the big box. She led her father

between a high aisle of crates to the locked door of the inner room.

"Now if only I have a key that will unlock it!" muttered Mr. Parker.

He tried several. At length one did fit the keyhole, the lock clicked,

and he was able to push open the door.

In the little storage room close to the outside building wall were tires

of all sizes and description. Some were new, still wrapped in clean

paper. Others appeared slightly used.

"See, Dad!" Penny cried triumphantly. "I was right!"

"We still have no proof this rubber was illegally obtained."

Penny darted forward to inspect a stack of tires which rose half way to

the ceiling.

"Here's one that might have come off my car!" she cried. "See! Mine had a

tiny cut place where I rammed the maple tree backing out of our garage!"

"All tires look alike, Penny. Without the serial number--"

"I do remember part of it. One was 8910 something."

"Then this isn't your tire," replied Mr. Parker, reading the number.

"However, I shouldn't be surprised that these are stolen tires."

Penny held up her hand as a signal for silence.

"Quiet, Dad!" she whispered.

Footsteps had sounded in the tunnel between the boxes. The next instant

the door was flung open. Penny and her father stood face to face with Sam

Burkholder.

CHAPTER

24

_TRICKERY_

"What d'you think you're doing in here?" demanded Sam Burkholder harshly.

"Snoopers, eh?"

"Call us that if you like," retorted Mr. Parker. "How long have you been

dealing in stolen tires?"

The shot hit its target. Sam started to speak but no words came. He

looked badly frightened. Convinced that his suspicion was correct, Mr.

Parker added sternly:

"Naturally, I'll report this to the police. You and your partner will

have to face charges."

"Keep Mattie out of this," growled Sam. "She had nothing to do with the

tire business."

"So you carried on crooked operations all by your lonesome?"

"I've bought and sold a few tires," Sam said sullenly. "All these

government regulations give me a pain. A guy can't make any money these

days."

"So you admit you've been doing an illegal business?"

"Maybe," said Sam, watching Mr. Parker craftily. "But what's it to you? I

take it you're not a government agent?"

"I'm interested in breaking up a gang of leeches--the men who've been

cleaning this town of tires for the past three months."

"Those guys are crooks all right," agreed Sam. "Why the last time they

sold me a bunch of tires they charged double. When I wasn't going to take

'em they said, 'Either you do, or else!'"

"Did you deal with Ropes Mollinberg?"

"He's just one of the little fry. What will you give me to spill?"

"Nothing."

"Will you keep Mattie out of this?"

"If she's innocent."

"She is," insisted Sam. "Supposin' I tell you how to get the whole gang,

will you forget what you've seen here?"

"I make no bargains with Black Market dealers," retorted Mr. Parker.

"Either you tell what you know, or I'll have you and Mattie hauled into

court."

Sam Burkholder was silent a moment.

"Okay," he said abruptly. "I've had enough of this business anyhow. I'll

tell you what I know, and it won't take me long. I've never seen nor

dealt direct with the big shots."

"Then how do you get your tires?"

"A trucker by the name of Hank Biglow delivers them to me."

"Louise and I know that man!" cried Penny. "For whom does he work?"

"I've never asked. But from something Hank dropped I kinda suspect the

boys are having a meeting tonight."

"Where?" Mr. Parker demanded eagerly.

"I'll tell you on one condition. You've got to keep Mattie out of this.

So far as she knows this garage has been run pretty much on the square."

Mr. Parker was unwilling to make any sort of agreement with the man.

Nevertheless, he realized that Sam had it within his power to withhold

vital information.

"Very well," he said, "I'll take your word for it that Mattie is

innocent. Now where is the meeting to be held?"

"At Johnson's warehouse."

"Isn't that along the river?"

"Yeah, about eight miles from here. The boys will be loading some tires

there. If you're willing to take the risk, you may learn something.

Meeting's at seven."

Penny glanced at her wrist watch.

"It's after six now!" she exclaimed in dismay. "Dad, if we are to get

there in time, we've got to step!"

"Right you are," he agreed.

Before leaving the garage, Mr. Parker telephoned Central Police Station.

Without mentioning Sam's name, he revealed a little of what he had

learned and requested an immediate investigation of the Johnson

Warehouse. Then, intending to meet officers there, he and Penny taxied

along the winding river road.

Although not yet seven o'clock, it was darkening fast. The driver

switched on headlights, illuminating a long stretch of icy pavement.

"Can't you go faster?" Mr. Parker urged impatiently.

"Don't dare, sir," replied the driver.

Even as he spoke, a crossroads traffic light flashed red. Though the

driver applied the foot brake with quick stabs, the car went into a

disastrous skid. Out of control, it slid crosswise in the narrow road.

The front wheels rolled into a deep, slippery ditch.

"Just our luck!" muttered Mr. Parker.

Several times the driver tried to back the car from the ditch. Failing,

he and Mr. Parker pushed while Penny handled the steering wheel. The

tires kept spinning and would not grip the ice.

"No use," the publisher acknowledged at last. "We're only wasting time.

We need a tow car."

"The nearest house or filling station is at least a mile up the road,"

volunteered Penny. "I'm afraid we're stalled here until the police car

comes along."

They climbed into the taxi and waited. No vehicle of any description came

by. With increasing impatience, Mr. Parker looked at his watch.

"It's nearly seven o'clock now!" he exclaimed. "Either the police are

waiting farther down the road, or they've taken a different route!"

"What are we going to do?" Penny asked helplessly. "If we sit here much

longer we'll miss catching those men at their meeting."

"I don't see what we can do. Maybe our best bet is to walk to the nearest

filling station."

Penny suddenly was struck with an idea. "The Riverview Yacht Club is

closer!" she cried.

"True, but it's closed for the winter."

"My iceboat is still there," said Penny. "If you're not afraid to ride

with me, I could get you to Johnson's Warehouse in nothing flat."

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Mr. Parker.

Leaving the cab driver behind, Penny and her father ran most of the way

to the club. The _Icicle_, covered with snow, runners frozen to the ice,

remained where it had been abandoned.

"The sail's here too!" Penny declared, burrowing in a box hidden deep in

the cockpit. "In this wind, we'll go places!"

"Are you sure you can handle the boat?" Mr. Parker asked anxiously. He

had never ridden in the _Icicle_ and from his daughter's vivid

descriptions, had no great desire to do so.

"I know I can start it going," Penny replied with a quick laugh. "I'll

worry about stopping it when the time comes!"

They cleared the little boat of snow and pushed it out on the smooth ice

of the river. Penny made certain that all the ropes were free running.

"Now you get in, Dad," she advised as she hoisted the flapping sail. "I

want to be sure where you are when the fireworks begin."

The wind filled the big sail like a balloon. Nothing happened. The

iceboat did not move an inch.

"Why don't we go?" growled Mr. Parker. "Runners dull?"

Penny gave the boat a hard push.

"Want me to help?" offered her father.

"No, thanks," puffed Penny. "When this baby makes up its mind, it will go

so fast you'd be left behind."

Once more she pushed. The sail filled again and the runners stirred.

"It's moving!" shouted Penny.

The _Icicle_ was pulling away from her. She clung fast, trying to

scramble aboard. Her feet went out from under her and she was dragged

over the ice.

"Hang on!" shouted Mr. Parker. "I can't sail this thing alone!"

Penny clung desperately. Away flew a mitten. Her scarf flapped in her

face. With a supreme effort, she pulled herself aboard, and took command

of the tiller.

"Are you hurt?" Mr. Parker shouted anxiously in her ear.

Penny shook her head and laughed. "Getting started always is quite a

trick," she replied. "Sit tight! We have a stiff breeze tonight."

Penny and her father wore no protective goggles. The sharp wind stung

their eyes even though they kept their heads low.

"How'll we know when we get to the warehouse?" Mr. Parker shouted. "I

can't see anything!"

"Just trust me," laughed Penny. "All I worry about is stopping this

bronco when we get there!"

The boat was moving with the speed of an express train. Penny made her

decisions with lightning-like rapidity, twice steering to avoid open

stretches of water. She was worried, but had no intention of letting her

father know.

The boat raced on. Then far ahead loomed the dark outline of a building.

"That's the warehouse!" shouted Mr. Parker. "Don't go past it!"

Penny gradually slowed the _Icicle_. Approaching shore, she slacked the

main sheet and shot up into the wind. By using her overshoes for brakes,

she finally brought the boat to a standstill not far from the warehouse.

"Well done, skipper," praised Mr. Parker.

Scrambling from the boat, they glanced anxiously about. A dim light shone

from inside the warehouse. Not far from its side entrance stood a truck.

There were no other vehicles, no sign of the expected police car.

"Is this the place?" Penny asked doubtfully.

"Yes, it's the only warehouse within a mile. Queer the police aren't here

to meet us."

The publisher waded through a shrunken snowdrift to a side door of the

building. It was not locked and he pushed it open a crack. Far down a

deserted corridor shone a dim lantern light.

"Oughtn't we to wait for the police?" Penny whispered uneasily.

Without answering, Mr. Parker started down the corridor. Penny quickly

overtook him, padding along close at his side.

The corridor opened into a large storage room used in years past to house

river merchandise. Now the walls were stacked high with tires.

On the ground floor stood a truck which several men were loading. Two

others watched the work from a balcony overhead.

"Dad, do you recognize any of those men?" Penny whispered.

"No, but we've evidently come to the right place," he replied.

The men did not talk as they loaded the tires into the truck. For many

minutes Penny and her father watched the work.

"That truck soon will be pulling out," Penny observed. "Why don't the

police come?"

"I'm going to talk to those men," Mr. Parker decided. "You stay here."

Before Penny could protest, her father stepped boldly into the lighted

room. Immediately work ceased. Every eye focused upon him.

"Good evening," said Mr. Parker casually.

The remark was greeted by a suspicious silence. Then one of the men, a

red-faced fellow with a twisted lower lip, asked: "You lookin' fer

somebody?"

"Just passing through and noticed the light," replied Mr. Parker.

"Wondered what's going on."

"You can see, can't you?" growled one of the workmen. "We're trying to

load tires. Now get out of here or I'll bounce one on your head! We got

work to do."

Mr. Parker did not lack courage. However, the grim faces warned him that

the men would not hesitate to make their promise good. With Penny

unprotected in the corridor he could afford to take no chances.

"Sorry to have bothered you," he apologized, and retreated.

Penny waited nervously in the dark hallway. "Now what are we to do?" she

whispered as her father rejoined her.

"We'll telephone again for the police. Let's get out of here."

Noiselessly they stole from the building. As they huddled in the lee of a

brick wall, a car came down the road.

"That may be the police now!" Penny murmured hopefully.

The car turned in at the warehouse. A lone policeman alighted. As he came

over to the building, Penny recognized him as Carl Burns.

"Where's the rest of your men?" Mr. Parker demanded. "Surely you don't

expect to handle this tire gang single handed?"

"Aren't you a bit mixed up?" the policeman drawled.

"Mixed up?"

"I'm here on a routine inspection. This is a defense plant, or didn't you

know?"

"A defense plant!" Mr. Parker echoed.

"A warehouse for one, I should say," corrected the policeman. "Tires

intended for the Wilson war plant are earmarked and shipped out from

here. A couple of trucks are going out tonight. I'm on the job to see

they're not hijacked."

Penny gazed blankly at her father. If the policeman's information was

correct, then they had nearly made a serious blunder.

"Guess we've been tricked," Mr. Parker muttered. "We were told this place

operates in the Black Market."

"That's a laugh," responded the policeman. "Who told you that yarn?"

"I can't divulge my source."

"Well, you sure were taken for a ride!" the policeman taunted. "Mr.

Parker, why not let the police handle the crooks while you look after

your newspaper business? You've not been yourself since you were in that

auto accident."

Penny and her father resented the implication, but wisely allowed the

remark to pass without comment. Decidedly crestfallen, they bade the

policeman goodbye and returned to the iceboat.

"We've made ourselves ridiculous!" Mr. Parker commented bitterly as they

shoved off down river. "Taken in by Sam Burkholder!"

"He probably lied to get rid of us," agreed Penny. "By this time he's

likely removed every tire from Mattie's garage!"

Mr. Parker nodded and did not speak again. His failure to learn the

identity of the key men associated with Ropes Mollinberg, had been a

bitter disappointment.

Penny handled the _Icicle_ effortlessly and without much thought. Faster

and faster the little boat traveled, its runners throwing up a powdery

dust.

Then without warning the _Icicle_ struck something frozen in the ice.

Before Penny could make a move, the runners leaped from the surface. The

boat tilted to a sharp angle, and went over.

Penny felt herself sliding. Snow filled her mouth, the sleeves of her

coat. Her cap hung over one ear. Laughing shakily, she scrambled to her

feet.

"Are you all right, Dad?" she called anxiously.

Then she saw him. Mr. Parker was sprawled flat on the ice a few yards

away. He did not move. Terrified, she ran to him and grasped his arm.

"Dad! Speak to me!"

Mr. Parker stirred slightly. He raised a hand and rubbed his head. Slowly

he pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Penny--" he mumbled, staring at her.

"Yes, Dad."

"It's come to me--in a flash!"

"What has, Dad?" Penny asked, wondering how badly her father had been

stunned.

"Why, all the evidence I had in my portfolio! Names! Pictures! I know

every man who was mixed up in the tire deal. Jerry gave it all to me."

"You remember everything?" cried Penny. "Dad, that's wonderful! It's just

like Doctor Greer said. You've regained your memory as the result of a

sudden blow."

"Things did seem to rush back to me after I hit my head on the ice."

Gripping Penny's hand, Mr. Parker pulled himself to his feet. Still

giddy, he staggered and caught the iceboat for support. Then recovering,

he exclaimed:

"We've got to go back there right away!"

"Where, Dad?"

"To the warehouse. We were tricked, but not by Sam Burkholder! Policeman

Burns is one of the men I aim to expose!"

CHAPTER

25

_FINAL EDITION_

Penny and her father had no definite plan as they raced toward Johnson's

warehouse in the iceboat. Their only thought was to return and somehow

prevent the escape of the tire thieves.

"Dad, is Harley Schirr one of the gang?" Penny shouted in Mr. Parker's

ear.

"Schirr?" he repeated impatiently. "Of course not!"

"Then why didn't he want you to publish the tire stories in the _Star_?"

"Oh, Schirr's a natural-born coward," Mr. Parker answered. "He likes to

snoop and give unasked advice. Let's forget him."

The _Icicle_ slowed to a standstill near the warehouse. Penny and her

father leaped out and climbed the slippery bank. Nearby they saw a loaded

truck about to pull away from the building.

"We never can stop those men now!" gasped Penny.

"Yes, we can!" cried her father. "A police car is coming, and this time

it's no fake!"

As he spoke, an automobile bearing the notation, "Police Department" in

bold letters, skidded into the driveway. Detective Fuller was at the

wheel and at least four policemen were with him.

"Stop that truck!" Mr. Parker shouted. "Don't let it get away!"

Detective Fuller and four companions leaped from the police car. As the

loaded truck started off with a roar, they blocked the road.

"Halt!" shouted Detective Fuller.

When the order was ignored, he fired twice. The bullets pierced the rear

tires of the truck. Air whistled out and the rubber slowly flattened.

For a few yards the truck wobbled on, then stopped. Two detectives leaped

for the cab.

"All right, get out!" ordered Detective Fuller, covering the men.

The truck driver and two others slouched sullenly out of the cab. As

flashlights swept their faces, Penny recognized one of the men.

"Hank Biglow!" she identified the driver.

"And this man is Ham Mollinberg, a brother of Ropes," said Mr. Parker,

indicating a red-faced fellow in a leather jacket. "The man beside him is

Al Brancomb, wanted for skipping parole in California."

"Any others in the warehouse?" demanded Detective Fuller.

"There should be," said Penny excitedly. "Where's Mr. Burns?"

"What Burns do you mean?" questioned one of the detectives.

"Connected with your police force, unfortunately," informed Mr. Parker.

"That's why I planned to consult the Prosecutor before I spread the story

on the _Star's_ front page. You boys have done good work in Riverview and

I didn't want to make the department look bad."

"Burns, eh?" Detective Fuller repeated. "We'll find out what he has to

say!"

The policeman, however, was not to be apprehended so easily. Four men,

including Ropes Mollinberg, were captured inside the warehouse. Burns had

left the building some minutes earlier and had returned to Riverview.

"Don't worry, we'll get him!" Detective Fuller promised Mr. Parker. "How

about these other eggs? Can you identify them?"

"They're all members of the outfit," the publisher said without

hesitation. "One of my reporters, Jerry Livingston, spent weeks watching

these men and getting wise to their methods."

"Then he can testify against them."

"He can if he gets back," agreed Mr. Parker. "Jerry's in Canada and for

some reason we've been unable to locate him."

Penny and her father remained at the warehouse until the handcuffed

prisoners had been taken away. They were jubilant over the capture. Not

only would the tire-theft gang be broken up, but the _Star_ had achieved

another exclusive front-page story.

"The best part of all is that you've recovered your memory!" Penny

declared to her father. "After this, you won't dare fuss when I tell you

I'm going ice-boating!"

"You're right," agreed Mr. Parker. "The _Icicle_ is the best pal I ever

had!"

Within an hour after Penny and her father left the warehouse they were

notified that Mr. Burns had been taken into custody. Evidence piled up

rapidly against the policeman. As it definitely was established that he

had accepted money from Ropes Mollinberg, he was stripped of his badge

and put behind bars.

Police were not compelled to search the Williams' garage. Before they

could act, Sam Burkholder came voluntarily to Central Station, offering

to make a clean breast of his part in the Black Market dealings. Both he

and Mattie were held as witnesses against the tire thieves.

"Will Mattie be kept in jail long?" Penny asked her father.

"I doubt it," he replied. "Apparently, Sam acted alone in selling illegal

tires. Since he's showing a disposition to cooperate with police, he'll

probably escape with a heavy fine."

With the tire theft case soon to come up for trial, Penny was disturbed

lest Jerry Livingston fail to return from Canada in time to testify. For

many days she tormented herself with wild speculations. Then one

afternoon her worries were brought to an end by the arrival of a

telegram. Nothing had happened to the young reporter. He had failed to

reply to messages only because he had been out of touch with

civilization.

In his wire, Jerry stated that he would return to Riverview at once to

aid in the search for the publisher.

"Jerry doesn't know yet that you've been found!" Penny said to her

father. "We must wire him right away to set his mind at rest."

The message was sent, and within a few hours a reply arrived, addressed

to Penny.

"COMING ANYWAY," it read. "AM BRINGING YOU A BEAR RUG TOGETHER WITH A

NICE BEAR HUG."

As if pleasant surprises never would end, still another came Penny's way.

Police notified her that among the tires seized at the Johnson Warehouse

was a set of five belonging to her stripped car.

"You're much better off than I," Mr. Parker teased her. "Your car now is

in running order again. Mine will be in the garage for many a day. I'll

have to pay my own repair bill, too."

"Unless the hit-skip driver is found."

"I'm afraid he never will be," sighed Mr. Parker. "I'll always believe

the men who crowded me off the road were hired by the tire-theft gang. No

way to prove it though."

"The car license number Mrs. Botts gave police didn't seem to be

accurate," Penny replied. "By the way, have you decided what you'll do

about her?"

"Mrs. Botts?"

"Yes, so far you've placed no formal charge against her."

Mr. Parker smiled as he reached for a final edition of the _Star_. The

paper carried not only an account of the round-up at Johnson's Warehouse,

but a full confession from Mrs. Botts.

"I bear the woman no ill will," he said. "She's already lost her position

as caretaker at the Deming estate. That's punishment enough as far as I'm

concerned."

Presently Mrs. Weems entered the living-room with a glass of milk. When

she tried to make the publisher take it he complained that he no longer

was an invalid.

"Now drink your milk like a good lad," Penny scolded. "Why, you're still

as thin as a ghost."

With a wry face Mr. Parker gulped down the drink.

"Let's not speak of ghosts," he pleaded. "I'm well now, and I don't like

to be reminded of those disgraceful night-shirt parades."

"Are you sure you're perfectly well?" teased Penny.

"Of course I am. My memory is as good as it ever was!"

"Haven't you forgotten a rather important financial item?"

Mr. Parker looked puzzled. Then light broke over his face.

"Your allowance! I've not paid it for a long while, have I?"

"You certainly haven't," grinned Penny. "The old till is painfully empty.

I can use a little folding money to good advantage."

Her father smiled and opened his pocketbook. "Here you are," he said. "Go

out and paint the town red!"

When Penny thumbed over the little stack of "folding money" she drew in

her breath. Then she leaped to her feet in youthful exuberance.

"Oh, Dad, you're a darling!" she cried. "Why, this will buy a brush and a

whole barrel of red paint! Look out, Riverview, here I come!"