"I guess it doesn't mean much of anything," commented Louise, digging at
the mud which had collected on her shoes. "Probably an appointment card."
"You don't suppose this billfold was dropped by the saboteur?" Penny
asked thoughtfully. "It's very near the place where he crawled out of the
river."
"Wouldn't the police have picked it up if they had considered it of any
importance?"
"I doubt they ever saw it, Lou. The billfold was half buried in mud. I'd
never have seen it myself if I hadn't almost stepped on it."
"Why not turn it over to the police?"
"Guess I will," Penny decided, replacing the card in the billfold and
wrapping them both in her handkerchief. "Did you ever hear of the
American Protective Society, Lou?"
"Never did. Nor 'The Green Parrot' either--whatever that is."
"I think The Green Parrot is a cafe or a night club with none too good a
reputation," Penny said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I've heard Dad say it's a
gambling place."
Without further adventure, the girls resumed their trek and soon reached
a bus line. Upon arriving home, Penny's first act was to consult the
telephone directory. She could find neither The Green Parrot nor the
American Protective Society listed.
"Mrs. Weems, did you ever hear of a place called The Green Parrot?" she
questioned the housekeeper.
"Isn't that a restaurant the police closed down a few months ago?"
replied Mrs. Weems. "Now why should you be bothering your head about The
Green Parrot?"
Penny showed her the billfold and explained where she had found it.
"Dear me," sighed the housekeeper. "How you can get into so many affairs
of this kind is a wonder to me. I'm sure it worries your father too."
"Not Dad," laughed Penny. "Since I dug up that big story for him about
the old _Wishing Well_, he's been reconciled to my career of news
gathering."
"Wishing wells and saboteurs are two entirely different matters," the
housekeeper returned firmly. "I do hope you turn this billfold over to
police and forget about suspicious characters."
"I'm only worried about one," rejoined Penny. "It bothers me because I
involved Burt Ottman in such a mess. I'm not so sure he's guilty."
"And again, the police probably know exactly what they are about,"
replied Mrs. Weems. "Now please take that billfold to the authorities and
let them do the worrying."
Thus urged, Penny carried the money container to the local police
station. Unable to talk to any of the detectives connected with the
dynamiting case, she left the billfold with a desk sergeant. As she
turned to leave, after answering his many questions, she posed one of her
own.
"Oh, by the way, did you ever hear of a place called The Green Parrot?"
"Sure," the sergeant responded. "It's a night club. Used to be located on
Granger Street, but our boys made it too hot for 'em, so they moved to
another place."
"Where is it now?"
"Couldn't tell you," answered the sergeant. "You'll have to talk to one
of the detectives, Jim Adams or Bill Benson."
Having no real excuse for seeking the information, Penny decided to
abandon the quest. For want of an occupation, she sauntered on toward the
_Star_ office. Pausing in front of the big plate glass window, she idly
watched a workman who was oiling one of the great rotary presses.
"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed a voice from behind her.
Whirling around, Penny saw that her father had just come through the
revolving doors at the main entrance to the building.
"Hello, Dad," she greeted him eagerly. "What's new in the dynamiting
case?"
"Nothing so far as I know," he replied, rather indifferently. "Burt
Ottman's been released on bail."
"Mr. DeWitt put up the money?"
"Yes, he did," Mr. Parker said, frowning. "I advised him against it, but
DeWitt feels a duty to the boy. Were you looking for me, Penny?"
"Well, not in particular."
"I'm on my way to a bank meeting," Mr. Parker said, turning away. "Oh,
yes, I arranged a job for that watchman complication of yours, Carl
Oaks."
"You did? Oh, grand! What sort of work is it?"
"Can't take time to tell you now," Mr. Parker said hurriedly, hailing a
passing taxi cab. "If you want all the details, ask Jerry Livingston. He
took care of the matter for me, and can give you the information."
CHAPTER
9
_A JOB FOR MR. OAKS_
Eager to learn what had been done to help Carl Oaks, Penny took an
elevator to the news room of the _Star_. Jerry Livingston's desk was
deserted, so she paused at the slot of the big circular copy desk to ask
Editor DeWitt if the reporter were anywhere in the building.
"I just sent him to cover a fire," Mr. DeWitt replied, glancing up from
copy he was correcting. "He ought to be back any minute. You know how
Jerry covers a fire."
"I certainly do. He rides the big engine to the scene, just whiffs at the
smoke, and races back with a column report!"
Penny hesitated. She very much wished to say something to the editor
about the dynamiting case, yet was reluctant to bring up the subject.
"Mr. DeWitt, I'm sorry about Burt Ottman," she began awkwardly. "I hope
you don't think that I tried to throw suspicion on him by telling
police----"
"Of course not," he cut in. "It's just a case of circumstantial evidence.
Burt has a good lawyer now. I'm not a bit worried."
The harassed expression of DeWitt's face belied his words. He had always
been known to fellow workers as a hard yet just man, but now it seemed to
Penny that the veteran newspaperman was losing his grip. Though he
fancied he disguised his feelings, it was plain to all that Burt Ottman's
arrest had shaken him.
"Guess I won't wait for Jerry," Penny said, turning away.
Leaving the newspaper office, she dropped in at Foster's Drugstore to
perch herself on a counter stool.
"I'll take a deluxe dose of Hawaiian Delight with whipped cream," she
told the soda fountain clerk.
"No pineapple," he said sadly. "And no whipped cream."
"Then make it a double chocolate malted."
"We're out of chocolate. Sorry."
"Just bring me an empty dish and let me look at it for awhile," Penny
grinned.
"How about a nice vanilla sundae with crushed walnuts?" the clerk coaxed.
"Oh, all right," Penny gave in. "And don't spare the walnuts!"
She ate the ice cream leisurely and had finished the last spoonful when a
young man breezed into the drugstore. Recognizing Jerry Livingston, Penny
signaled frantically. Without seeing her, he dodged into a telephone
booth. He slammed out again in a moment and sat down at the counter.
"Cup o' Java and make it strong," he ordered carelessly.
"Sorry, sir, no coffee served without meals," teased Penny from another
stool. "How about a nice vanilla sundae with crushed walnuts?"
Jerry grinned as he saw her and moved over to an adjoining stool.
"Where was the fire?" she inquired curiously.
"At the Fulton Warehouse along the dock. It was deliberately set."
"By saboteurs?"
"Looks that way. Workmen discovered the blaze in time to prevent the
whole plant going up in smoke. Just got through telephoning the story to
DeWitt."
"Isn't the _Star_ building across the street?"
"Sure, but that's a long walk. Besides, I'm due at the airport for my
flying lesson."
"Your which?" inquired Penny alertly.
"I'm training to be an angel," Jerry laughed. "I figure it like this. I
can't get along without my six cups o' Java a day, so the only place for
me is in Uncle Sam's Air Corps."
"How soon will you be leaving, Jerry?"
"Not until I've completed my local training. Oh, I'll probably be
grinding out news stories for quite some time yet."
Penny drew a quick breath and changed the subject. One by one familiar
faces were disappearing from the _Star_ office, but somehow it gave her a
special twinge to think that Jerry soon must go. In the pursuit of news
they had shared many an adventure.
"Jerry," she said abruptly, "Dad told me you were able to get Carl Oaks a
job."
"One of sorts. It doesn't pay much, but it's soft. Oaks is hired by the
Riverview Coal Company to guard their barge that's tied up at Dock 10."
"Thanks a lot, Jerry, for going to so much trouble. Mr. Oaks ought to be
quite grateful."
"Not that fellow! He held out for more pay."
"Are the duties hard?"
"Hard? All he has to do is stay aboard the barge and see that no one
tries to make off with it."
"I can't imagine anyone trying to steal a coal barge," laughed Penny.
"Oh, it's done now and then," Jerry rejoined carelessly. "These days
they'll even steal the hawsers off a boat."
"What value would the rope have to a thief?"
"Hawsers are expensive," the reporter explained. "Right now it's almost
impossible to get good grade hemp. A hawser of any size commands a big
price second hand."
"How do the thieves get the ropes, Jerry?"
"Oh, they wait for a dark or foggy night and then slip up to an unguarded
boat and cut her loose."
"Why, that's a form of sabotage!" Penny cried indignantly.
"Sure, it is. The boats float free and unless they're spotted, they're
likely to collide with other incoming vessels. Only last week an empty
coal barge was cut loose. She crashed into an oil tanker and rammed a
hole in her."
"Then Carl Oaks really has an important job," Penny said thoughtfully.
"Important in the sense that he's got to keep his eyes open. But he's not
required to do any hard work. All he has to do is sit."
"Then he should like the job," Penny smiled, sliding down from the stool.
"When does he start work?"
"He took over this morning."
"Maybe I'll ankle down to Dock 10 and talk to him."
"Better wrap yourself in cellophane first," Jerry advised. "That is, if
you value your peaches and cream complexion."
Penny was not certain what the reporter meant, but a little later,
approaching the coal docks, she understood. Nearby was a private railroad
yard and cars were being loaded from the many mountains of coal heaped on
the ground. With the wind blowing toward the river, the dust laden air
blackened her hands and clothing.
Penny stood for a moment watching a coal car race down from a steep
switch-back, and then wandered along the docks in search of Mr. Oaks.
She came presently to the barge for which she searched. There was no sign
of anyone aboard. A long ladder ascended from the dock to the vessel's
deck. Penny hesitated and then decided to climb it. When she was midway
up, a man, his face blackened with coal, stepped from a shed.
"Hey, where you think you're going?" he shouted sternly.
"I'm looking for Mr. Oaks," Penny explained, hugging the ladder.
"Oaks? The new watchman?"
"Yes. He's aboard, isn't he?"
"He should be. Well, go on up, I guess, but it's against regulations."
Penny climbed the remaining rungs of the ladder and stepped out on the
deck of the barge. She was chagrined to see that she had wiped up a great
deal of coal dust.
"Oh, Mr. Oaks!" she called. "Are you here?"
From the tiny deck house the old man emerged. No smile brightened his
smudged face as he recognized Penny.
"This is a swell job your father got me!" he greeted her.
"Why, Mr. Oaks, you don't act as if you like it," Penny replied, walking
toward him. "What seems to be wrong?"
"The pay's poor," he said crossly. "I'm expected to stay on this rotten
old tub twenty-four hours a day with only time off for my meals. It's so
dirty around here that if a fellow'd take a deep breath he'd get a hunk
o' coal stuck in his nose!"
"It _is_ rather unpleasant," Penny admitted. "But then, the wind can't
always blow in this direction."
"I want you to ask your father to find me another job," the watchman went
on. "I'd like one on a bridge again."
"Well, I don't know. After what happened--"
"And whose fault was it?" Mr. Oaks interrupted angrily. "I helped you and
that girl friend of yours, didn't I? Well, now it's your turn to do me a
little favor, 'specially since it wasn't my fault I lost the bridge job."
"I'll talk to Dad," Penny said. Annoyed by the watchman's attitude, she
did not prolong the interview, but quickly climbed down from the barge.
From the coal yards she followed the river for a distance, coming
presently to more pleasant surroundings. She was still thinking about
Carl Oaks as she approached the Ottman boathouse. Sara and a young man
were deeply engrossed in examining a large metal object which appeared to
be a homemade diving hood.
For a moment Penny assumed that Sara's companion was Bill Evans. However,
as the young man turned slightly, she saw his face.
"Why, it's Burt Ottman!" she thought. "He's back on his old job after
being released from jail. I'm going to talk to him and see what he'll
say!"
CHAPTER
10
_SALVAGE AND SABOTEURS_
Sara Ottman and her brother glanced up from their work as Penny
approached the dock. Burt was a tall young man of twenty-six, brown of
face, with muscles hardened by heavy, outdoor work. He nodded to Penny,
but his expression did not disclose whether or not he bore resentment.
"Anything we can do for you?" he asked, his manner impersonal.
"No, I just happened to be over this way and thought I'd stop for a
minute. What's this strange contraption?" Penny indicated the queer
looking metal hood.
"A diving apparatus Burt made," Sara explained briefly. "We're using it
to get Bill Evans' motor out of the river."
"How does it work?"
"Watch and see," invited Sara. "Burt's going to make the first dive."
Though Penny felt that she was none too welcome at the dock, she
nevertheless decided to remain. Burt disappeared into the shed,
reappearing a minute later in bathing trunks. He and Sara loaded the
diving hood into a boat and rowed to the nearby area which had been
marked with a can buoy.
Burt adjusted the metal helmet over his head and lowered himself into the
water. Once her brother was beneath the surface, Sara worked tirelessly
at the pump, feeding him air. Soon Bill Evans drifted by in another boat,
watching the salvage operation like a worried mother.
"Think you'll get 'er?" he asked Sara. "Doggone if I know how an engine
could be so hard to find."
Sara did not bother to answer, but kept pumping steadily.
After many minutes, the metal hood appeared on the surface. Burt Ottman
lifted it from his head and took a deep breath.
"Any luck?" Bill asked anxiously.
"I'll have the engine up in a little bit," Burt replied. Breasting
himself into the boat, he pulled on a rope tied around his waist. With
Sara helping, he gradually hauled the lost motor from its muddy bed.
"Oh, say, that's swell!" Bill cried jubilantly. "How can I thank you?"
"Don't forget the five dollars," Sara reminded him. "Burt and I can use
it."
"Oh, sure," Bill replied, though the light faded from his eyes. "I
haven't got it on me right now. Can you wait a few days?"
"Waiting is the best thing we do," Sara assured him. "Better get this
mess of junk cleaned and oiled up right away or it won't be worth a
dime."
"I will," promised Bill. "Just dump 'er on the dock for me, will you?"
Sara and her brother delivered the motor to the designated place, and
then rowed to their own platform where Penny waited. From the look of
their faces it was evident that they never expected to be paid for their
work.
Alighting from the boat, Sara noticed one of Old Noah's floating bottles
which had snagged against the edge of the platform. Rather irritably she
fished it from the water. Without bothering to read the message inside,
she hurled it high on the shore.
"Sara, you're in an ugly mood today," her brother observed, smiling.
"I get tired of seeing those bottles!" she replied. "I get tired of doing
so much charity work too! How are we to meet our expenses, pay for a
lawyer, and--"
"Never mind," Burt interrupted quietly.
Sara subsided into silence. They moored the boat and Burt, carrying the
diving bell with him, went into the shed.
"Guess you think I'm a regular old crab," Sara remarked, turning toward
Penny.
"Oh, I don't know," Penny answered. "I'm sure you have plenty to worry
you."
"I do! Since the papers published the bridge dynamiting story, our
business has shrunk to almost nothing. Burt's case is coming up for trial
in about ten days. I don't know how we'll pay the lawyer. If Mr. DeWitt
hadn't put up bail, my brother still would be in jail."
"Oh, you shouldn't feel so discouraged," Penny said cheerfully. "Burt
will be cleared."
"I wish I could think so. He's innocent, but to prove it is another
matter."
"Can't your brother provide an alibi? Where was he at the time of the
dynamiting?"
"I don't know," Sara admitted, frowning. "Burt's peculiar. I tried to
talk things over with him, but he says it's a disagreeable subject. He
hasn't told me where he was Friday night."
Burt's appearance in the doorway of the shed brought the conversation to
an abrupt end. Before Penny could speak to him, a group of small boys ran
along the bank some distance away.
"_Saboteur! Saboteur!_" they shouted jeeringly, pointing at Burt. One of
the lads threw a clod of dirt which struck a moored rowboat.
"You see how it is!" Sara cried wrathfully.
"Don't take things so seriously," Burt advised, though his own eyes
burned with an angry light. "They're only youngsters."
"I can't stand much more," Sara cried, running into the shed, and closing
the door.
Burt busied himself cleaning the clod of dirt from the rowboat. "Don't
mind Sara," he said. "She's always inclined to be high strung."
"I'm sorry about everything," said Penny quietly. "Mr. DeWitt believes
you will be cleared."
Burt straightened, staring at the far shore. "Wish I felt the same way.
Unless the real saboteur is caught, the police intend to tag me with the
job."
"They can't convict you without evidence. Oh, by the way, did you ever
lose a leather billfold?"
The question surprised Burt. He hesitated before he answered: "What made
you ask me that?"
"I found an old one along the river. No money or any identification in
it. Just a card which said: 'The Green Parrot. Tuesday at 9:15.'"
"The Green Parrot!"
"You've heard of the place?"
"Oh, I've heard of it," Burt answered carelessly. "That's all. I never
was there. Sorry I can't claim the billfold."
As if uneasy lest he be questioned further, the young man picked up a
coil of rope and walked away. Penny waited a moment and then left the
dock.
"I'm just a nuisance around there," she thought unhappily. "I'd like to
help, but Sara and Burt won't let me."
The following two days passed without event so far as Penny was
concerned. There were no developments regarding the bridge dynamiting
case and the story was relegated to an inside page of the Star. However,
recalling her promise to Carl Oaks, she did speak to her father about
finding him a new job.
"What does that fellow expect?" Mr. Parker rumbled irritably. "Jerry
tells me he's a ne'er-do-well. Why doesn't he like his job as watchman on
the coal barge?"
"Well, it's too dirty."
"Carl Oaks is lucky to get any job in this town," Mr. Parker answered.
"Jerry had a hard time inducing anyone to take him on. Along the
waterfront he has a reputation for shiftlessness."
"In that case, just forget it, Dad. I don't like the man too well
myself."
Penny promptly forgot about Carl Oaks, but many times she caught herself
wondering what had happened to Old Noah and his ark. Since she and Louise
had visited the place, it had rained every day. The water was slowly
rising in the river and there was talk that a serious flood might result.
On Tuesday night, as Penny and Louise paid their weekly visit to the
Rialto Theatre, it was still raining. The gutters were deep with water
and to cross the street it was necessary to walk stiffly on their heels.
"We've had enough H_{2}O for one week," Penny declared, gazing at her
splashed stockings. "Well, for screaming out loud!"
A green taxicab, turning in the street to pick up a fare, shot a fountain
of muddy water from its spinning wheels. Penny, who stood close to the
curb, was sprayed from head to foot.
"Just look at me!" she wailed. "That driver ought to be sent to prison
for life!"
The taxi drew up in front of the Rialto Theatre. A well-dressed man in
brown overcoat and felt hat who waited at the curb, opened the cab door.
"To the Green Parrot," he ordered the driver.
"Where's that, sir?"
The passenger mumbled an address the girls could not understand. He then
slammed shut the cab door and the vehicle drove away.
"Lou, did you hear what I heard?" Penny cried excitedly.
"I certainly did!"
Penny glanced quickly about. Seeing another taxicab across the street,
she hailed it.
"Come on, Louise," she urged, tugging at her chum's hand.