By this time she no longer was afraid of the old man, if indeed she had
ever been.
"No, I don't ski!" he answered impatiently. "Now hurry up! Get those skis
off and start moving! I'll not wait all day."
Penny began to unstrap the long hickory runners, but with no undue show
of haste. She glanced curiously about the snowy field. An old shed stood
not far away. Beside it towered a great stack of wood which reached
nearly as high as the roof. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of a
weather-stained log cabin with smoke curling lazily from the brick
chimney.
As Penny was regarding it, she saw a flash of color at one of the
windows. A girl who might have been her own age had her face pressed
against the pane. Seeing Penny's gaze upon her, she began to make motions
which could not be understood.
The old man also turned his head to look toward the cabin. Immediately,
the girl disappeared from the window.
"Is that where you live?" inquired Penny.
Instead of answering, the old man seized her by the hand and pulled her
to her feet.
"Go!" he commanded. "And don't let me catch you here again!"
Penny shouldered her skis and moved toward the fence.
"So sorry to have damaged your nice snow," she apologized. "I'll try not
to trespass again."
Crawling under the barbed wire fence, Penny retraced her way up the slope
to the point on the trail where she had taken the wrong turn. There she
hesitated and finally decided to walk on to the Fergus hotel.
"I wonder who that girl was at the window?" Penny reflected as she
trudged along. "She looked too young to be Old Whisker's daughter. And
what was she trying to tell me?"
The problem was too deep for her to solve. But she made up her mind she
would ask Mrs. Downey the name of the queer old man as soon as she
returned to the lodge.
Reaching the Fergus hotel, Penny parked her skis upright in a snowbank
near the front door, and went inside. She found herself in a long lobby
at the end of which was a great stone fireplace with a half burned log on
the hearth. Bellboys in green uniforms and brass buttons darted to and
fro. A general stir of activity pervaded the place.
As Penny was gazing about, she saw Maxine Miller leave an elevator and
come slowly across the lobby. The actress would not have seen her had she
not spoken.
"How do you do, Miss Miller. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Oh, Miss Parker!" The actress' face was the picture of despair. "I've
had the most wretched misfortune!"
"Why, what has happened?" inquired Penny, although she thought she knew
the answer to her question.
"I've just seen Mr. Balantine." Miss Miller sagged into the depths of a
luxuriously upholstered davenport and leaned her head back against the
cushion.
"Your interview didn't turn out as you expected?"
"He wouldn't give me the part. Hateful old goat! He even refused to allow
me to demonstrate how well I could read the lines! And he said some very
insulting things to me."
"That is too bad," returned Penny sympathetically. "What will you do now?
Go back home?"
"I don't know," the woman replied in despair. "I would stay if I thought
I could change Mr. Balantine's opinion. Do you think I could?"
"I shouldn't advise it myself. Of course, I don't know anything about Mr.
Balantine."
"He's very temperamental. Perhaps if I kept bothering him he would
finally give me a chance."
"Well, it might be worth trying," Penny said doubtfully. "But I think if
I were you I would return home."
"All of my friends will laugh at me. They thought it was foolish to come
out here as it was. I can't go back. I am inclined to move down to this
hotel so I'll be able to keep in touch with Mr. Balantine with less
difficulty."
"It's a very nice looking hotel," commented Penny. "Expensive, I've been
told."
"In the show business one must keep up appearances at all cost," replied
Miss Miller. "I believe I'll inquire about the rates."
While Penny waited, the actress crossed over to the desk and talked with
a clerk. In a small office close by, Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell
could be seen in consultation. They were poring over a ledger, apparently
checking business accounts.
Miss Miller returned in a moment. "I've taken a room," she announced. "I
can't afford it, but I am doing it anyway."
"Will you be able to manage?"
"Oh, I'll run up a bill and then let them try to collect!"
Penny gazed at the actress with frank amazement.
"You surely don't mean you would deliberately defraud the hotel?"
"Not so loud or the clerk will hear you," Miss Miller warned. "And don't
use such an ugly word. If I land the part with Mr. Balantine, of course
I'll pay. If not--the worst they can do is to throw me out."
Penny said no more but her opinion of Miss Miller had descended several
notches.
"What are you doing here?" the actress inquired, quickly changing the
subject.
"Oh, I just came down to look over the hotel. It's very swanky, but I
like Mrs. Downey's place better."
Miss Miller turned to leave. "I am going back there now to check out,"
she declared. "Would you like to walk along?"
"No, thank you, I'll just stay here and rest for a few minutes."
Penny had no real purpose in coming to the Fergus hotel. She merely had
been curious to see what it was like. Even a casual inspection made it
clear that Mrs. Downey's modest little lodge never could compete with
such a luxurious establishment.
She studied the faces of the persons in the lobby. There seemed to be a
strange assortment of people, including a large number of men and women
who certainly had never been drawn to Pine Top by the skiing. Penny
thought whimsically that it would be interesting to see some of the fat,
pampered-looking ones take a tumble on the slippery slopes.
"But what is the attraction of this place, if not the skiing?" she
puzzled. "There is no other form of entertainment."
Presently, a well-fed lady in rustling black silk, her hand heavy with
diamond rings, paused beside Penny.
"I beg your pardon," she said, "can you tell me how to find the Green
Room?"
"No, I can't," replied Penny. "I would need a map to get around in this
hotel. You might ask at the desk."
The woman fluttered over to the clerk and asked the same question.
"You have your card, Madam?" he inquired in a low tone.
"Oh, yes, to be sure. The manager presented it to me this morning."
"Take the elevator to the second floor wing," the man instructed. "Room
22. Show your card to the doorman and you will be admitted."
Penny waited until after the woman had gone away. Then she arose and
sauntered across the lobby. She picked up a handful of hotel literature
but there was no mention of any Green Room. Pausing by the elevator, she
waited until the cage was deserted of passengers before speaking to the
attendant, a red headed boy of about seventeen.
"Where is the Green Room, please?"
"Second floor, Miss."
"And what is it? A dining room?"
The attendant shot her a peculiar glance and gave an answer which was
equally strange.
"It's not a dining room. I can't tell you what it is."
"A cocktail room perhaps?"
"Listen, I told you I don't know," the boy answered.
"You work here, don't you?"
"Sure I do," he said with emphasis. "And I aim to keep my job for awhile.
If you want to know anything about the Green Room ask at the desk!"
CHAPTER
7
_THE GREEN DOOR_
Before Penny could ask another question, the signal board flashed a
summons, and the attendant slammed shut the door of the elevator. He shot
the cage up to the fifth floor and did not return.
Hesitating a moment, Penny wandered over to the desk.
"How does one go about obtaining a card for the Green Room?" she inquired
casually.
"You're not a guest here?" questioned the clerk.
"No."
"You'll have to talk with the manager. Oh, Mr. Fergus!"
Penny had not meant to have the matter go so far, but there was no
retreating. The hotel manager came out of his office, and recognizing
her, smiled ingratiatingly.
"Ah, good afternoon, Miss--" He groped for her name but Penny did not
supply it. "So you decided to pay us a visit after all."
"This young lady asked about the Green Room," said the clerk
significantly.
Mr. Fergus bestowed a shrewd, appraising look upon Penny.
"Oh, yes," he said to give himself more time, "Oh, yes, I see. What was
it you wished to know?"
"How does one obtain a card of admission?"
"It is very simple. That is, if you have the proper recommendations and
bank credit."
"Recommendations?" Penny asked blankly. "Just what is the Green Room
anyway?"
Ralph Fergus and the clerk exchanged a quick glance which was not lost
upon the girl.
"I see you are not familiar with the little service which is offered
hotel guests," Mr. Fergus said suavely. "I shall be most happy to explain
it to you at some later time when I am not quite so busy."
He bowed and went hurriedly back into the office.
"I guess I shouldn't have inquired about the Green Room," Penny observed
aloud. "There seems to be a deep mystery connected with it."
"No mystery," corrected the clerk. "If you will leave your name and
address I am sure everything can be arranged within a few days."
"Thank you, I don't believe I'll bother."
Penny turned and nearly ran into Francine Sellberg. Too late, she
realized that the girl reporter probably had been standing by the desk
for some time, listening to her conversation.
"Hello, Francine," she said carelessly.
The girl returned a haughty stare. "I don't believe I know you, Miss,"
she said, and walked on across the lobby.
Penny was rather stunned by the unexpected snub. She took a step as if to
follow Francine and demand an explanation, but her sense of humor came to
her rescue.
"Who cares?" she asked herself with a shrug. "If she doesn't care to know
me, it's perfectly all right. I can manage to bear up."
After Francine had left the hotel, Penny made up her mind that she would
try to learn a little more about the Green Room. Her interest was
steadily mounting and she could not imagine what "service" might be
offered guests in this particular part of the hotel.
Choosing a moment when no one appeared to be watching, Penny mounted the
stairway to the second floor. She followed a long corridor to its end but
did not locate Room 22. Returning to the elevator, she started in the
opposite direction. The numbers ended at 20.
While Penny was trying to figure it out, a group of four men and women
came down the hall. They were well dressed individuals but their manner
did not stamp them as persons of good breeding. One of the women who
carried a jeweled handbag was talking in a loud, excited tone:
"Oh, Herbert, wait until you see it! I shall weep my eyes out if you
don't agree to buy it for me at once. And the price! Ridiculously cheap!
We'll never run into bargains like these in New York."
"We'll see, Sally," replied the man. "I'm not satisfied yet that this
isn't a flim-flam game."
He opened a door which bore no number, and stood aside for the others to
pass ahead of him. Penny caught a glimpse of a long, empty hallway.
"That must be the way to Room 22," she thought.
She waited until the men and women had gone ahead, and then cautiously
opened the door which had closed behind them. No one questioned her as
she moved noiselessly down the corridor. At its very end loomed a green
painted door, its top edge gracefully circular. Beside it at a small
table sat a man who evidently was stationed there as a guard.
Penny walked slowly, watching the men and women ahead. They paused at the
table and showed slips of cardboards. The guard then opened the green
door and allowed them to pass through.
It looked so very easy that Penny decided to try her luck. She drew
closer.
"Your card please," requested the doorman.
"I am afraid I haven't mine with me," said Penny, flashing her most
beguiling smile.
The smile was entirely lost upon the man. "Then I can't let you in," he
said.
"Not even if I have lost my card?"
"Orders," he answered briefly. "You'll have no trouble getting another."
Penny started to turn away, and then asked with attempted carelessness:
"What's going on in there anyway? Are they selling something?"
"I really couldn't tell you," he responded.
"Everyone in this hotel seems to be blind, deaf and dumb," Penny muttered
to herself as she retraced her way to the main hall. "And definitely, for
a purpose. I wonder if maybe I haven't stumbled into something?"
She still had not the faintest idea what might lie beyond the Green Door,
but the very name had an intriguing sound. It suggested mystery. It
suggested, too, that Ralph Fergus and his financial backer, Harvey
Maxwell, might have developed some special money-making scheme which
would not bear exposure.
Into Penny's mind leaped a remark which her father had made, one to the
effect that Harvey Maxwell was thought to have his finger in many
dishonest affairs. The Green Room might be a perfectly legitimate place
of entertainment for hotel guests, but the remarks she had overheard led
Penny to think otherwise. Something was being sold in Room 22. And to a
very select clientele!
"If only I could learn facts which would help Dad's case!" she told
herself. "Anything showing that Maxwell is mixed up in a dishonest scheme
might turn the trick!"
It occurred to Penny that the editor of the _Riverview Record_ might have
had some inkling of a story to be found at Pine Top. Otherwise, why had
Francine been sent to the mountain resort? Certainly the rival reporter
was working upon an assignment which concerned Harvey Maxwell. She
inadvertently had revealed that fact at the Riverview airport.
"Francine thinks I came here for the same purpose," mused Penny. "If only
she weren't so high-hat we could work together."
There was almost no real evidence to point to a conclusion that the
Fergus hotel was not being operated properly. Penny realized only too
well that once more she was depending upon a certain intuition. An
investigation of the Green Room might reveal no mystery. But at least
there was a slender hope she could learn something which would aid her
father in discrediting Harvey Maxwell.
Without attracting attention, Penny descended to the main floor and left
the hotel. As she retrieved her skis from the snowbank she was surprised
to see Francine standing close by, obviously waiting for her.
"Hello, Penny," the girl greeted her.
"Goodness! Aren't you mistaken? I don't think you know me!"
"Oh, don't try to be funny," Francine replied, falling into step. "I'll
explain."
"I wish you would."
"You should have known better than to shout out my name there in the
lobby."
"I don't follow your reasoning at all, Francine. Are you traveling
incognito or something?"
"Naturally I don't care to have it advertised that I am a reporter. I
rather imagine you're not overly anxious to have it known that you are
the daughter of Anthony Parker either!"
"It probably wouldn't be any particular help," admitted Penny.
"Exactly! Despite your play-acting at the airport, I know you came here
to get the low-down on Harvey Maxwell. But the minute he learns who you
are you'll not even get inside the hotel."
"And that goes double, I take it?"
"No one at Pine Top except you knows I am a reporter," went on Francine
without answering. "So I warn you, don't pull another boner like you did
a few minutes ago. Whenever we're around Fergus or Maxwell or persons who
might report to them, just remember you never saw me before. Is that
clear?"
"Moderately so," drawled Penny.
"I guess that's all I have to say." Francine hesitated and started to
walk off.
"Wait a minute, Francine," spoke Penny impulsively. "Why don't we bury
the hatchet and work together on this thing? After all I am more
interested in gaining evidence against Maxwell than I am in getting a big
story for the paper. How about it?"
Francine smiled in a superior way.
"Thank you, I prefer to lone wolf it. You see, I happen to have a very
good lead, and you don't."
"Well, I've heard about the Green Room," said Penny, hazarding a shot in
the dark. "That's something."
Francine stopped short.
"What do you know about it?" she demanded quickly. "Maybe we could work
together after all."
Penny laughed as she bent down to strap on her skis.
"No, thanks," she declined pleasantly. "You once suggested that a clever
reporter finds his own answers. You'll have to wait until you read it in
the _Star_!"
CHAPTER
8
_A CODED MESSAGE_
Penny sat in the kitchen of Mrs. Downey's lodge, warming her half frozen
toes in the oven.
"Well, how did you like the skiing?" inquired her hostess who was busy
mixing a huge meat loaf to be served for dinner.
"It was glorious," answered Penny, "only I took a bad spill. Somehow I
missed the turn you told me about, and found myself heading for a barbed
wire fence. I jumped it and made a one point landing in a snowbank!"
"You didn't hurt yourself, thank goodness."
"No, but an old man with a shotgun came out of the woods and said 'Scat!'
to me. It seems he doesn't like skiers."
"That must have been Peter Jasko."
"And who is he, Mrs. Downey?"
"One of the oldest settlers on Pine Top Mountain," sighed Mrs. Downey.
"He's a very pleasant man in some respects, but in others--oh, dear."
"Skiing must be one of his unpleasant aspects. I noticed he had a 'Keep
Out' sign posted on his property."
"Peter Jasko is a great trial to me and other persons on the mountain. He
has a hatred of skiing and everything pertaining to it, which amounts to
fanaticism. A number of skiers have been injured by running into his
barbed wire fence."
"Then he put it up on purpose?"
"Oh, yes! He has an idea it will keep folks from skiing."
"He isn't--?" Penny tapped her forehead significantly.
"No," smiled Mrs. Downey. "Old Peter is right in his mind, at least in
every respect save this one. He owns our best ski slopes, too."
Penny shifted her foot to a cooler place in the oven.
"Not the slopes connected with this lodge?"
Mrs. Downey nodded as she whipped eggs to a foamy yellow.
"I leased the land from Jasko's son many years ago, and Jasko can do
nothing about it except rage. However, the lease expires soon. He has
given me to understand it will not be renewed."
"Can't you deal with the son?"
"He is dead, Penny."
"Oh, I see. That does make it difficult."
"Decidedly. Jasko's attitude about the lease is another reason why I
think this will be my last year in the hotel business."
"You don't think Ralph Fergus or Harvey Maxwell have influenced Jasko?"
Penny asked thoughtfully, a frown ridging her forehead.
"I doubt that anyone could influence the old man," replied Mrs. Downey.
"Stubborn isn't the word to describe his character. Even if I lose the
ski slopes, I am quite sure he will never lease them to the Fergus hotel
interests."
"While I was down there I thought I saw a girl standing at the window of
the cabin."
"Probably you did, Penny. Jasko has a granddaughter about your age, named
Sara. A very nice girl, too, but she is kept close at home."
"I feel sorry for her if she has to live with that old man. He seemed
like a regular ogre."
Removing her toasted feet from the oven, Penny pulled on her stiff boots
again. Without bothering to lace them, she hobbled toward the door.
"Oh, by the way," she remarked, pausing. "Did you ever hear of a Green
Room at the Fergus hotel?"
"A Green Room?" repeated Mrs. Downey. "No, I can't say I have. What is
it, Penny?"
"I wonder myself. Something funny seems to be going on there."
Having aroused Mrs. Downey's curiosity, Penny gave a more complete
account of her visit to the Fergus hotel.
"I've never heard anyone mention such a place," declared the woman in a
puzzled voice. "But I will say this. The hotel always has attracted a
peculiar group of guests."
"How would you like to have me solve the mystery for you?" joked Penny.
"It would suit me very well indeed," laughed Mrs. Downey. "And while
you're about it you might put Ralph Fergus out of business, and bring me
a new flock of guests."
"I'm afraid you're losing one instead. Maxine Miller told me she is
moving down to the big hotel."
"I know. She checked out a half hour ago. Jake made an extra trip to haul
her luggage down the mountain."
"Anyway, I shouldn't be sorry to see her go if I were you," comforted
Penny. "I am quite sure she hasn't enough money to pay for a week's stay
at Pine Top."
Going to her room, Penny changed into more comfortable clothing and
busied herself writing a long letter to her father. From her desk by the
window she could see skiers trudging up the slopes, some of them making
neat herring-bone tracks, others slipping and sliding, losing almost as
much distance as they gained.
As she watched, Francine swung into view, poling rhythmically, in perfect
timing with her long easy strides.
"She _is_ good," thought Penny, grudgingly.
Dinner was served at six. Afterwards, the guests sat before the crackling
log fire and bored each other with tales of their skiing prowess. A few
of the more enterprising ones waxed their skis in preparation for the
next day's sport.
"Any newspapers tonight?" inquired a business man of Mrs. Downey. "Or is
this another one of the blank days?"
"Jake brought New York papers from the village," replied the hotel woman.
"They are on the table."
"Blank days?" questioned Francine, looking up from a magazine she had
been reading.
"Mr. Glasser calls them that when he doesn't get the daily stock market
report," explained Mrs. Downey, smiling at her guest.
"And don't the newspapers always arrive?" questioned Francine.
"Not always. Lately the service has been very poor."
"I'd rather be deprived of a meal than my paper," growled Mr. Glasser.
"What annoys me is that the guests at the Fergus hotel always get their
papers. I wish someone would explain it to me."
"And I wish someone would explain it to _me_," murmured Mrs. Downey,
retreating to the kitchen.
In the morning Penny decided to ski down to the village for a jar of cold
cream. The snow was crusted and fast but she felt no terror of the trail
which curved sharply through the evergreens. Her balance was better, and
this time she had no intention of impaling herself on Peter Jasko's
barbed wire fence.
Seldom checking her speed, she hurtled along the ribbon of trail. Racing
on to the sharp turn, she shifted her weight and swung her body at
precisely the right instant. The slope stretched on past rows of tall
trees, towering like sentinels along the snow-swept ridges. Presently it
flattened out into an open valley. Penny sailed past a house, a barn, and
gradually slowed up until she came to a low hillock overlooking the
village.
Recapturing her breath, Penny took off her skis and walked on into Pine
Top. She made a few purchases at the drug store and then impulsively
entered the telegraph office. To her surprise, Francine Sellberg was
there ahead of her.
"How late is your office open?" the reporter was asking the operator.
"Six-thirty," he replied.
"And if one has a rush message to send after that hour?"
"Well, you can get me at my house," the man answered. "I live over behind
the Albert's Filling Station."
"Thank you," responded Francine, flashing Penny a mocking smile. "I may
have an important story to send to my paper any hour. I wanted to be sure
there would be no delay in getting it off."
Penny waited until the reporter had left the office and then said
apologetically:
"I don't suppose you've received any message for me?"
"We always telephone as soon as anything comes in," the man replied. "But
wait! You're Penelope Parker, aren't you?"
"In my more serious moments. Otherwise, just plain Penny."
"I do have something for you, then. A message came in a few minutes ago.
I've been too busy to telephone it to the lodge."
He handed Penny a sheet of paper which she read eagerly. As she
anticipated, it was from her father, and with his usual disregard for
economy he had not bothered to omit words.
"Glad to learn you arrived safely at Pine Top," he had wired. "Your
information about H. M. is astonishing, if true. Are you sure it is the
same man? Keep your eye on him, and report to me if you learn anything
worth while. I am held here by important developments, but will try to
come to Pine Top for Christmas."
Penny read the message twice, scowling at the sentence: "Are you sure it
is the same man?" It was clear to her that her father did not have a
great deal of faith in her identification. And obviously, he did not
believe that anything could be gained by making a special trip to Pine
Top to see the hotel man.
Thrusting the paper into the pocket of her jacket she went out into the
cold.
"No one seems to rate my detective work very highly," she complained to
herself. "But when Dad gets my letter telling him about the Green Door he
may take a different attitude!"
Skis slung over her shoulder, she began the weary climb back to the
Downey lodge. Before Penny had walked very far she saw that she was
overtaking a man on the narrow trail ahead of her. Observing that it was
Ralph Fergus, she immediately slowed her steps.
The hotel man did not turn his head to glance back. He kept walking
slower and slower as if in deep thought, and after a time he reached
absently into his pocket for a letter.
As he pulled it out, another piece of pale gray paper fluttered to the
ground. Fergus did not notice that he had lost anything. The wind caught
the paper and blew it down the slope toward Penny.
"Oh, Mr. Fergus!" she called. "You dropped something!"
The wind hurled her words back at her. Realizing that she could not make
the man hear, Penny quickened her pace. After a short chase she rescued
the paper when it caught on the thorns of a snow-caked bush.
At first glance Penny thought she had gone to trouble for no purpose. The
paper seemed to be blank. But as she turned it over she saw a single line
of jumbled letters: