PETER IS WORRIED
Peter had arrived several days earlier than he had planned! For a
moment Penny stood stock still on the threshold of the old storage room.
She was too thrilled to move, but she was very glad that she was
wearing her most becoming afternoon frock. Peter said that pale yellow
brought out the golden lights in her hair and turned her eyes to
violets. Or was it forget-me-nots?
Marjorie’s giggle set her in motion. “Wake up, Penny,” Marjorie said
with a laugh. “This is no time to dream.”
Her cheeks burning, Penny hurried down the hall. Peter Wyland was just
getting out of his car when she appeared on the porch.
Penny’s heart beat a little faster as she greeted him cordially
and tried to look as casual as possible. Peter squeezed her hand
lingeringly and looked as though he were going to kiss her right in
front of all the people.
“You’re looking wonderful,” Penny said.
“So are you!” Peter’s eyes admired her smooth skin which the summer sun
had turned to a golden tan. Neither of them could think of another word
to say, and yet they had so much to say to each other!
Philip came to the rescue with a cheery grin. “Hi, fella,” he greeted
Peter, shaking his hand as though it were a pump handle. “Good to see
you again.”
Charles came running down the front steps to greet Peter
enthusiastically, too. Penny thought:
“Good old Charles. He can be nice when he wants to. If it weren’t for
Peter, I think I could like Charles a lot.” She glanced shyly at Peter.
“Oh, he _does_ love me. I can tell!” Penny was in a whirl.
The first thing Philip wanted to know was when Adra Prentice was coming.
“You’re in luck, boy,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder. “She’s
arriving in a couple of hours by plane. Her dad--my boss--is planning
to spend a week here toward the end of the month.”
Phil’s gray-blue eyes lighted up with anticipation. This would be the
most exciting day of the whole summer for Penny and Phil.
“I’ll carry your bags up to your room,” he said to Peter. “No, I don’t
need any help. I know Penny is dying to show you all over the Lodge and
the grounds.”
Marjorie watched them stroll off together arm in arm. She was glad
Peter was here and that Adra was coming soon, but she did so want to
be alone with Penny for a few minutes sometime that day. “We’ve got to
show her the clue we found in the bottle down on the beach,” she said
to Judy. “Maybe the map is a phony, but I’m sure the scrap of paper in
my pocket means something.”
“I am, too,” Judy agreed. “And I’m not so sure that the map is a phony.
It looked so old and weather-beaten. Somebody might have found it just
the other day and put it in the jewelry box lid for safekeeping.”
Marjorie stared at her thoughtfully. “Who do you suppose this somebody
is who is lurking around here, and writing anonymous letters? It must
be the same person, but how did he get into the storage room without
being seen?”
Judy shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Let’s talk it all over with Penny the
first chance we get. Then she can discuss it with Peter. He’s sort of
an amateur detective, isn’t he?”
Marjorie nodded. “Heaven knows when we’ll be able to say more than two
words to Penny.”
Adra arrived just before dinner, and once again there was excitement
and tumult. Jimmy and Marjorie greeted the lovely, fragile-looking girl
with shouts of welcome. Penny hugged her affectionately, but Philip
could only hold her hand in his and stare down at her wordlessly.
But the expression on his handsome face told Adra more than anything he
could have said.
Penny’s duties as hostess and housekeeper kept her busy until late in
the evening. At last, when she was alone in the office planning the
next day’s program, Marjorie and Judy could stand it no longer. They
burst into the room, and Marjorie blurted:
“We’ve been trying to see you alone all evening, Sis. But, golly,
you’re busy as triplets.” She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled
out the worn scrap of paper. “Judy and I found this in a bottle buried
under a big rock down on the beach.”
Penny frowned tiredly. “Oh, Marjorie, not another one of your clues!”
Marjorie bit her lip. “I know you think we’re silly to keep looking
for buried treasure, Penny. But this is part of a message and it has
something to do with the Log Cabin and a well.”
Penny laid the scrap on her desk and tried to read it. The girls showed
her what they had been able to decipher.
“Oh, dear,” Penny said. “I’m too tired now to think about clues. I’m
sorry, girls. Go on to bed now. It’s late. Leave this with me, and
the first chance I get in the morning, I’ll show it to Peter. He’s
the detective of our group, and if anyone can figure what this is all
about, it’s he.”
After the girls had gone up to their rooms, Penny added to herself:
“I’m glad Peter arrived today for more reasons than one. Something
mysterious _is_ going on. Who was our prowler? Who wrote those
anonymous letters? Who put the map in the lid of the old jewelry box?
And what sense does this scrap of paper make?”
The next morning, right after breakfast, she was asking Peter the same
questions. He listened attentively as she filled in all the details.
When she had finished, he said very seriously: “I don’t like any part
of this, Penny, especially the letter that threatened you. Frankly,
I wish you had turned it over to the police. Even if there were only
latent fingerprints on it, they could have sent it to the FBI in
Washington. Those experts don’t miss a thing, and if the man is a
criminal, his fingerprints will be in their files.”
“But,” Penny objected, “if he _is_ a criminal, he would have been smart
enough to wear gloves.”
“That’s true,” Peter admitted. “But there are other ways of discovering
who wrote those letters. For one thing, although he undoubtedly did his
best to disguise his handwriting, he couldn’t completely. No one can.
We all develop certain characteristics when we first learn to write,
and those characteristics stay with us forever.”
“My,” Penny said admiringly. “You _are_ a detective, Peter.”
Peter grinned, and then sobered. “Not really, Penny. And I wish you’d
let me notify the police now. Someone is obviously very interested in
making you Allens clear out of here. I don’t know why, but I can guess.”
“So can I,” Penny said, twirling a strand of her light brown hair
around her finger. “Maybe Jimmy and Marjorie are right after all. Maybe
there _is_ buried treasure around here.”
Peter stared down at the note on the desk. They had managed to make out
the following words:
t the Log cabin
t week in August
asure again
near the
r a well that
dry.
“The first word in the third line,” Penny said, “could be the last part
of the word ‘treasure.’ And the well could be the one we dug up. But
our mysterious Mr. X isn’t as smart as he should be. We went clear to
the bottom of that old well, Peter, and there just isn’t any buried
treasure there.”
Peter nodded. “The man first tried to frighten you, and now he’s being
as annoying as he dares.”
“Do you know what I think?” Penny asked. “I think there is something
valuable hidden around here which we don’t know anything about. But Mr.
X does. He wants us to keep on thinking it’s buried somewhere on the
grounds so we’ll keep on digging instead of searching elsewhere for it.”
“You’re not only very pretty, Penny,” Peter said, smiling. “But you’re
very intelligent. I think you’ve reasoned it out correctly. The map and
this fragment of paper are red herrings; not clues. Will you let me
turn them over to the police? Just the paper our Mr. X used may be a
clue which would lead to the discovery of his identity in a very short
time.”
“Oh, no, Peter,” Penny cried impulsively. “Let’s not turn the mystery
over to the police now. Let’s first try to solve it ourselves.
Besides,” she added shrewdly, “when they hear about the night prowler
who attacked Mal, they may want to put guards around the Lodge. And
that, Peter Wyland, would make some of the guests nervous. It might
ruin our whole business venture.”
“I can refuse you nothing, Penny Allen,” he said, grinning. “But I
think we ought to consult with Phil and Adra before we make a final
decision. Let’s call them in, and hash the whole thing out all over
again.”
But an hour later, after a serious discussion, Penny won. They would
not notify the police unless they received another threatening letter.
“I still don’t like it,” Peter grumbled. “The idea of that coward
threatening Penny.”
Penny blushed. Peter was being very protective about her and she
couldn’t help liking it. “But he didn’t really threaten me,” she
pointed out. “He couldn’t possibly have known I was going to touch the
rotten supports in the shed wall. If you ask me, he heard about the
accident and simply took advantage of it. A few hours after I tumbled
down the well, everyone in the village knew about it.”
“That’s another thing,” Peter said stubbornly. “If we notify the police
they’ll know who is a stranger in town and keep an eye on him.”
Penny laughed. “Then they’d have to have a thousand eyes, Peter. The
place is swarming with summer people.”
Peter threw up his hands in mock despair. “Oh, all right,” he said. “I
give in. Let’s forget about it for awhile. How about a swim, Penny? Or
are you too busy?”
“Well,” Penny began, “I--”
“Skip it, Sis,” Phil interrupted. “Pleasure comes before business,
since your main duty is to see that your guests are happy.”
The meeting broke up then, and everyone hurried off to change into
bathing suits. Down on dock they found Marjorie and Judy sitting on the
edge, dangling their feet in the water.
Jimmy, Alf and Brook were busy completing preparations for their
camping trip which was to start the next day. The boys were fixing two
of the canoes to take along on the Bronc. They were planning to do
some fishing in the rivers they camped by, and were going to be fully
prepared to take advantage of anything else they might find.
That evening they had an old-fashioned square dance out on the front
porch. There was a fiddler in the town who had come back with Mal, and
the guests as well as the Allens had a lively time. Kitty and Ann Mary
served delicious cold lemonade with homemade cookies.
Philip reached for his fourth cooky and said to Adra, “I’m sure I’d get
too fat to move if I ate all the good things Ann Mary is always making.
Can you make cookies like this, Adra?”
She laughed and said, “No, Phil, I can’t make anything as good as Ann
Mary does, but I’m sure I could learn, if I was offered an incentive.”
“Would I be incentive enough?” asked Phil.
“You would, indeed!” said Adra promptly. “But I’m afraid we couldn’t
live on just cookies.”
Phil laughed and said, “That might be fun for a little while. I’m sure
Marjorie and Jimmy would think so. They can eat at least two dozen at a
time without even trying. I’m so glad you’re going to be here for the
rest of the summer, Adra, we have so much to talk about. I want to tell
you of my plans for the winter. I’m going to try to take a job where I
can be near you.”
“Oh, Phil, that will be wonderful,” cried Adra. “I can’t think of
anything I would like better. You know Peter and I have become very
good friends since he has been working for my father, and he told me he
would like to find something so that he could be closer to Penny. Does
Penny know how much he likes her?”
“I think she does, Adra, because, you see, she likes Peter just as
much.” Phil and Adra looked very happy as they strolled off hand in
hand.
Penny, watching them, said to Peter, “I’m glad our mysterious Mr. X
isn’t spoiling their fun. I wish you’d forget about the mystery, too,
Peter, just for the evening,” she added wistfully.
He grinned cheerfully. “When I look at you, Penny, I can’t even
remember my own name.”
But Penny knew that, underneath his flattering banter, Peter was
worried. She almost wished that she hadn’t told him anything about the
mystery.