With a sudden change of mood, Mrs. Downey arose and gave Penny’s hand an affectionate squeeze.
“Losing the lodge won’t mean the end of the world,” she said lightly. “While I may not be able to sell the place for a very good price now that the ski slopes are gone, I’ll at least get something from Mr. Maxwell. And I have a small income derived from my husband’s insurance policy.”
“Where will you go if you leave here?”
“I haven’t given that part any thought,” admitted Mrs. Downey. “I may do a little traveling. I have a sister in Texas I might visit.”
“You’ll be lonesome for Pine Top.”
“Yes,” admitted Mrs. Downey, “this place will always seem like home to me. And I’ve lived a busy, useful life for so many years it will be hard to let go.”
“Possibly Peter Jasko will reconsider his decision.”
Mrs. Downey smiled and shook her head. “Not Peter. I’ve known him for many years, although I can’t say I ever became acquainted with him. Once he makes a stand nothing can sway him.”
“Is he entirely right in his mind?” Penny asked dubiously.
“Oh, yes. He’s peculiar, that’s all. And he’s getting old.”
Despite Mrs. Downey’s avowal that no one was responsible for Peter Jasko’s decision, Penny considered herself at fault. She could not blame the old man for being provoked because she had helped his granddaughter escape from the cabin.
“If I went down there and apologized it might do some good,” she thought. “At least, nothing will be lost by trying.”
Penny turned the plan over in her mind, saying nothing about it to Mrs. Downey. It seemed to her that the best way would be to wait for a few hours until Peter Jasko had been given an opportunity to get over his anger.
The afternoon dragged on slowly. Toward nightfall, finding confinement intolerable, Penny ventured out-of-doors to try her skis. She was thrilled to discover that she could use them without too much discomfort.
Going to the kitchen window, she called to Mrs. Downey that she intended to do a little skiing and might be late for dinner.
“Oh, Penny, you’re not able,” the woman protested, raising the sash. “It’s only your determination which drives you on.”
“I’m feeling much better,” insisted Penny. “I want to go down the mountain and see Sara.”
“It will be a hard climb back,” warned Mrs. Downey. “And the radio reported another bad storm coming.”
“That’s why I want to go now,” answered Penny. “We may be snowbound by tomorrow.”
“Well, if you must go, don’t overtax your strength,” cautioned Mrs. Downey.
Penny wrapped a woolen scarf tightly about her neck as a protection against the biting wind. Cautiously, she skied down the trail, finding its frozen surface treacherous, and scarcely familiar. In the rapidly gathering dusk nothing looked exactly the same as by daylight. Trees towered like unfriendly giants, obscuring the path.
Before Penny had covered half the distance to Jasko’s cabin, snowflakes, soft and damp, began to fall. They came faster and faster, the wind whirling them directly into her face. She kept her head down and wished that she had remained by the crackling log fire at the Downey lodge.
Swinging out of the forest, Penny was hard pressed to remember the trail. As she hesitated, trying to decide which way to go, she felt her skis slipping along a downgrade where none should have been. Too late, she realized that she was heading down into a deep ravine which terminated in an ice-sheeted river below.
Throwing herself flat, Penny sought to save herself, but she kept sliding, sliding. A stubby evergreen at last stayed her fall. She clung helplessly to it for a moment, recovering her breath. Then she tried to pull herself up the steep incline. She slipped and barely caught hold of the bush to save herself from another bad fall. Sharp pains shot through her side.
“Now I’ve fixed myself for sure,” she thought. “How will I ever get out of this hole?”
The ravine offered protection from the chill wind, but the snow was sifting down steadily. Penny could feel her clothing becoming thoroughly soaked. If she should lie still she soon would freeze.
Again Penny tried to struggle up the bank, and again she slid backwards. From sheer desperation rather than because she cherished a hope that anyone would hear, Penny shouted for help.
An answering halloo echoed to her through the trees.
Penny dared not hope that the voice was other than her own. “Help! Help!” she called once more.
Her heart leaped. The cry which came back definitely belonged to a man! And as she marveled at the miracle of a rescue, a dark figure loomed up at the rim of the ravine.
A gruff voice called to her: “Hold on! Don’t try to move! I’ll get a rope and be back!”
The man faded back into the darkness. Penny clung to the bush until it seemed her arms would break. Snow fell steadily, caking her hood and penetrating the woolen suit.
Then as the girl lost all awareness of time, she caught the flash of a lighted lantern. Her rescuer appeared again at the top of the ravine and lowered a rope. She grasped it, wrapping it tightly about her wrist, and climbed as best she could while the man pulled from above.
At last Penny reached the top, falling in an exhausted heap on the snow. Raising her head she stared into the face of her rescuer. The man was Peter Jasko.
He recognized her at the same instant.
“You!” he exclaimed.
For one disturbing moment Penny thought the old man meant to push her back down into the yawning ravine. In the yellow glow of the lantern, the expression of his face was terrifying.
Gaining control of himself, Peter Jasko demanded gruffly: “Hurt?”
“I’ve twisted my ankle.” Penny pulled herself up from the ground, took a step, and recoiled with pain.
“Let me have a look at it.”
Jasko bent down and examined the ankle.
“No bones broken,” he said. “You’re luckier than you deserve. Any fool who doesn’t know enough to keep off skis ought to be crippled for life!”
“Such a cheerful philosophy,” observed Penny ironically. “Well, thanks anyhow for saving me. Even if you are sorry you did it.”
The old man made no immediate reply. He stood gazing down at Penny.
“Reckon I owe you something,” he said grudgingly. “Sara told me how you kept the bob-sled from going off the track. Injured yourself, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You had no business helping Sara go against my will,” the old man said, his anger rising again. “I told you to stay away, didn’t I?”
“You did. I was sorry to disobey your orders, Mr. Jasko, but I think you are unjust to your granddaughter.”
“You do, eh?”
“And you’re not being fair to Mrs. Downey either,” Penny went on courageously. “She’s struggled for years to make her lodge profitable, fought against overwhelming odds while the Fergus interests have done everything they can to put her out of business. Unless you renew her lease, she’ll be forced to leave Pine Top.”
“So?” inquired the old man, unmoved.
“She’s fighting with her back to the wall. And now you’ve dealt her the final blow.”
“No one asked Mrs. Downey to come here in the first place,” replied Peter Jasko. “Or them other hotel people either. Pine Top can get along without the lot of ’em. The sooner they all clear out the better I’ll like it.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Penny. “You don’t care how much trouble you cause other folks. Because of your own son’s death you have taken an unnatural attitude toward skiing. You hate everything remotely connected with the sport. But it isn’t fair. Your granddaughter has a right to a certain amount of freedom.”
Peter Jasko listened to the girl’s words in silence. When she had finished he said in a strangely shaken voice:
“My son met his death going on ten years ago. It was on this trail—”
“I’m sorry,” Penny said contritely. “I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did. Actually, I was on my way down the mountain to tell you I deeply regret helping Sara to go against your will.”
“My granddaughter is headstrong,” the old man replied slowly. “I want what’s best for her. That’s why I’ve tried to protect her.”
“I’m sure you’ve done what you thought was right,” Penny returned. “Why don’t you see Mrs. Downey again and—”
“No!” said the old man stubbornly. “You can’t say anything which will make me change my mind. Take my arm and see if you can walk!”
Penny struggled forward, supported by Jasko’s strong arm. Although each step sent a wracking pain through her leg she made no sound of protest.
“You can’t make it that way,” the old man declared, pausing. “I’ll have to fix up a sled and pull you.”
Going back for Penny’s skis which had been left at the top of the ravine, he lashed them together. She lay full length on the runners, and he towed her until they came within view of the cabin. A light glowed in the window.
On level ground, Penny tried walking again, and managed to reach the cabin door.
“You go on inside,” the old man directed. “I’ll hitch up the bob-sled and take you home.”
Penny pushed open the door only to hesitate on the threshold. The room was filled with tobacco smoke. Two men sat at the table, and directly behind them stood Sara Jasko.
The girl came swiftly to the door. She gave Penny a warm smile of welcome, not noticing that she had been hurt, and said anxiously to Mr. Jasko:
“Grandfather, you have visitors. Mr. Fergus and Mr. Maxwell are waiting to see you. I think it’s about the lease.”
“I’ve nothing to say to them,” returned the old man grimly.
Nevertheless, he followed the two girls into the room, closing the door against the wind and snow.
The situation was an awkward one for Penny. Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell both stared at her with undisguised dislike and suspicion. Then, the former arose, and ignoring her entirely, stepped forward to meet the old man, his hand extended.
“Good evening, sir,” he said affably. “Mr. Maxwell and I have a little business to discuss with you, if you can spare us a moment.”
Peter Jasko ignored the offered hand.
“I haven’t changed my mind since the last time we talked,” he said. “I’m not signing any lease!”
Penny scarcely heard the words for she was staring beyond Ralph Fergus at his overcoat which hung over the vacated chair. The garment was light brown and the top button, a large one of the same color, had been torn from the cloth.
Shifting her gaze, Penny glanced at Sara. The girl nodded her head slowly up and down. She, too, had made the important observation, and was thinking the same thought. There could be little doubt of it—Ralph Fergus was the man who had weakened the brake rod of their bob-sled!
“May we see you alone, Mr. Jasko?” requested Ralph Fergus.
“I don’t reckon there’s any need for being so all-fired private,” the old man retorted, his hand on the doorknob. “If you want to talk with me speak your piece right out. I got to hitch up the team.”
Mr. Fergus and his companion, Harvey Maxwell, glanced coldly toward Penny who had sunk down into a chair and was massaging her ankle. They were reluctant to reveal their business before her but there was no other way.
“We can’t talk with you very well while you’re poised for flight, Mr. Jasko,” Ralph Fergus said placatingly. “My friend, Maxwell, has prepared a paper which he would like to have you look over.”
“I’m not signin’ anything!”
“Good for you, Grandfather!” muttered Sara under her breath.
The two men pretended not to hear. Mr. Maxwell took a folded document from his pocket and spread it out on the kitchen table.
“Will you just read this, please, Mr. Jasko? You’ll find our terms are more than generous.”
“I ain’t interested in your terms,” he snapped. “I’m aimin’ to keep every acre of my land.”
“We’re not asking you to sell, only to lease,” Mr. Fergus interposed smoothly. “Now we understand that your deal with Mrs. Downey has fallen through, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t lease the ski slopes to us. We are prepared to offer you twice the amount she proposed to give you.”
Mr. Jasko stubbornly shook his head.
“You’re taking a very short-sighted attitude,” said Ralph Fergus, beginning to lose patience. “At least read the paper.”
“No.”
“Think what this would mean to your granddaughter,” interposed Harvey Maxwell. “Pretty clothes, school in the city perhaps—”
“Don’t listen to them, Grandfather,” spoke Sara quickly. “I have enough clothes. And Pine Top school suits me.”
“You’re wastin’ your time and mine,” said Peter Jasko. “I ain’t leasing my land to anybody.”
“We’re only asking you to sign a three-year lease—” Mr. Fergus argued.
“Can’t you understand plain language?” the old man cried. “You think money will buy everything, but you got another guess coming. I’ve seen enough skiing at Pine Top and I aim to put a stop to it!”
“It’s no use,” said Harvey Maxwell resignedly to his companion.
Ralph Fergus picked up the paper and thrust it into his overcoat pocket. “You’re an old fool, Jasko!” he muttered.
“Don’t you dare speak that way to my grandfather!” Sara cried, her eyes stormy. “You had your nerve coming here anyway, after that trick you tried!”
“Trick?”
“You deliberately weakened the brake rod of our bob-sled.”
Ralph Fergus laughed in the girl’s face. “You’re as touched as your grandfather,” he said.
“Perhaps you can explain what became of the top button of your overcoat,” suggested Penny coming to Sara’s support. “And don’t try to tell us it’s home in your sewing basket!”
Ralph Fergus’ hand groped at the vacant spot on his coat.
“What does a button have to do with the bob-sled accident?” inquired Harvey Maxwell.
“It happens that we found a large brown button in the tool house at the Downey lodge,” replied Penny. “Also a little additional evidence which rather suggests Mr. Fergus is the one who tampered with the bob-sled.”
“Ridiculous!” protested the hotel man. “I’ve not even been near Mrs. Downey’s lodge in weeks.”
“I know that’s a lie,” said Peter Jasko. “I saw you goin’ up that way Friday night.”
“And you went there to damage the bob-sled!” Sara accused. “You didn’t care how many persons might be injured in an accident!”
Ralph Fergus’ face was an angry red. “What reason would I have for doing anything like that?” he demanded.
“Guests were being drawn from your hotel because bob-sledding was increasing in popularity,” said Penny quietly. “Nothing would please you more than to put Mrs. Downey out of business.”
“Aren’t you drawing rather sweeping conclusions?” inquired Harvey Maxwell in an insolent tone. “A button isn’t very certain evidence. So many persons wear buttons, you know.”
“I lost this one from my coat weeks ago,” added Ralph Fergus.
“It was your button we found,” Sara accused.
Peter Jasko had been listening intently to the argument, taking little part in it. But now, with a quick movement which belied his age, he moved across the kitchen toward the gun rack on the wall.
“Let’s be getting out of here,” muttered Harvey Maxwell.
He and Ralph Fergus both bolted out of the door. Their sudden flight delighted Sara who broke into a fit of laughter.
“Why don’t you shoot once or twice into the air just to give ’em a good fright?” she asked her grandfather.
The old man, shotgun in hand, had followed the two men to the door. But he did not shoot.
“Grandfather wouldn’t hurt a flea really,” chuckled Sara. “At least, not unless it was trying to make him sign something.”
“Ralph Fergus acted guilty, all right,” declared Penny, bending down to massage her injured ankle. “But it may have been a mistake for us to accuse him.”
“I couldn’t help it,” answered Sara. “When I saw that button missing from his coat, I had to say something about it.”
Peter Jasko put away his shotgun, turning once more to the door. “I’ll hitch up the team,” he said. “Sara, get some liniment and see what you can do for Miss Parker’s ankle.”
“Your ankle?” gasped Sara, staring at Penny. “Have you hurt yourself again?”
“I managed to fall into the ravine a few minutes ago. Your grandfather saved me.”
Sara darted to the stove to get a pan of warm water. She stripped off Penny’s woolen stockings and examined the foot as she soaked it.
“I suppose this will put me on the shelf for another day or so,” Penny observed gloomily. “But I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”
“The ankle is swollen,” Sara said, “I’ll wrap it with a bandage and that may make it feel better.”
With a practiced hand she wound strips of gauze and adhesive tape about the ankle.
“There, how does it feel now?”
“Much better,” said Penny. “Thanks a lot. I—I feel rather mean to put your grandfather to so much trouble, especially after the way I’ve crossed him.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about Grandfather,” laughed Sara. “He likes you, Penny.”
“Helikesme?”
“I could tell by the way he acted tonight. He respects a person who stands up to him.”
“I said some rather unnecessary things,” Penny declared regretfully. “I was provoked because he wouldn’t sign a lease with Mrs. Downey. After hearing what he said to Fergus and Maxwell I realize nothing will sway him.”
Sara sighed as she helped her friend put on her shoe again.
“I’m afraid not. I’ll do what I can to influence him, but I can tell you now he’ll never listen to me. Grandfather is just the way he is, and one can’t budge him an inch.”
Peter Jasko soon had the team hitched to the bob-sled. He and Sara helped Penny in, wrapping blankets around her so that she would be snug and warm during the ride up the mountain.
“Come down again whenever you can,” invited Sara. “Only the next time don’t try it after dark if you’re on skis.”
Penny glanced at the old man, but his face showed no displeasure. Apparently, he no longer regarded her as an interloper.
“I’ll come as soon as I can,” she replied.
Peter Jasko clucked to the horses, and the sled moved away from the cabin. Sara stood in the doorway until it was out of sight.
During the slow ride up the mountain side, the old man did not speak. But as they came at last to the Downey lodge, and he lifted her from the sled, he actually smiled.
“I reckon it won’t do any good to lock Sara up after this,” he said. “You’re both too smart for an old codger like me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jasko,” answered Penny, her eyes shining. “Thank you for everything.”
The door of the lodge had opened, and Mrs. Downey, a coat thrown over her shoulders, hurried out into the snow. Not wishing to be drawn into a conversation, Jasko leaped back into the sled, and with a curt, “Good evening,” drove away.
With Mrs. Downey’s help, Penny hobbled into the house, and there related her latest misadventure.
“I declare, you’ll be in the hospital yet,” sighed the woman. “I feel tempted to adopt Mr. Jasko’s tactics and lock you up in your room.”
“I’ll stay there without being locked in,” declared Penny. “I’ve had enough skiing to last me until Christmas at least.”
In the morning she felt so stiff and battered that she could barely get out of bed. However, her ankle was somewhat better and when occasion demanded, she could hobble across the room without support.
“You ought to be all right in a day or so if only you’ll stay off your foot and give it a chance to get well,” declared Mrs. Downey.
“It’s hard to sit still,” sighed Penny. “There are so many things I ought to be doing.”
From the kitchen window she could see the Fergus hotel far down in the valley. She was impatient to pay another visit there, although she realized that after the previous evening’s encounter with Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell, it would be more difficult than ever to gain admittance.
“Somehow I must manage to get into Room 27 and learn what is going on there,” she thought. “But how? That is the question!”
Ever an active, energetic person, Penny became increasingly restless as the day dragged on. During mid-afternoon, observing that Jake had hitched up the team to the sled, she inquired if he were driving down to Pine Top.
“Yes, I am sending him after supplies,” explained Mrs. Downey. “And the newspapers—if there are any.”
“I wish I could go along for the ride.”
Mrs. Downey regarded Penny skeptically.
“Oh, I wouldn’t get out of the sled,” Penny said.
“Is that a promise?”
“I’ll make it one. Nothing less than a fire or an earthquake will get me out.”
Jake brought the sled to the door, and helped the girl into it. The day was cold. Snow fell steadily. Mrs. Downey tucked warm bricks at Penny’s feet and wrapped her snugly in woolen blankets.
The ride down the mountainside was without event. Penny began to regret that she had made the trip, for the weather was more unpleasant than she had anticipated. She burrowed deeper and deeper into the blankets.
Jake pulled up at a hitching post in front of Pine Top’s grocery store.
“It won’t take me long,” he said.
Penny climbed down in the bottom of the sled, rearranging her blankets so that only her eyes and forehead were exposed to the cold. She had been sitting there for some minutes when her attention was drawn to a man who was approaching from far down the street. Recognizing him as Ralph Fergus, she watched with interest.
At the drugstore he paused. As if by prearrangement, Benny Smith came out of the building. Penny was too far away to hear their exchange of words, but she saw the boy give all of his newspapers to Ralph Fergus. In return, he received a bill which she guessed might be of fairly high denomination.
“Probably five dollars,” she thought. “The boy sells all his papers to Fergus because he can make more that way than by peddling them one by one. And he’s paid to keep quiet about it.”
Penny was not especially surprised to discover that the hotel man was buying up all the papers, for she had suspected he was behind the trick.
“There’s no law against it,” she told herself. “That’s the trouble. Fergus and Maxwell are clever. So far they’ve done nothing which could possibly get them into legal trouble.”
Presently Jake came out of the grocery store, carrying a large box of supplies which he stowed in the sled.
“I’ll get the papers and then we’ll be ready to start.”
“Don’t bother,” said Penny. “There aren’t any. I just saw Ralph Fergus buy them all from the boy.”
“Fergus, eh? And he’s been puttin’ it out that the papers never caught the plane!”
“It was just another one of his little tricks to make Mrs. Downey’s guests dissatisfied.”
“Now we know what he’s about we’ll put a stop to it!”
“Yes,” agreed Penny, “but he’ll only think of something new to try.”
As they started back toward the Downey lodge, she was quiet, turning over various matters in her mind. Since Mrs. Downey had decided to sell her business, it scarcely seemed to matter what Ralph Fergus did.
The sled drew near the Jasko cabin and passed it, turning a bend in the road. Suddenly Penny thought she heard her name called. Glancing back she was startled to see Sara Jasko running after the sled.
“Wait, Jake!” Penny commanded. “It’s Sara! Something seems to be wrong!”
“Whoa!” shouted Jake, pulling on the reins.
The horses brought the heavy sled to a halt at the side of the road. Sara, breathless from running so fast, hurried up.
“I’m worried about Grandfather,” she gasped out.
“He isn’t sick?” Penny asked quickly,
“No, but I haven’t seen him since early this morning. He went to chop wood at Hatter’s place up the mountain. He expected to be back in time for lunch but he hasn’t returned.”
“He’ll likely be along soon,” said Jake.
“Oh, you don’t know Grandfather,” declared Sara, her forehead wrinkling with anxiety. “He always does exactly as he says he will do. He never would have stayed away this long unless something had happened. He’s getting on in years and I’m afraid—”
“Jake, couldn’t we go up to Hatter’s place, wherever it is?” Penny urged.
“Sure. It’s not far from Mrs. Downey’s.”
“Let me ride with you,” Sara requested. “I’m sorry to cause you any trouble, but I have a feeling something is wrong.”
“Jump in,” invited Jake.
Sara climbed into the back of the sled, snuggling down in the blankets beside Penny.
“Grandfather may have hurt himself with the ax,” she said uneasily. “Or he could have suffered a stroke. The doctor says he has a touch of heart-trouble, but he never will take care of himself.”
“We’ll probably find him safe and sound,” Penny declared in a comforting way.
Jake stirred the horses to greater activity. In a short while the sled passed the Downey grounds and went on to the Hatter farm. Sara sprang out to unlock the wooden gate which barred entrance to a narrow, private road.
“I see Grandfather’s sled!” she exclaimed.
Without waiting for Jake to drive through the gate, she ran on down the road. Hearing her cry of alarm, the man urged his horses on.
Reaching the clearing, Penny and Jake saw Sara gazing about in bewilderment. Peter Jasko’s team had been tied to a tree and the sled box was half filled with wood. An ax lay in the deep snow close by. But there was no sign of the old man.
“Where is grandfather?” Sara asked in a dazed voice.
She called his name several times. Hearing no answer, she ran deeper into the woods. Jake leaped from the sled and joined in the search. Penny could not bear to sit helplessly by. Deciding that the emergency was equal to an earthquake or a fire, she eased herself down from the sled.
Steadily falling snow had obliterated all tracks save those made by the new arrivals. There was no clue to indicate whether Peter Jasko had left the scene of his own free will or had been the possible victim of violence.
Jake and Sara searched at the edge of the woods and returned to the clearing to report no success.
“Maybe your granddad went up to Hatter’s place to get warm,” the man suggested.
“He never would have left his horses without blanketing them,” answered Sara. “But let’s go there and inquire. Someone may have seen Grandfather.”
They drove the bob-sled on through the woods to an unpainted farm house. Claud Hatter himself opened the door, and in response to Sara’s anxious question, he told her that he had seen Peter Jasko drive into the place early that morning.
“You didn’t see him go away?” Sara asked.
“No, but come to think of it, I noticed a car turn into the road. Must have been about ten o’clock this morning.”
“What sort of car?”
The man could give no additional information, for he had not paid particular attention to the automobile. However, he pulled on his heavy coat and boots, offering to help organize a searching party.
Sara and Penny remained at the farm house, but as it became evident that the old man would not be found quickly, Jake returned and took the girls down the mountain to the Downey lodge.
“What could have happened to Grandfather?” Sara repeated over and over. “I can’t believe he became dazed and wandered away.”
“I wish we knew who came in the car,” said Penny. “That might explain a lot.”
“You—you think Grandfather met with violence?”
“I hope not,” replied Penny earnestly. “But it seems very queer. Did your grandfather have enemies?”
“He antagonizes many folks without meaning to do so. However, I can’t think of anyone at Pine Top who could be called an actual enemy.”
By nightfall the searching party had grown in size. Nearly every male resident of Pine Top joined in the hunt for Peter Jasko. Even the Fergus hotel sent two employes to help comb the mountainside for the missing old man.
Sara, nearly in a state of collapse, was put to bed by Mrs. Downey, who kept telling the girl over and over that she must not worry. In speaking with Penny, the woman was far from optimistic. She expressed a doubt that Peter Jasko ever would be found alive.
“He may have wandered off and fallen into a crevasse.”
“I am inclined to think he may have been spirited away by whoever came up the private road in that car,” commented Penny.
“I can’t imagine anyone bothering to kidnap Peter Jasko,” returned Mrs. Downey. “He has no money.”
“It does sound rather fantastic, I admit. Especially in broad daylight. You didn’t notice any automobile on the main road this morning did you?”
“Only the Fergus hotel delivery truck. But I was busy. A dozen might have passed without my noticing them.”
At nine o’clock Jake came to the lodge with a discouraging report. No trace of Peter Jasko had been found. The search would continue throughout the night.
“Which way are you going?” Penny inquired as the man started to leave the house again. “Up the mountain or down?”
“Down,” he returned. “I’m joining a party at Jasko’s own place. We aim to start combing the woods on his farm next.”
“May I ride with you?” she requested. “I want to go down to the Fergus hotel.”
“Penny, your ankle—” protested Mrs. Downey.
“I can get around on it,” Penny said hurriedly. “See!” She hobbled across the floor to prove her words. “And this is important. I want to see someone at the hotel.”
“So late at night?”
“It really is important,” Penny declared. “Please say I may go.”
“Very well,” agreed Mrs. Downey reluctantly.
Jake took Penny all the way to the hotel. “Shall I help you inside?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she declined hurriedly. “I’ll make it fine from here.”
After Jake had driven back up the road, Penny limped around to the back entrance of the hotel. She stood for several minutes staring up at the dark windows of the second floor.
“I believe Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell know plenty about Jasko’s disappearance,” she thought. “But how to prove it?”
On the parking lot only a few steps away stood the Fergus hotel delivery truck. Penny hobbled over to it, and opened the rear door. She swept the beam of her flashlight over the floor.
At first glance the car appeared to be empty save for several cardboard boxes. Then she saw a heavy, fleece-lined glove lying on the floor half hidden by the containers. She picked it up, examined it briefly and stuffed it into the pocket of her snowsuit.
“I remember Peter Jasko wore a glove very much like this!” she thought.
Softly closing the truck door, Penny went back to the rear of the hotel. The lower hall was deserted so she slipped inside, and followed the stairway to the second floor. She tried the door of Room 27 and discovered it was locked.
“I was afraid of this,” Penny muttered.
Hesitating a moment she went on down the hall. Opening another door, the one which bore no number, she saw that she was to be blocked again in her investigation. The familiar guard sat at his usual post beside the door of the Green Room.
Retreating without drawing attention to herself, Penny debated her next action. Unless she found a way to enter one of those two rooms of mystery, her night would be wasted.
Moving softly down the hall, she paused to test the door to the right of Room 27. To her astonishment, it swung open when she turned the knob. The room was dark and deserted.
Penny stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Her flashlight beam disclosed only a dusty, bare bedroom, its sole furnishing a thickly padded carpet.
Going to the window, Penny raised it and gazed at the wide ledge which she had noted from below. If she had perfect balance, if the window of Room 27 were unlocked, if her lame ankle did not let her down, shemightbe able to span the distance! It would be dangerous and she must run the risk of being observed by persons on the grounds of the hotel. Penny gazed down at the frozen yard far below and shuddered.
“I’ve been pretty lucky in my falls so far,” she thought. “But I have a feeling if I slip this time it will be my last.”
Penny pulled herself through the window. As the full force of the wind struck her body, threatening to hurl her from her precarious perch, she nearly lost her courage. She clung to the sill for a moment, and then without daring to look down, inched her way along the ledge.
Reaching the other window in safety, she tried to push it up. For a dreadful instant, Penny was certain she could not. But it gave so suddenly she nearly lost her balance. Holding desperately to the sill, she recovered, and raised the window.
Penny dropped lightly through the opening into the dark room. Pains were shooting through her ankle, but so great was her excitement she scarcely was aware of any discomfort.
She flashed her light about the room. As she had suspected, there were two teletype machines, neither of which was in operation. A chair had been pulled up to a direct-keyboard machine similar to one Penny had seen in her father’s newspaper office. Save for a wooden table the room contained nothing else.
Penny went over to the machines and focused her light upon the paper in the rollers. It was blank.
“This is maddening!” she thought. “I take a big risk to get in here and what do I find—nothing!”
Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway. Penny remained perfectly still, expecting the person to pass on. Instead, the noise ceased altogether and a key grated in the door lock.
In panic, Penny glanced frantically about. She could not hope to get out the window in time to escape detection. The only available hiding place was a closet.
Switching off her light, Penny opened the door. Stepping inside, she closed it softly behind her.
In the darkness, Penny felt something soft and covered with fur brush against her face. She recoiled, nearly screaming in terror. Recovering her poise and realizing that she had merely touched a garment which hung in the closet, she flattened herself against the wall and waited.
The outside door opened and soft footsteps approached the wall switches. Lights flashed on. A tall, swarthy man in a gray business suit blinked at the sudden flood of illumination. After a moment he stepped over to the teletype machines, and throwing a switch, started them going.
Sitting down to the keyboard he tapped out a message. Then he lit a cigarette and waited. In a few minutes his answer came, typed out from some distant station. The man ripped the copy from the machine and read it carefully. Its contents seemed to please him for he smiled broadly as he arose from the chair, leaving the teletypes still running.
Penny froze with fear when she heard the man stride toward the closet where she had hidden herself. Instinctively, she burrowed back behind the fur garments which her groping hands encountered.
The door was flung open and light flooded into the closet. However, the teletype attendant seemed to have no suspicion that anyone might be hiding there. He pressed a button on the wall and then heaved against the partition with his shoulder. The section of wall, suspended on a pivot, slowly revolved. After the man had passed through, it swung back into its original position.
Penny waited several minutes and then came out of her hiding place. She flung open the closet door to admit more light.
“Just as I thought!” she muttered.
The closet, a long narrow room, was hung solidly with fur coats!
“So Maxine Miller was working for the hotel interests after all,” Penny told herself. “I’ve stumbled into something big!”
Groping along the wall of the storage room, she found a switch and pressed it. Again the partition revolved, revealing a flight of stairs leading downward. She slipped through and the wall slid into place behind her.
The stairway was lighted with only one weak electric bulb. Penny’s body cast a grotesque shadow as she cautiously descended. There were so many steps that she decided they must lead to a basement in the hotel.