One of Penny’s first acts upon arriving home was to scan the telephone directory under the heading, Investment Firms. The three companies mentioned during the séance, White and Edwards, Brantwell, and Bierkamp, were unlisted.
“Evidently there are no such firms in Riverview,” she reflected. “But why was Mrs. Weems advised to invest her money with one of them? It looks very suspicious to me!”
Not until after five o’clock did Mrs. Weems return from the Hodges’. She seemed rather upset, and when Penny tried to bring up the subject of the séance, said distantly:
“Please, Penny, I prefer not to discuss it. Your conduct was disgraceful.”
“I apologize for grabbing at the ghost, Mrs. Weems. I only did it to prove that Al Gepper is a fraud.”
“Your motives were quite apparent. One could not blame Mr. Gepper for being angry.”
“Oh, Mrs. Weems,” said Penny in desperation. “How can you be taken in by his smooth line? His one purpose is to obtain your money.”
“You are very unjust,” the housekeeper responded. “Today I tried to pay Mr. Gepper for the séance and he would not accept one penny.”
“That’s because he is playing for higher stakes.”
“It’s no use discussing the matter with you,” Mrs. Weems shrugged. “You are prejudiced and will give the man credit for nothing.”
“I give him credit for being very clever. Mrs. Weems, please promise that you’ll not allow him to invest your money for you.”
“I have no intention of doing so, Penny. It does seem to me that I should consider Cousin David’s wishes in the matter. Very likely I shall abandon my plans for the western trip.”
“And stay here with us?” Penny cried eagerly.
“No, I am thinking of going to a larger city and taking an apartment. With my money invested in eight per cent securities, I should have a comfortable little income.”
“Mrs. Weems, I’ve heard Dad say over and over that sound securities will not pay such a high rate of interest. Promise you won’t invest your money until you’ve talked with him.”
“You’re always asking me to promise something or other,” the housekeeper sighed. “This time I shall use my own judgment.”
Realizing that further argument was only a waste of breath, Penny wandered outside to await her father. When he came, they sat together on the front porch steps, discussing the situation.
“I’ll drop a word of advice to Mrs. Weems at the first opportunity,” offered Mr. Parker. “If she is in the mood you describe, it would not be wise to bring up the subject tonight. She merely would resent my interference.”
“What worries me is that I am afraid she may have told Al Gepper where the money is kept.”
“Tomorrow I’ll urge her again to deposit it in a bank. We’ll do our best to protect her from these sharpers.”
The publisher had been very much interested in Penny’s account of the séance. However, he was unable to explain how the various tricks had been accomplished.
“Dad,” Penny said thoughtfully, “you don’t suppose there’s any chance it wasn’t trickery?”
“Certainly not! I hope you’re not falling under this fellow’s spell?”
“No, but it gave me a real shock when I saw Cousin David’s face materialize on the canvas. It was the absolute image of him—or rather of a picture Mrs. Weems once showed me.”
A startled expression came over Penny’s face. Without explanation, she sprang to her feet and ran to the kitchen.
“Mrs. Weems,” she cried, “did you ever get it back? Your picture!”
“What picture, Penny?” The housekeeper scarcely glanced up as she vigorously scrubbed carrots.
“I mean the one of Cousin David. You allowed a photographer to take it for enlargement.”
“It hasn’t been returned,” Mrs. Weems admitted. “I can’t imagine why the work takes so long.”
“I think I can,” announced Penny. “But you never would believe me if I told you, so I won’t.”
Racing to the porch, she revealed to her father what she thought had occurred. It was her theory that the agent who had called at the Parker home days earlier had in actuality been one of Al Gepper’s assistants.
“Don’t you see, Dad!” she cried. “The man obtained a picture of Cousin David, and probably turned it over to the medium.” Her face fell slightly. “Of course, that still doesn’t explain how the painting slowly materialized.”
“Nor does it explain the ghost or the banjo. Penny, couldn’t Gepper have painted the picture himself in the darkness?”
“There wasn’t time, Dad. Besides, he held a flashlight on the painting. No human hand touched it.”
“You say, too, that the banjo was high overhead when it played?”
“That’s right, Dad. Gepper couldn’t have reached the strings. The instrument floated free in the air.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
“Believe me, it was, Dad. It’s no wonder Gepper is gaining such influence over Mrs. Weems. He’s as slick as a greased fox!”
“I’ll have Jerry go to the house and try to learn how the fellow operates,” declared Mr. Parker. “We can’t break the story until we have absolute evidence that Gepper has obtained money under false pretenses.”
The next day Penny remained close at home. Mrs. Weems still treated her somewhat distantly, leaving the house immediately after lunch and declining to explain where she was going. Penny was quite certain that her destination was the Hodges’ cottage.
“Guess I’ll run over and see Louise,” she thought restlessly. “Nothing to do here.”
Before she could leave the house, the doorbell rang. A man of perhaps thirty, well dressed, with a leather briefcase tucked under his arm, stood on the front porch. He bowed politely to Penny.
“This is where Mrs. Weems resides, I believe?”
“Yes, but she isn’t here now.”
“When will she be home?”
“I can’t say,” replied Penny. “Are you an agent?”
The man’s appearance displeased her although she could not have said exactly why. His smile was too ingratiating, his eyes calculating and hard.
“My name is Bierkamp,” he explained. “I represent the Harold G. Bierkamp Investment Company.”
Penny stiffened. She glared at the agent. “You mean you represent the Al Gepper Spookus Company,” she said in a cutting voice. “Well, Mrs. Weems doesn’t want any of your wonderful eight per cent stocks! She’ll not see you, so don’t come here again!”
“And who are you to speak for her?” the man retorted.
“If you come here again, I’ll call the police,” Penny threatened. “Now get out!”
Without another word, the man retreated down the street. Penny watched until he turned a corner and was lost to view. She was a trifle worried as to what she had done.
“If Mrs. Weems learns about this she’ll never forgive me,” she thought uneasily. “But he was a crook sent by Al Gepper. I know it.”
Wandering upstairs, she entered the bathroom, intending to wash before going to Louise’s home. On the tiled floor lay a velvet ribbon with a key attached. At once, Penny realized that Mrs. Weems had left it there inadvertently.
“It’s the key to her desk,” she reflected, picking it up. “And she insists that her money is kept in a safe place! I have a notion to play a joke on her.”
The longer Penny considered the idea, the more it pleased her. Jubilantly, she set forth for the Sidell home. Taking Louise into her confidence, she visited a novelty shop and purchased a supply of fake money.
Returning home, she then unlocked the drawer of Mrs. Weems’ desk and, removing the six thousand dollars, replaced it with neat stacks of imitation bills. Louise watched her with misgiving.
“Penny, this joke of yours isn’t likely to strike Mrs. Weems as very funny,” she warned. “You’re always doing things which get you into trouble.”
“This is in a good cause, Lou. I am protecting Mrs. Weems from her own folly.”
“What will you do with the money?”
“Deposit it in a bank.”
“You are taking matters into your hands with a vengeance! Suppose you’re robbed on the way downtown?”
“That would complicate my life. Upon second thought, I’ll send for an armored truck.”
To Louise’s amazement, Penny actually carried through her plan. A heavily guarded express truck presently drew up before the Parker residence, and Mrs. Weems’ money was turned over to the two armed men who promised that it would be delivered safely to the First National Bank.
“There, that’s a load off my mind,” said Penny. “Just let Al Gepper try to steal Mrs. Weems’ money now!”
Louise shook her head sadly. “You may be accused of stealing yourself. I wouldn’t be in your slippers when Mrs. Weems learns about this.”
“Oh, I’ll be able to explain,” laughed Penny.
The joke she had played did not seem quite so funny an hour later. Mrs. Weems returned home and without comment recovered the key which had been replaced on the lavatory floor. She did not open her desk or mention the money.
At dinner Penny was so subdued that the housekeeper inquired if she were ill.
“Not yet,” the girl answered. “I’m just thinking about the future. It’s so depressing.”
“Perhaps a picture show would cheer us all,” proposed Mr. Parker.
Mrs. Weems displayed interest, and Penny, without enthusiasm, agreed to go. Eight o’clock found them at the Avalon, a neighborhood theatre. The show was not to Penny’s liking, although her father and the housekeeper seemed to enjoy it. She squirmed restlessly, and finally whispered to her father that she was returning home.
In truth, as Penny well knew, she was suffering from an acute case of “conscience.” Now that it was too late, she regretted having meddled with Mrs. Weems’ money.
Gloomily she walked home alone. As she entered, she heard the telephone ringing, but before she could answer, the party hung up. With a sigh Penny locked the front door again, switched out the lights and went to bed.
For a long while she lay staring at a patch of moonlight on the bedroom carpet. Although she felt tired she could not sleep.
“It’s just as Louise said,” she reflected. “I’m always getting myself into hot water and for no good reason, either!”
Her morose thoughts were interrupted as a hard object thudded against a nearby wall. Penny sat up, listening. She believed that the sound had come from Mrs. Weems’ room, yet she knew she was alone in the house.
Rolling from bed, she groped for a robe, and without turning on the lights, tiptoed down the hall. Mrs. Weems’ door stood open. Was some intruder hidden in that room?
Peering inside, Penny at first noticed nothing amiss. Then her gaze fastened on the window sill, plainly visible in the moonlight. Two iron hooks, evenly spaced, had been clamped over the ledge!
As Penny flattened herself against the wall, the head and shoulders of a man slowly rose into view. Although his body was plainly silhouetted in the moonlight, she could not see his face.
The intruder raised the sash, making no sound. He hesitated, listening a moment, then dropped lightly into the bedroom.
Without turning on a flashlight which he carried, he went directly to Mrs. Weems’ desk. So deliberate was the action that Penny instantly decided the fellow had come for a particular purpose and knew the lay-out of the entire house.
“He means to steal Mrs. Weems’ money!” she thought.
Opening the desk, the man tried the drawer where the inheritance funds had been hidden. Failing to unlock it with a key, he took a tool from his pocket and in a moment had broken the lock.
Removing the stack of fake bills which Penny had substituted, he thrust them into his coat. Taking no interest in anything else in the room, he moved stealthily toward the window.
Penny knew there was no one within calling distance and that the man probably was armed. Wisdom dictated that she remain in hiding, but she was determined the thief should not escape. Hoping to take him by surprise, she stalked forward.
A board creaked. With a muttered exclamation the man whirled around. At the same instant Penny flung herself upon him, diving low in imitation of a football tackle.
The thief reeled, but instead of falling he recovered his balance and gave Penny a tremendous shove which sent her sprawling backwards. Before she could regain her feet, he ran to the window. Swinging himself over the ledge, he vanished from view.
By the time Penny reached the window there was no sign of the intruder. He had disappeared as if into thin air. However, she knew that the man must have descended by means of a ladder which he had hastily removed.
She ran her hand over the window ledge. The iron hooks no longer were there, only the scars which had been cut in the wood.
“This undoubtedly was the same fellow who broke into the Kohl apartment!” she thought. “But how did he escape so quickly?”
Penny started for a telephone, intending to notify the police. However, when it occurred to her that her father might not wish the matter made public, she changed her mind and ran downstairs.
Unlocking the rear door, she glanced carefully about the yard. There was no one in sight, no movement behind any of the shrubbery.
“He’s gone, of course,” she thought.
Penny wore no shoes. Finding a pair of old galoshes on the porch, she protected her feet with them, and hobbled into the yard.
The grass beneath Mrs. Weems’ window had been trampled, but at first glance there was no clue to indicate how the burglar had gained entrance to the house.
“Obviously he used a ladder,” she reasoned. “But how did he descend so quickly? And what became of the ladder? I know he never had time to carry away one of the ordinary type.”
A dark object lying on the grass attracted Penny’s attention. Picking it up, she carried it to the porch and switched on a light that she might see to better advantage. In her hand she held a torn strand of black silk rope.
“This may be an important clue!” she thought excitedly. “I know now how the man entered the house!”
As Penny examined the piece of rope, automobile headlight beams cut a path across the yard. The Parker car drew up on the driveway and both Mrs. Weems and Mr. Parker alighted.
“Dad, come here quickly!” Penny called as he started to open the garage doors.
“What’s wrong, Penny?”
Both the publisher and Mrs. Weems came toward the porch.
“We’ve had a burglar,” Penny announced. “He broke into Mrs. Weems’ room, smashing the lock on the desk—”
“My money!” the housekeeper exclaimed in horror. “Oh, Penny, don’t tell me that it’s gone!”
“He escaped with the contents of the drawer.”
Mrs. Weems gave a moan of anguish. “Haven’t you called the police?” she demanded. “When did it happen? Tell me everything!”
“First, I’ll set your mind at rest,” Penny replied. “Your money is safe.”
“Oh! I never was so relieved in all my born days.” Mrs. Weems sagged weakly into a porch rocker. “Penny, how could you torture me by letting me think the money was stolen?”
“Because I have a confession to make, Mrs. Weems. You left the key to your desk lying on the bathroom floor. I thought it might be a good joke to move the money to another place.”
“Oh, you darling blessed girl!” laughed Mrs. Weems. “Where did you hide it, Penny? Are you sure it’s safe?”
“It should be. I had it taken to the First National Bank and deposited in your name. The thief carried off a package of fake money.”
“Rather high-handed weren’t you?” commented her father.
“Now don’t you scold her,” spoke Mrs. Weems quickly. “I am glad Penny acted as she did. Otherwise, I might have lost my entire inheritance.”
Penny drew a deep breath. “I’m relieved you feel that way about it. I wish I could see the burglar’s face when he discovers he stole worthless money!”
Both the housekeeper and Mr. Parker pressed her with questions. She revealed exactly what had occurred during their absence, showing them the strand of black silk rope.
“Dad, I think this may be a valuable clue,” she declared. “What does it suggest to you?”
“Not much of anything, I am afraid.”
“You remember that when the Kohls were robbed the police couldn’t figure out how the burglar gained entrance?”
“Yes, I recall the story.”
“Well, I believe the same man committed both burglaries.”
“Why do you think so, Penny?”
“At the Kohl’s the police found two marks on the window ledge apparently made by iron hooks. Similar marks are on the sill in Mrs. Weems’ room. For that matter, I distinctly saw the iron pieces bite into the wood.”
“Let’s look at them,” proposed Mr. Parker.
“Only the marks are there now, Dad. The man jerked the hooks loose after he descended. They must have been attached to his ladder.”
“I thought you said he had none, Penny.”
“There was no time for him to have carried away an ordinary, heavy ladder. I think the one he used must have been made of silk.”
“And this is a piece of it!” Mr. Parker exclaimed, examining the twisted strand with new interest. “Your theory sounds plausible. It would be possible for a man to scale a wall with such a ladder.”
“He could jerk loose the hooks in an instant, too, Dad. The ladder would fit into a small suitcase, or even his pocket!”
“There’s one objection to your theory, Penny. How could such a ladder be raised to the window ledge? It naturally would be limp.”
“That part has me puzzled, I’ll admit.”
“I never even heard of a silken ladder,” said Mrs. Weems doubtfully.
“I once saw one being made,” declared Penny with deliberate emphasis. “At a Japanese Shop on Dorr Street.”
“That’s right, you spoke of it!” exclaimed her father. “Penny, you may have something!”
“I think so, Dad. This strand of twisted silk may lead straight to Kano’s Curio Shop.”
“And from there?”
Penny hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Weems. She knew that the housekeeper might take offense, but she answered quietly:
“My guess would be to Al Gepper, Dad. Who but he or an accomplice could have known where the money was hidden?”
As Penny had anticipated, Mrs. Weems indignantly declared that she did not believe Mr. Gepper could have had any connection with the attempted robbery. Yet, even as she made the assertion, a startled expression came over her face.
“Think back, Mrs. Weems,” urged Mr. Parker. “How many persons knew where you had secreted the money?”
“I told Mrs. Hodges.”
“And Al Gepper?” Penny probed.
“Well—” The housekeeper looked ill at ease. “He may have heard me talking with Mrs. Hodges. I remember he passed through the hall while we were together.”
“What day was that?” inquired Penny.
“Yesterday. After the séance. But I can’t believe that Mr. Gepper would try to steal the money. I just can’t!”
“From what Penny has told me of the man, I should judge that he is a schemer,” contributed Mr. Parker. “You know theStarhas started a vigorous campaign directed against such mediums as Al Gepper.”
“But he told me such remarkable things about Cousin David,” protested Mrs. Weems. “Facts which couldn’t be faked.”
“Oh, Gepper doesn’t make many false moves,” acknowledged Penny. “He’s a smooth worker. All the same, he’s a fake.”
“How could he have faked Cousin David’s message? You forget we actually saw the picture of my relative painted without the aid of a human hand.”
“Did the picture closely resemble your cousin?” inquired Mr. Parker.
“Oh, yes, indeed. It looked exactly as I saw him many years ago.”
“Isn’t that rather odd?” demanded Penny. “One would expect Cousin David to age a little.”
“Penny believes that a photographer’s agent who came here a few days ago was sent by Gepper to obtain a picture of your relative,” explained Mr. Parker. “Did the man ask you many questions about your cousin?”
“Well, yes, he did,” Mrs. Weems admitted unwillingly. “I made a mistake giving him the photograph.”
“It seems fairly evident that the picture was used by Gepper,” Mr. Parker commented. “Whether he plotted to steal your money remains to be proven. Penny, you saw the man plainly?”
“No, I didn’t, Dad. Not his face. He was about the same build as Gepper.”
“That’s not much to go on.”
“From the first Gepper was determined to get Mrs. Weems’ money, Dad. He sent a man here who pretended to be from the Bierkamp Investment Company.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” said Mrs. Weems.
“Well, no I didn’t. I was afraid you would invest your money with him, so I drove the man away. He must have been Gepper’s accomplice. Failing to acquire the money by that means, he plotted the burglary.”
“Surely you don’t agree with Penny?” the housekeeper asked Mr. Parker unhappily.
“In general, I am afraid I do. Mr. Gepper is an undesirable character, and I should like nothing better than to send him to jail.”
“Come upstairs, Mrs. Weems,” urged Penny. “I’ll show you the desk.”
Both the housekeeper and Mr. Parker followed her to the second floor. An examination of the bedroom disclosed no additional clues, but after studying the marks on the window ledge, the publisher favored Penny’s theory that a silk ladder had been utilized.
“It was unwise of me to keep my money here,” Mrs. Weems remarked in a crestfallen tone. “I—I’ve been silly about everything, I guess.”
Penny gave her a quick hug. “No, you haven’t. Anyone might have been taken in by Al Gepper.”
“I shall never attend another of his séances. I’ll urge Mrs. Hodges to turn him from her house.”
“Mrs. Weems, are you willing to help get evidence against him?” asked Mr. Parker abruptly.
“Why, yes, if I can.”
“Then go to the Hodges’ exactly as you have in the past,” instructed the publisher. “Penny has been warned by Gepper not to attend any of the séances, but you’ll still be welcome. Learn everything you can and report to me.”
“I’ll be glad to do it, Mr. Parker.”
“Don’t allow him to guess that you have become suspicious. Above all, never withdraw your money from the bank at his suggestion.”
“You may be sure I won’t. This has taught me a bitter lesson.”
“Haven’t you an assignment for me, Dad?” inquired Penny. “How about Kano’s Curio Shop?”
“Early tomorrow I’ll send Jerry there to question the old Jap.”
“Will you notify the police?”
“Not for the present. If we can crack this story I’d like to get it ahead of theRecord.”
“I wish you would send me to Kano’s instead of Jerry.”
“Dorr Street is no place for you, Penny,” Mr. Parker replied, dismissing the matter. “Shall we get to bed now? It’s nearly midnight.”
After the doors had been locked once more Penny went to her room, but she did not immediately fall asleep. Instead, she kept mulling over the events of the night. The more she thought about it the more firmly she became convinced that both the Kohl home and her own had been entered by the same person.
“The telephone was ringing when I came from the movie,” she recalled. “Now I wonder who called? It may have been a trick of the thief to learn if anyone were in the house. When no one answered, the assumption would be that the coast was clear.”
Penny felt rather well satisfied with the way matters had developed. In one bold stroke she had saved Mrs. Weems’ inheritance, convinced the housekeeper that Al Gepper was not to be trusted, and had made definite progress in gaining evidence to be used in her father’s campaign against the charlatan invaders of Riverview. Yet it annoyed her that the story, now that it had reached an active stage, was to be turned over to Jerry.
“I have a notion to visit the Kano Curio Shop ahead of him,” she thought. “That’s exactly what I’ll do!”
Having made up her mind, she rolled over and promptly fell asleep.
In the morning Penny ate breakfast and wiped the dishes with a speed which astonished Mrs. Weems. Shortly after her father left for the office, she backed her own maroon car from the garage, and offering only a vague explanation, departed for Kano’s Curio Shop.
Dorr Street was quite deserted at such an early hour, and the Japanese shop owner had just unlocked his doors. He was sweeping the floor as Penny boldly entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Kano,” she greeted him. “You remember me, I believe?”
Mr. Kano bowed, regarding her warily. “Yes,” he replied. “You are the young lady whose curiosity is very large.”
Penny smiled. “You are right, Mr. Kano. It is very large, especially about a certain silken ladder.”
Mr. Kano frowned as he leaned on his broom. “I am very sorry,” he said. “I am a merchant, not one who answers what you call the quiz-bee.”
Penny understood that the Japanese never would tell her what she wished to know save under compulsion. She decided to adopt firm tactics.
“Mr. Kano,” she said, “my father is the owner of theRiverview Starand he intends to expose certain crooks who have been robbing wealthy persons such as the Kohls. You read in the paper that their home was entered?”
“Yes, I read,” the Japanese shrugged.
“My own theory is that the thief gained entrance by means of a silk ladder,” Penny declared. “A ladder made in this shop!”
The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “I know nothing,” he replied. “Nothing. You go now, please.”
“If I go,” said Penny, “I’ll return with the police. You would not like that, I take it?” Her voice was crisp and full of menace.
Mr. Kano lost some of his poise. “No!” he answered sharply. “I am an honest man and want no sad trouble with the police.”
Chancing to glance toward the street, Penny observed Jerry Livingston standing on the opposite corner. He was gazing thoughtfully toward the Curio Shop, and she knew that he must have been sent by her father to interview Mr. Kano. Inspired, she turned again to the old Japanese.
“You see that young man yonder?” she asked, indicating Jerry. “I have but to summon him and he’ll come here.”
“Detective?” demanded Mr. Kano, peering anxiously through the window. “Do not call him! I am an honest man. I will answer your questions.”
“Then tell me about the silken ladder.”
“I know little,” the shopkeeper insisted. “I made the rope for a man who said: ‘Do this or we will burn your shop down, Mr. Kano.’ So I made the ladder and he paid me well for fashioning it.”
“And what was the man’s name?”
“His name I do not know. But his eyes were small and evil. His skin was dark, his nose crooked.”
Mr. Kano ceased speaking with an abruptness which caused Penny to glance toward the door. Her first thought was that Jerry had entered. Instead a strange young man stood there, regarding her suspiciously.
As she stared at him he quickly retreated, but not before she had caught a fleeting impression of a face which matched Mr. Kano’s description with startling accuracy.
“Was he the one?” she demanded as the door slammed. “The man for whom you made the ladder?”
“No, no!” denied the Japanese.
His words failed to convince Penny. Darting to the door, she saw that the young man already was far down the street, walking rapidly.
“He is the one,” she thought. “I’ll follow him.”
“Wait,” called the Japanese as she started away, “I have more to tell you.”
It was a ruse to detain her, Penny knew. Pushing past the shopkeeper who sought to bar the exit, she reached the street and ran toward Jerry Livingston.
“Why, Penny!” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Never mind that,” she answered hastily. “If you’re after a story, come along with me. We’re trailing the man who just left Kano’s Shop.”
Jerry fell into step with Penny. As they walked along, she told him of her conversation with Mr. Kano.
“I believe this man we’re following is the same one who entered our house last night,” she declared. “He’s the same build as the fellow I grabbed. Besides, he fits Kano’s description of the person who bought the silken ladder.”
“Here’s hoping you’re right,” replied Jerry. “If I muff this assignment, I may wake up looking for another job.”
Fearing that the man ahead would discover he was being followed, Jerry and Penny dropped farther and farther behind. Presently they saw him enter a pawnshop.
“I know that place,” commented Jerry. “It’s run by Spike Weiser, a notoriousfence. He buys stolen goods and gets rid of it at a profit. Has a swell home on Clarmont Drive.”
“Why don’t the police arrest him?”
“Oh, they watch the place, but Spike is too smart to be caught. He has a system for handlinghotgoods.”
“I’ll venture some of the Kohl loot was sold through him, Jerry.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. But if the police search the place they won’t find a thing.”
Loitering on the opposite side of the street, Penny and the reporter kept close watch of the pawnbroker’s shop. Thirty minutes elapsed. The man whom they had trailed, did not reappear.
“He must have slipped out the back door,” Jerry remarked. “Probably knew he was being watched.”
“I’m beginning to think so myself.”
Jerry glanced at his watch. “I can’t take any more time,” he said. “I’ll have to get back to the office.”
“I’ll watch a few minutes longer,” answered Penny. “If anything develops I’ll try to telephone.”
Jerry walked hurriedly away. Scarcely had he disappeared when the door of the pawnshop opened, and the young man who had entered a half hour earlier, appeared. Penny hastily moved back into the vestibule of an office building.
Without observing her, the stranger crossed the street and walked briskly toward an intersecting boulevard. There was no opportunity for Penny to telephone theStaroffice. Following, she was hard pressed to keep the man within view.
Not until they reached the entrance of Butternut Lane did it dawn upon her that the Celestial Temple might be their destination. Then, indeed, her pulse stepped up a pace.
“It’s exactly as I guessed!” she thought triumphantly. “He’s connected with Al Gepper and the other mediums!”
Not wishing to attract attention in the deserted lane, Penny took a short cut through the cemetery, emerging at the rear of the Celestial Temple. There was no door on that side of the building but a window had been left raised. Placed beneath it, as if for her particular convenience, was a large rock.
Penny stood on it, peering into the Temple. The room was unoccupied. However, as she waited, the same man she had trailed, quietly let himself in through the front entrance, using a key. He glanced about and called in a low voice: “Pete! Pete! Anyone here?”
There was no answer, which seemed to please the young man. He moved quickly down the aisle, crossed the platform to a door which opened into the bell tower. Kneeling he began to fit keys into the lock, seeking one which would serve.
As Penny watched, the young man suddenly straightened. Apparently he had heard footsteps in the vestibule for he moved away from the bell tower door.
A middle-aged woman with dyed hair and a skin of unusual pallor entered the Temple. She stopped short as she saw the young man.
“You here, Slippery?” she commented, gazing at him with distrust. “Where’s Pete?”
“Hello, Sade. I was wonderin’ about Pete myself. Just got here a minute ago.”
The woman’s gaze fastened upon the key which had been left in the bell tower door.
“Say, what’s coming off here?” she demanded. “You were trying to get inside!”
“Now don’t ruffle your feathers, Sade,” the man said soothingly. “I was only testing the door to make sure it was locked.”
“I’ll bet! You were aiming to break in! Slippery, they sure named you right. Why, you’d double-cross your own mother!”
“Oh, quiet down,” the man retorted angrily. “I only came here to make sure Pete was on the job. The lazy loafer has skipped out and left the place unguarded.”
The woman deliberately seated herself in a chair beside the bell tower door.
“I’m parking here until Pete shows up,” she announced. “Maybe you’re on the square, Slippery, but I don’t trust you.”
“Thanks for your flattering opinion,” the man responded mockingly. “You give me a pain, Sade. I do all the dangerous work, and what do I get? A measly ten per cent.”
“Plus what you stick in your pocket when you’re on a job,” the woman shot back with rising anger. “You’ve been doing pretty well for yourself, Slippery—you and Al. But the boys are getting wise. From now on it may not be so easy. Better play fair with the rest of us—or else.”
“You always did have a wagging tongue,” the man retorted. “Always trying to stir up trouble. Don’t you realize we’ve got to work together or we’ll be jailed separately? Our ranks must be united.”
“Gettin’ sort of jittery, ain’t you?”
“Maybe you haven’t been reading those editorials in theStar.”
“Sure, I read them and get a big laugh. This guy Parker has to blow off steam. Nothing will come of it.”
“The police have visited this place once already.”
“And what did they find? Nothing.”
“That’s no guarantee they won’t try again. I tell you this town is getting too hot for comfort.”
“Figurin’ on blowing?” the woman inquired, watching him shrewdly.
Slippery’s laughter had an unpleasant edge. “You sure do get ideas, Sade. Don’t start peddling that line of talk. Understand?”
“I hear.”
Suddenly losing his temper, the man strode nearer, seizing her arm.
“Just start something and see where you wake up!” he said harshly. “One word to Pete or any of the boys and you won’t do any more pretty fortune telling!”
The woman jerked her arm free, gazing at the man in sullen silence. Nor did she speak as he left the Temple, slamming the door behind him.
Penny debated whether or not to follow Slippery. Deciding that she should try to keep him within sight, she abandoned her post beneath the window and ran to the front of the building.
Already the young man was far down the lane, walking rapidly. Before Penny could overtake him he hailed a taxi and drove away. By the time she obtained another cab, pursuit was futile.
“To theStaroffice,” Penny ordered the driver.
Although Slippery had eluded her, she did not feel that her morning’s work had been wasted. She believed that her father would be very much interested in a report of her findings.
“It’s evident that Slippery is connected with Al Gepper and various mediums of the Celestial Temple,” she reflected. “I am sure, too, that he’s the one who broke into our house, but to prove it may not be so easy.”
Penny had not fully understood the conversation which she had overheard between Slippery and Sade. That they distrusted each other was evident, but why had the woman feared Slippery might break into the bell tower during the guard’s absence?
“Something of great value to the organization must be kept there,” she reasoned. “But what can it be?”
Penny believed that her father would not delay in requesting police to search the bell tower of the Celestial Temple. However, a disappointment awaited her.
Upon arriving at the newspaper office DeWitt stopped her as she went past his desk.
“Don’t go in there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Mr. Parker’s private room.
“Why not?” asked Penny in surprise. “Is Dad having a conference?”
DeWitt nodded as he composed a two column headline. “With J. P. Henley.”
“TheStar’sSugar Daddy?”
“Our biggest advertiser. He’s threatening to go over to theRecord.”
“Why, that’s serious!”
“It is if he quits theStar. The old man—Mr. Parker—” DeWitt corrected hastily, “has been trying to soften him up for the past two hours. Whatever you do, don’t bust in there now.”