“Incredible as it seems, the thief came through this window,” decided the policeman. “How he did it is for the detectives at Central Station to figure out.”
Explaining that the rooms must not be disturbed until Identification Bureau men had made complete fingerprint records, the officer locked Penny, Jerry and the maid outside the suite. He then went to a nearby apartment to telephone his report.
“Maybe this is an ordinary burglary, but it doesn’t look that way to me,” remarked Jerry as he and Penny went down the stairway.
“In any case, the story should be front page copy. Anything the Kohls do is news in Riverview.”
“How high would you estimate the loss?”
“Oh, I couldn’t guess, Jerry. Thousands of dollars.”
Passing groups of tenants who cluttered the hallway excitedly discussing the burglary, they evaded questioners and reached the street.
“Jerry,” said Penny suddenly, “I didn’t mention this to the policeman because he seemed to resent my opinions. But it occurred to me that I may have seen the man who robbed the Kohls—or at least had something to do with it.”
“How could you have seen him, Penny? We were together when the Kohl maid yelled for help.”
“Earlier than that. It was while I was at the theatre.”
Half expecting that Jerry would laugh, Penny told how she had observed the man in gray note down the license number of the Kohl limousine.
“It came to me like a flash! That fellow may have telephoned the Kohl apartment after seeing the car at the theatre. Making sure no one was at home, he then looted the place at his leisure.”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Jerry. “The Motor Vehicle Department closes at six o’clock. How could your man have obtained Kohl’s name and address from the license number?”
“I never thought about the department being closed,” confessed Penny. “How you do love to shoot shrapnel into my little ideas!”
“At least you have original theories, which is more than I do,” comforted Jerry. “Before we leave, shall we take a look at the alley?”
Penny brightened instantly and accompanied the reporter to the rear of the building. The alley was deserted. Without a light they were unable to examine the ground beneath the Kohl’s apartment window.
Suddenly, both straightened as they heard a sound behind them. The brilliant beam of a flashlight focused on their faces, blinding them.
“Oh, it’s you again,” said a gruff voice.
The beam was lowered, and behind it they saw the policeman.
“You young cubs are a pest,” he said irritably.
Ignoring them, he moved his light over the ground. There were no footprints or other marks visible beneath the window.
“If a ladder had stood here it would show,” remarked Jerry. “The thief must have used some other means of getting into the building.”
While the policeman was inspecting the ground, the janitor stepped from a rear basement door, joining the group.
“Officer, I have some more information for you,” he volunteered.
“What is it?”
“I was talking with my wife. She says that about two hours ago she noticed a man walking through the alley. He carried a suitcase, and kept looking at the upstairs windows.”
“No ladder?”
“Only a suitcase.”
“I’ll have the detectives talk with your wife,” the policeman promised. “They’ll be here any minute now.”
Penny and Jerry lingered until the two men arrived, bringing a photographer with them. No new evidence being made available, it seemed a waste of time to remain longer.
“Don’t bother to take me home,” Penny insisted. “Dash straight to the office and write your story. The other papers won’t have a word about the robbery until the police report is made.”
“I don’t like to abandon you.”
“Don’t be silly, Jerry. It’s only a few blocks farther.”
Thus urged, the reporter bade Penny good-bye. As she hastened on alone, it began to rain and the air turned colder. To save her clothing, she ran the last block, reaching the porch quite breathless.
The house was dark, the front door locked. Penny let herself in with a key, switched on the lights, and after getting a snack from the refrigerator, started upstairs.
From her father’s room issued loud snores. However, Mrs. Weems’ door stood open, and as Penny glanced in she was surprised to see that the bed had not been disturbed.
“Mrs. Weems must still be at the Hodges’,” she thought. “Perhaps I should go after her. She’ll have a long walk in this rain.”
Penny went to a window and looked out. The downpour showed no sighs of slackening. With a sigh she found her raincoat and started for the garage.
During her absence, Mr. Parker had towed Leaping Lena to a vacant lot adjoining the property. The maroon car awaited her beneath shelter, and she drove it through dark streets to the Hodges’ modest home.
Lights glowed cheerily from the lower floor windows. In response to Penny’s knock, a bent old man, his hands gnarled by hard labor, opened the door.
“Is it Penelope?” he asked, squinting at her through the rain. “Come in! Come in!”
“Good evening, Mr. Hodges. Is Mrs. Weems still here?”
“Yes, I am, Penny,” called the housekeeper. “Goodness, what time is it anyway?”
“Nearly midnight.”
Penny shook water from her coat and stepped into the spic and span living room. An unshaded electric light disclosed a rug too bright, wallpaper too glaring, furniture stiff and old fashioned. Yet one felt at once welcome, for the seamstress and her husband were simple, friendly people.
“Have a chair, Penelope,” invited Mrs. Hodges. She was short like her husband, with graying hair and an untroubled countenance.
“Thank you, but I can’t stay,” replied Penny. “I came to drive Mrs. Weems home.”
“I had no idea it was so late,” the housekeeper said, getting to her feet. “Mrs. Hodges and I have been planning my traveling outfit.”
“I’ll try to have the dresses for you within the next two weeks,” promised the seamstress. “Your good fortune makes me very happy, Maud. Isn’t the news of her inheritance wonderful, Penelope?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course,” stammered Penny. “Only I hope Mrs. Weems isn’t leaving us within two weeks. What’s this about a traveling outfit?”
“I’ve always wanted fine clothing,” said Mrs. Weems dreamily. “Mrs. Hodges is making me a suit, three silk dresses, a tissue velvet evening gown—”
“An evening gown!” Penny gasped. “Where will you wear it?”
“I’ll find places.”
“Maybe she aims to catch a husband while she’s galavantin’ around out there in Californy,” contributed Mr. Hodges with a sly wink.
“The very idea!” laughed Mrs. Weems, yet with no displeasure.
Penny sagged into the nearest rocking chair. The conversation was paced too fast for her.
“Evening gowns—husbands—California,” she murmured weakly. “Wait until Dad hears about this.”
“Mr. Hodges was only joking,” declared Mrs. Weems, reaching for her hat. “I wouldn’t marry the best man on earth. But I definitely am going west this summer.”
“I envy you, Maud,” said the seamstress, her eyes shining. “Pa and I want to go out there and buy a little orange grove someday. But with taxes what they are, we can’t seem to save a penny.”
Mrs. Weems squeezed her friend’s hand.
“I wish I could take you along, Jenny,” she said. “All these years you’ve sewed your poor fingers almost to the bone. You deserve an easier life.”
“Oh, Pa and I don’t complain,” the seamstress answered brightly. “And things are going to look up.”
“Sure they are,” agreed Mr. Hodges. “I’ll get a job any day now.”
Penny, who was watching the seamstress’ face was amazed to see it suddenly transformed. Losing her usual calm, Mrs. Hodges exclaimed:
“Pa! It just this minute came to me! Maud getting her inheritance is another psychic sign!”
Penny rocked violently and even Mrs. Weems looked startled.
“I don’t know what you mean, Jenny,” she said.
“We said we wouldn’t tell anybody, Ma,” protested Mr. Hodges mildly.
“Mrs. Weems is my best friend, and Penelope won’t tell. Will you, Penelope?”
“Not what I don’t know,” replied Penny in bewilderment. “How can Mrs. Weems’ inheritance have anything to do with a psychic sign?”
“You may as well tell ’em,” grinned Mr. Hodges, “If you keep the news much longer you’ll bust.”
“The strangest thing happened three nights ago,” Mrs. Hodges began, her voice quivering with excitement. “But wait! First I’ll show you the letter!”
As Penny and Mrs. Weems waited, the seamstress went to another room, returning with a stamped, slit envelope.
“Notice the postmark,” she requested, thrusting the letter into Penny’s hand.
“It was mailed from New York,” the girl observed.
“I mean the hour at which the envelope was stamped by the postmaster.”
“I make it 11:30P.M.June fifteenth,” Penny read aloud. “Does the time and date have special significance?”
“Indeed, it does,” the seamstress replied impressively. “You tell them, Pa.”
“It happened three nights ago,” began Mr. Hodges. “Ma worked late stitchin’ up some playsuits for Mrs. Hudson’s little girl. Afterwards we had bread and milk like we always do, and then we went to bed.”
“At the time, I said to Pa that something queer was going to happen,” broke in the seamstress. “I could feel it in my bones. It was as if something was hovering over us.”
“A feeling of impending trouble?” questioned Penny.
“Nothing like that,” said Mr. Hodges.
“No, it was as if one almost could feel a foreign presence in the room,” Mrs. Hodges declared, lowering her voice. “A supernatural being.”
“Surely you don’t believe in ghosts...?” Penny began, but the seamstress did not hear. Unheeding, she resumed:
“Pa rubbed my back to ease the pain I get from working too long at the machine. Then we went to bed. Neither of us had gone to sleep when suddenly we heard it!”
“Six sharp raps on the outside bedroom wall,” supplied Mr. Hodges. “It was like this.” He demonstrated on the table.
“We both heard it,” added Mrs. Hodges. “It scared me nearly out of my wits.”
“Possibly it was someone at the door,” suggested Penny.
“No, it wasn’t that. Pa got up and went to see.”
“Could it have been a tree bough brushing against the wall?”
“It wasn’t that,” said Mr. Hodges. “The maple is too far off to strike our bedroom.”
“There’s only one explanation,” declared the seamstress with conviction. “It was a psychic sign—the first.”
“I don’t believe in such things myself,” announced Penny. “Surely there must be another explanation.”
“That’s what I told Jenny,” nodded Mr. Hodges. “But since the letter came, doggoned if I don’t think maybe she’s right.”
“What has the letter to do with it?” inquired Mrs. Weems.
The seamstress pointed to the postmark on the envelope.
“The hour at which we heard the strange tappings was eleven-thirty! Pa looked at the clock. And it was three days ago, June fifteenth.”
“Corresponding to the marking on this envelope,” commented Penny. “That is a coincidence.”
Mrs. Hodges shook her head impatiently.
“You surely don’t think it just happened byaccident?” she asked. “It must have been intended as a sign—an omen.”
“What did the letter say?” Penny inquired, without answering Mrs. Hodges’ question. She knew that her true opinion would not please the woman.
“It wasn’t rightly a letter,” the seamstress returned. “The envelope contained six silver dollars fitted into a stiff piece of cardboard.”
“We figured it was another sign,” contributed Mr. Hodges. “Six raps on the wall—six dollars.”
“I wish some ghost would come and pound all night long on my bedroom door,” remarked Penny lightly.
“Penelope, you shouldn’t speak so disrespectfully,” Mrs. Weems reproved in a mild voice.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to,” said Penny, composing her face. “What else has happened of a supernatural nature?”
“Why, nothing yet,” Mrs. Hodges admitted. “But Pa and I have had a feeling as if something important were about to take place. And now Maud inherits six thousand dollars!”
“There was nothing psychic about that,” said Mrs. Weems. “Cousin David had no close relatives so he left the money to me.”
The seamstress shook her head, and an ethereal light shone in her eyes.
“Night before last when I went to bed I was thinking that I wished with all my heart something nice would happen to you, Maud. Now it’s come to pass!”
Even Mrs. Weems was somewhat startled by the seamstress’ calm assumption that her thoughts had been responsible for the inheritance.
“Don’t you see,” Mrs. Hodges resumed patiently. “It must mean that I have great psychic powers. I confess I am rather frightened.”
Penny arose and began to button her raincoat.
“Excuse me for saying it,” she remarked, “but if I were you, Mrs. Hodges, I’d spend the six dollars and forget the entire affair. Someone must have played a joke on you!”
“A joke!” The seamstress was offended. “People don’t give away money as a joke.”
“No, these days they squeeze the eagles until they holler,” chuckled Mr. Hodges.
“The letter was postmarked New York City,” went on his wife. “We don’t know a soul there. Oh, no one ever can make me believe that it was done as a joke. The letter was mailed at exactly the hour we heard the six raps!”
“And there wasn’t a sign of anyone near the house,” added Mr. Hodges.
“Well, at least you’re six dollars ahead,” said Penny. “Shall we go, Mrs. Weems? It’s after midnight.”
The seamstress walked to the door with the callers.
“I’ll get busy tomorrow on those new dresses,” she promised Mrs. Weems. “Drop in again whenever you can. And you, too, Penelope.”
Driving home through the rain, Penny stole a quick glance at the housekeeper who seemed unusually quiet.
“Do you suppose Jenny could be right?” Mrs. Weems presently ventured. “I mean about Cousin David and the inheritance?”
“Of course not!” laughed Penny. “Why, your cousin died a long while before Mrs. Hodges discovered that she was psychic. It’s all the bunk!”
“I wish I really knew.”
“Why, Mrs. Weems!” Penny prepared to launch into a violent argument. “I never heard of such nonsense! How could Mrs. Hodges have psychic powers? Everyone realizes that communication with the spirit world is impossible!”
“You are entitled to your opinion, Penny, but others may differ with you. Who can know about The Life Beyond? Isn’t it in the realm of possibility that Mrs. Hodges may have had a message from Cousin David?”
“She didn’t speak of it.”
“Not in words, Penny. But those strange rappings, the arrival of the letter—it was all very strange and unexplainable.”
“I’ll admit it was queer, Mrs. Weems. However, I’ll never agree that there’s anything supernatural connected with it.”
“You close your mind to things you do not wish to believe,” the housekeeper reproved. “What can any of us know of the spirit world?”
Penny gazed at Mrs. Weems in alarm. She realized that the seamstress’ story had deeply impressed her.
“I’ll stake my knowledge against Mrs. Hodges’ any old day,” she declared lightly. “I met one ghost-maker—Osandra—remember him?”
“Why remind me of that man, Penny?” asked the housekeeper wearily.
“Because you once paid him good money for the privilege of attending his séances. You were convinced he was in communication with the world beyond. He proved to be an outrageous fraud.”
“I was taken in by him as were many other persons,” Mrs. Weems acknowledged. “Mrs. Hodges’ case is different. We have been friends for ten years. She would not misrepresent the facts.”
“No, Mrs. Hodges is honest. I believe that the money was sent to her. But not by a ghost!”
“Let’s not discuss it,” said Mrs. Weems with finality. “I never did enjoy an argument.”
Penny lapsed into silence and a moment later the car swung into the Parker driveway. The housekeeper hurried into the house, leaving the girl to close the garage doors.
Penny snapped the padlock shut. Unmindful of the rain, she stood for a moment, staring into the night. Nothing had gone exactly right that day, and her disagreement with Mrs. Weems, minor though it was, bothered her.
“There’s more to this psychic business than appears on the surface,” she thought grimly. “A great deal more! Maybe I am stubborn and opinionated. But I know one thing! No trickster is going to take advantage of the Hodges or of Mrs. Weems either—not if I can prevent it.”
The clock chimed seven-thirty the next morning as Penny came downstairs. She dropped a kiss on her father’s forehead and slid into a chair at the opposite side of the breakfast table.
“Good morning, Daddykins,” she greeted him cheerfully. “Any news in the old scandal sheet?”
Mr. Parker lowered the newspaper.
“Please don’t call me Daddykins,” he requested. “You know I hate it. Here’s something which may interest you. Your friends the Kohls were robbed last night.”
“You’re eight hours late,” grinned Penny, reaching for the front page. “I was there.”
“I suppose you lifted the pearls and the diamond bracelet on your way to the theatre.”
“No,” said Penny, rapidly scanning the story which Jerry had written, “but I think I may have seen the man who did do it.”
She then told her father of having observed a stranger note the license number of the Kohl car, and mentioned the events which had followed.
“You may have been mistaken about what the man wrote down,” commented her father.
“That’s possible, but he was staring straight at the car.”
“I doubt if the incident had any connection with the burglary, Penny. With the Motor Vehicle Department closed, he would have had no means of quickly learning who the Kohls were or where they lived.”
“Couldn’t he have recognized them?”
“In that case he would have no need for the license number. You didn’t see the man note down the plates of other cars?”
“No, but he may have done it before I noticed him standing by the theatre.”
Turning idly through the morning paper, Penny’s attention was drawn to another news story. Reading it rapidly, she thrust the page into her father’s hand.
“Dad, look at this! There were two other burglaries last night! Apartment houses on Drexel Boulevard and Fenmore Street were entered.”
“H-m, interesting. The Kohls occupy an apartment also. That rather suggests that the same thief ransacked the three places.”
“And it says here that the families were away for the evening!” Penny resumed with increasing excitement. “I’ll bet a cent they were at the theatre! Oh, Dad, that man in gray must have been the one who did it!”
“If all the persons you suspect of crime were arrested, our jails couldn’t hold them,” remarked Mr. Parker calmly. “Eat your breakfast, Penny, before it gets cold.”
Mrs. Weems entered through the kitchen door, bearing reenforcements of hot waffles and crisp bacon. Her appearance reminded Penny to launch into a highly entertaining account of all that had transpired at the Hodges’ the previous night.
“Penny!” protested the housekeeper. “You promised Mrs. Hodges to say nothing about the letter.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t promise,” corrected Penny. “I was careful to say that I couldn’t tell what I didn’t know. Years ago Dad taught me that a good reporter never agrees to accept a confidence. Isn’t that so, Dad?”
“A wise reporter never ties his own hands,” replied Mr. Parker. “If he promises, and then obtains the same story from another source, he’s morally bound not to use it. His paper may be scooped by the opposition.”
“You two are a pair,” sighed Mrs. Weems. “Scoops and front page stories are all either of you think about. I declare, it distresses me to realize how Penny may be trained after I leave.”
“The way to solve that problem is not to leave,” said Penny. “You know we can’t get along without you.”
Mrs. Weems shook her head.
“It cuts me almost in two to leave,” she declared sadly, “but my mind’s made up. Mrs. Hodges says I am doing the right thing.”
“And I suppose a ghost advised her,” muttered Penny.
Mr. Parker glanced sternly at his daughter and she subsided into silence. But not for long. Soon she was trying to reopen the subject of the mysterious letter received by the Hodges. For a reason she could not understand, her father was loath to discuss it.
“Come, Penny,” he said. “If we’re having that game of tennis this morning, it’s time we start.”
En route to the park, the publisher explained why he had not chosen to express an opinion in the housekeeper’s presence.
“I quite agree with you that Mrs. Hodges has no psychic powers, Penny. She’s been the victim of a hoax. However, Mrs. Weems is intensely loyal to her friend, and any disparaging remarks made by us will only serve to antagonize her.”
“I’ll try to be more careful, Dad. But it’s so silly!”
Monday morning found Penny busy once more with her duties at the society desk. No new information had developed regarding the Kohl burglary, and she did not have time to accompany Mrs. Weems who went frequently to the Hodges’ cottage.
Secretly Penny held an opinion that the housekeeper’s inheritance might be the work of a prankster. Therefore, upon returning from the office one afternoon and learning that the money actually had been delivered, she was very glad she had kept her thoughts to herself.
“The lawyer came this morning and had me sign a paper,” Mrs. Weems revealed to the Parkers. “Then he turned the money over to me—six thousand dollars.”
“I hope the cheque is good,” remarked Penny.
“It was. I had the lawyer accompany me to the bank. They gave me the money without asking a single question. I have it here.”
“You have six thousand dollars cash in the house!”
“Yes, I had the cashier give it to me in hundred dollar bills.”
“Do you consider it safe to keep such a large sum?” Mr. Parker inquired mildly. “I should advise returning it to the bank, or better still, why not invest it in sound securities?”
Mrs. Weems shook her head. “It gives me a nice rich feeling to have the cash. I’ve hidden it in a good place.”
“Where?” demanded Penny.
“I won’t tell,” laughed Mrs. Weems.
Again later in the evening, Mr. Parker tried without success to convince the housekeeper that she should return the money to a bank. Never one to force his opinions upon another, he then dropped the subject.
“When will you be leaving us, Mrs. Weems?” he inquired.
“Whenever you can spare me. Now that I have the money, I should like to leave within ten days or two weeks.”
“Since we can’t persuade you to remain, I’ll try to find someone to take your place,” Mr. Parker promised.
Both he and Penny were gloomy at the prospect of replacing the housekeeper. Not only would they miss Mrs. Weems but they honestly believed that she would never be happy without two incorrigibles and a home to manage.
“Dad,” Penny ventured when they were alone, “just supposing that Mrs. Weems’ money should mysteriously disappear—”
“Don’t allow your mind to dwell on that idea,” cut in her father sternly. “We’ll play fair.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do it,” said Penny hastily. “I was only joking. But if somethingshouldhappen to the money, it would solve all our problems.”
“Mrs. Weems has earned her vacation. Even though it will be hard to lose her, we mustn’t stand in her way.”
“I guess you’re right,” sighed Penny.
The following day Miss Hilderman resumed her duties at theStar, and Penny once more found herself a person of leisure. To her annoyance, Mrs. Weems insisted that she spend many hours in the kitchen, learning how to bake pies and cakes. A particularly distasteful lesson came to an end only when Penny, with brilliant inspiration, remembered that the housekeeper had an appointment with the seamstress.
“Dear me, I had forgotten it!” exclaimed Mrs. Weems. “Yes, I must try on my new dresses!”
“I’ll drive you over,” offered Penny.
Not in recent days had the girl called upon the Hodges. As she and Mrs. Weems alighted from the car, they both noticed freshly ironed curtains at the windows. Mr. Hodges was pounding dust from a carpet on the line.
“Housecleaning?” inquired Penny, pausing to chat with the old man.
“Yes, Jenny’s got me hard at it,” he grinned. “She’s been tearin’ the house upside down gettin’ ready for the new roomer.”
“Oh, have you taken one?”
Penny was surprised, knowing that in past years the Hodges had been too proud to rent rooms.
“There’s a young feller moving in today,” Mr. Hodges said, picking up the carpet beater. “Go on inside. Jenny’ll tell you about it.”
Penny and Mrs. Weems entered the cottage where the seamstress was running a dust mop over the floors. She was somewhat dismayed to see the housekeeper.
“Oh, Maud, I’ve been so busy I didn’t get your dresses ready to be tried on.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Mrs. Weems. “What’s this about a new roomer?”
“I always said I wouldn’t have one cluttering up the place. But this young man is different. His coming here—well, I interpret it as another sign.”
“A sign of what?” inquired Penny with her usual directness.
“Well, it seemed as if I had a direct message from the spirit world to take him into our home. He came here last night. Instead of knocking in the usual way, he rapped six times in succession!”
“Probably he was the one who sent the letter,” said Penny alertly.
“Oh, no! He didn’t know anything about it. I asked him.”
“What is his name, Mrs. Hodges?”
“Al Gepper. He’s such a nice young man and he talks so refined. I am letting him have the entire floor upstairs.”
“That should bring you a nice income,” remarked Mrs. Weems.
“I am asking only two dollars a week,” admitted the seamstress. “He said he couldn’t pay more than that.”
“Why, Jenny,” protested Mrs. Weems, “such a small amount hardly will cover the lights and various extras.”
“I know, Maud, but I couldn’t turn him away. He moved his apparatus in last night and will bring his personal belongings sometime today.”
“His apparatus?” echoed Penny. “What is he, a chemist?”
“No,” replied the seamstress, smiling mysteriously. “I’ll show you the rooms.”
Penny and Mrs. Weems followed the woman upstairs. The upper floor was divided into two small bedrooms with a wide, old-fashioned sliding door between which could be opened to make one large chamber. The larger of the rooms had been cleared of its usual furniture. Where a bed previously had stood was a circular table with six or eight chairs, and behind it a tall cabinet with a black curtain across the front.
“Mr. Gepper plans to use this room for his studio,” explained Mrs. Hodges.
Penny’s gaze had fastened upon the cabinet. She crossed to it and pulled aside the curtain. Inside were several unpacked boxes and a suitcase.
“Mrs. Hodges, to what purpose does your young man expect to put this studio?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. But I think he intends to carry on psychic experiments. He’s a student, he said.”
“Mr. Gepper was afraid to tell you the truth lest you refuse to rent the rooms,” declared Penny. “Mrs. Hodges, your roomer is a medium.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because I’ve seen trappings such as these before at other séance chambers,” replied Penny. “Mrs. Hodges, you must send him away before he involves you with the police.”
“Trouble with the police!” Mrs. Hodges echoed, regarding Penny with unconcealed dismay. “How can it be illegal to rent Mr. Gepper these rooms?”
“Renting the rooms isn’t illegal,” Penny corrected. “But if the young man conducts public séances here—filches money from people—then you may be considered a party to the scheme. This city has a local ordinance prohibiting fortune telling, mind reading and the like.”
“I am sure the young man means no wrong.”
“Penny,” commented Mrs. Weems, “it seems to me that you are overly concerned. Why are you convinced that Mr. Gepper is a medium?”
“Doesn’t this cabinet indicate it?”
“I thought it was some sort of wardrobe closet,” Mrs. Hodges admitted.
“Al Gepper is a medium, or pretends to have spiritualistic powers,” Penny repeated. “In my opinion you’ll be very unwise to allow him to start an illegal business here.”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know what to do now,” declared the seamstress. “I’ll have to ask Pa about it.”
She and Mrs. Weems started downstairs, expecting that Penny would follow. Instead, the girl lingered to inspect the cabinet.
On the lower floor a door slammed, and there were footsteps ascending the stairway. She paid no heed, assuming that it was either Mr. Hodges or his wife who approached.
The door swung open. Turning, Penny saw a young man, possibly thirty years of age, standing on the threshold. His dark eyes were sharp and appraising.
“Hello,” he said, without smiling. “Aren’t you afraid a monkey may jump out of that cabinet?”
Penny, who seldom blushed, felt a wave of heat creeping over her cheeks.
“Hello,” she stammered. “You must be Mrs. Hodges’ new roomer.”
“Al Gepper, at your service. Who are you, girlie?”
“You guessed it,” said Penny shortly, edging away from the cabinet.
Al Gepper remained in the doorway, blocking the exit with his arm. He did not move as the girl attempted to move past him.
“What’s your hurry?” he drawled. “Stick around and let’s get acquainted. I’ll show you some neat card tricks.”
“Thanks, but I haven’t time, Mr. Gepper.”
“What’s your name anyhow?” he persisted. “You’re not Mrs. Hodges’ daughter.”
“No, only a friend.”
“You needn’t be so icy about it,” he rebuked. “Any friend of Mrs. Hodges’ is a friend of mine.”
“I never make friends easily,” Penny replied. “For that matter, I don’t mind telling you that I have advised Mrs. Hodges not to rent you these rooms.”
“Oh, you have?” inquired the man, his eyes hardening. “And what business is it of yours?”
“None, perhaps. I merely am not going to allow her to be taken in if I can prevent it!”
“Oh, indeed. Do you mind explaining?”
“It’s perfectly obvious that you’re one of these fake spiritualists,” Penny accused bluntly. “Your nickname should be Six-Raps Al!”
“A little spit-fire, aren’t you?” the man retorted. “But you have style. Now I may be able to use you in my business.”
“You admit that you’re a medium?”
“I am a spiritualist. Not a fake, as you so crudely accuse. And I assure you I have no intention of deceiving or taking advantage of your dear friends, the Hodges.”
“You expect to use these rooms for public séances?”
“I do.”
“Then you are certain to get the Hodges into trouble with the police.”
“Not unless you start squawking.” Al Gepper’s manner changed abruptly. He grasped Penny’s wrist and pushed a leering face close to hers. “I’m not looking for any trouble from you or anyone else—see! If you try to make it, you’ll wake up with a headache!”
Penny jerked free and, shouldering through the door, raced downstairs.
Glancing back, she saw that Al Gepper was following, though at a more leisurely pace. Instantly she divined that he intended to make sure no report of the incident was given to the Hodges, save in his presence.
Mrs. Weems and the old couple were talking in the kitchen.
“Well, Ma, it’s for you to decide,” Mr. Hodges was saying. “We gave our word to the young feller, and it’s kinda mean to turn him out so sudden like.”
“I regret Penny said anything about the matter.” apologized Mrs. Weems. “You know how out-spoken and impulsive she is. Of course, she has no information about Mr. Gepper.”
“Oh, but I do have information,” spoke Penny from the doorway. “Mr. Gepper has just admitted that he intends to use the room for public séances. Isn’t that true?”
Defiantly, she turned to face the young man who had followed her.
“Quite true,” he acknowledged loftily. “One who has a great psychic gift is duty-bound to allow the world to benefit from one’s talents. The selection of this house as a Temple for Celestial Communication was not mine, but the bidding of the Spirits. In a dream I was instructed to come here and take up residence.”
“What night did you have the dream?” questioned Mrs. Hodges, deeply impressed.
“It was June fifteenth.”
“The very night we heard the strange rappings on our bedroom wall, Pa.”
“Dogonned if it wasn’t!”
“Mr. Gepper, do you truly believe it is possible to communicate with the spiritual world?” Mrs. Weems inquired politely.
“My dear madam, I can best answer by offering a demonstration. Have you a ouija board in the house?”
“Yes, we have,” spoke Mrs. Hodges eagerly. “Pa and I got it from a mail order house years ago, but it never worked for us. You fetch it, Pa.”
Mr. Hodges brought a large, flat board which bore letters and figures. Upon it he placed a small, triangular piece with cushioned legs.
“This do-dad is supposed to spell out messages, ain’t it?” he asked. “Ma and I could never make it work right.”
Al Gepper smiled in a superior way, and placing the board on his lap, motioned for Mrs. Weems to sit opposite him. However, before the housekeeper could obey, Penny slid into the vacant chair. The medium frowned.
“Place your hands lightly on the triangular piece,” he instructed. “Concentrate with me as we await a message from the spiritual world.”
Penny fastened her eyes on the distant wall with a blank stare.
A minute passed. The ouija board made several convulsive struggles, but seemed unable to move.
“The Spirits encounter resistance,” the medium said testily. “They can send no message when one’s attitude is antagonistic.”
“Shall I take off the brakes?” asked Penny.
Even as she spoke the pointer of the triangle began moving, rapidly spelling a message.
“AL GEPPER IS A FRAUD,” it wrote.
The medium sprang to his feet, allowing the board to fall from his lap.
“You pushed it!” he accused. “The test was unfair.”
“Why, the very idea,” chuckled Penny.
“Penny, please allow Mr. Gepper to conduct a true test,” reproved Mrs. Weems severely. “Let me try.”
Al Gepper, however, would have no more of the ouija board. Instead, he took a pad of white paper from his pocket. Seating Mrs. Weems at the kitchen table he requested her to write a message, which, without being shown to anyone in the room, was sealed in an envelope.
The medium pointedly requested Penny to examine the envelope to assure herself the writing could not be seen through the paper.
“You are satisfied that I have not read the message?” he asked.
“Yes,” Penny admitted reluctantly.
The medium took the envelope, ran his fingers lightly over it, and returned it still sealed to Mrs. Weems.
“If I am not mistaken, Madam, you wrote, ‘Is the spirit of my cousin in this room?’”
“Why, I did!” exclaimed Mrs. Weems. “Those were the exact words! How did you know?”
Al Gepper smiled mysteriously.
“You have seen nothing, Madam,” he said. “Now if conditions are right, it may be possible for us to learn if a Spirit has joined our group. Lower the blinds, please.”