“Oh!” Mrs. Kippenberg drew herself up sharply as if from a physical blow. “Where are they now?”
“In the library, Madam.”
Penny did not hear the woman’s reply, but she turned and followed the servant.
“Saved by the bell,” mumbled Salt. “Now let’s get away from here before she comes back.”
They pushed through the throng and reached a long hallway. Mrs. Kippenberg had disappeared, but as they drew near an open door they caught sight of her again. She stood just inside the library, her back toward them, talking with two men who wore plain gray business suits.
Penny half drew back, fearing discovery, but Salt pulled her along. As they went quietly past the door they heard Mrs. Kippenberg say in an excited voice:
“No, no, I tell you he isn’t here! Why should I try to deceive you? We have nothing to hide. You are most inconsiderate to annoy me at such a time!”
Penny and Salt did not hear the reply. They reached an outside door and stepped down on a flagstone terrace which overlooked the garden at the rear of the grounds.
“Who were those men, do you suppose?” Penny whispered, fearful that her voice might betray them.
“Officers of the law, I should guess,” Salt replied in an undertone.
“Government men?”
“Likely as not. I don’t believe the locals would bother her. Anyway she’s got the wind up and you can tell she’s scared silly in spite of all her back talk.”
“You know what I think they’re after?” Penny said thoughtfully.
“Well, if I had just one guess,” Salt replied, “I’d say they are after Mr. Kippenberg.”
“I agree with you there.”
“Sure, why else would they come sleuthing around at a time like this? The answer is simple. Daughter gets married. Papa wants to see his darling do it. Therefore, boys, we’ll spread a net for Daddy and he might plump right into it.”
“So that’s the way a G man’s mind works?” laughed Penny.
“But I would take it that Kippenberg is no fool,” Salt went on. “If they really have a ‘man wanted’ sign hung on him he would be too cagey to come around here today.”
They were standing beside the stone balustrade which bounded the terrace. Below them the green foliage of the gardens formed a dark background for the playing fountains. A cool breeze drifted in from the river and rattled a window awning just over their heads.
“We’re in an exposed place here,” observed Salt uneasily. “Maybe we ought to find a hole somewhere.”
“We’ll never learn anything in a hole,” Penny objected. “In fact, we’re not making much progress in running down any sort of story. I do wish we could have heard more of that conversation.”
“And get thrown out on our collective ear before we even have a chance to snap a picture of the blushing bride!”
“Pictures! Pictures!” exclaimed Penny. “That’s all you photographers think about. How about poor little me and my story? After all, you can’t bring out a paper full of nothing but pictures and cigarette ads. You need a little news to go with it.”
“You like to work too fast,” complained Salt. “Right now the thing to do is to keep out of sight. I’m telling you the minute Mrs. Kippy finishes with those men she’ll be gunning for us.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to go into hiding.”
“First, let’s mosey out into the rose garden,” Salt proposed. “I’ll take a few shots and then we’ll duck under somewhere and wait until the ceremony starts.”
“That’s all very well for you,” grumbled Penny, “but I can’t write much of a story without talking to some member of the family.”
Salt started off across the velvety green lawn toward the rose arbor where the service was to be held. Penny followed reluctantly. She watched the photographer take several pictures before a servant approached him.
“I beg your pardon,” the man said coldly, “but Mrs. Kippenberg gave orders no pictures were to be taken. If you are from one of the papers—”
“Oh, I saw her in the house just a minute ago,” Salt replied carelessly.
“Sorry, sir,” the servant apologized, retreating.
Salt finished taking the pictures and slipped the miniature camera back into his pocket.
“Now let’s amble down toward the river and wait,” he said to Penny. “We’ll blossom forth just as the ceremony starts. Mrs. Kippy won’t dare interrupt it to have us thrown off the grounds.”
They walked down a sloping path, past a glass-enclosed hothouse and on toward a grove of giant oak and maple trees.
“It’s pleasant here when you’re away from the crowd,” Penny remarked, gazing up at the leafy canopy. “I wonder where this path leads?”
“Oh, down to the river probably. With water on three sides of us that’s a fairly safe guess.”
“Which rivers flow past the estate, Salt?”
“The Big Bear and the Kobalt.”
“The same old muddy Kobalt which is near our town,” said Penny in surprise. “I’ll always think of it as a river of adventure.”
“Because of Mud-Cat Joe and his Vanishing Houseboat?”
Penny nodded and a dreamy look came into her eyes. “So much happened on the Kobalt, Salt. Remember that big party Dad threw at the Comstock Inn?”
“Do I? Jerry Livingston decided to sleep in Room Seven where so many persons had disappeared.”
“And then he was spirited away almost before our very eyes,” added Penny. “Days later Mud-Cat Joe helped me fish him out of this same old Kobalt. For awhile we didn’t think he’d ever pull through or be able to tell what had happened to him.”
“But as the grand finale you and your friend, Louise Sidell, solved the mystery and secured a dandy story for theStar. Those were the days!”
“You talk as if they were gone forever,” laughed Penny. “Other good stories will come along.”
“Maybe,” said Salt, “but covering a wedding is pretty tame in comparison.”
“Yet this one does have interesting angles,” Penny insisted. “Can’t you almost feel mystery lurking about the place?”
“No, but I do feel a mosquito sinking his stinger into me.” Salt slapped vigorously at his ankle.
They followed the path on toward the river, coming soon to a trail which branched off to the right. Across it had been stretched a wire barrier and a neatly lettered sign read:
NO ADMITTANCE BEYOND THIS POINT.
“Why do you suppose the path is blocked off?” Penny speculated.
“Let’s find out,” Salt suggested with a sudden flare of interest. “Maybe we’ll run into something worth a picture.”
Penny hesitated, not wishing to disregard the sign, yet eager to learn what lay beyond the barrier.
“Listen,” said Salt, “just put your little conscience on ice. We’re here to get the ‘who, when, why and where.’ You’ll never be a first class newspaper reporter if you stifle your curiosity.”
“Lead on,” laughed Penny. “I will follow. Only isn’t it getting late?”
Salt looked at his watch. “We still have a safe fifteen minutes.”
He started to step over the wire, only to have Penny reach out and grasp his hand.
“Wait!” she whispered.
“What’s the idea?” Salt turned toward her in astonishment.
“I think someone is watching us! I’m sure I saw the bushes move.”
“Your nerves are jumpy,” Salt jeered. “It’s only the wind.”
Even as he spoke the foliage to the left moved ever so slightly and a dark form could be seen creeping stealthily away along the ground.
Salt acted instinctively. Leaping over the wire barrier he dived into the bushes. Hurling himself upon the man who crouched there, he pinned him to the ground. The fellow gave a choked cry and tried to pull free.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Salt muttered, coolly sitting down on his stomach. “Snooping, eh?”
“You let me up!” the man cried savagely. “Let me up, I say!”
“I’ll let you up when you explain what you were doing here.”
“Why, you impudent young pup!” the man spluttered. “You’re the one who will explain. I am Mrs. Kippenberg’s head gardener.”
Salt’s hand fell from the old man’s collar and he apologetically helped him to his feet. Penny, who had reached the scene, stooped down and recovered a trowel which had slipped from the gardener’s grasp.
“It was just a little mistake on my part,” Salt mumbled. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“No fault of yours you didn’t,” the old man snapped. “A fine howdydo when a person can’t even loosen earth around a shrub without being assaulted by a ruffian!”
The gardener was a short, stout man with graying hair. He wore coarse garments, a loose fitting pair of trousers, a dark shirt and battered felt hat. But Penny noticed that his hands and fingernails were clean and there were no trowel marks around any of the shrubs.
“Salt isn’t exactly a ruffian,” she said as the photographer offered no defense. “After all, from where we stood it looked exactly as if you were hiding in the bushes.”
“Then you both need glasses,” the man retorted rudely. “A person can’t work without getting down on his hands and knees.”
“Where were you digging?” Penny asked innocently.
“I was just starting in when this young upstart leaped on my back!”
“Sorry,” said Salt, “but I thought you were trying to get away.”
“Who are you anyway?” the gardener demanded bluntly. “You’re not guests. I can tell that.”
“You have a very discerning eye,” replied Salt smoothly. “We’re from theRiverview Star.”
“Reporters, eh?” The old man scowled unpleasantly. “Then you’ve no business being here at all. You’re not wanted, so get out!”
“We’re only after a few facts about the wedding,” Penny said. “Perhaps you would be willing to tell me—”
“I’ll tell you nothing, Miss! If anything is given out to the papers it will have to come from Mrs. Kippenberg.”
“Fair enough,” Salt acknowledged. He glanced curiously down the path which had been blocked off. “What’s down there?”
“Nothing.” The gardener spoke irritably. “This part of the estate hasn’t been fixed up. That’s why it’s closed.”
Penny had bent down, pretending to examine a shrub at the edge of the path.
“What is the name of this bush?” she inquired casually.
“An azalea,” the gardener replied after a slight hesitation. “Now get out of here, will you? I have my work to do.”
“Oh, all right,” Salt rejoined as he and Penny moved away. “No need to get so tough.”
They stepped over the barrier wire and retraced their way toward the house. Several times Penny glanced back but she could not see the old man. He had slipped away somewhere among the trees.
“I don’t believe that fellow was a gardener,” she said suddenly.
“What makes you think not?”
“Didn’t you notice his nice clean hands and fingernails? And then when I asked him the name of that bush he hesitated and called it an azalea. I saw another long botanical name attached to it.”
“Maybe he just made a mistake, or said the first thing that came into his head. He wanted to get rid of us.”
“I know he did,” nodded Penny. “Yet, when he found out we were from theStarhe didn’t threaten to report us to Mrs. Kippenberg.”
“That’s so.”
“He was afraid to report us,” Penny went on with conviction. “I’ll bet a cent he has no more right here than we have.”
Salt had lost all interest in the gardener. He glanced at his watch and quickened his step.
“Is it two o’clock yet?” Penny asked anxiously.
“Just. After all the trouble we’ve had getting here we can’t afford to miss the big show.”
Emerging from the grove, Salt and Penny were relieved to see that the ceremony had not yet started. The guests were gathered in the garden, the minister stood waiting, musicians were in their places, but the bridal party had not appeared.
“We’re just in time,” Salt remarked.
Penny observed Mrs. Kippenberg talking with one of the ushers. Even from a distance it was apparent that the woman had lost her poise. Her hands fluttered nervously as she conferred with the young man and a worried frown puckered her eyebrows.
“Something seems to be wrong,” said Penny. “I wonder what is causing the delay?”
Before Salt could reply, the usher crossed the lawn, and came directly toward them. Penny and Salt instantly were on guard, thinking that he had been sent by Mrs. Kippenberg to eject them from the grounds. But although the young man paused, he did not look squarely at them.
“Have you seen Mr. Atherwald anywhere?” he questioned.
“The bridegroom?” Salt asked in astonishment. “What’s the matter? Is he missing?”
“Oh, no, sir,” the young man returned stiffly. “Certainly not. He merely went away for a moment.”
“Mr. Atherwald came over on the same boat with us,” Penny volunteered.
“And did you see him enter the house?”
“No, he spoke to one of the servants and then went toward the garden.”
“Did you notice which path he took?”
“I believe it was this one.”
“We’ve just come from down by the river,” added Salt. “We didn’t see him there. The only person we met was an old gardener.”
The usher thanked them for the information and hurried on. When the man was beyond hearing, Salt turned to Penny, saying jubilantly:
“Say, maybe we’ll get a big story after all! Sylvia Kippenberg jilted at the altar! Hot stuff!”
“Aren’t you jumping to swift conclusions, Salt? He must be around here somewhere.”
“It’s always serious business when a man is late for his wedding. Even if he does show up, daughter Sylvia may take offense and call the whole thing off.”
“Oh, you’re too hopeful,” Penny laughed. “He’ll probably be here in another minute. I don’t believe he would have come at all if he had intended to slip away.”
“He may have lost his nerve at the last minute,” Salt insisted.
“Atherwald did act strangely on the boat,” Penny said reflectively. “And then that message he received—”
“He may have sent it to himself.”
“As an excuse for getting away?”
“Why not?”
“I can’t see any reason for going to so much unnecessary trouble,” Penny argued. “If he intended to jilt Miss Kippenberg how much easier it would have been not to come here at all.”
“Well, let’s see what we can learn,” Salt suggested.
Their interest steadily mounting, they went on toward the house and stationed themselves where they could see advantageously. It was evident by this time that the guests suspected something had gone amiss. Significant glances were exchanged, a few persons looked at their watches, and all eyes focused upon Mrs. Kippenberg who tried desperately to carry off an embarrassing situation.
Minutes passed. The crowd became increasingly restless. Finally, the usher returned and spoke quietly to Mrs. Kippenberg. They both retired to the house.
“It looks as if there will be no wedding today,” Salt declared. “Atherwald hasn’t been located.”
“I won’t dare use the story unless I’m absolutely certain of my facts,” Penny said anxiously.
“We’ll get them, never fear.”
Mrs. Kippenberg and the usher had stepped into the breakfast room. Posting Penny at the outside door, Salt followed the couple. From the hallway he could hear their conversation distinctly.
“But he must be somewhere on the grounds,” the matron argued.
“I can’t understand it myself,” the young man replied. “Grant’s disappearance is very mysterious to say the least. Several persons saw him arrive here and everything seemed to be all right.”
“What time is it now?”
“Two thirty-five, Mrs. Kippenberg.”
“So late? Oh, this is dreadful! How can I face them?”
“I know just how you feel,” the young man said with sympathy. “If you wish I will explain to the guests.”
“No, no, this will disgrace us,” Mrs. Kippenberg murmured. “Wait until I have talked with Sylvia.”
She turned suddenly and reached the hall door before Salt could escape. Her eyes blazed with wrath as she faced him.
“So here you are!” she cried furiously. “How dare you disregard my orders? I will have no reporters on the grounds!”
“I’m only a photographer,” Salt said meekly enough. “Sorry to intrude but I’ve been assigned to get a picture of the bride. It won’t take a minute—”
“Indeed it won’t,” Mrs. Kippenberg broke in, her voice rising higher. “You’ll take no pictures here. Not one! Now get out.”
“A picture might be better than a story that the bridegroom had skipped out,” Salt said persuasively.
“Why, you—you!” Mrs. Kippenberg’s face became fiery red. She choked as she tried to speak. “Get out, I say!”
Salt did not retreat. Instead he took his camera from his pocket.
“Just one picture, Mrs. Kippenberg. At least of you.”
Realizing that the photographer meant to take it whether or not she gave permission, the woman suddenly lost all control over her temper.
“Don’t you dare!” she cried furiously. “Don’t you dare!”
Whirling about, she seized an empty plate from the tall stack on the serving table.
“Hold that pose!” chortled Salt, goading her on.
The woman hurled the plate straight at him. Salt gleefully snapped a picture and dodged. The plate crashed into the wall behind him, splintering into a half dozen pieces.
“Swell action picture!” he grinned.
“Don’t you dare try to use it!” screamed Mrs. Kippenberg. “I’ll telephone your editor! I’ll have you discharged!”
“See here,” offered the usher, taking out his wallet. “I’ll give you ten dollars for that picture.”
Salt shook his head, still smiling broadly.
The sound of the crash had brought servants running to the scene.
“Have this person ejected from the grounds,” Mrs. Kippenberg ordered harshly. “And see that he doesn’t get back.”
Just outside the house, Penny huddled against the wall, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She had heard everything. As Salt backed out the door he did not glance at her but he muttered for her ears alone:
“You’re on your own now, kid. I’ll be waiting at the drawbridge.”
An instant later two servants seized him roughly by the arms and escorted him down the walk to the boat landing.
Penny waited anxiously, but Mrs. Kippenberg did not come to the outside door. Nor had it occurred to the two servants that the girl was connected in any way with the photographer.
“On my own,” she repeated to herself. “On my own with a vengeance.”
Salt had his picture and it was up to her to get a good story. Until now she had depended upon his guidance. With all support withdrawn she suddenly felt uncertain and incompetent.
Penny waited a few minutes before gathering sufficient courage to enter the long hallway. One glance assured her that the breakfast room was deserted.
“Mrs. Kippenberg probably went upstairs to talk with her daughter,” she reasoned. “I’d like to hear what they say to each other.”
With the guests assembled in the garden, only a few persons lingered in the house. No one paid heed to Penny as she moved noiselessly up the spiral stairway.
A bedroom door stood slightly ajar. Hearing a low murmur of voices, Penny paused. Framed against the leaded windows she saw Sylvia Kippenberg talking with her mother. Despite a tear-streaked face the girl was very lovely. She wore a long flowing gown of white satin and the flowers at the neckline were outlined with real pearls. Her net veil had been discarded. A bouquet of flowers lay on the floor.
“How could Grant do such a cruel thing?” Penny heard her sob. “I just can’t believe it of him, Mother. Surely he will come.”
Mrs. Kippenberg held the girl in her arms, trying to comfort her.
“It is nearly three now, Sylvia. The servants have searched everywhere. A man of his type isn’t worthy of you.”
“But I love him, Mother. And I am sure he loves me. It doesn’t seem possible he would do such a thing without a word of explanation.”
“He will explain, never fear,” Mrs. Kippenberg said grimly. “But now, we must think what has to be done. The guests must be told.”
“Oh, Mother!” Sylvia went into another paroxysm of crying.
“There is no other way, my dear. Leave everything to me.”
Before Penny realized that the interview had ended, Mrs. Kippenberg stepped out into the hall. Her eyes focused hard upon the girl.
“You are a reporter!” she accused harshly. “I remember, you were with that photographer!”
“Please—” began Penny.
“I’ll tell you nothing,” the woman cried. “How dare you intrude in my home and go about listening at bedroom doors!”
“Mrs. Kippenberg, if only you will calm yourself, I may be able to help you.”
“Help me?” the woman demanded. “What do you mean?”
“I may be able to give you a clue as to what became of Grant Atherwald.”
The anger faded from Mrs. Kippenberg’s face. She came close to Penny, grasping her arm with a pressure which hurt.
“You have seen him? Tell me!”
“He came over in the same boat.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Shortly after one o’clock. He was stopped at the front door by a servant who handed him a note. Mr. Atherwald read it and walked down toward the garden.”
“I wonder which one of the servants spoke to him? It was at the front door, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Then it must have been Gregg. I’ll talk with him.”
Forgetting Penny, Mrs. Kippenberg hastened down the stairway. She jangled a bell and asked that the manservant be sent to her. Unnoticed, Penny lingered to hear the interview.
The man came into the room. “You sent for me, Mrs. Kippenberg?” he inquired.
“Yes, Gregg. You were at the door when Mr. Atherwald arrived?”
“I was, Madam.”
“I understand you handed him a note which he read.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Who gave you the note?”
“Mrs. Latch, the cook. She told me it was brought to the kitchen door early this morning by a most disreputable looking boy.”
“He had been hired to deliver it for another person, I suppose?”
“Yes, Madam. The boy told Mrs. Latch that the message came from a friend of Mr. Atherwald’s and should be given to him as soon as he arrived.”
“You have no idea what the note contained?”
“No, Mrs. Kippenberg, the envelope was sealed.”
Sensing that when the interview ended Mrs. Kippenberg’s wrath might again descend upon her, Penny decided not to tempt fate. While the woman was still talking with the servant, she slipped out of the house.
“Atherwald might have had that note sent to himself, but I doubt it,” she told herself. “Either he is still on the estate, or the boatman would have had to take him back across the river.”
She walked quickly down to the dock and was elated to find the guest launch tied up there. The boatman answered her questions readily. He had not seen Grant Atherwald since early in the afternoon. Salt was the only person he had taken back across the river.
“Have you noticed any other boat leaving the estate?” inquired Penny.
“Boats have been going up and down the river all day,” the man answered with a shrug. “I didn’t notice any particular one.”
Penny glanced across the water. She could see Salt perched on the drawbridge waiting for her. But she was not yet ready to leave the estate.
Ignoring his shout to “come on,” she turned and walked back toward the house. Deliberately, she chose the same path which she and Salt had followed earlier in the afternoon.
A swift walk brought her to the forbidden trail with the barrier sign. Penny glanced around to be certain she was not under observation. Then she stepped boldly over the wire.
Passing the place where she and Salt had talked with the gardener, she noticed his trowel lying on the ground. There was no evidence that he had done any work.
However, all along the path flowering shrubs were well trimmed and tended.
“So this part of the estate isn’t fixed up,” Penny mused. “It’s much nicer than the other section in my opinion. I wonder why that gardener told so many lies?”
The path led deeper into the woods. Rustic benches invited one to linger, but Penny walked rapidly onward.
Unexpectedly, she came to a little clearing, and saw before her a large, circular pool. From a gap in the trees, warm sunshine poured down upon the bed of flowers which flanked the cement sides, making a circle of brilliant color.
“So this is where the path leads,” thought Penny. “No mystery here after all.”
She was at a loss to understand why this portion of the estate had been closed to visitors for certainly it was the most beautiful part. Yet there was a quality to the beauty which the girl did not like.
As she stood staring at the pool, she was fully aware of an uneasy feeling which had taken possession of her. It was almost as if she stood in the presence of something sinister and unknown. The gentle rustling of the tree leaves, the cool river air blowing against her cheek, only served to heighten the feeling.
She drew closer and peered down into the blue depths of the pool. She could not see the bottom plainly for the water was choked with a tangle of feathery plants. A few yellow lilies floated on the surface.
Penny absently reached out to pluck one. But as the stem snapped off, she gave a little scream and dropped the flower. She had seen a large, shadowy form slithering through the water beneath her.
Penny backed a step away from the pool. From among the lily pads an ugly head emerged and a broad snout was raised above the surface for an instant. Powerful jaws opened and closed, revealing jagged teeth set in deep pits.
“An alligator!” Penny exclaimed aloud. “Such a horrid, ugly creature! And to think, I nearly put my hand in that water.”
She shivered and watched the movements of the alligator. Its head scooted smoothly over the water for a short distance. Then with a swish of its tail, the reptile submerged and the pool was as placid as before.
“Eight feet long if it’s an inch,” estimated Penny. “Why would any person in his right mind keep such a creature here? Why, it’s dangerous.”
She felt enraged, thinking how close she had come to touching the alligator. Yet justice compelled her to admit that she had only herself to blame. Deliberately, she had disregarded the warning not to explore the forbidden trail.
“The Kippenbergs keep nice pets,” she thought ironically. “If anyone fell into that pool it would be just too bad.”
Now that her curiosity was satisfied, Penny had not the slightest desire to linger near the lily pool. With another glance down into the murky depths she turned away, but she had taken less than a dozen steps when she paused. Her attention was held by a bright and shiny object which lay in the dust at her feet.
With a low cry of surprise she reached down and picked up a plain band of white gold. Obviously, it was a wedding ring.
“Now where did this come from?” Penny turned it over on the palm of her hand.
Startled thoughts leaped into her mind. She felt certain Grant Atherwald had taken this same path earlier in the afternoon. It was logical to believe that the ring had been his, intended for Sylvia Kippenberg. Had he lost the band accidentally or deliberately thrown it away?
Slowly, Penny’s gaze roved to the lily pond. She noted that the coping was so low that one who walked carelessly might easily stumble and fall into the water. It made her shudder to think of such a gruesome possibility, yet she could not avoid giving it consideration. For that matter, Grant Atherwald might have been lured to this isolated spot. The mysterious message—
Penny delved no deeper into the problem for suddenly she felt someone grasp her arms. With a terrified cry she whirled about to face her assailant.
A wave of relief surged over Penny as she saw that it was the old gardener who held her fast.
“Oh, it’s only you,” she laughed shakily, trying to pull away. “For a second I thought the Bogey Man had me for sure.”
The gardener did not smile.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep away from here?” he demanded, giving her a hard shake.
“I’m not doing any h-harm,” Penny stammered. She kept her hand closed over the white gold ring so that the old man would not see what she had found. “I just wanted to learn what was back in here.”
“And you found out?”
The gardener’s tone warned Penny to be cautious in her reply.
“Oh, the pool is rather pretty,” she answered carelessly. “But I’ve seen much nicer ones.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Only a minute or two. I really came to search for Grant Atherwald.”
“Atherwald? What would he be doing here?”
“He disappeared an hour or so ago,” revealed Penny. “The servants have been searching everywhere for him.”
“He disappeared?” the gardener repeated incredulously.
“Yes, it’s very peculiar. Mr. Atherwald arrived at the estate in ample time for the wedding. But after he read a note which was delivered to him he walked off in this direction and was seen no more.”
“Down this path, you mean?”
“I couldn’t say as to that, but he started this way. I know because I saw him myself.”
“Atherwald didn’t come here,” the gardener said with finality. “I’ve been working around the lily pond all afternoon and would have seen him.”
Penny’s fingers closed tightly about the white gold ring which she kept shielded from the man’s gaze. In her opinion the trinket offered almost conclusive proof that the bridegroom had visited the locality. Because she could not trust the gardener she kept her thoughts strictly to herself.
The man stared down at his feet, obviously disturbed by the information Penny had given him.
“Do you suppose harm could have befallen Mr. Atherwald?” she asked after a moment.
“Harm?” he demanded irritably. “That’s sheer nonsense. The fellow probably skipped out. He ought to be tarred and feathered!”
“And you would enjoy doing it?” Penny interposed slyly.
The gardener glared at her, making no attempt to hide his dislike.
“Such treatment would be too good for anyone who hurt Miss Sylvia. Now will you get out of here? I have my orders and I mean to enforce them.”
“Oh, all right,” replied Penny. “I was going anyway.”
This was not strictly true, for had the gardener not been there she would have made a more thorough investigation of the locality near the lily pool. But now she had no hope of learning more, and so turned away.
Emerging from among the trees, she glanced toward the rose garden. Nearly all of the wedding guests had departed. Penny considered whether or not she should speak to Mrs. Kippenberg about finding the ring. Deciding against it, she joined a group of people at the boat dock and was ferried across the river.
Salt awaited her at the drawbridge.
“I just about gave you up,” he complained. “It’s time for us to get back to the office or our news won’t be news. The wedding is definitely off?”
“Yes, Atherwald can’t be found.”
“We’ll stop at a drug store and telephone,” Salt said, pulling her toward the car. “Learn anything more after I left?”
“Well, I found a wedding ring and was nearly chewed up by an alligator,” laughed Penny. “It seemed rather interesting at the time.”
The photographer gave her a queer look as he started the automobile.
“Imagination and journalism never mix,” he said.
“Does this look like imagination?” Penny countered, showing him the plain band ring.
“Where did you find it?”
“Beside a lily pond in the forbidden part of the estate. I feel certain it must have been dropped by Grant Atherwald.”
“Thrown away?”
“I don’t know exactly what to think,” Penny replied soberly.
Salt steered the car into the main road which led back to Corbin. Then he inquired: “Did you notice any signs of a struggle? Grass trampled? Footprints?”
“I didn’t have a chance to do any investigating. That bossy old gardener came and drove me away.”
“What were you saying about alligators?”
“Salt, I saw one swimming around in the lily pool,” Penny told him earnestly. “It was an ugly brute, at least twelve feet long.”
“How long?”
“Well, eight anyway.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not,” Penny said indignantly.
“Maybe it was only a big log lying in the water.”
Penny gave an injured sniff. “Have it your own way. But it wasn’t a log. I guess I can tell an alligator when I see one.”
“If you’re actually right,” Salt said unmoved, “I’d like to have snapped a picture of it. You know, this story might develop into something big.”
“I have a feeling it will, Salt.”
“If Atherwald really has disappeared it should create a sensation!”
“And if the poor fellow had the misfortune to fall or be pushed into the lily pool Dad wouldn’t have headlines large enough to carry it!”
“Say, get a grip on yourself,” Salt advised. “TheRiverview Starprints fact, not fancy.”
“That’s because so many of Dad’s reporters are stodgy old fellows,” laughed Penny. “But I’ll admit it isn’t very likely Grant Atherwald was devoured by the alligator.”
The car had reached Corbin. Salt drew up in front of a drug store.
“Run in and telephone DeWitt,” he said, opening the door for her. “And remember, stick to facts.”
Penny was a little frightened as she entered the telephone booth and placed a long distance call to theRiverview Star. She never failed to feel nervous when she talked with DeWitt, the city editor, for he was not a very pleasant individual.
She jumped as the receiver was taken down and a voice barked: “City desk.”
“This is Penny Parker over at Corbin,” she began weakly.
“Can’t hear you,” snapped DeWitt. “Talk up.”
Penny repeated her name and DeWitt’s voice lost some of its edge. Gathering courage, she started to tell him what she had learned at the Kippenberg estate.
“Hold it,” interrupted DeWitt. “I’ll switch you over to a rewrite man.”
The connection was made and Penny began a second time. Now and then the rewrite man broke into the narrative to ask a question.
“All right, I think I have it all,” he said finally and hung up.
Penny went back to the car looking as crestfallen as she felt.
“I don’t know what they thought of the story,” she told Salt. “DeWitt certainly didn’t waste any words of praise.”
“He never does,” chuckled the photographer. “You’re lucky if you don’t get fired.”
“That’s one consolation,” returned Penny, settling herself for the long ride home. “He can’t fire me. Being the editor’s daughter has its advantages.”