“It shouldn’t be hard to nab the woman when she shows up,” Detective Fuller declared. “Dick and I will get there early and keep watch.”
“Just what am I to do?” Penny inquired. “Shall I take the reward money with me?”
“We’ll give you a package of fake money,” the detective answered. “Drive to the cemetery alone at the appointed hour. If the woman shows up, talk to her, try to learn what she knows. We’ll attend to the rest.”
Penny returned home to consult with Mrs. Weems. How to reach the cemetery was something of a problem. Her own car, minus its wheels, remained at the Yacht Club, and Mr. Parker’s automobile had been hauled to a garage for extensive repairs.
“Can’t you borrow a car from someone at theStaroffice?” suggested the housekeeper. “And do take a man with you when you drive to the cemetery.”
“No, I must go alone,” insisted Penny. “That part is very important.”
In the end she was able to borrow Salt Sommer’s coupe. A little after seven o’clock she set off for Baldiff Road with the package of fake money in her possession. The night was not cold, but a stiff wind blew through the evergreens; whirlwinds of snow chased one another across the untraveled road.
“What a dreary place for a meeting,” Penny shivered as she glimpsed the bleak cemetery on a hilltop.
The area, a full half-mile from any house, was bounded by a high snow-covered brick wall. Beyond the barrier, starlight revealed a cluster of rounding tombstones layered with white. No one was visible, neither the woman nor members of the police force.
Penny glanced at her watch. It lacked ten minutes of eight o’clock. She parked not far from the cemetery entrance and switched off the engine.
Twenty minutes elapsed. Nervous and cold, Penny climbed from the car and tramped back and forth to restore circulation. She had begun to doubt that the woman would keep the appointment.
Then, coming swiftly down the road, she saw a strange looking figure. The one who approached wore a long, tight-fitting coat. A hat with a dark veil covered the woman’s face.
“There she is!” thought Penny, every nerve tense.
The woman came closer. While still some distance from the cemetery entrance, she suddenly paused. Her head jerked sideways. Then to Penny’s dismay, she turned and fled toward the woods.
“Wait!” Penny shouted. “Don’t be afraid! Wait!”
The woman paid no heed. Lifting her coat the better to run, she disappeared among the trees.
As Penny wondered what to do, Detectives Brandon and Fuller leaped from their hiding place behind the cemetery wall. Their car had been secreted in a clump of bushes farther down the road. By pure mischance, the woman in the black veil had seen it as she approached, and fearing treachery, had fled.
“Quick, Dick, or she’ll get away!” Fuller shouted.
Penny did not join in the pursuit. Reentering her car, she waited anxiously. From the crashing of underbrush, she knew the detectives were having difficulty in following the woman. In the dark forest it would be very easy for her to elude the officers.
Three quarters of an hour elapsed before the men returned.
“We lost her,” Detective Brandon reported. “No use searching any longer.”
Sick at heart, Penny drove slowly toward home. Her hopes had been completely dashed. Not only had she failed to contact the mysterious woman, but there now seemed little likelihood of doing so.
“I may receive another telephone message,” she thought, “but I doubt it. That woman probably will be too badly frightened to try to contact me again.”
At the exit of Baldiff Road, Penny headed down the winding hillside highway which she and Louise had followed on the night of the blizzard. The route, although slightly longer, would take her close to the Riverview Yacht Club.
“I’ll go that way and see if my car is still there,” she decided. “Then tomorrow I can have it hauled home and jacked up. I should have looked after the matter long ago.”
The coupe rounded a curve and the road dipped between an avenue of swaying, whispering pines. To the left, shrouded in snow, loomed the old Harrison house. The estate was picturesque in itself, and Mose Johnson’s tale about a ghost had intensified the girl’s interest.
“Wonder who owns the place now?” she speculated. “Probably not any member of the Harrison family, as I believe they were old-timers in Riverview.”
Penny slowed the car to idling speed. Deliberately keeping to the left hand side of the road, she studied with deep interest the long, snow-frosted fence which bounded the grounds. The barrier was an unfriendly one, high and spiked at the top.
Suddenly her attention focused upon a well-beaten path in the snow just inside the fence. The footprints, plainly visible in the bright moonlight, extended the full width of the grounds.
Into Penny’s mind flashed the wild yarn told by Mose Johnson.
“Ghost tracks!” she thought. “At least those prints must have been made by whatever he saw beyond the gate.”
So interested was Penny in the path that for an instant she completely forgot her driving. The front left wheel of the car struck a tiny mound of ice and snow at the road’s edge.
Barely in time to avoid an accident, the girl twisted the steering wheel and brought the car back on the highway.
“Another second and I’d have been in the ditch!” she thought shakily. “If I must look for a ghost, guess I’ll do the job right.”
Penny pulled up, this time at the opposite side of the road. Getting out, she crossed to the iron fence and peered through it. The path which had attracted her attention had been pounded hard by someone who had walked just inside the enclosure.
“Odd!” she reflected. “Maybe Old Mose’s ghost has more substance than I thought.”
Penny glanced toward the big house, dark and majestic in its setting of evergreens. Obviously the place had been closed for the winter. Walks were not shoveled, blinds had been drawn, and no tire tracks led to and from the three-car garage.
“Wonder who or what could have made that path?” she mused. “Certainly not an animal.”
Unable to solve the mystery, Penny turned to re-enter the parked coupe. Before she could cross the road, a light went on in a third floor room of the estate house. Startled, she stared at it. As she watched, it was extinguished.
“Someone must live here!” thought Penny. “Or am I seeing spooks myself?”
For a long while she watched the upper floor of the house. The light did not reappear. At length, wearying of the vigil, she returned to the car.
Penny started the engine and bent down to open the fins of the heater. Straightening, she cast a last, careless glance toward the old estate. Her heart did a flip-flop.
Beyond the iron gate, in the garden area, a white-robed figure slowly paced back and forth!
“My Aunt!” whispered Penny. “Am I seeing things or am I seeing things?”
For a moment she sat very straight, watching. The ghostly figure, white from head to toe, moved with measured steps toward the high gate.
“There aren’t any ghosts,” she encouraged herself. “But if that’s not a spook, it must be someone dressed up like one! And who would play Hallowe’en games on a cold night like this?”
Alone, frankly nervous, Penny had no overpowering desire to investigate the white-robed figure at close range. A large, spreading evergreen half-blocked her view of the gate. She could not see the ghost plainly, but she distinctly heard the rattle of a chain as the apparition tested the lock.
“Real or imaginary, that spook is trying to get out!” Penny thought with a shiver. “If Mose were here now I’d challenge him to a race!”
The white-gowned figure shook the gate chain a second time, then slowly retreated. Penny watched for a moment, before abruptly swinging open the car door. She had decided to investigate.
As she crossed the road, the white figure moved away from her. By the time she reached the gate, it had disappeared around a corner of the house.
“At least Mr. Spook wasn’t carrying his own tombstone!” Penny observed to herself. “Mose exaggerated that part.”
She waited, leaning against the gate post. Within three minutes a light went on in the upper part of the house. For a fleeting instant before the blind was pulled, she saw someone standing in front of an old-fashioned dresser.
“Mr. Ghost seemingly has turned in for the night,” thought Penny. “But is it a he, she, or it?”
Soon the bedroom light was extinguished. Cold and tired, Penny decided that the mystery must remain unsolved. However, as she drove on, she kept thinking about what she had seen. Of one thing she now was certain. The estate was not deserted!
Without stopping at the Yacht Club grounds, Penny made certain that her stripped car and ice boat remained as she last had seen them. Driving on to Riverview, she left Salt’s car at theStarplant, then taxied home to tell Mrs. Weems of her failure at the cemetery.
“Don’t feel badly about it,” the housekeeper comforted. “Surely the woman who telephoned will make another attempt to reach you.”
“I doubt it,” Penny replied gloomily. “She’ll know now that the police are watching for her.”
“This entire affair is so bewildering,” sighed Mrs. Weems. “How could your father have been kidnaped? If what we’ve learned is true, he left the scene of the accident of his own free will.”
“I never was so baffled in my life,” Penny returned, throwing herself on the davenport. “I used to think I was good at solving puzzles. Now I know I’m just plain dumb.”
“Have you thought about employing a private detective?”
“It might be a good idea!” Penny agreed, encouraged. “I’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”
As she started wearily up the stairs to bed, Mrs. Weems called after her to say that Louise Sidell had telephoned earlier in the evening. Penny nodded absently, assuming that her chum had phoned to express sympathy. She did not think of the matter again until the next morning at breakfast. As she was leaving the table, Mrs. Weems came in to report that Louise once more was on the telephone.
“Penny, I can’t tell you how shocked I was to learn about your father,” her chum began breathlessly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m afraid not, Lou.”
“What are you using for a car? You must need one badly.”
“Salt Sommers let me have his last night. I’ll get along.”
“Penny, I know how you can buy tires!” Louise went on. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“How can I buy tires? Rubber is supposed to be scarce.”
“When I was having my hair fixed at the beauty parlor yesterday I heard two women talking!” Louise declared excitedly. “It seems there’s a garage where you can get them if you pull the right strings!”
“Oh! A Black Market place?”
“I suppose that’s what you would call it.”
“I don’t want to get tires illegally,” Penny said. “I’m not interested, Lou.”
“You don’t even care to know the name of the garage?”
“What good would it do?”
“None perhaps, but it might give you a surprise.”
“A surprise?” Penny repeated. She glanced at the clock, impatient because the conversation was being prolonged. A great deal of important work awaited her.
“You don’t want to know the name of the place?” Louise persisted.
“Yes, I do. On second thought, it might be well worth while to find out what I can about Black Market operations in tires.”
The conviction had come suddenly to Penny that all the evidence contained in her father’s lost portfolio must be gathered anew. No word had been received from Jerry Livingston. In the quest for information, she must depend upon her own efforts.
“It’s going to give you a real shock to learn the name of the place,” Louise went on.
“I’m shock proof by this time,” answered Penny. “Let ’er fly.”
But Louise was unwilling to divulge the information over the telephone.
“I don’t dare tell you now,” she replied. “Just sit tight for ten minutes and I’ll deliver my bombshell in person.”
Ten minutes later Louise was at the front door with the Sidell family car. She tooted the horn until Penny put on her coat and went outside.
“Jump in and I’ll take you to the place of mystery,” Louise greeted her. “On second thought, you’d better drive. I hate icy roads.”
Penny slid behind the steering wheel. “But where are we going?” she protested. “Honestly, Lou, I haven’t much time—”
“Mattie Williams’ garage is the place that sells the tires! Now, are you interested?”
“Am I? Why, we stopped there with Salt Sommers!”
“We did indeed. Remember the big truck?”
“Lou, you may have stumbled into something really important!”
“Glad you think so, chum. But you’re not interested in Black Markets.”
“I’ve changed my mind! I want to talk to Mattie Williams right away!”
Penny started the car. Driving with a mechanical, unthinking efficiency born of many years’ practice, she questioned Louise as to the source of her information. The girls were deep in a discussion when they heard someone shout. Salt Sommers had hailed them from the curb.
“Why, hello,” Penny greeted him, stopping the car with a jerk. “Any trouble at theStar?”
“Not from Schirr,” grinned Salt. “I’m hot-footing it to the Ladies Club to mug some dames pouring tea! For the society page.”
“Poor Salt!” smiled Penny, knowing how he hated trivial assignments.
“On your way to the office?” the photographer questioned.
Penny hesitated, then decided to confide in Salt. She repeated what Louise had told her about the Mattie Williams’ garage.
“Well, can you beat that!” the photographer exclaimed. “I don’t know Mattie and her partner well, but I always supposed they were honest. So they’re dealing in stolen tires!”
“We don’t know for sure,” Penny said hastily. “Our information is mostly founded on rumor.”
“And the tires may not be stolen ones,” contributed Louise. “I only heard they can be bought there.”
Penny added that she would not take time to run down the Black Market story save that her father’s disappearance might have a connection with the tire-thief gang.
“I aim to learn the names of those men Dad intended to expose,” she said earnestly.
Somewhat startled by the grim note of Penny’s voice, Salt warned her that she might be venturing on dangerous ground.
“We all admire your courage,” he said, “but you mustn’t take foolish risks. Your father would turn thumbs down on that idea.”
“It’s because of Dad that I must investigate every angle of the tire-theft racket.”
“Quite an ambitious assignment,” Salt said dryly. “Now as soon as Jerry gets back from Canada—”
“We can’t wait! Something has to be done right away!”
“I know how you feel,” responded Salt, “but there’s such a thing as being too courageous.”
“I’m not courageous,” Penny denied. “Last night at the cemetery I was scared half to death. And then when I saw the ghost—”
“What ghost?” interrupted Louise.
Penny had not intended to speak of what she had seen at the Harrison estate. The slip of tongue made it necessary to tell of the path by the gate, the retreating figure, and the mysterious light.
“That’s funny,” commented the photographer, regarding her with a peculiar expression. “Since I’ve been on duty at the observation tower I’ve never seen any activity at the estate.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, but I saw one all that same!” Penny insisted. “Just watch some night and see for yourself!”
Annoyed by Salt’s smile, she shifted gears and drove on down the street. Turning to Louise, she asked earnestly: “You believe I saw something wandering about the estate last night, don’t you?”
“Well,” Louise hesitated, unwilling to offend her chum. “You must have been quite upset after failing to meet that woman at the cemetery. Under the circumstances....”
“I was as calm as I am now,” Penny cried indignantly. “I saw it, I tell you!”
“Of course you did, dear,” Louise soothed. “Do please watch your driving more carefully, or I’ll have to take over.”
Penny suddenly relaxed. “Okay, have it your own way,” she shrugged. “I wouldn’t believe Mose Johnson, so why should you believe me? It’s just one of those things.”
For a long while they rode in silence. Few cars were on the road and there was little business activity at Kamm’s Corner. Penny parked in front of the Mattie Williams’ garage.
“What excuse will we have for questioning her?” Louise asked dubiously.
“I’m not going to make an excuse,” said Penny. “I’ll just come right out and ask her if she sells tires without a special order.”
The girls entered the warm little office, stamping snow from their galoshes.
“Just a minute,” called a voice which belonged to Mattie Williams.
The garage owner was busy with a customer. Soon however, she came in from the main part of the building, wiping her oily hands on a piece of waste.
“What can I do for you?” she inquired briskly.
“You remember us, don’t you?” asked Penny, leading into the subject of tires as gradually as possible. “We’re friends of Salt Sommers.”
“Oh, sure!” the woman’s face lighted. “You came in with him the night of the bad storm.”
“My car had been stripped of its tires. Ever since, I’ve been wondering how to get new ones.”
A slightly guarded expression came over Mattie Williams’ face. She said nothing.
“I was told I might obtain some here,” Penny plunged on.
“You can,” said Mattie. “Provided you have an order from your Ration Board.”
“Not without it?”
Mattie gazed at Penny with undisguised scorn. “What sort of a place do you think we run here?” she demanded. “Of course we don’t sell tires without an order.”
“But we were told—”
“Well, you were told wrong,” snapped Mattie. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
Picking up a wrench from the desk top, the woman left the office.
“I guess I didn’t approach her the right way,” remarked Penny sadly. “Either that, or our information was incorrect. Louise, are you sure—”
“Oh, I am!” her chum insisted. “The two women I overheard, distinctly said Mattie Williams’ garage. Of course, they might have been wrong about it.”
Before Penny and Louise could leave the office, a middle-aged man with glasses came in through the street door.
“Sam Burkholder here?” he demanded, warming himself by the stove.
Penny started to say that she did not know. Just then Mattie Williams’ partner came in the other door.
“Hi, Sam!” the stranger greeted him. “I’ve got the car parked around back. Are you ready to put on that tire?”
Sam frowned, darting a quick glance at the two girls.
“Oh, the one I patched for you!” he returned. “Sure, it’s fixed. Drive your car in the back entrance and I’ll take care of it.”
Both men went out into the main part of the garage. Just beyond the door they paused for a whispered conference, then separated.
“Shall we go?” inquired Louise, glancing at her chum.
“Not just yet,” replied Penny. “I’m curious to see that patched tire. Let’s kill a little more time here.”
Pretending to warm themselves by the stove, they waited ten minutes. Then, without attracting attention, they sauntered out onto the main garage floor. Mattie Williams was busy washing a car and did not see them.
The garage workroom was divided into sections, separated by a double door which was closed. Penny strolled over and pushed it open just enough to see through the crack.
Sam Burkholder was working on the stranger’s car. He had removed an old tire and wheel, and was replacing it with one whose tread appeared new.
“A patched tire, my left eye!” Penny whispered to Louise. “It’s just as we thought! This garage must be a Black Market place!”
Only for a moment did the girls dare remain at the door watching Sam Burkholder mount the tire. Then, their curiosity satisfied, they moved quietly away. Without speaking to Mattie Williams, they returned to the parked automobile.
“Well, wasn’t I right?” Louise demanded triumphantly. “What do you think we should do?”
The question plagued Penny. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “If only we were absolutely sure the tire was new—”
“It certainly looked new.”
“Yes, but it could have had some wear. It’s possible, too, that the customer had a legal right to buy a new tire.”
“Then you don’t intend to report to the police, Penny?”
“I want to talk to Salt about it first. We must move carefully, Lou. You see, my main objective is to learn the names of the higher-ups involved in the tire-theft racket.”
“And where does this garage fit into the picture?”
“If it fits at all, my guess is that Sam and Mattie are buying illegal tires—perhaps from the same men who stripped my car and threatened Dad.”
Driving slowly toward Riverview, Penny reviewed what she had seen. She was convinced the information was valuable, yet she scarcely knew how to use it.
“If Salt suggests that I report to the police, that’s what I’ll do,” she decided.
Enroute home, Penny stopped at another garage to make arrangements to have her stripped coupe hauled into the city.
“How about theIcicle?” Louise asked, thinking her chum had forgotten the iceboat.
“It will have to stay where it is for the time being,” Penny replied. “If it’s stolen, I won’t much care.”
At the Sidell home, the girls separated. Thanking Louise for the use of the car, Penny returned afoot to theStaroffice. Salt Sommers was absent on assignment, so she did not linger long. As she rounded a street corner on her way home, a newsboy for a rival paper blocked her path.
“Read all about it!” he shouted. “Anthony Parker Believed Kidnaped! Paper, Miss?”
Penny dropped a coin into the lad’s hand and hastily scanned the front page. The story of her father’s disappearance was a highly colored account, but contained not a useful item of information. Tossing the sheet into a street paper-container, she moved on.
She was passing the Gillman Department Store when her attention was drawn to a woman who waited for a bus.
“I’ve seen her somewhere before,” thought Penny, pausing. “Last night—”
The woman wore a small black hat and a long, old-fashioned dark coat which came nearly to her ankles. It was the shape of the garment and its unusual length which struck Penny as familiar. Why, the woman resembled the one who had fled from the cemetery!
Penny pretended to gaze into the store window. Actually she studied the woman from every angle. She might have been forty-seven years of age and was large-boned. Her face was heavily lined, and her long hands were covered by a pair of cheap, black cotton gloves.
“Can it be the same woman?” thought Penny in perplexity.
A bus bearing a county placard glided up to the curb. The woman in black was the only passenger to board it.
“That bus goes out toward Baldiff Road and the cemetery!” Penny told herself. “And that’s where I’m going too!”
An instant before the folding doors slammed shut, she sprang aboard. Paying her fare, she sought a seat at the rear of the bus.
No sooner was the coach in motion than Penny regretted her hasty action. What could she hope to gain by pursuing the strange woman? She was not certain enough of her identification to make a direct accusation. County buses ran infrequently. In all likelihood, she would find herself stranded in the country.
Penny arose to leave the bus. Then changing her mind a second time, she sat down. Try as she would, she could not rid herself of a conviction that the woman she followed was the same one who had visited the cemetery.
The bus made few stops in the city. Once beyond the city limits, it sped along at a brisk speed. To Penny’s satisfaction, the woman in black soon began to gather up her packages. She pressed a button and the bus skidded to a stop at a crossroads.
With no show of haste, Penny followed the woman from the bus. Pretending to enter a grocery store at the corner, she waited and watched.
Apparently the woman lived nearby, for she started off down a narrow, winding road which ran at right angles to the main highway.
“Why that’s the road that runs past the Harrison place,” Penny thought. “Wonder if she can be going there?”
Waiting until the woman was nearly out of sight, she trudged after her. Walking was difficult for the road had not been cleared by a snow plow. Fortunately for Penny, the woman did not once glance behind her. She kept steadily on until she came within view of the big estate house on the hill. Just before she reached the boundary fence, she cut across a field, approaching the dwelling from the rear.
Penny remained at the road, watching. The woman took a key from her pocket, unlocking a small, padlocked gate at the rear of the grounds. She snapped the lock shut again, and disappeared into the house.
Penny perched herself on top of an old-fashioned rail fence to think over what she had seen. The woman, whoever she was, obviously lived at the estate. Yet the cheap quality of her clothing suggested that she could not be the owner of such an expensive establishment.
“Probably a servant or caretaker,” Penny reasoned. “But is she the one who ran away last night?”
Far over the hills in a lonely grove of pines stood Oakland Cemetery. On either side of Baldiff Road stretched dense woods, a growth that crept to the very boundaries of the Harrison estate. Penny instantly noted that it would be possible for a person to flee from the cemetery to the very door of the estate without once leaving the shelter of trees.
“Perhaps it was the same woman!” she thought. “If she lives here, it would be logical for her to specify Oakland Cemetery as a meeting place! And escape would be easy for her, too!”
Penny slid down from the fence. It would do no good to question the woman. Rather, if she were guilty, questions might serve to place her on the alert. Far better, she reasoned, to bide her time.
“I’ll learn everything I can about that woman,” she thought. “Tonight I’ll watch the house.”
In making her plans, Penny did not take into account Mrs. Weems’ attitude. Upon reaching home late in the afternoon, she found the housekeeper in a most discouraged mood. No favorable news had been received from any source.
“I’ve been worried about you too, Penny,” Mrs. Weems confessed. “Where did you go after you left theStaroffice?”
Penny told of her trip to Mattie Williams’ garage and later to the Harrison estate. In particular she described the mysterious woman she had followed by bus.
“I plan to go back there tonight,” she concluded. “For the first time since Dad disappeared, I feel I may have stumbled into a valuable clue!”
Mrs. Weems looked troubled. “But Penny,” she protested, “you can’t go to the estate alone!”
“I thought perhaps Louise would accompany me.”
“Two girls alone at night! I can’t give my consent, Penny. It’s not safe.”
“But I don’t wish to call the police just yet, Mrs. Weems. I’ve no real evidence. Will you come with me?”
The housekeeper hesitated. Naturally a timid woman, she had no desire to stir from her own fireside that night. But she knew where her duty lay.
“Yes, I’ll go with you, Penny,” she consented. “Shall we start soon?”
“Not until after dark. One can’t expect a ghost to show up in broad daylight.”
“A ghost!” Mrs. Weems quavered. “Penny, what are you letting me in for?”
“Frankly, I don’t know. Some strange things have been going on at the Harrison estate. Tonight I hope to solve part of the mystery at least.”
Pressed for an explanation, Penny repeated Mose Johnson’s story and told of seeing the strange white-robed figure with her own eyes. The tale did not add to Mrs. Weems’ comfort of mind.
“We’re crazy to go out there,” the housekeeper protested. “Must we do it?”
“I think it may be our one hope of gaining a clue which will lead to Dad.”
“Then I’m willing to risk it,” agreed Mrs. Weems. “However, we’ll drive out in a taxi. And I shall personally select the driver—a man to be depended on in an emergency.”
So excited was the housekeeper that she had difficulty in preparing the evening meal. In the end Penny took over, shooing her out of the kitchen.
“I declare I don’t know why I am so nervous,” Mrs. Weems shivered. “I haven’t felt so shaky since the time I attended a seance at Osandra’s.”
“You saw ghosts a-plenty on that occasion,” smiled Penny. “I only hope we have as much luck tonight.”
By eight o’clock everything was in readiness for the journey into the country. Dressing warmly and carrying an extra blanket, Penny and Mrs. Weems walked to a nearby cab station. There the housekeeper selected a driver, a burly man who looked as if he might have been an ex-prizefighter.
“Sure, Ma’am,” he said as Mrs. Weems questioned him, “you can depend on me to look after you.”
“How are you at capturing ghosts?” inquired Penny, climbing into the cab.
The driver looked a trifle startled. “Swell!” he rejoined. “Bring on your spook, and if he don’t weigh no more than two hundred pounds, I’ll nail him!”
Penny and Mrs. Weems were satisfied that they were in good hands. They instructed the man, Joe Henkell, to drive directly to the old Harrison estate.
“By the way, do you know who owns the property?” Penny asked as the cab rolled toward the country.
“Fellow from the East,” Joe flung over his shoulder. “I’m not sure. Think his name is Deming—George Allan Deming. Wealthy sportsman. Has his own plane an’ everything.”
“Married?”
“Couldn’t tell you. The estate has been closed up this winter.”
The cab soon approached the familiar grounds. Penny directed the driver to pull up some distance from the dark house.
“Switch off the headlights,” she instructed. “We’ll wait here. It may be a long time too, so make yourself comfortable.”
Joe, taking Penny at her word, began to smoke a vile-smelling cigar which nearly drove Mrs. Weems to distraction. After an hour had elapsed, the housekeeper scarcely could endure the stuffy air of the cab.
“Penny, must we wait any longer?” she asked plaintively.
“Why, it’s early, Mrs. Weems. I expect to stay until midnight at least.”
“Midnight!” The housekeeper quietly collapsed.
Just then the cab driver turned around, touching Penny’s arm. He directed her attention to the house by saying briefly: “A light just went on.”
Penny and Mrs. Weems focused their attention on the upper floor of the estate. A single light could be seen burning there, but as they watched it blinked off.
“Now if a ghost is to appear this is the time!” announced Penny. “Why don’t we get closer?”
She sprang from the cab. Mrs. Weems and the taxi driver followed with less enthusiasm. The housekeeper, quivering and shaking, clutched the man’s arm as she struggled against the wind.
“Joe, you stay right beside me!” she ordered.
“Sure, Ma’am,” he said soothingly. “I couldn’t get away if I had a mind to.”
Penny, a step ahead, held up her hand as a warning for silence. She had seen the familiar white figure rounding a corner of the house.
“There’s the ghost!” she whispered. “See! Beyond the gate!”
Joe whistled softly.
“A spook, sure’s I’m alive!” he muttered.
“And you promised to nail him,” reminded Penny, starting forward along the fence. “We’ll creep a little closer. Then Joe, I shall expect you to do your stuff!”
The three investigators moved stealthily along the high fence. Through the iron palings they could see a white-garbed figure walking with measured tread amid the shrubs of the frozen garden. Back and forth the apparition strolled, following a well-trod path between the shrunken snowdrifts.
Penny, Mrs. Weems, and the taxi driver crept closer. The ghostly one did not note their approach. Hooded head bent low, he glided to the gate, testing chain and padlock.
“Poor restless soul!” whispered Mrs. Weems.
Penny gave the housekeeper a tiny pinch to break the spell which had fallen upon her. “That’s no ghost,” she whispered. “Don’t you see! It’s a man wearing a heavy white bathrobe over his clothing. He’s pulled the wide collar up over his head like a hood!”
“It’s a man all right,” added the taxi driver. “You can tell by the way he walks. Ghosts kinda slither, don’t they?”
“I believe it’s someone imprisoned on the grounds!” Penny whispered tensely. “Watch!”
The ghost, his face shadowed, rattled the chain again. Then with a distinct, audible sigh, he turned and tramped back along the fence away from the gate.
“Aw, that spook could get out if he wanted to,” muttered the taxi driver. “Why don’t he climb over the fence?”
“Perhaps the man is a sleep walker,” suggested Mrs. Weems nervously. “Whoever he is, the poor fellow should be in his bed.”
Penny was determined to learn the identity of the man. Moving to the gate, she called softly. The figure in white whirled around, looking straight toward her.
Penny caught a fleeting impression of a lean, startled face. Then the man turned and fled toward the house. No longer could there be any doubt that he was a man, for as he ran the legs of his woolen pajamas showed beneath the white robe.
“Wait!” Penny called. “Please wait!”
The ghostly one hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder. But the next moment he was gone, having vanished through a side door into the house.
Penny, weak from excitement, clung to the gate. “Mrs. Weems!” she cried. “Did you see him?”
“Yes, you frightened him away when you shouted.”
“But didn’t you notice his face? As he turned toward me, I caught a glimpse of it. Mrs. Weems, the man looked like Dad!”
“Oh, Penny,” the housekeeper murmured, taking her arm, “you can’t be right. How could it be your father?”
“It looked like him.”
“Not to me,” said Mrs. Weems firmly. “Why, if it had been Mr. Parker, he would have answered when you called. He wouldn’t have run away.”
Penny was compelled to acknowledge the logic of the housekeeper’s reasoning. “I guess that’s true,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll admit I didn’t see his face plainly. I wanted it to be Dad so badly I may have imagined the resemblance.”
A light was switched on in an upstairs room of the estate house. However, blinds were lowered, and those on the ground did not obtain another glimpse of the mysterious man who haunted the snowy garden. Finally Mrs. Weems induced Penny to return to the taxi.
Speeding toward Riverview, neither of them had much to say. Penny could not blot from her mind the vision of a startled, bewildered face. Reason told her that Mrs. Weems was right—the man could not be her father. Who then, was he? Why had he refused to talk to her at the gate?
“The man may have been a sleep walker,” she thought. “Possibly the owner of the estate, Mr. Deming.”
The cab had reached the business section of Riverview. Upon impulse Penny decided to stop at theStarplant to make sure that everything was going well.
“It won’t take me long,” she assured Mrs. Weems. “Why don’t you wait in the cab?”
Only a skeleton night force was on duty at theStaroffice. The advertising department had been closed, and on the floor above, scrub women were busy mopping up. A sleepy-eyed desk man greeted Penny as she entered the deserted newsroom.
“Everything’s Okay,” he assured her. “The final edition’s out, and most of the boys have gone home. I was just taking a little cat nap.”
“Any news?”
“Not about your father. The police have been kept busy chasing down false rumors. About four hours ago a report came in your father had been seen in Chicago.”
“Chicago!”
“Just a fake report.”
“Oh, I see,” said Penny weakly. “No word from Jerry, I suppose?”
The deskman shook his head. “Plenty of mail for you though.”