“Anything important?”
“Mostly replies to that reward offer you made. A lot of ’em are screwball letters. Your father’s been seen in every section of the city from the river to the Heights.”
“Where is the mail?”
“I dumped it on your father’s desk.”
“I’ll take it home to read,” Penny said. “By going through every letter carefully I may stumble upon a clue.”
She crossed the newsroom and opened the door of her father’s office.
The light was not on. Groping for the wall switch, her keen ears detected stealthy steps moving away from her. Sensing the presence of someone in the room she called sharply: “Who’s here?”
There was no reply. Across the room, a door softly opened and clicked shut. Penny was startled. Although the private office had two entrances, one leading directly into the hall, the latter had not been used in years. Usually the door was locked and a clothes tree stood in front of it.
Her groping fingers found the switch and she flooded the room with light. A glance revealed that mail lying on the desk had been disturbed. One of the top drawers remained open. The clothes tree had been moved from in front of the hall door. Plainly, someone had just fled from the room!
Darting to the corridor door, Penny jerked it open. No one was in sight. However, at the end of the deserted hall, she saw the elevator cage moving slowly downward.
“I’ll get that fellow yet!” she thought grimly.
Taking the hall at a run, she plunged down the stairway two steps at a time. Breathless but triumphant, she reached the lower corridor just as the cage stopped with a jerk.
Harley Schirr stepped out, closing the grilled door behind him.
“Fancy meeting you here!” said Penny, her eyes flashing. “What were you doing in my father’s office?”
Schirr regarded her coolly. Without answering, he tried to brush past her.
“You were looking for something in Dad’s desk!” Penny accused, blocking the way. “I know how you got in too! Through the hall entrance. You’re such a professional snooper you probably have a skeleton key that unlocks half the doors in the building!”
“I’ve had about enough of your insolence!” Schirr retorted. “There’s no law which says I can’t come to this plant. And speaking of law, I may sue you for libel.”
“What a laugh.”
“You’ll not be laughing in a few days, Miss Parker! Oh, no! I’ve hired a lawyer, and we’re preparing our case. You’ve insulted me, humiliated me in the eyes of my fellow newspapermen, but you’ll have to pay. And pay handsomely!”
The threat failed to disturb Penny. Schirr, determined to wound her deeply, went on with grim satisfaction.
“You kid yourself you’ll see your father again,” he jeered. “Well, you won’t! Mr. Parker is dead and you may as well get used to the idea.”
Penny’s eyes burned. “You say that only to torture me!”
“It’s the truth. If you weren’t so blind you’d acknowledge it. Your father tried to run a gang of professional tire-thieves out of this town, and they did for him.”
“You seem very certain of your facts, Mr. Schirr. Perhaps you know some of the higher-ups personally.”
“How would I?”
“Your knowledge is so complete,” Penny said scathingly.
“I’m only telling you my opinion,” Schirr growled, now on the defensive. “If you want to ride along in a sweet dream that’s Okay with me.”
“I want to get at the truth,” said Penny shortly. “Do you have one scrap of evidence that Dad has fallen into the hands of enemies?”
Schirr hesitated, knowing well that an affirmative answer might lead to questioning from the police.
“I don’t have any knowledge of the case,” he said. “At least not for publication!”
Flashing a superior smile, he pushed past Penny, and went out of the building.
Penny scarcely knew what to think of Harley Schirr’s actions. All her accusations were true, of that she was sure. But she was unable to decide whether or not he had any information about her father’s strange disappearance.
“The old snooper may be hand in glove with the tire thieves!” she thought bitterly. “I wouldn’t put it past him. If I could prove anything, wouldn’t I like to turn him over to the police!”
Climbing the stairs, Penny explained briefly to theStardeskman what had occurred.
“Shirr here again!” he exclaimed. “Why, I’m sure he never came through the newsroom.”
“No, he got into Dad’s office by means of that old hall door. Tomorrow I want a new lock put on.”
“I’ll have it taken care of myself,” promised the deskman.
Reentering her father’s office, Penny gathered up the mail and carefully locked both doors. She then returned to the waiting taxicab. During the ride home she made no mention of Mr. Schirr, preferring not to worry the housekeeper.
Later in Mr. Parker’s study, she and Mrs. Weems examined every letter written in response to the reward offer. Not even one of them offered the slightest promise.
“I’ll turn everything over to the police,” Penny said with a sigh. “Maybe they’ll find a clue I’ve not considered important.”
Both she and Mrs. Weems were feeling the effects of such a long period of strain. Meals had been irregular, appetites poor. Penny in particular had lost so much weight that she looked thin and sallow. Yet somehow she managed to keep up her strength and to face each day with hope.
“Mrs. Weems,” she said the next morning at breakfast, “if you’ll advance me some money, I’m going on another taxi jaunt today.”
“Not to the Harrison place.”
“No, out to Mattie Williams’ garage. I’m convinced that place is dealing in stolen tires. If only I can reconstruct the evidence which disappeared in Dad’s portfolio, I may get a clue that will lead to him.”
Without protest, Mrs. Weems gave Penny the money. Secretly she thought that the girl would do much better to turn all of her information over to the police. However, she realized that Penny needed activity to keep her from brooding, so she wisely did not discourage her.
“Don’t get into any trouble,” she warned anxiously.
“No danger of that, Mrs. Weems. I’ve not enough pep for it these days.”
Engaging the same cabman who had served her so well the previous night, Penny motored to the Williams’ garage. She had made no plans and scarcely knew what she would say when she entered the place. As she debated, the big doors of the building opened, and a tow car drove away with Mattie at the wheel.
“There she goes!” thought Penny, disappointed. “I’m afraid my interview will have to wait.”
Getting out, she sauntered into the garage office. Mattie’s partner, Sam, was nowhere to be seen. Nor did he appear to be working in the main part of the building.
Penny waited a few minutes, then wandered about the floor where a number of cars had been stored. No workmen were in evidence.
“This might be a good time to do a bit of looking around!” she thought suddenly. “I’ll never have a better chance.”
Penny opened the doors into the room where she had observed Sam Burkholder mount a new tire on the car of a customer. One wall was stacked high with large wooden boxes, not unlike those she and Louise had seen delivered by the truck driver, Hank Biglow, on the night of the blizzard.
She thumped one of the boxes with her knuckles. It gave off a hollow, empty sound. She tried another box with no better luck. Some of the big crates had been opened. They contained nothing except a little brown wrapping paper.
Disappointed, Penny turned away. But as she moved toward the exit, her eyes flashed upon one of the boxes which had escaped her attention. Boards were loose at one end, and could be hinged back on their nails like a door.
Intrigued, Penny crossed to the crate. As she pulled on one of the boards, all swung back as a unit.
“Why, it’s like a door!” she thought. “A door in a box!”
Penny gazed into the box and was further amazed. It had no back wall. Instead, she saw a long, empty tunnel formed by several crates piled one in front of the other. And at the very end stood a real door!
“Maybe this is the pay-off!” thought Penny excitedly.
Pulling the boards into place behind her, she stooped and made her way through the tunnel to the door. It was locked.
“I’ll bet a cent stolen tires are stored in that room!” reasoned Penny. “If only I could get in there!”
Her mind did not dwell long on the problem. A moment later she was alarmed to hear a low murmur of voices. Someone was approaching the storage room from the main part of the garage. Unless she wished to be trapped in the tunnel of boxes, she must abandon the investigation!
Penny started hurriedly toward the opening. Before she could get through the tunnel, the big double doors squeaked open and she heard heavy footsteps in the room. Peering out through a knothole in one of the boxes, she saw Mattie Williams and her partner, Sam. They were arguing and their voices came to her plainly:
“Guess you didn’t look for me back quite so soon, Sam,” Mattie reprimanded her partner. “When I went off in the tow car you figured I’d be gone a long time. Thought it would give you a good chance to tamper with the books!”
“That’s not so, Mattie. I was marking up some expenses like I always do.”
“I’ve been aiming to have a straight talk with you for a long time, Sam,” the woman resumed. “That’s why I asked you to step back here in the storage room. No use having the customers know about our differences.”
“I don’t see what you’ve got to squawk about,” Sam retorted. “Ain’t you made more money since I teamed up with you than you ever did before?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re always afraid I’ll cheat you out of a penny.”
“I’ve caught you in some dishonest tricks. About those tires—”
A loud, insistent tooting of an automobile horn broke up the conversation. Abandoning the argument, Mattie and Sam went to serve the impatient customer.
Penny did not tarry. Crawling from the tunnel, she glanced about for a means of escape. Fortunately, the room had an outside exit. Making use of it, she returned to the waiting taxi, without seeing either Sam or Mattie again.
“Police station, Joe,” she instructed.
“How do you want to go?” the cab driver inquired. “This road or No. 32?”
“Let’s drive past the old Harrison place.”
“Sure,” grinned Joe. “Maybe we’ll see that spook again!”
The cab bumped along the frozen road, soon coming within view of the hillside estate. Joe slowed down without being requested to do so.
“I was tellin’ the boys about that place last night,” he flung over his shoulder. “They tell me the owner is this guy Deming. He’s gone East for the winter. A big, fat, bald-headed man.”
“Our ghost was a thin person.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that,” agreed Joe. “Maybe Deming’s got a sick relative or something.”
The explanation did not satisfy Penny. With troubled eyes she gazed toward the rambling old house which by daylight looked so deserted. No smoke curled from the chimneys. Had it not been for a trail of footprints along the fence, she easily could have convinced herself that she had imagined the events of the previous night.
“Say, who’s that trackin’ through the fields?” Joe suddenly demanded.
Penny turned to glance in the direction that the cabman pointed. Her heart did a little flip-flop. A woman in a long black coat, market basket on her arm, was hastening toward the rear door of the estate house.
“Stop the cab, Joe!” she cried.
The car came to a halt with a little sideways skid. Leaping out, Penny plunged through the drifts and was able to confront the woman at the rear gate of the premises.
“How do you do,” she greeted her breathlessly.
The woman was so startled that she nearly dropped her market basket. Confused, she stammered a reply and started to unlock the gate.
“Just a moment, please,” requested Penny. “May I come inside and talk to you?”
“About what?”
“My father’s disappearance. You made an appointment to meet me at the cemetery. Why did you run away?”
The bold attack was not without an effect. The woman gasped, and fumbled nervously with the key to the padlock.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she muttered.
“Unless you tell me everything you know regarding my father’s disappearance, I’ll call the police!”
“The police—” the woman repeated, plainly frightened.
“Yes,” Penny went on relentlessly, “this is a serious matter. It will do you no good to bluff.”
The woman gave up trying to unlock the gate. Setting her basket down in the snow she said weakly: “You advertised a reward—”
“I’ll still be glad to pay it for worthwhile information. What do you know about my father?”
The woman drew a deep breath. “Well, I picked him up in my car after the accident.”
“You did?” Penny became jubilant. “Where is he now?”
“I can’t tell you that. Mr. Parker asked me to take him to Mercy Hospital. I let him off at the entrance to the grounds. That’s the last I saw of him.”
“My father entered the hospital?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t remain to watch.”
The story was disappointing. If true, Mr. Parker’s disappearance remained as mysterious as ever. Penny was silent a moment and then she asked the woman why she had fled from the cemetery.
“Because I saw a police car parked behind the bushes,” the other answered defiantly. “And those detectives chased me, too! I only intended to be helpful and maybe win a reward. Now I want nothing to do with the case. I’ve told you everything I know.”
The woman unlocked the gate and started to enter the grounds.
“You’re not Mrs. Deming?” Penny asked quickly.
“Who I am is my own business.”
“I suppose the ghost is your own affair too!”
“Ghost? What ghost?”
“You live here, yet you haven’t learned that the grounds are haunted?” Penny inquired significantly. “Nearly every night a man in white wanders back and forth in the garden.”
“I don’t know anything about it!” the woman said nervously. “I’ll not answer any more questions either!”
Plainly frightened, she snapped shut the padlock of the gate and fled into the house.
A moment Penny stood gazing at the estate house. She considered climbing the iron fence and trying to gain entrance to the dwelling. Then, deciding that nothing would be achieved by again accosting the strange woman, she returned to the waiting taxi.
“Where to?” asked the cabman.
“It’s still the police station,” directed Penny, repeating an earlier order. “I have twice as much to report now.”
As the cab pulled away, she noticed a movement of curtains at the front of the estate house. Evidently the woman who had fled, was watching.
Joe made a quick trip to Riverview, depositing Penny at the doorstep of Central Station.
“Will you need me any more?” he asked hopefully.
“I may.”
“Okay,” said Joe, slamming the cab door. “I’ll stick around. You know, I kinda like this job.”
Once inside the police station, Penny inquired for Chief Jalman. Unable to see him, she asked to speak to the two detectives who had been assigned to her father’s case. Both men were away from the building.
“Why not talk to Carl Burns?” suggested the desk sergeant. “He’s familiar with the case.”
Penny was sent to see a heavy-set man who warmed himself by a steaming radiator. Evidently he had spent several hours in an unheated police car for he stamped his feet to restore circulation.
“Mr. Burns?” inquired Penny.
The man turned, staring at her. Penny returned the stare. She had seen the officer before and the recollection was not entirely pleasant. He was the same officer she had met near Mattie’s garage on the night of the blizzard.
“What may I do for you?” he asked.
Uncomfortably aware of the officer’s scrutiny, Penny began to tell of her visit to the Williams’ garage. She stammered a bit and lost confidence.
“You say you saw some big boxes at the garage,” he demanded. “What’s so suspicious about that?”
Penny tried to explain about the tunnel of boxes which led to a hidden storage room. Even to her own ears the story had a fantastic sound.
“What youthinkorsurmisedoesn’t go in this business!” the officer said rather rudely. “Did you actually see any stolen tires?”
“Well, no, I didn’t,” Penny admitted. “The door was locked.”
“Are you willing to swear out a warrant charging Mattie and her partner with dealing in stolen merchandise?”
“I don’t suppose I’d dare do that. I thought if police would investigate—”
“We can’t go on suspicions, Miss Parker. We act only on sound evidence.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter so much about the stolen tires,” Penny said desperately. “I have another clue—a really important one. I’ve found the woman who eluded Detectives Brandon and Fuller at the cemetery!”
“Now we may get somewhere,” replied the officer. “Who is the woman? Where did you see her?”
Penny told everything she knew about the woman who had taken her father to Mercy Hospital. Word for word she repeated their recent conversation together.
“I’ll turn this evidence over to Detective Fuller,” the policeman promised. “He’ll probably want to question the woman himself.”
“I hope he does it right away,” replied Penny. “She may take it into her head to skip out of town.”
Officer Burns smiled wearily. “Just trust us to handle the case,” he said. “We know our business.”
Penny left the station feeling none too satisfied. Although she had nothing against Mr. Burns, she sensed that he did not like her. She wondered if she could depend on him to repeat her story as she had told it.
“If that estate house isn’t investigated immediately, I’ll do something myself!” she thought.
Joe, the cabman, still waited. Signaling him, Penny regretfully explained that she would have no further use for his services.
“Well, if you change your mind and want to do some more ghost huntin’ tonight, just give me a ring,” Joe grinned. “My number’s 20476.”
Penny carefully wrote it down. She then walked to the nearbyStarbuilding where many matters awaited her attention. There she worked without interruption until late afternoon, taking only enough time to call the police station. Detective Fuller was not available. So far as she could learn, no investigation had been made of the Harrison estate.
Thoroughly annoyed, Penny tramped home to dinner. Only a cold meal awaited her. Mrs. Weems, ill with a headache, had set out a few dishes on the kitchen table, and gone to bed.
“It’s nothing,” the housekeeper insisted as Penny questioned her anxiously. “I’ve just worried too much the past few days.”
“Let me call Doctor Barnell.”
“Indeed not,” Mrs. Weems remonstrated. “I’ll be all right tomorrow.”
Penny brewed a cup of tea and made the housekeeper as comfortable as she could. By the time she had eaten a snack and washed the dishes it was eight o’clock. Debating a long while, she went to the telephone and summoned a cab.
“Number 20476,” she requested.
Penny was zipping on her galoshes when the doorbell rang. Without giving her time to answer it, Louise Sidell marched into the kitchen bearing a freshly baked lemon pie.
“Mother sent this over,” she explained. “I slipped on the ice coming over and nearly had a catastrophe!”
Carefully Louise deposited the pie on the kitchen table. Cutting short Penny’s praise of it, she inquired alertly: “Going somewhere?”
Penny explained that she intended to motor to the Harrison estate.
“Not alone?” Louise demanded.
“I’ll have to, I guess. Mrs. Weems is sick, so I can’t take her along.”
“You could invite me,” Louise said eagerly. “I’ll telephone mother to come over and stay with Mrs. Weems while we’re gone!”
The arrangement proved satisfactory to everyone. Mrs. Sidell came immediately to the house, and very shortly thereafter the girls sped away in Joe’s taxicab.
The night was a pleasant one, mildly cold, but with a bright moon.
“Park before you get to the estate,” Penny directed the driver. “We don’t want to be seen. It might defeat our purpose.”
Joe drew up in a clump of trees some distance from the Harrison grounds. He then walked with the girls to the spiked fence. There was no sign of activity.
Two hours elapsed. During that time nothing unusual occurred. No lights were visible inside the house. Even Penny began to lose heart.
“This is getting pretty boring,” she sighed. “I don’t believe the ghost is going to show up tonight.”
“We may have been observed,” suggested Louise. “One can see very plainly tonight.”
After another half hour had elapsed Penny was willing to return to the cab. The three started away from the fence. Just then they heard a door slam inside the house. Instantly they froze against the screen of bushes, waiting.
“There’s the ghost!” whispered Louise.
A figure had appeared in the garden beyond the gate. But the one who walked alone was not a ghost. Plainly he was garbed in street clothes rather than white. Over his suit he wore a heavy overcoat. A snap-brimmed hat was pulled low on his forehead.
Penny could not see the man’s face, but the silhouette seemed strangely familiar.
“That looks like Dad!” she whispered, clutching Louise’s hand. “It is he! I’m sure!”
“Oh, it can’t be—”
Penny paid no heed to her chum’s protest. Breaking away, she ran toward the gate.
The man in the garden became suddenly alert. As he heard the approaching footsteps he gazed toward the road. Upon seeing Penny he started to retreat.
“Wait!” she called frantically. “Don’t you know me, Dad? It’s Penny!”
The words seemed to convey nothing to the man. He shook his head in a baffled sort of way, and walked swiftly toward the house.
Penny ran on to the gate. It was locked, but she vaulted over, landing in a heap on the other side. By the time she had picked herself up, the man had vanished into the house.
“Are you hurt?” Louise cried, hurrying to the gate.
Penny brushed snow from her coat and did not answer.
“That man couldn’t have been your father,” Louise said kindly. “Do come back, Penny.”
“But it was Dad! I’m sure of it!”
“You called to him,” Louise argued. “If it had been Mr. Parker he couldn’t have failed to recognize your voice.”
“It was Dad,” Penny insisted stubbornly. “He’s being held a prisoner here!”
“But that’s ridiculous! Whoever that man is, he could escape from the grounds just as easily as you climbed the gate.”
Penny did not wish to believe, yet she knew her chum was right.
“Anyway, I’m going to talk to him,” she declared. “Now that I am inside the grounds, I’ll ring the doorbell.”
Leaving Louise and Joe on the other side of the fence, Penny went boldly to the front door. She knocked several times and rang the bell. There was no response.
“Why doesn’t someone answer?” she thought impatiently.
At the rear of the house a door slammed. Suddenly Louise called from the gate: “Penny! A woman is leaving the estate by the back way!”
Penny darted to the corner of the house. The same woman she had met earlier that day had let herself out the rear gate. Holding the skirts of her long black coat, she fairly ran across the snowy fields.
“Shall I nab her?” called Joe, eager for action.
Penny’s reply was surprisingly calm.
“No, let her go,” she decided. “While that woman is away, I’ll get into the house. I think Dad is in there alone, and I’m going to find him!”
Penny returned to the front porch and rang the doorbell many times. No one came to admit her. She tested the door, finding it locked. Windows above the porch level could not be raised.
“I’ll try the back door,” she said, refusing to accept defeat.
Louise and Joe followed her to the rear of the dwelling, but remained on the outside of the fence.
As Penny had feared, the back door also was locked. She tested eight windows. Finally she found one which opened into the cellar. To her delight the sash swung inward as she pushed on it.
“Here I go!” she called to Louise. “You and Joe stay where you are and keep watch.”
Penny crawled through the narrow opening and swung herself down to the cellar floor. She landed with a thud beside a laundry tub. The room was dark. Groping her way toward a stairway, she tripped over a box and made a fearful clatter.
“I’ve certainly advertised my arrival!” she thought ruefully.
At the top of the stairway Penny found a light switch and boldly turned it on. The kitchen door was not locked. She opened it and stepped out into another semi-dark room.
A doorbell at the front of the house began to ring. Penny was dumbfounded. Then she became annoyed, thinking that Louise and the cab driver were trying to get in.
Groping her way through the house, she unlocked the door and flung it open.
“For Pity Sakes!” she exclaimed, and then her voice trailed off.
A uniformed messenger boy stood on the porch.
“Mrs. Botts live here?” he asked, taking a telegram from his jacket pocket.
Penny did not know what to answer. Thinking quickly, she replied: “This is the Deming estate.”
The messenger boy turned the beam of his flashlight on the telegram. “Mrs. Lennie Botts, Stop 4, Care of G. A. Deming,” he read aloud. “This is the place all right.”
“But Mrs. Botts isn’t at home now.”
“I’ve had a lot of trouble getting here,” the boy complained. “Even had to climb over the gate. How about signing for the telegram?”
“Oh, all right,” agreed Penny, accepting the pencil. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that idea myself!”
In return for the telegram she gave the boy a small tip. The moment he had gone, she closed the front door and switched on a table lamp.
Penny found herself in a luxuriously furnished living room. The rug underfoot was Chinese, the furniture solid mahogany, hand carved. However, she had no interest in her surroundings. Rather tensely, she examined the telegram. Dared she open it?
“What’s ten years or so of jail in my young life?” she cajoled herself. “I’m willing to spend it in Sing Sing if only I can find Dad!”
Penny ripped open the envelope. The message, addressed to Mrs. Lennie Botts was terse and none too revealing:
“HAVE CHANGED PLANS. WILL RETURN THE TWENTY-SEVENTH BY PLANE. PLEASE HAVE EVERYTHING IN READINESS.”
The telegram was signed by the owner of the estate, G. A. Deming.
“Today is the twenty-seventh of the month,” thought Penny. “This message must have been several hours delayed.”
The telegram had provided little information. Evidently the woman who had refused to tell her name was Mrs. Lennie Botts. Regretting that she had opened the message, Penny tossed it carelessly on the table.
Footsteps sounded on the floor directly above. Penny had taken no pains to be quiet. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened as she heard someone pad to the head of the stairway. A muffled voice called: “Who’s there?”
Penny’s heart leaped for she was sure she recognized the tones. Fairly trembling with excitement, she darted to the foot of the circular staircase. On the top landing in the heavy shadows stood a man whose face she could not see.
“Dad!” she cried. “I’m Penny.”
“Penny?” the man demanded impatiently as if the name meant nothing to him. “Where is Mrs. Botts?”
“Why, she went away.”
“And how did you get into the house?”
“Through a cellar window.”
“I thought so! Young lady, I don’t know what you’re doing here in Mrs. Bott’s absence. Unless you leave at once I’ll summon the police.”
Penny was not to be discouraged so easily. She started slowly up the stairway.
“Stand where you are!” the man ordered sharply. “I’ve been sick, but I’m still a match for any house-breaker. I have a revolver—”
So dark was the stairway that Penny could not know whether or not the man was bluffing. His voice, startlingly similar to her father’s, sounded grim and determined. Knowing that a stranger would have good reason to treat her as a burglar, she was afraid to venture further.
“Dad—” she began.
“Don’t keep calling me Dad!” he snapped.
“Who are you?” asked Penny, completely baffled.
“Who am I?” the man repeated. “Why, I’m Lester Jones, a salesman. I room here.”
The answer dumbfounded Penny. “Then you’re not being held a prisoner by Mrs. Botts?” she faltered.
“On the contrary, Mrs. Botts has been very kind to me. Especially since I’ve been sick.”
Penny’s perplexity increased. “But I’ve seen you wandering in the garden at night,” she murmured. “Why do you do it?”
“Because—oh, hang it! Do I have to explain everything to you? My head’s aching again. Unless you go away and stop bothering me, I’ll call the police.”
Penny was completely crushed. She had been so sure that the man was her father! Seemingly she had made a very stupid mistake.
“I’ll go,” she said quietly.
Retreating down the stairway, she left the opened telegram on the living-room table and switched off the light. Then unlocking the kitchen door, she rejoined Louise and Joe.
“I guess you didn’t have any luck,” her chum commented, observing her downcast face.
Penny ruefully admitted that the man who had been seen in the garden was Lester Jones.
“I knew he wasn’t your father,” Louise replied. “You wouldn’t listen to reason—”
“All the same, his voice was similar,” Penny cut in. “Why, the man even used one of Dad’s pet expressions.”
“What was it?” Louise inquired curiously.
“‘Oh, hang it!’ That’s the expression Dad uses when he’s irritated.”
Louise helped her chum over the back fence and guided her toward the parked taxi. Midway there Penny paused to stare up at the dark windows of the second floor.
“Lou!” she exclaimed. “That man must have been Dad even if he didn’t know me!”
“Oh, Penny, don’t start that all over again,” Louise pleaded. “You’re only torturing yourself.”
“I’m going back!”
“No, we can’t let you, Penny.”
Louise held her chum’s arm firmly. Joe opened the door of the taxi and they pushed her in. Penny protested for a moment, then submitted.
“All right, but we’re going straight to the police station!” she announced. “I’ll not be satisfied until that man positively is identified as Lester Jones.”
A few minutes later, at the police station, Detective Fuller heard the entire story. It was the first he had learned about Mrs. Botts, for Penny’s earlier message had not been delivered by Policeman Burns.
“For that matter, I’ve not seen Burns today,” the detective explained. “I’ll go to the estate at once and question the woman.”
Again Penny and Louise taxied to the estate, this time trailed by a police car. Detective Fuller broke the padlock on the gate and led the party to the front door.
A light now burned in the living room. To Penny’s astonishment, the door was opened by Mrs. Botts.
“Good evening,” she greeted the visitors pleasantly.
Detective Fuller flashed his badge. “We want to ask you a few questions,” he said. “May we come in?”
With obvious reluctance the woman stepped aside, allowing the party to enter the living room. Penny’s gaze roved to the center table. The telegram which she had opened no longer was there.
Mrs. Botts did not offer chairs to the callers. Glaring at Penny with undisguised dislike, she said coldly: “I suppose I am indebted to you for this visit. What is it you want?”
“I understand you have a roomer here,” began Detective Fuller.
“A roomer?” Mrs. Botts echoed blankly.
“Yes, a man by the name of Lester Jones.”
“Ridiculous! You don’t seem to realize that this is the Deming estate.”
“Are you an employee here?”
“I am the housekeeper. During Mr. Deming’s absence I look after the property. I assure you no one but myself lives in the house at present.”
“No roomer ever has stayed here?”
Mrs. Botts drew herself up proudly. “Would Mr. Deming be likely to annoy himself with roomers? He has a very substantial fortune.”
“You might try to pick up a few dollars yourself.”
“Mr. Deming would not hear of such a thing! He pays me well.”
Detective Fuller asked additional questions, trying to learn whether or not the woman was the one who had fled from the cemetery. Mrs. Botts frankly admitted that she had taken Mr. Parker to the hospital, but she denied ever trying to collect a ransom.
“What you say now doesn’t agree with your original story,” Penny protested. “You admitted to me—”
“I admitted nothing,” Mrs. Botts broke in indignantly. “I have no secrets to hide!”
“But I’m sure Mr. Jones is living in this house,” Penny said stubbornly. “He’s upstairs.”
“Indeed?” mocked Mrs. Botts. “Perhaps you’d like to search the house.”
“Yes, we would,” said Detective Fuller.
Mrs. Botts remained undisturbed. Bestowing upon Penny a look of deep contempt, she motioned toward the stairway.
“Very well, search the house,” she invited with cool assurance. “I’ve told you the truth. You’ll find no one here but myself.”
In systematic, unhurried fashion, Detective Fuller went through every room in the Deming house. The bed chambers, nine in number, were in perfect order. Only Mrs. Botts’ suite over the kitchen appeared to have been used recently.
As the search progressed, Penny’s bewilderment increased. She knew that Lester Jones had been in the house an hour earlier, yet there was no sign of him. Personally she inspected clothes closets and bureau drawers. Not an article could she find that ever had belonged to her father. She did come upon a white woolen bathrobe. Believing it to be the garment worn by the “ghost” she called it to Detective Fuller’s attention.
“Oh, that robe belongs to my employer, Mr. Deming,” explained Mrs. Botts.
Penny indicated water stains along the hem which suggested that the garment had been allowed to trail in the snow.
“Sometimes I wear the robe when I go outside to bring in the washing,” replied Mrs. Botts. “It is warmer than my coat.”
Try as she would, Penny could not trip the woman into making any damaging admissions. Mrs. Botts had changed her original story and would not acknowledge that she had fled from the cemetery. Stubbornly, she maintained that she had told everything she knew about Mr. Parker’s disappearance.
“I took him to Mercy Hospital in my employer’s car,” she repeated to Detective Fuller. “That’s the last I saw of him.”
“In what condition was Mr. Parker when you left him?” questioned the detective.
“He seemed all right. Perhaps he was a bit dazed.”
“Why didn’t you report to the police?”
“Because I didn’t see the newspapers for a day,” Mrs. Botts replied sullenly. “Later I read Miss Parker’s offer of a reward.”
“Then you did write, requesting me to run the ad in theStar!” Penny cried triumphantly.
“No, of course not,” Mrs. Botts retorted, “I merely read the item.”
Penny knew Mrs. Botts was not telling the entire truth, but to prove it seemed an impossible matter. Neither could she establish that a man who claimed to be Lester Jones had been living in the house. True, Louise and the taxi driver would support her story, but it would only be their word against Mrs. Botts’. The situation had become hopelessly confusing.