"The garage may be slow in towing the car into town," replied Mr. Nichols. "I've noticed that things don't move at lightning speed around Kendon."
"I suppose that could be the reason," Penny admitted reluctantly. "But wouldn't you think that Walter Crocker would want to find out how much damage had been done to his car before he left?"
"Oh, he may have so much money that it doesn't matter."
"I doubt that, Dad. You remember he told us he was coming here to claim an inheritance. After meeting old Herman I'd guess that he didn't get it. Would you think——"
"I'm not thinking at all these days," chuckled Mr. Nichols. "I've padlocked my brain for two weeks. Please, Penny, don't try to stir up imaginary cases for me to solve."
Penny made no reply, for just then they came within view of an old farmhouse which answered the description provided by Herman Crocker. A tin mailbox by the roadside bore the name Anna Masterbrook.
"This is the right place," Mr. Nichols declared.
They went up the front walk, observing that it had been swept that morning. The porch was freshly scrubbed, too, and clean curtains hung in the windows.
"Mrs. Masterbrook must be a good housekeeper," the detective said. "I think we'll employ her if her price is right."
He rapped on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, gaunt-looking woman of middle age. Her black hair had been drawn back tightly from her face, accentuating the high cheek bones.
"Mrs. Masterbrook?" inquired the detective, lifting his hat.
"That's my name," said the woman. Her voice was high pitched and unpleasant. "If you're selling anything——"
"I am not a salesman," Mr. Nichols assured her. "Mr. Crocker sent us to you. I understand that you do cleaning work."
"I worked for Herman Crocker seven years," the woman said. "Precious little pay or thanks I ever got for it too!"
"We are staying in his cottage," Penny explained. "Mr. Crocker said we were to have you clean it up for us, and he would pay the bill."
"How do I know he'll keep his promise?"
"Does Mr. Crocker usually break his word?" asked the detective.
"Well, he's close," Mrs. Masterbrook replied. "A dollar looks as big as a mountain to Herman."
"If Mr. Crocker fails to settle the bill, I'll look after it myself," Mr. Nichols promised. "And another thing. Would you be willing to take a position as housekeeper for a couple of weeks?"
"What would it pay?" Mrs. Masterbrook demanded quickly.
"Well, I might let you name your price."
"Five dollars a week," the woman said firmly after a moment of thought. "I wouldn't come for a cent less."
Penny and Mr. Nichols glanced at each other. They had expected Mrs. Masterbrook to ask double the amount.
"You are hired, Mrs. Masterbrook," said the detective gently.
Penny and her father went back to the car to wait while the woman collected a few things to take with her.
"I think we've found a jewel, Penny," the detective declared enthusiastically. "If I'm any judge of character, she's a good housekeeper."
"And if I'm a judge of it, she's a chronic grumbler and a gossip," replied Penny. "But we're only paying five dollars, so we can't be too particular."
Mrs. Masterbrook soon came down the walk with a small handbag. She crowded into the front seat of the car and even before they were well on their way to Kendon, began to question her new employer. She asked his name, his business, where he was from, why he had come to Kendon and how long he meant to stay.
Penny glanced impishly at her father, who was growing slightly annoyed. She had warned him that Mrs. Masterbrook would prove to be a gossip.
"I met Mr. Crocker's grandson this morning," she remarked, hoping to switch the conversation to a less personal topic. "He seems like a fine lad."
"Yes, but it's a shame the way Herman brings him up," replied Mrs. Masterbrook, shaking her head sadly. "Perry has never had much schooling and he's kept at home all the time."
"I should think the school authorities would see that the boy attended classes," remarked Mr. Nichols.
"They don't like to cross Herman," Mrs. Masterbrook explained. "At least that's how I figure it."
"Mr. Crocker doesn't actually mistreat the boy?" Penny questioned.
"Herman couldn't be very good to anyone even if he tried. Perry was his daughter Ella's son, and I guess old Herman thought more of Ella than he did of any other member of his family. When she died he took the boy to raise."
"I judge his own wife isn't living," remarked Mr. Nichols.
"No, poor Ida went to her rest come twelve years ago this fall. Folks said she wouldn't have taken down with pneumonia if Herman had given her enough to eat."
Neither Penny nor her father encouraged Mrs. Masterbrook to talk, but all the way to the cottage she chattered about first one person and then another. With no effort on her part, Penny gathered many items of interesting information concerning Herman Crocker.
"Folks around here call him a miser," the woman revealed. "When his sister Jenny died, she left quite a tidy little fortune. Some people don't think Herman ever inherited very much of it, but I could tell 'em a few things about that matter if I were minded to do it."
"I'm sorry," interrupted Mr. Nichols, "but the Crocker family isn't of great interest to us. Suppose we forget about it."
"I thought you wanted to hear," retorted Mrs. Masterbrook indignantly. She subsided into hurt silence.
Penny felt sorry that her father had discouraged the woman from talking. Although she did not approve of idle gossip, she had been eager to learn more about Herman Crocker and his queer relatives. She wondered too if Mrs. Masterbrook could tell her anything about Mr. Crocker's nephew, Walter.
Penny and her father left the housekeeper at the cottage and then drove back to the village for supplies.
"I'm afraid I made a great mistake in hiring her," confessed the detective. "She'll talk us crazy."
"At least you must admit it's interesting to have all the inside information about our landlord."
"I'm not concerned in Crocker's affairs," Mr. Nichols rejoined. "Anyway, I'd not believe a word that woman said about him. Obviously, she bears a grudge."
Penny and her father made their purchases in one of the grocery stores, finding the owner a pleasant, genial individual. During the course of the conversation he remarked upon the automobile accident which had occurred the previous night.
"It's a funny thing about it," he said. "The owner of the car disappeared and no one seems to know the driver."
"Why, my daughter and I brought him to town last night," declared Mr. Nichols quickly. "He was Herman Crocker's nephew, or so he told us."
"You don't say! Well, that's the first time I ever heard that Herman had a living nephew. Shall I carry these packages out to the car for you?"
"Yes, please," requested the detective.
The storekeeper deposited the grocery order in the automobile and then went back into his shop.
"Dad, Mr. Crocker asked me not to tell anyone about his nephew's having been here," Penny said as they started up Knob Hill.
"Well, I didn't make any such promise," replied her father. "I can't see why there should be any mystery about it. Anyway, it will be fairly easy for the police to learn the man's name by tracing the license plates of his abandoned car."
"Yes, that's true," Penny agreed. "I can't for the life of me understand why Walter Crocker would go back to the city without trying to salvage his car."
"I'd not worry about it too much," smiled the detective. "For all we know he may have left orders at one of the garages to have it hauled in and repaired."
Upon arriving at their cottage, Mr. Nichols and Penny were pleasantly surprised to find Mrs. Masterbrook hard at work. She had cleaned up all the rooms, and she came out to the car to help carry in the groceries.
"The electric company man was here while you were gone," she told Mr. Nichols. "The lights are on now."
"Fine," replied the detective. "And how about our supply of wood?"
"Herman sent over enough for today and to-morrow. He said he'd get busy and cut more. But I'd not count on it. Herman is as lazy as all get out."
Mr. Nichols laughed and told the housekeeper that he and Penny were going for a little walk before lunch.
"It will be ready at one o'clock sharp," Mrs. Masterbrook warned. "I hope you'll be back on time, because I don't like to keep victuals waiting."
"We'll be here," promised the detective. When he and Penny were beyond hearing, he added: "I'm afraid we made a big mistake in hiring that woman. I can see right now that she means to be the boss of the show."
"Oh, well, if the weather is nice we can stay away from the cottage most of the time," laughed Penny.
After exploring the ravine, they went back to the cottage to find that luncheon was nearly ready. In justice to Mrs. Masterbrook, the detective admitted that the meal was excellent. She had made biscuits, cake, and gravy, besides preparing the usual vegetables and meat.
However, without being requested to do so, the housekeeper seated herself at the head of the table. Penny and her father had assumed that she would take her meals alone, but neither of them had the courage to make the suggestion. They were a little afraid of the woman's sharp tongue.
Conversation was difficult in Mrs. Masterbrook's presence. Penny and Mr. Nichols did not wish to say anything of a personal nature lest the housekeeper repeat it to her acquaintances. Mrs. Masterbrook talked enough for everyone. She prattled on about the gossip of the town until Penny and her father were thoroughly bored. They were relieved when the meal was over.
"I believe I'll drive back to town this afternoon," the detective announced. "I want to buy a newspaper, and I'll order a telephone installed."
"I thought you were eager to lose contact with the world," laughed Penny.
"To a certain extent—yes," replied Mr. Nichols. "Bui I also like to keep informed."
"You don't need to worry about that part," chuckled Penny. "Mrs. Masterbrook will see to it that you're up to date on all the news."
"She'll probably appropriate the telephone too," said the detective ruefully. "But I think I'll put one in anyway. Coming with me, Penny?"
"No, I'd rather stay here, Dad. I thought I'd write a letter to Susan."
After her father had driven away, Penny unpacked her suitcase. Then she carried her writing materials to a pleasant nook not far from the ravine, finding a flat rock which served as a desk.
The letter was soon finished. Penny sealed it and then sat for a long time gazing at the distant trees which were waving gently in the breeze.
"It's nice here," she thought dreamily, "but rather dull. I wish Susan could visit me. Together we might stir up a little excitement."
After a while Penny dozed off. When she awoke she gathered up her writing things and walked back to the house. She chanced to be wearing tennis shoes and so made very little noise as she entered.
Penny had no intention of trying to spy upon Mrs. Masterbrook. In fact, she had forgotten all about the housekeeper as she made her way toward her own bedroom.
The kitchen and living rooms were in order but quite deserted. The significance of this did not dawn upon Penny.
Then she came to the doorway of her father's bedroom. She might have passed it without a glance had she not heard a startled cry.
"Oh, I didn't hear you come in!" muttered Mrs. Masterbrook in confusion.
The woman had been caught in the act of examining letters and papers contained in Mr. Nichols' suitcase. She straightened up quickly, a deep flush spreading over her cheeks.
"Mrs. Masterbrook!" said Penny sternly. "Kindly explain the meaning of this! Why are you prying into my father's private papers?"
"How dare you accuse me of such a thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Masterbrook angrily. "I merely came into this bedroom to do the work for which I was hired."
"Did my father employ you to read his private letters?" asked Penny coldly.
"I was cleaning the room and I thought I would unpack the suitcase. I had just come upon these letters when you walked in."
"I'll relieve you of them now," said Penny. "Hereafter, please don't touch anything either in father's suitcase or my own."
Mrs. Masterbrook did not trust herself to reply. With an angry toss of her head she marched back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
"I don't care if she is out of sorts!" Penny thought. "Dad ought to discharge her for a trick like this."
She returned the letters to the suitcase and after locking the bag took the key with her. Later in the afternoon when Mr. Nichols came back to the cottage in company with one of the telephone men, she drew him aside to reveal what the housekeeper had done.
"It's nothing so very serious," the detective said. "Of course the trick was a contemptible one, but I doubt that she learned anything of interest. The letters all dealt with matters of routine business."
"But if Mrs. Masterbrook reads our letters she'll pry into other things too."
"We could discharge her," the detective said, frowning thoughtfully. "The point is—where would we get another housekeeper on short notice? Especially one who can cook."
"Mrs. Masterbrook does do her work well," Penny admitted grudgingly.
"I'll discharge her if you say the word, Penny."
"No, let her stay," the girl decided. "But we'll have to be very careful about what we do and say around her."
With a telephone installed, the electric lights connected, and the house stocked with groceries, Penny and her father felt that they were fairly well established in the cottage. As was to be expected, Mrs. Masterbrook acted very distant during the remainder of the day. She went about the house with an injured air which was amusing to Penny and Mr. Nichols.
Toward evening the telephone rang.
"Why, that was a long and two short!" exclaimed Penny, springing up from her chair. "That's our ring."
"Must be a mistake," replied Mr. Nichols. "No one would be calling us so soon."
Before Penny could reach the telephone, Mrs. Masterbrook answered it. She appeared in the doorway and said primly to Mr. Nichols:
"Long distance is calling."
"Long distance!" exclaimed the detective. "That's queer. How did anyone get my number so soon?"
"I'm sure you can't blamethaton me," replied the housekeeper maliciously.
Mr. Nichols went to answer the call. Penny noticed that Mrs. Masterbrook lingered not far away, evidently listening. Upon seeing that the girl was watching, she retreated to the kitchen.
In a few minutes Mr. Nichols returned to the living room.
"I hope nothing is wrong at home," Penny said in a low tone. She was afraid the call had been from Mrs. Gallup.
"No, everything is all right," returned the detective. "That was Inspector Harris who telephoned me."
"But how did he get your telephone number?"
"Oh, he plagued Mrs. Gallup into revealing our address, and then he found that we had a telephone installed today. Worse luck!"
"Mrs. Gallup was instructed not to tell where we were unless something of great importance arose."
"The inspector evidently convinced her that this was a vital matter."
"What is it all about anyway?" Penny inquired curiously.
"Inspector Harris wants me to take a new case. Last night a big robbery was committed at Hannibal, which is the nearest town to Kendon. The inspector thought that since I was on the scene it would be convenient for me to conduct the investigation."
"Convenient for him."
"Obviously."
Penny glanced quickly at her father. "And what did you tell him, Dad?"
"I said I wouldn't do it. This is my vacation and I mean to enjoy it."
"Good for you, Dad," Penny said approvingly.
"The inspector didn't like to take 'no' for an answer," Mr. Nichols went on. "He claimed that this was not an ordinary robbery case and that I'd be sorry if I turned it down."
"What was so unusual about it, Dad?"
"Nothing that I could tell. A private home was entered and the thieves escaped with about a thousand dollars' worth of jewelry. The owner, a man of wealth, insists upon private detectives taking over the case. He's not satisfied with the local police talent."
While Penny and her father were discussing the robbery, Mrs. Masterbrook announced dinner. To their relief, she did not talk during the meal but maintained an aloof air.
"I don't like the look of the weather," remarked Mr. Nichols, glancing out the window. "I shouldn't be surprised if we have a storm tonight."
"The wind does appear to be rising," Penny agreed. "Just listen to it whistle in the grove of evergreens—it gives one a creepy feeling."
"I hope we have a good roof over us," Mr. Nichols declared. "One that doesn't leak."
As he spoke, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.
"Mercy on us!" screamed Mrs. Masterbrook in terror. "What's happened to the lights?"
"Probably the current has been turned off, or the high wind may have broken a wire," said the detective calmly.
"Or a fuse may have blown out," Penny added.
"I'll get my flashlight from the car and take a look," said Mr. Nichols. "I don't know if I can locate the fuse box or not."
"It's in the cellar," contributed Mrs. Masterbrook.
"The only way to get down there is from the outside of the cottage," Penny added. "Those strange-looking double doors with the iron rings pull up, and beneath them is a stone stairway which leads into the cellar. Be careful, for it's easy to fall. I took a tumble myself this afternoon when I was prowling around."
Mr. Nichols groped his way to the door and disappeared into the night. A few minutes later Penny saw the beam of his flashlight playing over the lawn. Then the cellar doors were thrown back and the light vanished.
"You'd not catch me going down into that dark, damp hole at night!" Mrs. Masterbrook said in a low voice.
"Why not?" asked Penny. "Isn't it just as dark here?"
"Something might happen. If you knew what I do about this place——"
"What do you mean?" questioned Penny quickly.
"Oh, I don't tell everything I know," the housekeeper retorted.
Penny felt certain that the woman was trying to plague her, but nevertheless she was greatly relieved when her father returned to the kitchen.
"It was only a blown fuse after all," he reported. "But I can't find any extra ones."
"I'll telephone Mr. Crocker!" Penny announced. "He's our landlord and he ought to work at the job."
"I'll bet a cent you don't get any," the detective rejoined.
After a lengthy telephone conversation, Penny faced her father triumphantly.
"You lose your cent," she laughed. "Mr. Crocker was provoked, but he promised to come right over with a new fuse."
Twenty minutes later an ancient automobile was heard laboring up Knob Hill. Mr. Crocker came up the walk, carrying a lighted lantern.
"Seems like you folks are having a lot of trouble here," he said crossly as Mr. Nichols met him at the door.
"We're sorry to trouble you," replied the detective. "If the cottage had been better equipped——"
"I'll put in the fuse for you to be sure it's good," Mr. Crocker interrupted.
He and Mr. Nichols went down into the cellar together. From the doorway of the kitchen Penny noticed that someone was sitting in Mr. Crocker's car.
"Is that you, Perry?" she called softly.
There was no answer, so she walked down to the car. Mr. Crocker's grandson sat hunched down in the front seat.
"Aren't you going to say hello to me?" asked Penny. "I do believe you're shy."
"I'm not shy," replied the little boy quickly. "But my grandpa says he'll whip me if I talk with you."
Penny was silent for a moment.
"Of course I don't wish you to get into trouble, Perry," she said quietly, "but why doesn't your grandfather like me?"
"Because you'll ask too many questions," the boy answered. "Please go away now, before grandpa finds you talking with me."
The cottage became flooded with light as Mr. Nichols and Herman Crocker replaced the old fuse. Penny knew that they would be coming up the steps in a moment. She did not wish Perry to be punished so she slipped back into the house.
However, as soon as Herman Crocker had driven away Penny ran back outside to meet her father. She told him what Perry had said.
"Herman Crocker is a queer old duck," the detective replied. "I don't doubt he abuses the boy."
"We ought to do something about it, Dad," Penny said earnestly.
"Now don't get worked up over the affair. We haven't any proof that the boy is mistreated. If the local authorities aren't interested in the case, we have no call to interfere. We'd only stir up a tempest in a teapot."
"I suppose you're right," Penny admitted reluctantly. "You usually are."
"I'd forget the Crocker family if I were you. Try to enjoy your vacation."
Penny did not wish to forget about Perry. She felt that he deserved a better fate than life with a queer old man like Herman Crocker.
Later in the evening as she sat with a book, she kept thinking of the boy. She could not keep her mind on anything she read.
At nine o'clock it began to rain. The wind, steadily growing stronger, rattled the windowpanes.
"I'm afraid this will be a noisy place tonight," commented Mr. Nichols. "But I'm drowsy enough to sleep through anything."
Mrs. Masterbrook had retired soon after the dishes were washed. After getting himself a drink in the kitchen, Mr. Nichols announced that he too was going to bed.
"I'll be coming along in a few minutes," Penny said. "How about the doors? Shall I lock them?"
"Oh, it wouldn't do any harm," replied the detective carelessly. "But on a night like this there's no chance anyone will visit us——"
Mr. Nichols' voice trailed slowly away. As if in contradiction to his words, there came a sharp rap on the door.
"It seems that you are wrong, Dad," commented Penny dryly. "Already we have a visitor."
Mr. Nichols went to the door and flung it open. The light revealed a bedraggled young man who might have been in his early twenties. He was not very well dressed and his clothes were rain soaked. Penny and her father regarded the stranger a trifle suspiciously until he spoke.
"I beg your pardon," the young man said apologetically, "but I am looking for the Herman Crocker place. Would you be kind enough to direct me?"
"Why, certainly," replied the detective. "Come in out of the rain, won't you?"
"Thanks, but my shoes are covered with mud."
"You can't harm anything in this cottage," said Penny. "Come right in."
The young man stepped over the threshold, removing his limp felt hat. He had sandy hair, Penny observed, and penetrating blue eyes which roved swiftly about the room.
"It's a nasty night," said Mr. Nichols. "Have you walked far?"
"All the way from Kendon."
"Then you went right past Herman Crocker's place. It's a large house to the left of the road."
"The rain is coming down so fast I couldn't see very far ahead of me," the young man replied. "This was the first light I saw along the way."
"It may be that Mr. Crocker has gone to bed," Penny remarked. "I imagine he retires early."
"Will he be expecting you?" inquired the detective.
"Why, no, he won't," the young man replied after a slight hesitation. "I suspect he'll be very much surprised to see me."
"We have a telephone," Penny said. "If you like, I'll call Mr. Crocker for you. He might be willing to drive up and get you."
"Oh, please don't go to any bother," returned the young man quickly, edging toward the door again.
"It won't be any trouble at all."
"Please, I'd rather you wouldn't. I'll not mind the walk."
Penny glanced sharply at the young man. It was plain to see that he had some special motive for not wishing to give Herman Crocker advance notice of his arrival in the community.
Without having any real reason for such a belief, it suddenly struck Penny that the young man's visit might have some connection with the mysterious call which Walter Crocker had made upon his uncle.
"I take it you're a stranger in these parts," remarked Mr. Nichols. He too was studying the young man curiously.
"Well, yes, I am. I'm here to see Mr. Crocker on rather important business."
"You'll be his second out-of-town visitor this week," Penny commented in a casual tone. "Mr. Crocker's nephew was here, but I understand he has gone back to the city."
"Mr. Crocker's nephew?" asked the young man quickly.
"Yes," said Penny, watching him closely. "Walter Crocker."
A strange look came into the young man's eyes. An expression of astonishment gave way to one of wariness.
"You are acquainted with Walter Crocker perhaps?" asked Penny, ignoring her father's warning glance.
"I have heard of him," replied the young man after a brief hesitation. He turned once more toward the door.
As he opened it a strong gust of wind blew a sheet of rain into the room.
"See here, you can't go out in that," said Mr. Nichols firmly. "Let me telephone Crocker and tell him you're here."
The young man shook his head.
"Then I'll put on chains and take you down there in my car."
"No, I'd rather not have you go to any bother on my account. I don't mind a little rain."
"It's blowing a gale and the storm is getting worse every minute," the detective insisted. "Herman Crocker keeps a vicious dog too. If you walk in there without being expected, you may receive an unpleasant reception."
"I wasn't looking for a very cordial one anyway," the young man said slowly. "But thanks for the tip about the dog. Maybe it would be just as well to go back to town for the night."
"There's no need to do that," said Mr. Nichols. "You're welcome to stay here if you like. Our quarters aren't very luxurious, but at least it will be better than walking back to the village."
"I'll get Mrs. Masterbrook to help me fix up one of the bedrooms right away," Penny added quickly.
"It's very kind of you," said the young man, looking troubled. "You know nothing about me——"
"We're not worried upon that score," replied Mr. Nichols with a smile. "But you might tell us your name."
"Oh, yes, to be sure——" stammered the young man. "Just call me Michael—Michael Haymond."
"I am very glad to know you, Mr. Haymond," returned the detective. "May I take your coat and hat? I'll build up the fire so that your things will dry out."
Penny crossed the room intending to call Mrs. Masterbrook. As she opened the door leading into the hallway she saw the housekeeper hastily retreating into her own bedroom. Obviously she had been listening to the conversation.
"Mrs. Masterbrook!" called Penny.
"Well, what is it?" asked the housekeeper, re-opening her door.
"A guest is spending the night. Will you please help me prepare the east bedroom?"
"This is a nice time to start making up beds," the housekeeper complained. "I was just ready to undress."
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Masterbrook. I'll do it myself."
"I didn't say I wasn't willing to help," the housekeeper said quickly. "Only if you ask me, you're making a big mistake to take a perfect stranger into the house."
"What makes you think he's a stranger?" asked Penny quickly.
"I couldn't help hearing what he told you," Mrs. Masterbrook returned with a toss of her head. "I don't believe for a single minute that his name is Michael Haymond. Anyone could tell that he was lying."
"Who do you think he is?" asked Penny. "A 'G' man in disguise?"
"He looks more like a young criminal to me," Mrs. Masterbrook replied soberly. "His face is very familiar."
"Dear me, how did you manage to see him? Not through the keyhole?"
The housekeeper had not meant to betray herself. She flushed and made no answer.
"If you care to meet Mr. Haymond, come into the living room," Penny invited. "I think you'll find him to be a very nice young man."
"No, thank you, I don't wish to meet him," said the housekeeper coldly. "And if the cottage is robbed during the night, kindly don't blame me."
"All right, I won't," laughed Penny.
The bedroom which the guest was to occupy adjoined Mr. Nichols' sleeping quarters. Long after the house had settled down for the night, Penny could hear sounds from that part of the cottage. Either her father or Mr. Haymond was very restless.
"It may have been unwise to take a stranger into the house," the girl reflected, "but he seemed honest enough. I don't see why Mrs. Masterbrook had to act so hateful about it."
For some time Penny remained awake thinking over the information which Michael Haymond had given about himself. He had not told where he lived nor had he mentioned the nature of his business with Herman Crocker. She had fancied that the young man had seemed somewhat shaken by her reference to Walter Crocker.
"I may have imagined that part," she told herself. "Dad didn't seem to notice anything wrong."
Shortly Penny fell asleep. Several hours later she found herself wide awake again. She did not know what had aroused her.
Although Penny had left the curtains up, the room was dark. She could still hear the rain pattering against the tin roof.
Then the girl became aware of another sound. She heard a floor board creak. Someone was moving softly down the hallway.
"I wonder who is up at this hour?" she thought.
For a minute Penny lay perfectly still, listening. Then she crept noiselessly from bed. Drawing on her dressing gown, she tiptoed to the door.
The hall was dark. At first she could distinguish nothing; then she made out a shadowy figure at the far end. Someone was trying to open the door which led up to the attic.
"Is that you, father?" Penny asked.
When there was no answer, she reached up and pressed the electric switch. The hallway became flooded with light. Penny and Michael Haymond stood blinking at each other, both deeply embarrassed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," stammered the young man. "I didn't mean to disturb anyone. I was just after a drink of water."
"I'm afraid you won't find it in the attic," replied Penny. "Not unless the roof is leaking."
"The attic?" Michael Haymond repeated. "I must be turned around then. I thought this door led to the living room."
Penny could not be certain whether or not the young man was telling the truth. It was entirely possible that he had become confused in the dark hallway. She could not imagine any reason why he would have wished to investigate the attic.
Before Penny could frame a reply Mr. Nichols' door opened and the detective peered out.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
"I am afraid I have disturbed the entire household," the young man apologized. "I was only looking for a drink of water."
"There's no harm in that, I'm sure," replied Mr. Nichols pleasantly. "I'll get you one."
"It really doesn't matter," the young man murmured.
Just then Mrs. Masterbrook's door swung open. The housekeeper, garbed in an old-fashioned nightgown and with her hair done up in curlers, looked out into the hall.
"Dear me, what is going on here?" she asked crossly. "After working hard all day I'd like to get a little sleep."
"It was all my fault," Michael Haymond apologized again.
The housekeeper turned to gaze at him. As their eyes met, Mrs. Masterbrook made a strange rasping sound in her throat. Her hand moved instinctively toward her face as if to ward off a blow.
"Mrs. Masterbrook, I don't believe you have met our guest," Mr. Nichols began.
The housekeeper gave him no opportunity to finish. She moved back into her bedroom and closed the door.
"Did I offend your housekeeper?" asked Michael Haymond anxiously.
"Don't give it a thought," replied Mr. Nichols, lowering his voice. "Mrs. Masterbrook is a very odd character. She may have felt embarrassed because she wasn't dressed up for the occasion. Come along now and we'll get that drink of water."
Penny went back into her room and sat down on the bed. Apparently her father had not distrusted Michael Haymond's motives nor had he considered Mrs. Masterbrook's rude action as anything out of the way.
"Dad takes everything casually," Penny thought.
She could hear her father and Michael Haymond in the kitchen laughing and talking together. The icebox door slammed shut. Evidently they were indulging in a snack of food.
"Mrs. Masterbrook will be furious in the morning," Penny chuckled. "She seems to detest Michael Haymond anyway. For a moment I thought she appeared to recognize him, but I suppose she was merely trying to be dramatic. That's the trouble with Mrs. Masterbrook—she's usually acting a part."
Penny allowed her thoughts to ramble at will until she heard her father and Michael Haymond enter their rooms. The hall light was switched out. Once more the house quieted down.
Penny crept back into bed, but she could not sleep. She felt strangely excited.
Throughout the night there was no further disturbance. After a few hours the rain ceased and stars began to straggle through the clouds. The wind died down.
Penny tossed restlessly upon her pillow. Now and then she could hear Mrs. Masterbrook's bed creak in the next room as if the housekeeper also were spending a sleepless night.
At dawn Penny arose and, quietly dressing, let herself out of the cottage. The grounds were muddy, but everything seemed fresh and green. Birds chirped and the earth gave off a pleasant odor.
At breakfast time Penny returned to the house, feeling none the worse for her sleepless night. As she approached the porch she saw her father and the guest talking earnestly. They turned to greet her.
"Aren't you an early bird this morning, Penny?" inquired her father.
"Oh, I just went for a little walk before breakfast, Dad."
Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.
"You're lucky to get anything to eat this morning," she said stiffly. "There's something the matter with the stove. It doesn't draw properly and we're practically out of wood."
"Anything else wrong about the place?" Mr. Nichols asked with a sigh.
"There are enough odd jobs around here to keep a man busy for a week," replied the housekeeper. "The water pump isn't working well and someone ought to put on the screens."
"I'll be glad to do that for you," offered Michael Haymond. "And I'm good at cutting wood too. Is there an ax around here anywhere?"
"I think I saw one in the basement," Mr. Nichols told him. "But see here—you're our guest."
"I'll be glad to do a little to earn my breakfast. I like to work."
"I can see you do," Mr. Nichols smiled. He studied the young man for a moment. Then he asked abruptly, "How would you like a steady job for a few days?"
"Doing what?"
"All the odd jobs I'm supposed to do. Can you drive a car?"
"Yes."
"Then you could drive to town for our groceries, see that we have a daily wood supply, and repair all the things around here that are falling to pieces."
"Our landlord is expected to see that the place is in livable condition," Penny said quickly. She felt a little troubled because her father wished to engage the strange young man.
"If we wait for him to take care of things, we'll never be comfortable here," returned Mr. Nichols. He turned again to Michael Haymond. "Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Probably you aren't in need of a job."
"But I am," replied the young man quickly. "I'll be glad to work for my board and room."
"I think we can do better than that for you," smiled Mr. Nichols. "Your salary won't be large, but we'll keep you in spending money at least."
"What shall I do first? Chop the wood?"
"You might look at the stove and see if you can discover what is wrong with it."
"O.K.," laughed the young man. "I know a little about cook stoves. We had one at the——"
He stopped abruptly and then finished in confusion: "We had a cook stove at the place where I lived."
"And where was that, young man?" asked Mrs. Masterbrook tartly.
"It doesn't matter in the least," interposed Mr. Nichols smoothly. "Mr. Haymond's affairs are his own."
"There's no great mystery about my past," said the young man. "I came from the West. My parents are dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Mr. Nichols sympathetically.
Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.
"Now Penny—don't say it," declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.
"Don't say what, Dad?"
"That I'm making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way."
"Well, yes, I do," Penny admitted. "I like Michael a lot, but I don't exactly trust him. He hasn't told us much about himself——"
"That's his own business. I haven't any patience with folks who go prying into other persons' private affairs."
"I thought that was the work of a detective," Penny said teasingly.
"When a man commits a crime, then his actions become a matter of public concern," Mr. Nichols replied. "I had a long talk with Michael last night and if I'm any judge of character, he's a decent sort. I don't intend to pry into his personal affairs just for the pleasure of it."
"Well, if the tin spoons disappear don't blame me," Penny laughed, imitating the housekeeper's shrill voice.
"Young Michael will save me a great deal of petty annoyance," Mr. Nichols went on. "I mean for him to serve as a buffer between me and Mrs. Masterbrook."
"For some reason she's taken an intense dislike to him, Dad."
"I noticed that, Penny. Mrs. Masterbrook isn't happy unless she is reading the law to someone. With young Michael here, she'll vent her spite on him and leave us to enjoy our vacation."
"How marvelously your mind works, Dad!"
"I do think of a smart idea now and then."
"Wouldn't it be wiser to discharge Mrs. Masterbrook?"
"She bakes wonderful biscuits," the detective answered. "Besides, she amuses me. I'm curious to see how she gets on with young Michael."
"You're beyond my depth," Penny said with a shrug. "I don't understand your whims at all."
She was forced to admit that from the standpoint of work her father had made no mistake in hiring the young man. Michael put the cooking stove in good order again, chopped a day's supply of wood and repaired the pump. He worked quietly, yet effectively. Even the housekeeper could find no complaint to voice.
"Michael, I suppose you'll be wanting to see Herman Crocker sometime today," Mr. Nichols remarked to the young man.
"Why, yes, sir, I guess so," he replied uncertainly.
"You said that was why you came here," the detective reminded him.
"Yes, sir. I do want to see Mr. Crocker on a matter of business."
"Feel free to run down there whenever you like," Mr. Nichols told him. "You've done enough work around here for one day."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Nichols went for a long walk in the woods but Penny chose to remain at the cottage with a magazine. Michael worked about the yard, washing the automobile. He did not seem in any hurry to make his call upon Herman Crocker.
"I don't believe he's anxious to go there at all," Penny thought. "I wonder if he didn't make up the entire story?"
She was somewhat surprised to observe that for the most part Mrs. Masterbrook left the young man entirely alone. The housekeeper seemed more subdued than usual as if she were brooding over some matter.
The day passed quickly. Penny knew very well that Michael had not visited Herman Crocker for she had kept watch of him the entire time. She had a theory that he did not wish to go there at all, and to test it she called the young man.
"Michael," she said, "Mrs. Masterbrook tells me that we need fresh eggs. I'm driving down to Crocker's place after supper to get some. Don't you wish to ride along with me?"
The young man hesitated, his eyes dropping before Penny's steady gaze.
"Why, I thought I'd wait until tomorrow before I see Mr. Crocker. Thanks just the same."
When supper was over, Penny drove down to the Crocker place. No lights were visible in the window. Either the owner had gone away or was trying to save electricity.
Penny parked the car in the lane. She looked carefully about for the yellow hound. To her relief he was nowhere around the place. Quickly she walked across the yard and pounded on the door.
Penny waited a few minutes and then turned back to the car. She halted as she heard a rap on one of the windows. Glancing up, she saw Perry looking out at her.
"Oh, hello, Perry," Penny called. "Open the door."
"I can't," shouted the boy through the glass. "It's locked."
"Isn't your grandfather here?"
The lad shook his head. "He's been gone all day. I'm locked up in here."
"Can't you open a window?" Penny called.
Again Perry shook his head. "I haven't had anything except bread to eat all day," he told her. "I'm getting real hungry."
"Well, I should think so," said Penny grimly.
She observed that the lower floor windows were all high from the ground, beyond the reach of anyone in the yard.
"Aren't any of the upstairs windows unfastened?" she called to the boy.
"Yes, but I can't get out there."
"Does your grandfather have a ladder?"
"I think there's one somewhere in the barn."
"I'll find it," Penny said encouragingly. "Just you wait until I come back, Perry."
She hurried off to the barn, well aware that in taking matters into her own hands, she was certain to incur the wrath of Herman Crocker.
"I don't care if I do get into trouble," she thought indignantly. "He has no right to shut Perry up in the house without anything to eat. It's cruel."
Penny opened the barn doors and stepped inside. She stopped short to stare at an automobile which stood on the floor beside the granary. One glance assured her that it was not Herman Crocker's ancient car. This was an expensive model with a streamline design, shiny and new save that one fender was slightly battered.
"Why, it's Walter Crocker's automobile!" Penny thought in amazement. "How did it get here?"