“It might go a little easier with you, if you come through with the truth,” a deputy sheriff in charge of the office, added. “Anything you want to say before we lock you up?”
Webb hesitated a long while, and then in a subdued voice said: “Okay, I may as well tell you. Sure, I knew the professor and his wife were crooks. They offered me a split on the profits if Johnson bought the secret ray machine.”
“Where did you obtain your mines?” Salt asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” Webb answered, and for once spoke the truth. “Professor Bettenridge had a friend hooked up in a munitions plant who supplied him with a few which were defective.”
“Now tell us the truth about theSnark,” Penny insisted. “You said those men were mixed up in the dynamiting of the Conway Steel Plant. Was that one of the professor’s jobs?”
“No, he had nothing to do with it.”
“His car was in the vicinity of the plant on the night of the explosion.”
“It was just accident then,” Webb maintained. “He had nothing to do with it.”
“Then you do know the persons involved?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Webb said sullenly. “Why not go to theSnarkand get information first hand if you want it.”
It was evident the man would reveal no more, so the deputy sheriff locked him up. Within a few minutes Professor Bettenridge and his wife were brought in, and although they indignantly demanded release, they too were placed in jail cells.
Mr. Johnson who had accompanied Major Bryan to the sheriff’s office, seemed rather stunned by the events which had transpired. He shook Penny’s hand and could not praise her enough for exposing the professor’s trickery.
“What a fool I was,” he acknowledged. “His smooth talk hypnotized me. Why, I might have paid a large sum of money to him, if it hadn’t been for you. Now I shall prosecute charges vigorously.”
The wealthy man tried to press money upon both Penny and Salt, who smilingly refused to accept it. They assured him that knowing the professor’s trick had failed was ample reward.
By the time Penny, her father and Salt finally reached the Parker home it was nearly midnight. Somewhat to their surprise, Mrs. Weems was still waiting up.
“I’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed, before they could explain what had happened. “Nearly an hour ago someone telephoned, asking for Penny. I think the message may be important.”
“Who was it?” Penny asked.
“A man named Edward McClusky.”
“The river diver!” Penny exclaimed. “What did he want, Mrs. Weems?”
“At first he wouldn’t tell me, saying he had to talk to you personally. However, I finally persuaded him to trust me with the message. He said: ‘Tell Miss Parker that her friend Ben Bartell went aboard theSnarklast night and hasn’t been seen since.’”
“Oh, why didn’t Mr. McClusky call the police instead?” Penny cried anxiously. “Ben may be in serious trouble!” Turning to her father she added: “Dad, we must go there right away!”
“To theSnark?” Mr. Parker frowned and reached for the telephone. “The matter is one for the police, Penny. I’ll call the night inspector.”
Contacting the police station, the publisher explained why he believed it advisable to search theSnark. He was assured that a squad would be sent there at once to investigate.
“We’ve had other complaints about that vessel,” the inspector said. “So far we’ve not been able to find anything out of the way.”
Having notified the police, Mr. Parker felt that his duty was done, but not Penny.
“Dad, can’t we go there too?” she pleaded. “Ben is in trouble and we may be able to help him.”
“I don’t see what we could do, Penny. Besides, you know how I feel about Ben.”
“And you’re dead wrong. You’ve done him a dreadful injustice. Tonight may prove it.”
Mr. Parker wavered, then suddenly gave in. “All right, get your heavy coat,” he instructed. “It will be cold along the waterfront.”
Penny raced for the warm garment and joined her father and Salt as they were backing the press car out of the driveway.
“TheSnarkis tied up at Pier 23,” Penny directed. “Straight down this street and turn at Jackson.”
The car reached the docks, parking alongside a dark warehouse. There was no sign of the police. A short distance away, theSnarkwith only dim deck lights showing, and no one in view, tugged at her heavy ropes.
“We’ll wait for the police,” Mr. Parker decided.
Within five minutes, two cars glided noiselessly up to the pier and a dozen men in uniform leaped out. Captain Bricker, in charge of the squad, strode to theSnarkand called loudly: “Ahoy, there!”
No one answered.
“Ahoy, theSnark!” he shouted again.
Still receiving no answer, he ordered his men aboard. Single file, they crawled cautiously up a ladder to the dark deck.
“Anyone aboard?” the captain called once more.
Salt, Mr. Parker and Penny, eager for first hand information, followed the policemen up the ladder.
“My men will search the vessel,” Captain Bricker told them, “but no one appears to be aboard. Everything seems in order.”
Spreading out over the ship, the policemen returned one by one to report they could find nothing amiss. Not even a watchman was aboard.
“This seems to be a wild-goose chase, Captain,” Mr. Parker apologized. “Sorry to have bothered you. We considered our information reliable.”
The policemen began to leave. Penny, lingering on deck until the last, was being helped onto the ladder by Captain Bricker, when they both heard a sound below decks.
“What was that?” the officer muttered, listening alertly.
“It sounded like someone thumping on a wall,” Penny cried. “There it is again!”
The noise was not repeated a third time, but Captain Bricker had heard enough to make him believe that someone remained below. Drawing his revolver, and warning Penny to keep back, he started down the dark companionway.
At a safe distance, Penny trailed him. His bright flashlight beam cut paths of light over the walls as he tried the doors.
“Anyone here?” he shouted.
A thumping noise came from a room on the right. Guided by the sound, Captain Bricker tried the door. It was locked.
A powerfully built man, the officer hurled his weight against the door, and the lock gave way. Keeping back, lest he become a target for a bullet, he kicked the door open. The room was empty! But, the flashlight beam caught the outline of a trapdoor in the floor. The officer flung it open. Below, in the hold, lay a man gagged and bound hand and foot.
Following the police officer into the room,Penny uttered a little cryas she recognized Ben Bartell. Blinking owlishly in the light which had been focused upon him, he was a deplorable sight. His face was bruised, his hair matted with blood, and one eye was swollen almost shut.
“Oh, Ben! What have they done to you?” Penny gasped in horror.
Captain Bricker cut the young man free, and pulled the gag from his mouth. He helped Ben into a chair and then went to another cabin for water.
“Who did this to you?” Penny asked, rubbing the reporter’s hands to restore circulation.
He seemed too exhausted to reply so she did not urge him to speak. The captain brought water which Ben drank thirstily.
“He’s evidently been tied up several hours,” the officer commented.
“Since last night,” Ben whispered, moistening his cracked lips.
“How did you get aboard?”
“I sneaked on when no one was looking—wanted to see what I could learn.”
“Who were the men that tied you up?”
“Don’t know. But before they caught me, I heard plenty. The men on this boat are mixed up in the dynamiting of the Conway Steel Plant.”
Penny nodded, for this information correlated with what she already had learned.
“Was Webb Nelson involved in the plot?” she asked eagerly.
“He set off the dynamite according to what I overheard last night,” Ben revealed. “But he got into a fight with the gang over his pay for the job. He tried to shake them down for a big sum, threatening to spill everything to the police if they didn’t cough up. It ended up in a fight, and Webb was pushed overboard.”
“Then we pulled him out of the river,” Penny supplied. “But he refused to tell us a thing.”
“He knew better than to spill the story because he would have implicated himself. And the gang aboard this boat had no fear either, because they figured he was only pulling a bluff.”
“But who was behind the plot?” Penny asked, puzzled. “What did the men hope to gain by dynamiting the plant?”
“They did it on orders from a man higher up—a man who personally hates the owner of the Conway Steel Plant.”
“Then it was a grudge matter?” Captain Bricker inquired dubiously.
“Not entirely,” Ben returned. “Labor troubles are mixed up in it. This man, who represents a minor faction, has been trying to gain control over the employes without much success. By planning a series of accidents similar to the dynamiting, he thought he might bring the management around to his way of thinking.”
“Who is the leader?” Penny demanded impatiently.
Ben hesitated. “I hate to say,” he confessed, “because I’m not absolutely certain. In the conversation I overheard before I was caught, he wasn’t mentioned by name. But by putting two and two together, I have a fairly good idea.”
“Guessing won’t do in this business,” said Captain Bricker.
“I know that,” admitted Ben. “But here is one bit of fact I gained. The big boss was at the factory on the night of the explosion. In fact, he was nearly caught, and a photographer snapped a picture of him as he fled.”
“You’re sure of that?” Penny demanded excitedly.
“Yes, I heard the men talking about it. The boss has been worried for fear that picture will show up and convict him.”
“Now I’m beginning to understand,” Penny murmured. “It explains why theStarphotography room was broken into several times. Someone was after those plates which weren’t there!”
“What became of the pictures?” Captain Bricker asked. “They’ll prove valuable evidence.”
“Why, Salt Sommers has the camera and plates in the press car. Of course, we don’t know what the plates will show until they’re developed.”
“We must have them at once,” the captain said. He turned again to Ben. “Now did you know any of the men who attacked you?”
“Not a one. But I can give you a fairly good description of most of them. They’re waterfront riff-raff.”
“In that case some of them may have their pictures in our files,” the captain said. “I’ll issue orders to round up all loiterers in this neighborhood. You should be able to identify most of them in a police line-up.”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Now about the higher-up, who engineered the scheme. You said you had an idea who he is.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ben. “The men spoke of him as a publisher. I don’t like to accuse him outright, because I’ll be suspected of trying to get even with a man I hate.”
Light came swiftly to Penny. Into her mind leaped many facts hitherto puzzling, but which now seemed suddenly clear. The open skylight—the building adjoining theStar—Webb Nelson’s call upon the editor of theMirror.
“Ben, you don’t need to accuse anyone!” she cried. “I’ll do it myself. The man is Jason Cordell, and I think we can prove it too!”
“Yes, Jason Cordell is the man responsible,” Ben agreed soberly. “I can’t prove it, but in my own mind I’m sure.”
“You used to work for him, didn’t you?” the police captain inquired, the inflection of his voice implying that he thought the former reporter might be prejudiced.
“I was fired,” Ben admitted readily. “Cordell let me go and blacklisted me everywhere to prevent me from exposing him. He wanted to discredit me, so that anything I might say would carry no weight.”
“Why were you really discharged, Ben?” Penny asked. “What did you learn about Mr. Cordell?”
“That he had pulled off no end of crooked deals and that he was mixed up with this outlaw labor group. Over a period of three or four years, Cordell has made a mint of money, and not from his paper either!”
“We’ll question Cordell tonight,” Captain Bricker promised. “The trick now is to get you to the station for first aid treatment. Then we’ll want you to look through the police morgue and identify the pictures of as many of theSnark’screw as you can.”
The officer turned to Penny. “As for those undeveloped plates, can you get them right away?”
“I think so,” Penny returned. While Captain Bricker helped Ben up the companionway, she ran ahead to find her father and Salt and tell them of the latest developments.
The two were waiting in the press car. But when Mr. Parker learned how significant the pictures of the Conway Plant explosion might prove to be, he surprised Penny by declining to turn them over immediately to the police.
“We may want those plates for theStar,” he declared. “If the police once get their hands on them, it might be a job to get them back again in time to be of any use to us.”
“But Jason Cordell’s arrest may depend upon them,” Penny protested.
“We’ll have the plates developed, and let police see them,” Mr. Parker decided. “But the plates must remain in our hands. Come on, let’s go!”
At a nod from the publisher, Salt started the press car, and without being instructed, headed for theStarbuilding.
“How long will it take you to develop those plates?” Mr. Parker asked the photographer.
“Ten minutes.”
“Good!” approved the publisher. “If they reveal anything, we’ll telephone the police station at once.”
As the car coasted to a standstill alongside theStarbuilding, Penny’s gaze roved to the darkened offices next door. All of the floors save one were without light. But in the suite occupied by theMirror, a man plainly could be seen moving to and fro.
“There is Jason Cordell now!” she drew attention to him. “Why do you suppose he’s at his office so late tonight?”
“There’s no crime in that,” replied Mr. Parker. “He may be guilty as Ben says, but I’ll not believe it until I have the proof.”
Letting themselves into the newspaper building, the three went up the back stairs to the photography studio. Salt immediately set about developing the plates.
“Something is coming up all right!” he declared jubilantly, as he rocked the developer tray back and forth.
In a few minutes, Salt had washed the plates and was able to examine them beneath the red light. One was blurred and revealed little. But the other plainly showed a man fleeing toward a waiting car.
“Why, the man is Webb Nelson!” Penny exclaimed, recognizing him.
“But notice the driver of the car,” Salt said. “It’s Jason Cordell! Ben was right.”
“Then the man is guilty!” Penny cried. “Oh, Dad, I was certain of it!”
Mr. Parker scanned the plate carefully to ascertain there was no possible mistake.
“Yes, it’s Jason Cordell,” he agreed. “The truth is hard to believe. Why, I lunched with him only yesterday—”
“Dad, he’s a criminal no matter how respectable he has acted.”
“You’re right,” acknowledged Mr. Parker. “I’ll notify the police at once and have him picked up for questioning.”
Transmitting the important information to police headquarters, Mr. Parker talked with Captain Bricker who promised to take personal charge of the matter. As the publisher hung up the receiver, he was startled to have Penny grasp his arm. Excitedly, she pointed out the window.
“Now what?” he asked, failing to understand.
“The light just went off in Mr. Cordell’s office! He’s leaving!”
“Then we’ll stop him,” her father decided. “Salt, you stay here and rush that plate through! I’ll detain Cordell by one means or another until the police arrive!”
With Penny close beside him, he ran down the back stairs to the street. Breathlessly they arrived at the next building. The elevator was not running, but they could hear someone coming down the stairway. Then Jason Cordell, a brief case tucked under his arm, came into view. He stopped short upon seeing Mr. Parker and his daughter.
“Working late?” Mr. Parker inquired pleasantly.
“That’s right,” agreed the other. He would have walked on, but the publisher barred the exit.
“By the way, I met a friend of yours tonight,” Mr. Parker said, stalling for time.
“That so? Who was he?”
“Webb Nelson.”
Mr. Cordell’s face did not change expression, but his eyes narrowed guardedly.
“Not a friend of mine,” he corrected carelessly.
“But I’ve seen him in your office,” Penny said.
Mr. Cordell looked her straight in the eyes and smiled as if in amusement. “That may be,” he admitted, “but all who come to my office are not my friends.”
He tried to pass again, but Mr. Parker stood his ground. “Say, what is this?” Mr. Cordell demanded, suddenly suspicious.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you a few questions about your friend Webb Nelson. Suppose we go back to your office.”
“Suppose we don’t,” Cordell retorted. “I’m tired and I’m going home. If you want to see me, come around tomorrow during business hours.”
“Which may be too late.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” theMirroreditor blustered. “Furthermore, I’m not interested. Get out of my way.”
Instead, Mr. Parker grasped him firmly by the arm. Cordell tried to jerk free, and in so doing, dropped his brief case, which Penny promptly seized.
“Give that to me!” the man shouted furiously.
Penny smiled, for through the plate glass window she had observed the approach of a police car. Another moment and uniformed men were swarming about Mr. Cordell.
“What is the meaning of this?” the man demanded angrily. “I’ll report you all to the Safety Director who is my friend!”
“You’ll report to him all right,” agreed Captain Bricker. “Now come along quietly. If you can answer a few questions satisfactorily, you’ll be allowed to return home.”
“What do you want to know?” Cordell asked sullenly.
“Where were you on the night of the 16th?”
“Now how should I know?” the man retorted sarcastically. “I can’t remember that far back. But probably I was home in bed.”
“You’re wanted in connection with the Conway dynamiting,” the officer informed him.
Mr. Cordell snorted with anger. “Of all the ridiculous charges! I know nothing about the affair.”
Out of the door burst Salt Sommers. He was without a hat, but he carried a picture, still wet, in the palm of his hand.
“So you know nothing about the dynamiting,” he mimicked. “Well, gentlemen, take a look at this!”
Mr. Cordell and the policemen gathered about him, studying the photograph. Plainly it showed Webb Nelson fleeing toward a car driven by theMirroreditor.
“What does this prove?” the man blustered. “I admit the car is mine. I was driving past the plant at the time of the explosion. This fellow, Nelson, leaped into my auto and ordered me to drive on.”
“A moment ago you claimed you weren’t even near the Conway Plant,” Penny tripped him. “You knew Webb Nelson very well. Furthermore, you entered theStaroffices several times trying to get your hands on this picture!”
“Ridiculous!”
“At least once when you found the stairway door locked, you went in through the skylight,” Penny accused.
“Of all the crazy ideas!” The editor laughed jeeringly. “Imagine me crawling through a skylight!”
“I notice your coat has a torn place,” Penny said, taking a scrap of blue wool from her purse. “This, I believe, is a perfect match.”
Mr. Cordell gazed at the wool and shrugged. “All right,” he admitted coolly. “I did crawl through the skylight twice to see if I could find the picture. I knew this fool photographer had snapped a picture of me, and I feared I might be falsely accused.”
“Then you knew Nelson was mixed up in the dynamiting?” Captain Bricker questioned.
“I wasn’t certain,” Mr. Cordell said in confusion. “The reason I didn’t report to the police was that I was afraid of being involved. After that night, Webb Nelson tried to blackmail me. Because of my position, I dared have no publicity.”
TheMirroreditor’s explanation carried a certain amount of conviction, and Penny was dismayed to hear Captain Bricker assure him that if a mistake had been made he would be granted freedom immediately after he had talked to the police chief.
“I shall accompany you without protest,” theMirroreditor returned stiffly. “Later I shall file charges against those who have tried to damage my character.”
Captain Bricker asked Salt for the picture which he intended to take to police headquarters.
“May I see it a moment?” Penny requested.
He gave the picture to her. She studied it and her face brightened. “Captain Bricker, look at this!” she exclaimed, pointing to an object in the car which barely was noticeable.
Everyone gathered about Penny, peering at the photograph. On the rear seat of the car driven by Mr. Cordell was a box which plainly bore the printing: “Salvage Company—Explosives.”
“Ed McClusky who works for the Salvage Company, told me that dynamite had been stolen from his firm,” Penny declared. “And here it is in Mr. Cordell’s automobile! Apparently, he wasn’t just driving by the plant at the time of the explosion! This picture proves why he was there!”
“Right you are, young lady,” chuckled Captain Bricker. “You’ve pinned the goods on him for fair.” Prodding theMirroreditor with his stick, he ordered curtly: “Get along, you! This puts a different face on it. You’ll be spending the rest of the night in the Safety building.”
After Mr. Cordell, still protesting his innocence, had been taken away, Penny, her father, and Salt returned to the deserted newspaper building.
“Will Cordell manage to get free?” she asked anxiously.
“Not a chance of it,” Mr. Parker answered. “That picture tags him right. With Ed McClusky and Ben to testify against him, he’s the same as convicted now.”
“Speaking of Ben, what’s to be done about him, Dad?”
“We’ll give him a job here. He’s had unfair treatment, but we’ll make it up to him. However, we’ll have to let one employee go.”
“Not me?” Penny asked anxiously.
“No,” her father laughed. “It’s your friend, Elda Hunt. Her attitude isn’t right. We’ve tried to give her a chance, but over and over she has demonstrated that she isn’t cut out to be a newspaper woman.”
“She’ll probably blame me for her discharge,” Penny sighed. “Not that it matters. I ceased worrying about Elda a long while ago.”
“She’ll have no difficulty getting work elsewhere, and I hope she’ll be better adjusted.”
“How about the story of Mr. Cordell’s arrest? And the picture?” Penny inquired. “Will theStarprint them tomorrow?”
“On the front page of our first edition,” Mr. Parker chuckled. “Salt didn’t turn over the plate to the police, so we’re all set. By morning, the story should be bigger and better than ever. By then, the guilt will be well pinned on Cordell, and some of theSnarkgang may have been rounded up.”
Curious to learn the very latest details, Salt called the police station. He was told that Ben Bartell had identified several of theSnark’screw from police pictures, and it was expected all would be arrested within twenty-four hours.
“Not a bad night’s work,” Mr. Parker chuckled, as he snapped off the photography room lights. “Everything locked?”
“How about the skylight?” asked Penny.
“Open again,” reported Salt as he checked it. “It’s just no use trying to get folks to cooperate around here. Too many fresh air fiends.”
“Let it stay unlocked,” Mr. Parker directed carelessly. “With our prowler safely behind bars, we’ve no further cause for worry.” He looked at his watch. “Now, even though it is late, suppose we go and celebrate?”
“Oh, fine!” cried Penny. “And why not stop at the Safety building and ask Ben Bartell to go with us? I want to tell him about his new job.”
“So do I,” agreed her father heartily. “Where shall we go?”
Penny linked arms with Salt and her father, skipping as she piloted them down the dark hall.
“Just a quiet place where they serve big juicy steaks,” she decided. “If I know Ben, that’s what he would like best of all.”