“It was my fault,” Penny broke in. “I tossed the camera and plates into a passing car. I was trying to save them, but it didn’t work out that way.”
DeWitt’s eyebrows jerked upward and he listened without comment as Penny told the story. Then he said grimly: “That’s fine! That’s just dandy!” and stalked out of the composing room.
Penny gazed despairingly at Salt.
“If you hadn’t told him it was your fault, he’d have taken it okay,” Salt sighed. “Oh, well, it was the only thing to do. Anyway, there’s one consolation. He can’t fire you.”
“I wish he would. Salt, I feel worse than a worm.”
“Oh, buck up, Penny! Things like this happen. One has to learn to take the breaks.”
“Nothing like this ever happened before—I’m sure of that,” Penny said dismally. “What ought I to do, Salt?”
“Not a thing,” he assured her. “Just show up for work tomorrow the same as ever and don’t think any more about it. I’ll get the camera back, and by tomorrow DeWitt will have forgotten everything.”
“You’re very optimistic,” Penny returned. “Very optimistic indeed.”
Not wishing to return through the newsroom, she slipped down the back stairs and took a bus home. The Parker house stood on a knoll high above the winding river and was situated in a lovely district of Riverview. Only a few blocks away lived Louise Sidell, who was Penny’s closest friend.
Reluctant to face her father, Penny lingered for a while in the dark garden, snipping a few roses. But presently a kitchen window flew up, and Mrs. Maude Weems, the family housekeeper called impatiently:
“Penny Parker, is that you prowling around out there? We had our dinner three hours ago. Will you please come in and explain what kept you so long?”
Penny drew a deep sigh and went in out of the night. Mrs. Weems stared at her in dismay as she entered the kitchen.
“Why, what have you done to yourself!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing.”
“You look dreadful! Your hair isn’t combed—your face is dirty—and your clothes! Why, they smell of smoke!”
“Didn’t Dad tell you I started to work for theStartoday?” Penny inquired innocently.
“The very idea of you coming home three hours late, and looking as if you had gone through the rollers of my washing machine! I’ll tell your father a thing or two!”
Mrs. Weems had cared for Penny since the death of Mrs. Parker many years before. Although employed as a housekeeper, salary was no consideration, and she loved the girl as her own child. Penny and Mr. Parker regarded Mrs. Weems almost as a member of the family.
“Where is Dad?” Penny asked uneasily.
“In the study.”
“Let’s not disturb him now, Mrs. Weems. I’ll just have a bite to eat and slip off to bed.”
“So you don’t want to see your father?” the housekeeper demanded alertly. “Why, may I ask? Is there more to this little escapade than meets the eye?”
“Maybe,” Penny admitted. Then she added earnestly: “Believe me, Mrs. Weems, I’ve had a wretched day. Tomorrow I’ll tell you everything. Tonight I just want to get a hot bath and go to bed.”
Mrs. Weems instantly became solicitous. “You poor thing,” she murmured sympathetically. “I’ll get you some hot food right away.”
Without asking another question, the housekeeper scurried about the kitchen, preparing supper. When it was set before her, Penny discovered she was not as hungry as she had thought. But because Mrs. Weems was watching her anxiously, she ate as much as she could.
After she had finished, she started upstairs. In passing her father’s study, she saw his eyes upon her. Before she could move on up the steps, he came to the doorway, noting her disheveled appearance.
“A hard day at the office?” he inquired evenly.
Penny could not know how much her father already had learned, but from the twinkle of his eyes she suspected that DeWitt had telephoned him the details of her disgrace.
“Oh, just a little overtime work,” she flung carelessly over her shoulder. “See you in the morning.”
Penny took a hot bath and climbed into bed. Then she climbed out again and carefully set the clock alarm for eight o’clock. Snuggling down once more, she went almost instantly to sleep.
It seemed that she scarcely had closed her eyes when the alarm jangled in her ear. Drowsily, Penny reached and turned it off. She rolled over to go to sleep again, then suddenly realized she was a working woman and leaped from bed.
She dressed hurriedly and joined her father at the breakfast table. He had two papers spread before him, theStar, and its rival, theDaily Times. Penny knew from her father’s expression that he had been comparing the explosion stories of the two papers, and was not pleased.
“Any news this morning?” she inquired a bit too innocently.
Her father shot back a quick, quizzical look, but gave no further indication that he suspected she might have had any connection with the Conway Steel Plant story.
“Oh, they did a little dynamiting last night,” he replied, shoving the papers toward her. “TheTimeshad very good pictures.”
Penny scanned the front pages. The story in theStarwas well written, with her own facts used, and a great many more supplied by other reporters. But in comparison to theTimes, the story seemed colorless. Pictures, she realized, made the difference. TheTimeshad published two of them which half covered the page.
“Can’t see how DeWitt slipped up,” Mr. Parker said, shaking his head sadly. “He should have sent one of our photographers out there.”
“Dad—”
Mr. Parker, who had finished his breakfast, hastily shoved back his chair. “Well, I must be getting to the office,” he said. “Don’t be late, Penny.”
“Dad, about that story last night—”
“No time now,” he interposed. “On a newspaper, yesterday’s stories are best forgotten.”
Penny understood then that her father already knew all the details of her downfall. Relieved that there was no need to explain, she grinned and hurriedly ate her breakfast.
Because her father had taken the car and gone on, she was compelled to battle the crowd on the bus. The trip took longer than she had expected. Determined not to be late for work, she ran most of the way from the bus stop to the office. By the time she had climbed the stairs to the newsroom, she was almost breathless.
As she came hurriedly through the swinging door, Elda Hunt, cool and serene, looked up from her typewriter.
“Why the rush?” she drawled, but in a voice which carried clearly to everyone in the room. “Are you going to another fire?”
Ignoring the thrust, Penny hung up her hat and coat and went to work. Neither Editor DeWitt nor his assistant, Mr. Jewell, made any reference to the explosion story of the previous day.
Another reporter had written the “follow-up” on it which Penny read with interest. Cause of the explosion, responsible for more than $40,000 damages, had not yet been determined. However, Fire Chief Schirr had stated that there was evidence the explosion had not been accidental. Several witnesses had reported seeing a man in light overcoat flee from the building only a few minutes before the disaster.
“He must have been the fellow who leaped into that waiting car and escaped!” Penny thought. “And to think, Salt’s picture might actually be evidence in the case, if I hadn’t thrown it away!”
She was staring glumly at the story when DeWitt motioned for her to take a telephone call. It was another obituary.
“After muffing a good story, I’ll probably be assigned to these things for the rest of my time on the paper,” Penny thought as she mechanically scribbled notes.
All morning the obituaries kept coming in, and then there were the hospitals to call for accident reports, and the weather bureau. After lunch, a reporter was needed to interview a famous actress who had arrived in Riverview for a personal appearance. It was just the story Penny wanted to try. She knew she could do it well, for in months past, she frequently had contributed special feature stories to the paper.
Mr. DeWitt’s gaze focused upon her for an instant, but he passed her by.
“Elda,” he said, and she went quickly to his desk to receive instructions.
Elda was gone a long while on the assignment. When she returned in the afternoon, she spent nearly two hours typing the interview. Several times Editor DeWitt glanced impatiently at her, and finally he said: “Let’s have a start on that story, Elda. You’ve been fussing with it long enough.”
She gave it to him. As Mr. DeWitt read, he used his pencil to mark out large blocks of what had been written. But as he gave the story to a copy reader who would write the headline, he said: “Give her a byline.”
Elda heard and grinned from ear to ear. A byline meant that a caption directly under the headline would proclaim: “By Elda Hunt.”
Penny, who also heard, could not know that Mr. DeWitt had granted the byline only because it was customary with a personal interview story. She felt even more depressed than before.
“See if you can find a picture of this actress in the photography room,” DeWitt instructed Elda. “Salt Sommers took one this morning, but it hasn’t come up yet.”
With a swishing of skirts, for she now was in a fine mood, Elda disappeared down the corridor. Fifteen minutes elapsed. Penny, busy writing hand-outs and obituaries, had forgotten about her entirely, until Mr. DeWitt summoned her to his desk.
“See if you can find out what became of Elda,” he said in exasperation. “Tell her we’d like to have that picture for today’s paper.”
Penny went quickly toward the photography room. The door was closed. As she opened it, she was startled half out of her wits by hearing a shrill scream. The cry unmistakably came from an inner room of the photography studio and was Elda’s voice. At the same instant, a gust of cool air struck Penny’s face.
“Elda!” she called in alarm.
“Here,” came the girl’s muffled voice from the inner room.
Fearing the worst, Penny darted through the doorway. Elda had collapsed in a chair, her face white with terror. Wordlessly, she pointed toward the ceiling.
Penny gazed up but could see nothing amiss. Warm sunshine was pouring through the closed skylight which covered half the ceiling area.
“What ails you, Elda?” she asked. “Why did you scream?”
“The skylight!”
“What about the skylight?” Penny demanded with increasing impatience. “I can’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Only a moment ago I saw a shadow there,” Elda whispered in awe.
“A shadow!” Penny was tempted to laugh. “What sort of shadow?”
“I—I can’t describe it. But it must have been a human shadow. I think a man was crouching there.”
“Nonsense, you must have imagined it.”
“But I didn’t,” Elda insisted indignantly. “I saw it just before you opened the door.”
“Did the skylight open?”
“Not that I saw.”
Recalling the cool gust of wind that had struck her face, Penny took thought. Was it possible that Elda actually had seen someone crouching on the skylight? However, the idea seemed fantastic. She could think of no reason why any person would hide on the roof above the photography room.
“Oh, snap out of it, Elda,” she said carelessly. “Even if you did see a shadow, what of it?”
“It was a man, I tell you!”
“A workman perhaps. Mr. DeWitt sent me to tell you he was in a hurry for that picture.”
“Oh, tell Mr. DeWitt to jump in an ink well!” Elda retorted angrily. “He’s always in a hurry.”
“You haven’t been watching a shadow all this time, I judge,” Penny commented.
“Of course not. I went downstairs to get a candy bar.”
With a sigh, Elda pulled herself from the chair. She really did look as if she had undergone a bad fright, Penny observed. Feeling a trifle sorry for the girl, she helped her find the photograph, and they started with it to the newsroom.
“I’d not say anything about the shadow if I were you, Elda,” Penny remarked.
“Why not, pray?”
“Well, it sounds rather silly.”
“Oh, so I’m silly, am I?”
“I didn’t say that, Elda. I said the idea of a shadow on the skylight struck me that way. Of course, if you want to be teased about it, why tell everyone.”
“At least I didn’t make a mess of an important story,” Elda retorted, tossing her head.
“Elda, why do you dislike me?” Penny demanded suddenly.
The question was so unexpected that it threw the girl off guard. “Did I say I did?” she countered.
“It’s obvious that you do.”
“I’ll tell you what I dislike,” Elda said sharply. “The rest of us here have to work for our promotions. You’ll get yours without even turning a hair—just because you’re Mr. Parker’s one and only daughter.”
“But that’s not true, Elda. I’m expected to earn my way the same as you. I’m working at a beginner’s salary.”
“You can’t expect me to believe that!”
“Was it because you thought I was making more money than you, that you changed the name on the Borman obituary?”
Elda stopped short. She tried to register indignation, but instead, only looked frightened. Penny was certain of her guilt.
“I haven’t told Mr. DeWitt, and I don’t intend to,” she said quietly. “But I’m warning you! If anything like that happens again, you’ll answer for it!”
“Well, of all the nerve!” Elda exploded, but her voice lacked fire. “Of all the nerve!”
Penny deliberately walked away from her.
The day dragged on. At five-thirty Penny covered her typewriter and telephoned Mrs. Weems.
“I’ll be late coming home tonight,” she said apologetically. “I thought I might get dinner downtown and perhaps go to a show.”
“Another hard day?” the housekeeper asked sympathetically.
“Much easier than yesterday,” Penny said, making her voice sound cheerful. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home no later than nine.”
Though she would not have confessed it even to herself, Penny was reluctant to meet her father at dinner time. He might not ask questions, but his all-knowing, all-seeing eyes would read her secrets. At a glance he could tell that newspaper work was not going well for her, and that she disliked it.
“I certainly won’t give him an opportunity to even think, ‘I told you so,’” she reflected. “Even if it kills me, I’ll stick here, and I’ll pretend to like it too!”
Because it was too early to dine, Penny walked aimlessly toward the river. She paused at a dock to watch two boys fishing, and then sauntered on toward the passenger wharves.
A young man in an unpressed suit, and shoes badly in need of a shine, leaned against one of the freight buildings. Seeing Penny, he pulled his hat low over his eyes, and became engrossed in lighting a cigarette.
She would have passed him by without a second glance, save that he deliberately turned his back to shield his face. The hunch of his shoulders struck her as strangely familiar.
Involuntarily, she exclaimed: “Ben! Ben Bartell!”
He turned then and she saw that she had not been mistaken. The young man indeed was a former reporter for theRiverview Mirror, a news magazine published weekly. Ben had not shaved that day, and he looked years older than when she last had seen him.
“Hello, Penny,” he said uncomfortably.
“Ben, what has happened to you?” she asked. “Why were you trying to avoid me?”
Ben did not reply for a moment. Then he said quietly: “Why should I want to see any of my old friends now? Just look at me and you have your answer.”
“Why, Ben! You were one of the best reporters theMirrorever had!”
“Wereis right,” returned Ben with a grim smile. “Haven’t worked there for six months now. The truth is, I’m down and out.”
“Why, that’s ridiculous, Ben! Nearly every paper in town needs a good man.”
“They don’t need me.”
“Ben, you sound so bitter! What has happened to you?”
“It’s a long story, sister, and not for your dainty little ears.”
Penny now was deeply troubled, for she had known Ben well and liked him.
“Ben, you must tell me,” she urged, taking his arm. “We’re going into a restaurant, and while we have dinner together, you must explain why you left theMirror.”
Ben held back.
“Thanks,” he said uncomfortably, “but I think I ought to be moving on.”
“Have you had your dinner?” Penny asked.
“Not yet.”
“Then do come with me, Ben. Or don’t you want to tell me what happened at theMirror?”
“It’s not that, Penny. The truth is—well—”
“You haven’t the price of a dinner?” Penny supplied. “Is that it, Ben?”
“I’m practically broke,” he acknowledged ruefully. “Sounds screwy in a day and age like this, but I’m not strong enough for factory work. Was rejected from the Army on account of my health. Tomorrow I guess I’ll take a desk job somewhere, but I’ve held off, not wanting to get stuck on it.”
“You’re a newspaper man, Ben. Reporting is all you’ve ever done, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’m finished now. Can’t get a job anywhere.” The young man started to move away, but Penny caught his arm again.
“Ben, youarehaving dinner with me,” she insisted. “I have plenty of money, and this is my treat. I really want to talk to you.”
“I can’t let you pay for my dinner,” Ben protested, though with less vigor.
“Silly! You can take me somewhere as soon as you get your job.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” Ben agreed, falling willingly into step. “There’s a place here on the waterfront that serves good meals, but it’s not stylish.”
“All the better. Lead on, Ben.”
He took her to a small, crowded little restaurant only a block away. In the front window, a revolving spit upon which were impaled several roasting chickens, captured all eyes. Ben’s glands began to work as he watched the birds browning over the charcoal.
“Ben, how long has it been since you’ve had a real meal?” Penny asked, picking up the menu.
“Oh, a week. I’ve mostly kept going on pancakes. But it’s my own funeral. I could have had jobs of a sort if I had been willing to take them.”
Penny gave her order to the waitress, taking double what she really wanted so that her companion would not feel backward about placing a similar order. Then she said:
“Ben, you remarked awhile ago that you can’t get a newspaper job anywhere.”
“That’s true. I’m blacklisted.”
“Did you try my father’s paper, theStar?”
“I did. I couldn’t even get past his secretary.”
“That’s not like Dad,” Penny said with troubled eyes. “Did you really do something dreadful?”
“It was Jason Cordell who put the bee on me.”
“Jason Cordell?” Penny repeated thoughtfully. “He’s the editor of theMirror, and has an office in the building adjoining theStar.”
“Right. Well, he fired me.”
“Lots of reporters are discharged, Ben, but they aren’t necessarily blacklisted.”
Ben squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.
“You needn’t tell me if you don’t wish,” Penny said kindly. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs. I only thought that I might be able to help you.”
“I want to tell you, Penny. I really do. But I don’t dare reveal some of the facts, because I haven’t sufficient proof. I’ll tell you this much. I stumbled into a story—a big one—and it discredited Jason Cordell.”
“You didn’t publish it?”
“Naturally not.” Ben laughed shortly. “I doubt if any newspaper would touch it with a ten-foot pole. Cordell is supposed to be one of our substantial, respectable citizens.”
“Actually?”
“He’s as dishonorable as they come.”
Knowing that Ben was bitter because of his discharge, Penny discredited some of the remarks, but she waited expectantly for him to continue. A waitress brought the dinner, and for awhile, as the reporter ate ravenously, he had little to say.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he finally apologized. “I haven’t tasted such fine food in a year! Now what is it you want to know, Penny? I’m in a mood to tell almost anything.”
“What was this scandal you uncovered about Mr. Cordell?”
“That’s the one thing I can’t reveal, but it concerned the owner of the Conway Steel Plant. They’re bitter enemies you know.”
Penny had not known, and the information interested her greatly.
“Did you talk it over with Mr. Cordell?” she asked.
“That was the mistake I made.” Ben slowly stirred his coffee. “Cordell didn’t have much to say, but the next thing I knew, I was out of a job and on the street.”
“Are you sure that was why he discharged you?”
“What else?”
Penny hesitated, not wishing to hurt Ben’s feelings. There were several things she had heard about him—that he was undependable and that he drank heavily.
“Most of the things you’ve been told about me aren’t true,” Ben said quietly, reading her thoughts. “Jason Cordell started a lot of stories intended to discredit me. He told editors that I had walked off a job and left an important story uncovered. He pictured me as a drunkard and a trouble maker.”
“I’ll talk to my father,” Penny promised. “As short as theStaris of employes, I’m sure there must be a place for you.”
“You’re swell,” Ben said feelingly. “But I’m not asking for charity. I’ll get along.”
Refusing to talk longer about himself, he told Penny of amusing happenings along the waterfront. After dessert had been finished, she slipped a bill into his hand, and they left the restaurant.
Outside, the streets were dark, for in this section of the city, lights were few and far between. Ben offered to escort Penny back to theStaroffice or wherever she wished to go.
“This isn’t too safe a part of the city for a girl,” he declared. “Especially after night.”
“All the same, to me the waterfront is the most fascinating part of Riverview,” Penny declared. “You seem to know this part of town well, Ben.”
“I should. I’ve lived here for the past six months.”
“You have a room?”
“I’ll show you where I live,” Ben offered. “Wait until we reach the next corner.”
They walked on along the river docks, passing warehouses and vessels tied up at the wharves. Twice they passed guards who gazed at them with intent scrutiny. However, Ben was recognized, and with a friendly salute, the men allowed him to pass unchallenged.
“The waterfront is strictly guarded now,” the reporter told Penny. “Even so, plenty goes on here that shouldn’t.”
“Meaning?”
Ben did not answer for they had reached the corner. Beyond, on a vacant lot which Penny suspected might also be a dumping ground, stood three or four dilapidated shacks.
“See the third one,” Ben indicated. “Well, that’s my little mansion.”
“Oh, Ben!”
“It’s not bad inside. A little cold when the wind blows through the chinks, but otherwise, fairly comfortable.”
“Ben, haven’t you any friends or relatives?”
“Not here. I thought I had a few friends, but they dropped me like a hot potato when I ran into trouble.”
“This is no life for you, Ben. I’ll certainly talk to my father tomorrow.”
Ben smiled and said nothing. From his silence, Penny gathered that he had no faith she would be able to do anything for him.
They walked on, and as they approached a small freighter tied up at the wharf, Ben pointed it out.
“That’s theSnark,” he informed her.
The name meant nothing to Penny. “Who owns her?” she inquired carelessly.
“I wish I knew, Penny. There’s plenty goes on aboard that vessel, but it’s strictly hush-hush. I have my suspicions that—”
Ben suddenly broke off, for several men had appeared on the deck of theSnark. The vessel was some distance away, and in the darkness only shadowy forms were visible.
Seizing Penny’s arm, Ben pulled her flat against a warehouse.
Amazed by his action, she started to protest. Then she understood. Aboard theSnarkthere was some sort of disturbance or disagreement. The men, although speaking in low, almost inaudible tones, were arguing. Penny caught only one phrase: “Heave him overboard!”
“Ben, what’s happening there?” she whispered anxiously.
“Don’t know!” he answered. “But nothing good.”
“Where are the guards?”
“Probably at the far end of their beats.”
Aboard theSnark, there was a brief scuffle, as someone was dragged across the deck to the rail.
“That’ll teach you!” they heard one of the men mutter.
Then the helpless victim was raised and dropped over the rail. Shrieking in terror, he fell with a great splash into the inky waters. Frantically, he began to struggle.
“Those fiends!” Penny cried. “They deliberately threw the man overboard, and he can’t swim!”
Penny and Ben ran to the edge of the dock, peering into the dark, oily waters. On the deck of theSnarkthere was a murmur of voices, then silence.
Casting a quick glance upward, Penny was angered to see that the men who had been standing there had vanished into a cabin or companionway. Obviously, they had no intention of trying to aid the unfortunate man.
“There he is!” Ben exclaimed, suddenly catching another glimpse of the bobbing head. “About done in too!”
Kicking off his shoes and stripping off his coat, the reporter dived from the dock. He struck the water with an awkward splash, but Penny was relieved to see that he really could swim well. He struck out for the drowning man, but before he could reach him, the fellow slipped quietly beneath the surface.
Close by were two barges lashed together, and the current would take a body in that direction. Ben jack-knifed and went down into the inky waters in a surface dive. Unable to find the man, he came up, filled his lungs in a noisy gulp, and went down again. He was under such a long time that Penny became frantic with anxiety.
She decided to turn in an alarm for the city rescue squad. But before she could act, Ben surfaced again, and this time she saw that he held the other man by the hair.
As Ben slowly towed the fellow toward the dock, Penny realized that she must find some way to get them both out of the river. She could expect no help from anyone aboard theSnark. Gazing upward again, she thought she saw a man watching her from the vessel’s bow, but as her gaze focused upon him, he retreated into deeper shadow, beyond view.
No guards were anywhere near, and the entire waterfront seemed deserted. Penny’s eyes fastened upon a rope which hung loosely over a dock post. It was long enough to serve her purpose, and finding it unattached, she hurled one end toward Ben.
He caught it on the second try and made a loop fast about the body of the man he towed. Penny then pulled them both to the dock.
“You can’t haul us up,” Ben instructed from below. “Just hold on, and I think I can get out of here by myself.”
He swam off in the darkness and was lost to view. Penny clung desperately to the rope, knowing that if she relaxed for an instant, the man, already half drowned, would submerge for good. Her arms began to ache. It seemed to her she could not hold on another instant.
Then Ben, his clothes plastered to his thin body, came running across the planks.
Without a word he seized the rope, and together they raised the man to the dock. In the darkness Penny saw only that he was slender, and in civilian clothes.
Stretching him out on the dock boards, they prepared to give artificial resuscitation. But it was unnecessary. For at the first pressure on his back, the man rolled over and muttered: “Cut it out. I’m okay.”
Then he lay still, exhausted, but breathing evenly.
“You were lucky to get him, Ben,” Penny said as she knelt beside the stranger. “If the current had carried him beneath those barges, he never would have been taken out alive.”
“I had to dive deep,” Ben admitted. “Found him plastered right against the side of the first barge. Yeah, I was lucky, and so is he.”
The man stirred again, and sat up. Penny tried to support him, but he moved away, revealing that he wanted no help.
“Who pushed you overboard?” Ben asked.
The man stared at him and did not answer.
Observing that Ben was shivering from cold, and that the stranger too was severely chilled, Penny proposed calling either the rescue squad or an ambulance.
“Not on your life,” muttered the rescued man, trying to get up. “I’m okay, and I’m getting out of here.”
With Ben’s help, he managed to struggle to his feet, but they buckled under him when he tried to walk.
The man looked surprised.
“We’ll have to call the rescue squad,” Penny decided firmly.
“I have a better idea,” Ben supplied. “We can take him to my shack.”
Penny thought that the man should have hospital treatment. However, he sided with Ben, insisting he could walk to the nearby shack.
“I’m okay,” he repeated again. “All I need is some dry clothes.”
Supported on either side, the man managed to walk to the shack. Ben unlatched the door and hastily lighting an oil lamp, helped the fellow to the bed where he collapsed.
“Ben, I think we should have a doctor—” Penny began again, but Ben silenced her with a quick look.
Drawing her to the door he whispered: “Let him have his way. He’s not badly off, and he has reason for not wanting anyone to know what happened. If we call the rescue squad or a doctor, he’ll have to answer to a lot of questions.”
“There are some things I’d like to know myself.”
“We’ll get the answers if we’re patient. Now stay outside for a minute or two until I can get his clothes changed, and into dry ones myself.”
Penny stepped outside the shack. A chill wind blew from the direction of the river, but with its freshness was blended the disagreeable odor of factory smoke, fish houses and dumpings of refuse.
“Poor Ben!” she thought. “He never should be living in such a place as this! No matter what he’s done, he deserves another chance.”
Exactly what she believed about the reporter, Penny could not have said. His courageous act had aroused her deep admiration. On the other hand, she was aware that his story regarding Jason Cordell might have been highly colored to cover his own shortcomings.
Within a few minutes Ben opened the door to let her in again. The stranger had been put to bed in a pair of the reporter’s pajamas which were much too small for him. In the dim light from the oil lamp, she saw that he had a large, square-shaped face, with a tiny scar above his right eye. It was not a pleasant face. Gazing at him, Penny felt a tiny chill pass over her.
Ben also had changed his clothes. He busied himself starting a fire in the rusty old stove, and once he had a feeble blaze, hung up all the garments to dry.
The room was so barren that Penny tried not to give an appearance of noticing. There was only a table, one chair, the sagging bed, and a shelf with a few cracked dishes.
“I’ll get along with him all right,” Ben said, obviously expecting Penny to leave.
She refused to take the hint. Instead she said: “This man will either have to go to a hospital or stay here all night. He’s in no condition to walk anywhere.”
“He can have my bed tonight,” Ben said. “I’ll manage.”
The stranger’s intent eyes fastened first upon Penny and then Ben. But not a word of gratitude did he speak.
“You’ll need more blankets and food,” Penny said, thinking aloud. “I can get them from Mrs. Weems.”
“Please don’t bother,” Ben said stiffly. “We’ll get along.”
Though rebuffed, Penny went over to the bedside. Instantly she saw a bruise on the stranger’s forehead and a sizeable swollen place.
“Why, he must have struck his head!” she exclaimed, then corrected herself. “But he didn’t strike anything that we saw. Ben, he must have been slugged while aboard theSnark!”
The stranger turned so that he looked directly into the girl’s clear blue eyes. “Nuts!” he said emphatically.
“Our guest doesn’t seem to care to discuss the little affair,” Ben commented dryly. “I wonder why? He escaped drowning by only a few breaths.”
“Listen,” said the stranger, hitching up on an elbow. “You fished me out of the water, but that don’t give you no right to put me through the third degree. My business is my business—see!”
“Who are you?” demanded Penny.
She thought he would refuse to answer, but after a moment he said curtly: “James Webster.”
Both Penny and Ben were certain that the man had given a fictitious name.
“You work aboard theSnark?” Ben resumed the questioning.
“No.”
“Then what were you doing there?”
“And why were you pushed overboard?” Penny demanded as the man failed to answer the first question.
“I wasn’t pushed,” he said sullenly.
“Then how did you get into the water?” Penny pursued the subject ruthlessly.
“I tripped and fell.”
Penny and Ben looked at each other, and the latter shrugged, indicating that it would do no good to question the man. Determined to keep the truth from them, he would tell only lies.
“You can’t expect us to believe that,” Penny said coldly. “We happened to see you when you went overboard. There was a scuffle. Then the men who threw you in, disappeared. For the life of me, I can’t see why you would wish to protect them.”
“There are a lot of things you can’t see, sister,” he retorted. “Now will you go away, and let me sleep?”
“Better go,” Ben urged in a low tone. “Anyone as savage as this egg, doesn’t need a doctor. I’ll let him stay here tonight, then send him on his way tomorrow morning.”
“You really think that is best?”
“Yes, I do, Penny. We could call the police, but how far would we get? This bird would deny he was pushed off the boat, and we would look silly. We couldn’t prove a thing.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Penny sighed. “Well, I hope everything goes well tonight.”
Moving to the door, she paused there, for some reason reluctant to leave.
“I’ll take you home,” Ben offered.
“No, stay here,” Penny said firmly. “I’m not afraid to go alone. I only hope you get along all right with your guest.”
Ben followed her outside the shack.
“Don’t worry,” he said, once beyond hearing of the stranger. “This fellow is a tough hombre, but I know how to handle him. If he tries to get rough, I’ll heave him out.”
“I never saw such ingratitude, Ben. After you risked your life to save him—”
“He’s just a dock rat,” the reporter said carelessly.
“Even so, why should he refuse to answer questions?”
“Obviously, he’s mixed up in some mess and doesn’t dare talk, Penny. I’ve always had my suspicions about theSnarkand her owners.”
“What do you mean, Ben?”
Before the reporter could answer, there came a thumping from inside the shack. Welcoming the interruption, Ben turned quickly to re-enter.
“Can’t tell you now,” he said hurriedly. “We’ll talk some other time. So long, and don’t worry about anything.”
Firmly, he closed the door.
Penny stood there a moment until satisfied that there was no further disturbance inside the shack. Then with a puzzled shake of her head, she crossed the vacant lot to the docks.
“Those men aboard theSnarkshould be arrested,” she thought indignantly. “I wish I could learn more about them.”
She stood for a moment lost in deep reflection. Then with sudden decision, she turned and walked toward theSnark.