CHAPTER23GRAND BALL

“Professor Anjus, the expert who examined the chisel, says he believes the stones could have been marked with it.”

“Then Truman Crocker may be the guilty person!”

“It’s not at all certain. In all events, I still hold to my original theory that the hoax was planned by Bill McJavins of the Indian Show.”

“I certainly hope Mr. Franklin fails in trying to sell the stones to the museum.”

“So do I,” agreed the editor. “Unfortunately, unless I dig up evidence very quickly, the transaction will take place.”

Penny did not give a great deal of thought to the affair of the record stones for Mrs. Marborough’s illness had centered her interest at Rose Acres. In truth, she was far more concerned about the missing pearls. The police had made no progress in tracing the necklace and held scant hope the thief would be captured.

As for Ted Wiegand, Penny was unable to make up her mind whether or not he was the guilty person. Although he still worked for Judge Harlan, she seldom saw him. Occasionally, reports of his progress were given to her by Rhoda.

“Ted isn’t provoked at me any more,” she assured Penny. “He’s beginning to think as I do that Mr. Coaten has been up to something crooked. I know for a fact that he gave Mrs. Breen money to force me out of the family.”

“Are those two men still in town?” Penny asked thoughtfully.

Rhoda nodded. “They’ve been here to see me twice. Mrs. Marborough sent them away the last time. She dislikes them both because they once came here to ask if they could rent rooms.”

“That must have been the night I overheard them talking at the wishing well,” Penny returned.

She remained silent a moment, thinking. Suddenly, she glanced up, her eyes dancing. “Rhoda, I have an idea!”

“What is it, Penny?”

“It might not work, but if it should, we’d learn why Mr. Coaten is so eager to adopt you and Ted.”

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

“It’s like this, Rhoda! If we could induce Mr. Coaten and his friend to come to Rose Acres on the night of the costume ball, I know how they might be made to talk!”

“Strong arm methods?” Rhoda asked, slightly amused.

“Indeed not! The old wishing well will turn the trick.”

“You certainly have me puzzled, Penny.”

“Getting those men here will be the most difficult,” Penny went on, thinking aloud. “But I can sell them a ticket to the ball. Failing that, I’ll give them one free.”

“There’s still no guarantee they would come.”

“I know how we can make sure of it! Rhoda, you can write Mr. Coaten a note, asking him to meet you here at ten o’clock. The ball will be in full sway by that time. If you hint you’ve decided to sign the adoption papers, he’s certain to come.”

“And then how will I get out of it?”

“Leave that part to me,” Penny chuckled. “We’ll get Mr. Coaten here, and you’re to talk with him beside the wishing well.”

“Why in that particular place?”

“I can’t tell you now,” Penny said, smiling mysteriously. “Just accept my word for it that it’s of utmost importance. As soon as you get the men at the wishing well, make an excuse and run into the house, leaving them together.”

“And then what?” Rhoda asked, completely bewildered.

“From that point the old well and I will take over!” Penny laughed. “I can’t tell you another thing. But if my scheme works—and I think it will—Mr. Coaten’s little game will be exposed in a most dramatic way!”

“Everything will be ruined—everything!” wailed Penny. She stood in the living room at Rose Acres, her face pressed almost against the window pane. “It’s been raining for an hour straight! No one will come to the party.”

“Oh, don’t take it so hard,” Rhoda said cheerfully. “You know over three hundred tickets were sold. Even if the rain does cut down the crowd we’ll still have as many people as this house can accommodate.”

Admiringly, her gaze wandered about the room which glowed brilliantly with the light of dozens of candles. Every chair was in place, flowers decorated the vases, and at the square, old-fashioned piano, sat Mrs. Marborough, in rustling black silk, playing a few tinkling chords.

“You mustn’t tire yourself,” Rhoda said to her. “Not until the guests come, at least.”

“I never felt better in my life,” Mrs. Marborough insisted. “Why, I’m as excited as a school girl! Is Judge Harlan really coming to the ball?”

“Everyone of consequence in Riverview will be here,” Rhoda assured her. “Even two of Penny’s special guests.”

“That’s what worries me,” Penny confessed, beginning to pace the floor. “I have my trap all ready to spring, but if this horrid rain keeps up, how can you meet Mr. Coaten by the well?”

“Why can’t I talk to him in the library?”

“Because it won’t do,” Penny said patiently. “The entire scheme will fail unless you carry out your part exactly as we planned it.”

“The rain is letting up,” Mrs. Marborough declared, carefully moving from the piano to her wheel chair. “Mark my words, it will all be over within fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, I hope so!” Penny breathed. “I hope so!”

To her gratification, the rain did cease within a short while, and members of the Festival Committee and hired musicians began to arrive. For the occasion, Penny, Rhoda, and Louise, had rented colonial costumes with fancy powdered wigs. They hovered near the front door, ready to greet the first guests.

“It’s going to be a wonderful party,” Louise remarked happily.

Soon visitors began to arrive in groups. The orchestra struck up and the ballroom became thronged with dancers.

“Mrs. Marborough is having a marvelous time,” Rhoda told Louise. “In fact, so is everyone except Penny. She’s worried because Mr. Coaten hasn’t come.”

Two men alighted from a taxi and walked up the path to the house.

“Here they come now!” Penny whispered excitedly. “Quick, Rhoda. Keep out of sight until I give the word!”

Barely had the girl vanished than Mr. Coaten and his companion reached the reception line. Penny greeted them with unusual warmth.

“Is Rhoda Wiegand here?” Mr. Coaten asked curtly. “We came to see her, not to attend the party.”

“She was around a moment ago,” Penny answered. “Why don’t you look for her in the garden—perhaps by the wishing well.”

The instant the two men had gone, Penny quickly ran to find Rhoda.

“Now remember, don’t talk to Mr. Coaten except at the wishing well,” she issued final instructions. “Then when he asks you to sign the paper, make an excuse and leave.”

“I won’t forget,” Rhoda nodded. “But I still don’t understand what you’re up to.”

Anxiously Penny watched from the porch until she saw that her friend actually was talking to the two men beside the wishing well. Then, running into the crowded ballroom, she signaled the musicians to stop the music. Clapping her hands for attention, she announced:

“Ladies and gentlemen—a little surprise! The Old Wishing Well speaks! Listen and you may hear the conversation of unwary guests who reveal their secrets beside it!”

Reaching for a box secreted in a clump of artificial palms, Penny turned a switch. The startled dancers heard a crackling sound, and then Rhoda’s voice came in on the loudspeaker, clear and distinct.

“I’ve thought it over, Mr. Coaten,” were her words. “Even though I can’t understand why you wish to adopt Ted and me I’ll agree to the guardianship.”

“Ah, I knew you would come to your senses,” Mr. Coaten answered. “Just sign this paper and we’ll be able to go into court and settle everything.”

There was a slight pause and then Rhoda said: “Will you excuse me a moment, Mr. Coaten? I want to run into the house, but I’ll be back.”

Those in the ballroom had gathered close to Penny, listening with interest to the conversation, but curious to learn its significance.

“Listen!” she commanded, as many persons began to comment.

The two men who stood alone at the wishing well were talking again, and Penny did not intend to miss a single word.

“Now what possessed Rhoda?” she heard Mr. Coaten mutter. “Is she going to back out again?”

“No, we have her nailed this time,” the other answered. “That land is as good as ours! As soon as the adoption is legal, we’ll put in our claim. The Texano Oil Company will pay handsomely. What those youngsters don’t know won’t hurt them.”

The words, blaring out into the ballroom, were exactly what Penny wished to hear. Believing themselves to be alone, the two men were making damaging admissions. However, although it was evident that they meant to profit at Rhoda’s expense, she could not understand exactly what they meant to do.

Judge Harlan stepped forward to inspect the radio equipment. “What is this?” he inquired. “A special joke of yours, Penelope?”

“It’s no joke,” she assured him earnestly. “Mr. Coaten has been trying to force Rhoda and Ted to agree to an adoption. We were suspicious of him, and so we arranged this little affair.”

“How is the sound brought into the house?”

“I had a microphone installed inside the wishing well,” Penny revealed. “The wires run through an underground tunnel.”

“Very clever, very clever indeed,” murmured the judge. “And the meaning of the conversation?”

“I don’t know,” Penny confessed. “Mr. Coaten is trying to cheat Rhoda and Ted, but how I can’t guess. They own no property.”

“Mr. Coaten spoke of the Texano Oil Company,” the judge said thoughtfully. “That gives me a faint inkling—”

He did not finish, for at that instant Rhoda came hurriedly into the room. Penny motioned for her to join the group by the loudspeaker.

“Rhoda,” said the judge, turning to her, “did your father own land in Texas?”

“Never,” she replied promptly. “The only person in our family who owned property was grandfather. He had a large farm but sold it long before his death.”

“Do you know the location of the property?” inquired the judge.

“I believe it was near the town of Elkland.”

“Elkland! Then perhaps we have the explanation. Less than a month ago oil was discovered in that locality!”

“But the Wiegand land was sold years ago,” Penny murmured.

“Much litigation has resulted from the fact that in the past many Texas properties were sold with oil rights reserved,” explained the judge. “Now, this is only a guess. However, if Rhoda’s grandfather kept such oil rights—as he may well have done—his heirs would have indisputable claim to any income derived from such source.”

The loudspeaker had come to life again. As the two men at the wishing well resumed their conversation, everyone in the ballroom strained to hear the words.

“We’ll get out of Riverview just as soon as the girl signs the paper,” Mr. Coaten said to his companion. “We’ve wasted enough time in this one-horse town.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t say wasted,” drawled Carl Addison. “We’ll get the oil money. And that’s not all. Take a look at this little trinket!”

There was a brief pause, followed by Mr. Coaten’s angry exclamation: “The Marborough pearls! So you stole them!”

“Careful of your words,” the other warned. “Your own record isn’t so pure.”

“I’ve never descended to stealing!”

“No?” Mr. Addison mocked. “The only difference is that you tie your packages up with legal red tape so that no one can pin anything on you.”

“I use my head! Stealing the Marborough pearls was a stupid thing to do. You may go to prison for it.”

“There’s no risk,” the other retorted. “The police didn’t find a single clue.”

The voices died away, indicating that the two men had moved some distance from the wishing well. Nevertheless, everyone in the ballroom had heard enough to realize that Mrs. Marborough’s priceless pearls were in the possession of Mr. Coaten’s companion, Carl Addison.

“I understand it all now!” Penny exclaimed. “Mr. Coaten and his friend must have been standing outside the window of the trailer that night when Rhoda told the Breen family about finding the pearls! They probably heard the conversation.”

“I want those two men arrested!” Mrs. Marborough announced in a shrill voice, propelling her wheel chair toward the door. “Why doesn’t someone do something?”

Spurred to action, Judge Harlan instructed several men from the group to guard the estate exits. Accompanied by Penny, Rhoda, Louise, in fact, nearly every person who had attended the party, he strode into the yard to confront the two conspirators. Taken completely by surprise, Mr. Coaten and his friend did not immediately understand the meaning of the encircling delegation.

“Your little game is up,” said Penny, thoroughly savoring the moment. “We know now that your real reason for wanting to adopt Rhoda and Ted was to gain control of valuable oil lands!”

“And you stole my pearl necklace!” accused Mrs. Marborough. “I want it returned!” Thoroughly incensed, she wheeled her chair directly into Carl Addison, seizing him by the coat.

“Madam, I know nothing about your pearls,” the man blustered, shaking loose from her grasp. “We came to this party only because we were given free tickets.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Mr. Coaten said gruffly, starting away.

“It’s no use,” Penny interposed, blocking the path. “We have learned everything. You see, a microphone was installed at the wishing well and it carried your entire conversation into the ballroom for everyone to hear.”

Mr. Coaten and his companion, gazing at the unfriendly faces encircling them, realized that they could not hope to explain the situation away.

In a sudden break for freedom, Carl Addison ran to the hedge and attempted to leap over it. One of the guards at a nearby exit seized the man and brought him back.

“Search his pockets!” Mrs. Marborough cried.

Judge Harlan did as the widow demanded, but the missing pearls were not found on either of the men.

“There, you see!” Mr. Coaten declared triumphantly. “You have falsely accused my friend.”

Penny suspected that Mr. Addison had disposed of the jewel case somewhere near the hedge. Crossing to it, she groped about on the ground. After a brief search her hand encountered a tiny box which she knew must contain the stolen necklace. Returning with it, she displayed the pearls and presented them to Mrs. Marborough.

“Do we need additional evidence to hold these men?” she asked Judge Harlan anxiously.

“You have produced more than enough,” he replied. Turning to the two culprits, he said sternly: “I place you both under arrest! Stand where you are until the police arrive, and remember, anything you say may be used against you.”

The exposure of Mr. Coaten and Carl Addison had been even more dramatic than Penny had dared hope it might be. She felt very grateful to Judge Harlan for the vital information he had provided regarding oil lands, and especially for the “break” of luck which had made it possible to regain Mrs. Marborough’s necklace.

“How glad I am that I never told Rhoda I suspected Ted of the theft,” she thought. “I was very unjust.”

After the two Texas men had been removed to jail by Riverview police, the party went on with more gaiety than before. Penny, the center of attention, was forced to tell over and over how a high-school boy friend had assisted her in installing the microphone-loudspeaker arrangement in the old wishing well.

“I wasn’t at all certain it would work,” she modestly declared. “I did hope that under the proper conditions, those two men would talk, and they did!”

“You are a very clever young lady,” praised Judge Harlan, patting her arm. “This will make a nice story for your father’s paper too.”

Mrs. Marborough did not try to express in words her appreciation for the recovery of the heirloom pearls. However, throughout the evening, her worshipful gaze followed Penny wherever she went. Not until refreshments were being served did she have an opportunity to say:

“Penelope, you have brought me more happiness than I deserve—you and Rhoda together. Now that I have the pearls again, I’ll be able to carry out a few of my plans.”

“You’ll remain in Riverview?” Penny asked eagerly.

“Yes, I shall, and I’ve been wondering—do you suppose Rhoda and Ted would be willing to live with me? I’m getting old. While I’ll have money enough I’ll need someone.”

“Why not talk to Rhoda about it?”

“I think I shall,” Mrs. Marborough nodded. “I’ll do it tonight.”

Penny was pleased a few minutes later when Rhoda relayed the widow’s request to her.

“Will you agree to it?” she asked the girl, her eyes twinkling.

“Will I?” Rhoda laughed. “I love Rose Acres, and Ted and I will be together again! Mrs. Breen was kind to us, but she has her own family. Mrs. Marborough needs someone to care for her.”

“I think the arrangement will be an ideal one,” Penny declared. “Oh, yes, I meant to tell you. Judge Harlan has promised to look after your legal interests. With him working on the case those oil rights are the same as yours right now!”

As the night wore on, additional guests arrived at Rose Acres, crowding the spacious rooms. Nevertheless, shortly before midnight, Penny was surprised to see her father’s car drive up to the door, for she had not expected him to attend the party. Mr. Parker was accompanied by a reporter, Jerry Livingston.

“What brings you two news hawks here?” Penny asked, running outside to greet the newcomers. “You must have heard about Mr. Coaten and the pearl necklace!”

“Yes, but that’s not why we came,” Mr. Parker tersely replied. “There’s been a break in the dam above Cedarville and the river is rising fast!”

“Rose Acres isn’t in danger?” gasped Penny.

“The water shouldn’t come this high, but the flats will be inundated within a few minutes. Everyone is being warned to get out fast!”

“We’ve not been able to telephone Truman Crocker,” Jerry added. “His shack has no ’phone.”

“Can we drive down there?” Mr. Parker asked anxiously.

Penny shook her head. “Not without going miles around. The quickest way is to take the trail at the rear of this property. Wait, I’ll show you!”

Darting into the house for a coat, she led her father and Jerry to the hillside. Then, deciding to accompany them, she went on ahead down the steep incline.

“There’s a light burning in the shack,” Mr. Parker observed a few minutes later. “Crocker must be up.”

Reaching the building, the editor thumped once on the door of the workshop and then pushed it open. Truman Crocker was busy at his bench. Startled by the unexpected intrusion of the three visitors, he backed a few steps away from them.

“You can’t do nothin’ to me,” he mumbled. “All I did was what I was told to do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Parker cut him short. “We’re here to warn you! The dam at Cedarville has let go, and the river is rising fast.”

“The river—” the stonecutter faltered.

For a fleeting instant the man’s gaze had roved toward a large object covered with a piece of canvas. As Crocker’s words came back to Penny, she suddenly knew why he had been so startled to see her father. Impulsively, she darted across the room and jerked the canvas from the object it covered. Revealed for all to see was a large rounded rock, bearing a carving which had not been completed.

“A record stone!” she cried. “Truman Crocker, you are the one who planted those fakes! You’ve been hired by someone!”

“No, no,” the man denied, cringing away.

Mr. Parker strode across the room, and one glance at the rock Penny had uncovered convinced him that his daughter’s accusation was a sound one. Obviously, the stone had been treated with acid and chemicals to give it an appearance of great age. Several Indian figures remained uncompleted.

“Who hired you?” he demanded of Truman Crocker. “Tell the truth!”

“I ain’t tellin’ nothing,” the stonecutter returned sullenly.

“Then you’ll go to jail,” Mr. Parker retorted. “You’ve been a party to a fraud. It was the publicity agent of the Indian Show who hired you. He probably gave you a hundred dollars for the job.”

“Not that much,” Crocker muttered. “An’ you can’t send me to jail because all I did was fix the stones and put ’em where he told me.”

“You won’t go to jail if you testify to the truth,” Mr. Parker assured him. “All you’ll have to do is tell what you know—”

“I ain’t going to tell nothing,” Crocker said sullenly.

Moving so quickly that both Jerry and Mr. Parker were caught off guard,he wheeled and ran out the open door.

“Get him!” the editor barked. “Unless he’ll testify against Bill McJavins we may lose a big story!”

Penny waited anxiously at the shack while her father and Jerry pursued the fleeing man. Ten minutes later they stumbled back, completely winded, to report their failure. The laborer had hidden somewhere among the bushes dotting the hillside, and they could not hope to find him.

“Without Crocker’s story we have no more evidence than we ever had,” Mr. Parker declared in disgust.

Penny tapped the big rock with the half-completed carving. “You have this stone, Dad. If you could photograph it in this unfinished state, wouldn’t it tell its own story?”

“We have no camera here, and the river is rising fast. How long would it take you to get to town and back, Jerry?”

“I might make it in thirty minutes.”

“Before that time, this shack will be under water.”

Anxiously, Mr. Parker gazed at the dark, angry flood which swept so close to the door of the cabin. Inch by inch it was eating away a board walk which led to a pier and a boat tied to it.

“Dad!” Penny suddenly cried. “If only we could get this stone into the boat we could float it to Riverview!”

“Not a chance,” Mr. Parker returned briefly. “Both would sink.”

“We’re completely out of luck,” added Jerry. “At the rate the water is coming up, this shack will be awash in another fifteen minutes.”

“Dad,” Penny went on determinedly, “if we could make a heavy raft, couldn’t the stone be floated? It might be towed behind the boat.”

“A raft? There’s nothing from which to make one.”

“Yes, there is!” Penny pointed to several barrels, up-ended in a dark corner of the shop.

“It’s an idea!” cried Jerry. “We have Crocker’s tools! This story means a lot to you, Chief. Isn’t it worth a try?”

“Maybe it is,” Mr. Parker conceded, and then with sudden enthusiasm: “Let’s get to work. By moving fast we may yet outwit Old Man River!”

Working with feverish haste, Mr. Parker and Jerry constructed a raft of eight empty barrels, wiring them together into one solid unit. Penny aided the two men as best she could, holding tools and offering suggestions which were not especially appreciated.

“Run outside and see that the boat is all right,” Mr. Parker instructed her. “We mustn’t let it float away.”

Obeying, Penny discovered that already the river was flowing in a shallow, muddy stream over the pier. The swift current tugged at the underpinning, threatening to carry it away. Wading through the water, she reached the boat and drew it close to the shack where she retied it.

By the time she finished, her father and Jerry had completed the raft.

“How will you ever get the stone on it?” Penny asked anxiously. “It must weigh several hundred pounds.”

“Just watch,” grinned Jerry.

During Penny’s absence, he and Mr. Parker had constructed a small square platform of rough boards, equipped with four tiny rollers. Getting the stone on it, they were able to trundle it outside to the raft with a minimum of exertion.

“Now dump her on easy,” Mr. Parker ordered Jerry. “If she sinks, our story sinks too.”

Together they rolled the heavy stone from the platform to the raft which immediately began to settle beneath the great weight.

“It’s going under!” Penny screamed.

As the three watched anxiously, the raft steadied and rode just beneath the surface of the water.

“She floats!” Jerry cried jubilantly. “Now unless we have an upset or strike an object in the river, we should make it to the Adams Street pier.”

“We’ll have aStarpaper truck meet us there, and haul the rock to the newspaper plant,” Mr. Parker added with satisfaction. “Let’s shove off!”

Penny had untied the rowboat. However, as she prepared to step into it, her father pulled her back.

“This little trip isn’t for you, Penny. We might upset.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad,” she argued. “You know very well I can swim circles around you. If the boat does go under, you’ll be glad to have me along.”

“Maybe you’re right,” the editor conceded. “Jump in.”

Water was flowing over the floor of the Crocker shack as the boat and the cumbersome raft started downstream. Jerry, who had elected to steer, found himself hard pressed to keep the prow nosing into the waves. Mr. Parker pulled without much enthusiasm at an extra oar supplied him, content to allow the swift current to do most of the work.

“Isn’t it fun?” Penny demanded, snuggling close to her father. “Just look at the beautiful stars!”

“Look at the river,” Mr. Parker retorted. “Do you realize that if we should strike a floating object—if that big rock should shift—”

“And see the lovely moon,” Penny went on dreamily. “I think it’s laughing at the joke we’re going to play on Jay Franklin in the morning.”

“That old coot will get a shock when he reads theStar,” Mr. Parker admitted, relaxing. “So will the publicity agent of the Indian Show. When I get through, the outfit won’t dare put on a performance in Riverview.”

“Do you suppose Franklin had any part in hiring Truman Crocker to fake those record stones?” Jerry asked, steering to avoid a floating box.

“Not in my opinion,” the editor replied. “He merely thought he would profit by selling them to the museum at a fancy price. It was immaterial to him whether or not he sold fake stones or real.”

“You’ll certainly ruin his little business transaction,” chuckled Penny. “What will be done about Truman Crocker?”

“We’ll find him tomorrow and force him to tell the truth—that he was hired by Bill McJavins. With this stone as evidence, he can’t deny his part in the hoax.”

“Can’t you just see that special edition of theStar?” Penny asked gaily. “A big splashy picture of this Pilgrim Rock we’re towing, with a story telling how Truman Crocker faked the writing. Then, in the next column, a yarn about Mr. Addison’s arrest, and the recovery of the Marborough pearls.”

“It will be a real paper,” Mr. Parker agreed heartily. “By the way, how were Mr. Coaten and Carl Addison trapped? Our reporter got the story from the police, but he was a bit vague on that point.”

“I’m far too modest to tell you,” Penny laughed. “If you’re willing to pay me at regular space rates, I might be induced to write the story.”

“Trust Penny to drive a hard bargain,” grinned Jerry. “We might have guessed who was responsible, for she never fails to be on hand for the final round-up.”

Penny smiled as she gazed down the dark, turbulent river. Close by she heard the deep-throated whistle of a tug boat. Along the bank, tall buildings began to appear, and far ahead, she could see the twinkling lights on the Adams Street pier.

“We’ve worked on some dandy stories together,” she murmured, “but this one tops them all for a thrilling finish. Mrs. Marborough regained her pearls, Rhoda won a home, the two men from Texas are behind bars, and the wishing well is equipped with a brand new microphone! You know, I’d like to make one more wish down its moist old throat!”

“What would you ask for this time?” Jerry asked banteringly. “A safe arrival in port?”

Penny shook her head. “We’re almost at the pier now. I’d wish that Dad’s hunk of granite would turn into a lump of pure gold. Then I’d truly feel as if I were the captain of a treasure ship sailing home with precious cargo.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t ask for a better cargo than we have right here,” Mr. Parker responded heartily. “At this moment I would rather have our old rock than all the gold in the world!”

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