Mildred A. Wirt

“ Penny began to stammer.
“You thought that because I gave up my own paper I might not wish to see the building used by another?”
“Something like that,” admitted Penny.
“I try not to think about the past,” said Mr. Judson quietly. “Long ago I made my decision, and now must abide by it. I realize that I never can publish the Press again. I’m broken, beaten!”
The old man spoke with such bitterness that Penny glanced quickly at him. There was an expression in his dark eyes which startled her.
“Surely one can’t be defeated as long as he’s willing to fight,” she ventured. ”

“ Through the fog could be seen a dim glow of lights along the Riverview wharf. The Goodtime, its whistle tooting repeated signals, was proceeding more slowly than ever. Sailors stood ready to make the vessel fast to the dock posts when she touched.
Passengers began to pour from the salon, and Penny and Louise joined the throng. Many persons pushed and jostled each other, trying to obtain a position close to the gangplank. ”

“ Suddenly Penny’s blood ran cold, for a second man appeared on the bridge. Stealthily he approached the one who gazed with such absorption into the inky waters. His purpose was shockingly clear to those who watched.
Penny screamed a warning; the taxi driver halted his cab, shouting huskily. Their cries came too late.
They saw the attacker leap upon his victim. There was a brief, intense struggle, then a body went hurtling from the bridge, fifty feet to the water below.
“You saw that?” cried Penny. “That man was pushed off the bridge! He’ll drown!”
“We’ve got to save him,” said Jerry. ”

“ She busied herself smoothing covers while Penny wandered about. The room had no rug. It was furnished with an old fashioned dresser, a wash stand and a bed with a high headboard.
Penny opened the closet door. The hangers were dangling together, without clothing. Everything had been packed into two suitcases which stood against the wall.
“I’ve already inspected the luggage,” said Mrs. Weems as the girl bent to open one of the bags. “You’ll find nothing except clothing. I tell you, Peter Fenestra is a very cautious man.”
“I can believe it,” agreed Penny. ”

“ There was nothing Penny could do but bid Mr. Judson good evening and leave the house. His secret troubled her. If he had told her the entire truth, it seemed very foolish of him to meet the demands of a blackmailer.
“I wonder if Mr. Judson did tell me everything?” she mused. “I had a feeling that he was keeping something back.”
The car rolled into the driveway of the Parker home. As Penny jumped out to open the garage doors, a man, who had been sitting on the back doorstep, arose. His face was hidden, but she knew it was not her father. ”

“ Passing the stereotyping department, the girls entered the press room where slumbered ten giant double-decked rotary presses. Lying on the roller of one was a torn strip of newspaper, the last issue of the Morning Press ever printed.
“It gives one a queer feeling to see all this,” said Louise. “Why do you suppose Judson closed the plant when it was prosperous?”
[41]
“No one seems to know the answer,” Penny replied, stooping to peer into an empty ink pot. “But it doesn’t seem possible a man would give up his business, throw so many persons out of work, without a good reason.” ”

“ Penny said gloomily. “Now I may never learn about that octopus tattoo.”
“You and your tattoo!” scoffed Mrs. Weems, beginning to strip linen from the bed. “Anchor Joe certainly deceived me. He seemed such a pleasant sort and I was sorry for him.”
“I still am,” said Penny. “The poor fellow is in no condition to be wandering around. I rather hope Mr. Moyer overtakes him soon. Then at least he’ll get the medical attention he requires.”
While Mrs. Weems straightened the bedroom, she wandered to the river’s edge. Only a few stars were pricking the sky, and it was impossible to see very far. ”

“ A thin quarter moon rising over the pine trees gave dim shape to the barn and silo. She could see no one, yet Tillie’s revelation that strange men spied upon the house, made her attentive to danger.
Swiftly she crossed the lawn to the storm cave. As she had fully expected, the slanting door was padlocked.
“Oh, shoot!” she exclaimed impatiently. “I want to get down there!”
She jerked at the padlock several times, and then accepting the situation, turned toward the house. As she walked, Penny’s eyes fastened absently upon a clump of lilac bushes some twenty yards from the cave. ”

“ Mr. Judson sagged into an armchair. “None,” he said. “None whatsoever. I used money which did not belong to me. My wife was desperately sick at the time and I wanted her to have the care of specialists. She died while I was serving my sentence.”
“Why, you did have a reason for taking the money,” said Penny kindly. “You should have been granted a pardon.”
“A theft is a theft. When I left prison, I made a new start here, and devoted myself to Pauletta who was then a little girl.”
“How old was she?” inquired Penny. ”

“ A dozen questions flashed through Penny’s mind, but she was afraid to ask any of them. From Mr. Judson’s remarks it was fairly evident that he never had relinquished the Press voluntarily. Could financial difficulties alone account for his state of mental depression?
In the darkening twilight the car approached a white-painted brick house, set back some distance from the boulevard. Once an elegant dwelling, peeling paint had made it an unsightly residence. Roof shingles were curling, the front porch sagged, while an iron fence only partially hid a wide expanse of untended lawn. ”

“ I read the clipping, too.”
The publisher arose, nervously walking to the fireplace. His hands trembled as he fingered an ornament on the shelf.
“I searched everywhere for that clipping when I cleaned out my desk,” he mumbled. “I’ve gone through every imaginable torture fearing it would be found. And now I am to be exposed!”
“But I assure you I have no intention of telling anyone,” said Penny earnestly. “Your past is your own.”
“A man’s past never is his own,” responded Mr. Judson bitterly. ”

“ Tillie declared. “Oh, this is a dreadful place, and I’ll be glad to leave it.”
“I almost wish you were staying,” said Penny slowly. “You might be able to learn what’s hidden in that cave.”
“Not with Peter Fenestra so suspicious. Anyway, you couldn’t hire me to remain even if he would allow it. I’d rather starve.”
“You have no place to go, Tillie?”
“I’ll find work. If not in Riverview then I can return to the country. Anything will be better than what I’ve had.”
Penny groped in the dark for the lamp, relighting it.
“Tillie,” she said, “how would you like to work at our place for a few days?” ”

“ Yet, when everything should have been sailing along smoothly, Louise complained that it was becoming difficult to keep her staff of writers satisfied. One by one they were falling away.
“We must expect that,” declared Penny. “Always the weak drop by the wayside. If only we can get on a paying basis, we’ll be able to offer small salaries. Then we’ll have more workers than we can use.”
“You certainly look to the future,” laughed Louise. “Personally I have grave doubts we’ll ever get the first issue set up.”
Every moment which could be spared from school, Penny spent at the plant. ”

“ Mr. Fenestra had it taken out because the ringing of the bell made him jumpy. He said the neighbors always listened to his conversations, too. He’s very suspicious of everyone.”
“Then I can run out in the car,” said Penny. “I don’t blame you for not liking this place. I shouldn’t either.”
“Thanks for everything,” replied Tillie gratefully. “You’ve been awfully good to me. I must run back now or old Fenestra will ask me a million questions.”
Hastily saying good-bye, she darted away. Walking slowly toward the road, Penny and Louise discussed Peter Fenestra’s strange actions. ”

“ Penny nodded, and for Mr. Judson’s benefit, offered a few remarks about the roses.
“We once had a beautiful garden,” commented Pauletta. “Now it’s in ruin, the same as the yard. Father doesn’t look after the place as he should.”
“The grounds are large,” replied Mr. Judson mildly.
“You shouldn’t try to do the work yourself,” Pauletta protested. “It was foolish of you to let the gardener go.”
Penny felt increasingly ill at ease. As they wandered about the grounds, Pauletta kept making disparaging remarks, thoughtless comments which wounded her father. ”

“ Mr. Parker gave her the car keys, and walked on to his own newspaper. Entering the Times building, Penny spoke to several high school boys who were working in the advertising office, and climbed the stairs to her own office.
For the next half hour she checked over galley proofs, marking corrections on the margins.
“I never imagined there could be so many things to do on a weekly,” she sighed. “One never gets through.”
A board creaked in the newsroom. Penny heard it and glanced up. A shadow passed slowly across the frosted glass of the office door. ”

“ A pair of steel cuffs were slipped over Fenestra’s wrists. Speedily, the sailors searched the cave, gathering up several bags of what Penny assumed to be gold.
“How about this bar?” John Munn asked his companions. “Can we handle it?”
“Too heavy,” answered Anchor Joe. “With Moyer hot on our trail, we’ve got to travel light. Get going and I’ll follow.”
Munn and his companion marched Peter Fenestra from the cave. Taking a cord from his pocket, Anchor Joe bound Penny’s hands and feet.
“I’m tying ’em loose,” he said. “And I’ll leave the cave door open. After we’re gone you can yell for help.” ”

“ Taking particular care to lock all doors and windows, Penny left the building. Street lights were blinking on as she climbed into the parked automobile.
Driving mechanically, she weaved through downtown traffic, now and then halting for a red light. As she was starting ahead from an intersection, an elderly man suddenly stepped from the curb. His gaze was upon the pavement, and he did not see the car. ”

“ Fred murmured, “but I was wondering—do you have a job for me around here? I’d like to work on a real paper. Being editor of Chatter is okay but you don’t get any practical experience.”
“Oh, so you want a job?” inquired Penny. Inclined to give him a short answer, she thought better of it. “Everything considered,” she said, “what you need, Fred, is to learn about different kinds of type. It’s so easy to get name-plates and various headlines mixed!” ”

“ Jerry and Salt marched her between them to the cottage. Unceremoniously turning her over to her father, they leaped into a press car, and were gone.
Hours later the picnic came to an end. Riding home with her father after taking Horney to the Times building, Penny was startled to observe a light in an upstairs window of the Parker house.
“Why, that’s in Mrs. Weems’ room!” she exclaimed. “She can’t be home!”
Penny was mistaken. Upon hastening upstairs to investigate, she was met at the bedroom door by the housekeeper.
“Why, Mrs. Weems! I thought you intended to stay on the farm until tomorrow!” ”

“ Mr. Judson invited. “Pauletta, why not show Miss Parker our rose garden?”
“It’s rather dark,” his daughter replied. “Anyway, she wouldn’t care to see it.”
“Indeed, I should,” contradicted Penny. Deliberately she switched off the car ignition.
Pauletta glared at her, but dared make no protest in her father’s presence. With a shrug she led Penny along a gravel path to the rear of the house. Mr. Judson remained behind.
As soon as they were beyond hearing, Penny said quietly:
“Need we pretend? I am sure you recall that we met aboard the Goodtime.” ”

“ Now that a linotype operator had been hired to set type, they had a little more free time.
“If Louise will accompany me, I’ll visit both places tonight,” decided Penny.
Four-thirty found the two girls walking through a dense maple and oak woods which rimmed the Big Bear River. A breeze stirred the tree leaves, but even so the day was hot and sultry.
“I wish it would rain,” remarked Louise, trudging wearily beside her companion. “I never knew it to be so warm at this time of year.”
“Maybe we can cool off by taking a boat ride when we get to the cottage,” encouraged Penny. ”

“ Parker demanded.
Fearful that her father would hang up the receiver, Penny talked fast and to the point. Mr. Parker assured her he would come without a moment’s delay.
“I guess that will teach Peter Fenestra not to get funny with me!” she congratulated herself. “It pays to do a little thinking. Fenestra will be arrested, and then I’ll drive out and learn what he hides in his cave.”
Penny sniffed the air. She could smell smoke, and she thought it must be coming from a cigarette. Evidently Fenestra had stolen to the door and was patiently waiting for her to emerge. ”

“ Louise inquired, alighting at her doorstep.
“No, I haven’t seen Mr. Moyer since that day at the cottage. I’m reasonably sure Joe is still at liberty.”
“He may be the one at the bottom of all the trouble,” declared Louise. “We tend to suspect Fenestra of evil doing because we dislike him so heartily.”
“That’s so, Lou. The best way is to have no opinions and wait for facts. But waiting wears me to a frazzle!”
After parting from her chum, Penny did not drive home. Instead, she turned into Drexel Boulevard, and presently was ringing the doorbell of the Judson home. ”

“ Crossing the river by means of a swaying, suspension bridge, the girls came out from beneath the solid canopy of trees. Penny paused to stare up at the sky.
“Aren’t those clouds odd?” she observed. “Just watch them boil!”
[67]
“They must be filled with wind,” declared Louise uneasily. “Anchor Joe said he thought a storm would blow up.”
“It’s not far away either. Unless we step right along, we’ll surely get caught in it.”
“Perhaps we should forget The Willows and start home.”
“We never could get there now,” responded Penny. “If we hurry we may reach Fenestra’s place before the storm breaks.” ”

“ Fenestra called sharply.
John Munn and Anchor Joe stepped into the rectangle of light, their revolvers trained upon the man.
“Just three of your old pals, Otto,” drawled Anchor Joe. “Reach!”
“Listen, Joe, you got me all wrong,” Peter Fenestra whined. “I can explain why I kept the gold. I’ll give it all to you if that’s what you want. I’ll do anything—don’t shoot.”
“Shootin’ would be too good for you,” retorted Anchor Joe. “We got other plans.” His face was dark with rage.
“Sure, we know how to deal with a traitor,” added John Munn, deftly whisking a revolver from Fenestra’s hip pocket. ”

“ Walking to the window, she gazed down. Cars were passing along the street. If she shouted for help someone might hear her. However, to explain her predicament would be rather awkward.
Penny’s gaze fell upon the telephone which had fallen from the desk to the floor. Picking it up, she dialed the number of her own house. Mrs. Weems answered.
“Hello,” said Penny cheerfully, “Dad hasn’t come home yet by any chance?”
“He’s just now driving into the garage,” the housekeeper replied. “I’ll call him.” ”

“ Weems says I can’t go to Fenestra’s farm without Dad’s permission, and he’s hiding from me.”
“I wish you would forget that storm cave and the octopus tattoo,” said Louise unsympathetically. “Maybe then we could get out another issue of this old paper.”
Penny gazed at her rather queerly. “You’re sick of it, aren’t you?” she asked.
“No,” Louise denied, “it’s been fun, and we’ve learned a lot. But there’s so much work. It never ends.”
“It will soon,” replied Penny quietly. “Our advertisers are dropping off one by one. Sales are falling, too.”
“We always can quit,” said Louise cheerfully. ”

“ Mr. Parker sat down on the arm of the davenport. “It’s too bad about Judson,” he remarked. “I always admired him because he was a clever newspaper man.”
“Clever? Didn’t he mis-manage the paper so that it had to close?”
“Not that anyone ever learned. No, I never could figure out why Judson quit. The Press had a large circulation and plenty of advertisers.”
“What became of the building?”
“It’s still there.”
“No, I mean who owns it,” Penny explained. “Not Mr. Judson?”
“The building was taken over a few months ago by a man named George Veeley. Come to think of it, I once brought him home with me. ”