Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Brenda Lewis and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Whispering Walls
_By_ MILDRED A. WIRT
_Author of_ MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
_Illustrated_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY _Publishers_ NEW YORK
_PENNY PARKER_ MYSTERY STORIES
_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER THE SECRET PACT THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN THE WISHING WELL SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER GHOST BEYOND THE GATE HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE VOICE FROM THE CAVE GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES SIGNAL IN THE DARK WHISPERING WALLS SWAMP ISLAND THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT, 1946, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.
Whispering Walls
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE 1 THE PLUMED SERPENT _1_ 2 AN UNEXPLAINED DISAPPEARANCE _11_ 3 A THATCHED ROOF COTTAGE _19_ 4 BEHIND THE BUSHES _26_ 5 AN EVIL CHARM _35_ 6 MATCHES AND STRING _44_ 7 WHISPERING WALLS _51_ 8 GHOST OF THE DARK CORNERS _61_ 9 JERRY ENTERS THE CASE _68_ 10 CHEAP LODGING _79_ 11 THE WOODEN DOLL _90_ 12 SUPERSTITION _98_ 13 MISSING FROM THE CHEST _106_ 14 STORM WARNINGS _114_ 15 MRS. RHETT'S ILLNESS _123_ 16 AN OPEN WINDOW _133_ 17 THE STOLEN WILL _139_ 18 THROUGH THE WINDOW _147_ 19 RISING WIND _154_ 20 TWELVE STEPS DOWN _164_ 21 CEREMONIAL CAVE _172_ 22 STRANGER IN THE STORM _180_ 23 IN THE PRESSROOM _188_ 24 THE GRINNING GARGOYLE _196_ 25 ON THE BALCONY _206_
CHAPTER 1 _THE PLUMED SERPENT_
Smoothly and with accurate aim, the slim girl in blue sweater andswinging skirt sent the heavy ball crashing down the polished floor ofthe bowling alley.
"Another strike, Penny!" cried her school companion, Louise Sidell,watching the tenpins topple helter skelter and vanish out of sight."You're certainly going like a house afire today!"
"Lucky, that's all." Penny Parker's friendly grin widened as she chalkedup the score. Brushing aside a sandy-gold lock of hair which had droppedover one eye, she suddenly squinted at the wall clock. "Ten minutes untilfour o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Lou, unless we call it a day, I'll be latefor work!"
"You and your work!" scoffed Louise, but she quickly sat down to removeher bowling shoes. "Why spend all your spare time at that old newspaper?"
"The _Riverview Star_ is the best daily in the city!" Penny shot backproudly. "Anyway, I like being a reporter."
"I'll give you no argument on that point, my pet. You love it! Especiallypoking that freckled little nose of yours into every big story or mysterythat comes along! Confess now, isn't it the excitement you like, ratherthan the work?"
A twitch of Penny's lips acknowledged the truth of her chum'sobservation. Off and on for several years she had served in manycapacities on the _Star_, a daily Riverview newspaper owned by herfather, Anthony Parker.
Many of the publication's best stories had carried her name. Now thatschool had started again, she was unable to work full time, but on thisparticular Saturday afternoon she had promised Editor DeWitt she wouldreport at two o'clock. She had no intention of being late.
"Let's go," she urged, picking up her coat.
Louise trailed Penny to a desk where the cashier was absently listeningto a short wave radio. As they paid their bill, the instrument suddenlyblared a police order:
"Patrol 34--First National Bank, Main and Front Streets. Repeating, FirstNational Bank, Main and Front Streets. See complainant. Patrol 34 inservice."
To Louise it was only a meaningless jumble of words but Penny instantlypricked up her ears.
"Front and Main is just around the corner! Maybe there's been a robbery,Lou!"
"I hope not," laughed Louise. "The First National's where I keep mymoney. All $28.50 of it!"
Sweeping her change from the counter, Penny glanced again at the clockand came to a quick decision. Doubtless, the _Star_ office would send areporter to check the police call, but considerable time might elapsebefore anyone reached the bank.
"Let's jog over there and see what's doing," she proposed.
Louise nodded, hastily pulling a tight-fitting hat over her dark curls.Penny was already out of the door, walking so fast that her chum was hardpressed to overtake her.
Rounding the corner at Main and Front Streets, the girls were just intime to see a patrol car park at the curb in front of the bank. A policesergeant was at the wheel, but before Penny could hail him, he and acompanion vanished into the building. A third man posted himself at thedoor of the bank.
Penny walked over to him. "Anything doing?" she inquired in a friendly,off-hand way. "A robbery?"
"I wouldn't know," he replied curtly.
Fishing in a cluttered purse, Penny came up with a press card. "I'm fromthe _Star_," she added, waving her credentials before him.
"You'll have to talk to the sergeant if you want to get any information,"he said, relaxing slightly. "Go on in, if you want to."
Louise kept close to Penny's side as they started into the bank. But thepoliceman brought her up short by saying: "Just a minute, sister. Where'syour card?"
"She's with me," said Penny with careless assurance.
"So I see," observed the patrolman dryly. "She can't go in without acard."
Argument was useless. Decidedly crestfallen, Louise retreated to wait,while Penny went on into the darkened building. Curtains had been drawnin the big marble-floored bank, and the place appeared deserted. Tellercages were locked and empty, for the bank had closed to the public atnoon.
Pausing, Penny heard the faint and distant hum of voices. She glancedupward to a second story gallery devoted to offices, and saw twopolicemen talking to a third man who leaned against the iron railing.
"Apparently
this is no robbery," Penny thought, taking the marble stepstwo at a time. "Wonder what has happened?"
Breathlessly, she reached the top of the stairs. A short, thin man withglasses and a noticeably nervous manner stood talking to the twopolicemen. The sergeant, his back to Penny, started taking down notes.
"I'm Sergeant Gray," the policeman said. "What's your name?"
"Albert Potts," the man replied.
"A clerk here?"
"Secretary to Mr. Hamilton Rhett, the bank president. I called the policebecause a situation has developed which worries me. This afternoon Italked to Mrs. Rhett who gave me no satisfaction whatsoever. I said tomyself, 'Albert Potts, this is a case for the police.' But there must beno publicity."
"What's wrong?" Sergeant Gray asked impatiently.
"Mr. Rhett has disappeared. Exactly nine days ago at three o'clock he puton his hat, walked out of the bank and hasn't been seen since."
Here indeed was news! Mr. Rhett was socially prominent and a very wealthybanker. His disappearance would be certain to create a sensation inRiverview.
"So Mr. Rhett walked out of here nine days ago," Sergeant Gray commented."Why wasn't it reported earlier to the police?"
"Because at first we thought nothing of it. If you will excuse me forsaying so, Mr. Rhett never has taken his bank duties very seriously. Hecomes and goes very much as he pleases. Some days he fails to show upuntil afternoon. On several occasions he has been absent for a week at atime."
"Then why does it seem so unusual now?"
"Yesterday I telephoned Mrs. Rhett. She said she had no idea what hasbecome of her husband. I suggested notifying the police, but shediscouraged it. In fact, she hung up the receiver while I was talking toher. Altogether, she acted in a most peculiar manner."
"That was yesterday, you say?"
"Yes, I told myself, 'Albert Potts, if Mrs. Rhett isn't worried about herhusband's absence, it's none of your business.' I should have dismissedthe matter thereupon, except that today I learned about the missingbonds."
"Missing bonds?" inquired the sergeant alertly. "Go on."
"Mr. Rhett handles securities for various trust funds. At the time of hisdisappearance, $250,000 in negotiable government bonds were in hispossession."
"You're suggesting robbery?"
"I don't know what to think. Mr. Rhett should have returned thesecurities to our vault in the basement. I assumed he had done so, untilthis morning in making a thorough check, I learned not a single bond hadbeen turned in. I can only conclude that Mr. Rhett had them in hisportfolio when he walked out of the bank."
"So you decided to notify the police?"
"Exactly. It was my duty. Understand I wish to bring no embarrassment toMrs. Rhett or to cast reflection upon my employer but--"
Albert Potts broke off, his gaze focusing upon Penny who had edgedcloser.
"Now who are you?" he demanded suspiciously.
Stepping forward, Penny introduced herself as a _Star_ reporter.
"You have no business here!" the secretary snapped. "If you overheardwhat I just said, you're not to print a line of it! Mrs. Rhett wouldnever approve."
"I did hear what you told Sergeant Gray," replied Penny with dignity."However, any report to the police is a matter of public record. It isfor our editor to decide whether or not to use the story."
Behind thick glasses, Mr. Potts' watery eyes glinted angrily. He appearedon the verge of ordering the girl from the bank, but with an obviouseffort regained control of his temper, and said curtly:
"If you must write a story, mind you keep the facts straight. Mr. Rhetthasn't been seen in nine days and that's all I know. He may returntomorrow. He may never appear."
"Then you believe he's been kidnapped?" Penny asked.
"I don't know. There's been no ransom demand."
"Perhaps he absconded with the $250,000 in bonds."
"Don't quote me as making such a statement even if it should prove true!Mr. Rhett is a wealthy man--or rather, he acquired a fortune when hemarried a rich widow who set him up here as bank president. But don'tquote me on that either!" he exclaimed as Penny jotted down a few notes."Leave my name out of it entirely!"
"Let's have a look at Mr. Rhett's office," proposed Sergeant Gray.
"Follow me, please."
His poise regained, Albert Potts led the way down the gallery to a large,spacious office room. On the polished mahogany desk rested a picture ofan attractive woman in her early forties whom Penny guessed to be Mrs.Rhett. A door opened from the office into a directors' room, and anotheronto a narrow outdoor balcony overlooking Front Street.
Sergeant Gray and the patrolman made a thorough inspection of the tworooms and Mr. Rhett's desk.
"When last I saw the bonds, Mr. Rhett had them in the top drawer," thesecretary volunteered eagerly. "He should have returned them to thevault, but he failed to do so. Now they're gone."
"Then you examined the desk?"
"Oh, yes, I considered it my duty."
While Penny remained in the background, Sergeant Gray asked Mr. Potts anumber of questions about the bank president's habits, and particularlyhis recent visitors. The secretary, whose fund of information seemedinexhaustible, had ready answers at the tip of his tongue. He evenproduced a memo pad upon which the names of several persons had beenwritten.
"These were Mr. Rhett's visitors on his last day here," he explained. "Sofar as I know, all were business acquaintances."
Writing down the names for future checking, Sergeant Gray inquired if Mr.Rhett had disagreed with any of the callers.
"A quarrel, you mean?" Mr. Potts hesitated, then answered withreluctance. "Only with his wife."
"Mrs. Rhett came to the bank the day your employer last was seen?"
"Yes, they were to have had lunch together. She came late and theyquarreled about Mr. Rhett's work here in the bank. Finally she went awayalone."
"You heard the conversation between them?"
"Well, no," Albert Potts said quickly. "Naturally I tried not to listen,but I did hear some of it."
"Mrs. Rhett may be able to explain her husband's absence," commentedSergeant Gray.
"She refused me any information when I telephoned. That was one reason Idecided to notify the police. The loss of $250,000 could be veryembarrassing to the bank."
"Who owns the bonds?"
"They belong to the Fred Harrington estate, 2756 Brightdale Avenue. Ifthey aren't produced soon, there will be trouble. I've worked here for 15years. You don't think anyone could possibly blame me, do you?"
The sergeant gave him a quick glance, but made no reply as he reexaminedthe mahogany desk. Finding nothing of interest, he slammed the top drawershut.
From the back of the desk, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor,almost at Penny's feet. Evidently it had jarred from the rear side of anoverflowing drawer, or had been held between desk and plaster wall.
Without thinking, Penny stooped to retrieve the sheet. She glanced at itcarelessly, and then with a shock of surprise, really studied it. Drawnacross the center of the paper in black and red ink was a crude butsinister-looking winged serpent.
Raising her eyes, Penny saw Albert Potts' cold gaze upon her. Was itimagination or did his shriveled face mirror fear?
"What have you there?" he demanded.
Penny gave the paper to Sergeant Gray. Mr. Potts moved quickly forward,to peer over the man's shoulder.
"A plumed serpent!" he exclaimed.
"And read the words beneath it," directed Penny.
Under the drawing in a cramped hand, had been scribbled: "_This shall bethe end._"
Whispering Walls Page 1
