CHAPTER 2 _AN UNEXPLAINED DISAPPEARANCE_
Sergeant Gray studied the strange drawing for a moment and then said toAlbert Potts: "Can you explain the meaning of this picture? And the wordswritten beneath it?"
For the first time since the start of the interview, the bank secretaryseemed at a loss for words. Finally he stammered: "Why, no--I've neverseen the drawing before. I don't know how it got into Mr. Rhett's desk."
"You seemed to recognize the picture," interposed Penny. "At least youcalled it a plumed serpent."
"It is the symbol of an ancient cult, or at least that is what I take itto be. I've seen similar drawings in library books."
"And the writing beneath it?" probed the sergeant.
"I am not sure," the secretary murmured, ill at ease. "It slightlyresembles Mr. Rhett's writing."
"You say you can't explain how the paper came to be in Mr. Rhett's desk?"
"My employer's private life is none of my concern."
"What do you mean--his private life?"
"Well, I hadn't intended to tell you this," Potts said unwillingly. "Thetruth is, Mr. Rhett was a strange man. He had queer interests andhobbies. I have been told he collects weird trophies of ancient cults."
"Then this drawing probably has a connection with your employer's hobby?"
"I wouldn't know," shrugged Potts. "If it weren't for the handwriting, Imight think someone had sent a warning to him. As it is, I'm completelyin the dark."
"Mr. Rhett had enemies?"
"He was a ruthless man and many persons disliked him. His friends werequeer too. He preferred low class persons to people of culture andrefinement. Why, only two days before his disappearance, he deliberatelykept one of our largest stockholders waiting an hour while he chattedwith a building porter! It was very humiliating! I had to tell Mrs. Biggshe was in conference, but I think she suspected the truth."
"Do you have a photograph of Mr. Rhett?" the sergeant asked.
"I deeply regret I haven't. For that matter, I never have seen a pictureof him."
"But you can describe the man?"
"Oh, yes. He is forty-five, though he looks older. His hair is gray atthe temples. He wore an expensive tailored suit--brown, I believe. One ofthe most distinguishing marks I should say, is a scar on his left cheek."
"I'll send one of the detectives around," Sergeant Gray promised. He hadcompleted his investigation and with the other patrolman, started toleave the office.
Albert Potts drew a deep breath and seemed to relax. Only then did itoccur to Penny that throughout the greater part of the interview he hadstood in front of the outside balcony door, as if to shield it fromattention.
Taking the plumed serpent drawing with them, Sergeant Gray and thepatrolman left the office. Penny lingered, intending to ask Albert Pottsa few questions about Mr. Rhett. But the man gave her no opportunity.
Barely had the others gone when he turned toward her, making no effort tomask his dislike.
"Now will you get out of here?" he demanded.
His tone annoyed Penny, and perversely made her determined to take hertime in leaving. Deliberately she sidled over to the balcony door.
"Where does this lead?" she inquired.
"Outside."
Penny opened the door, but Potts immediately barred the way.
"There's nothing there except a balcony! Just get out of this office so Ican lock up and go home! I've had a hard day, and you're making itworse!"
For a reason she could not have explained, Penny felt a deep urge toannoy the nervous little man further. Ignoring his protests, she pushedpast him out onto the balcony.
Guarded by a high iron railing and fence, it extended for perhaps fiftyfeet along several offices. At each end, projecting from the slopingslate roof, was a grotesque decorative gargoyle.
"You see!" rasped Potts. "There's nothing here. Now are you satisfied?"
The gargoyle near the door had drawn Penny's attention. Its carved stonebody angled out from the building, terminating in a horned animal headwith massive open jaws.
"Will it bite?" Grinning impishly at Potts she started to thrust an armbetween the stone teeth.
To her astonishment, he suddenly seized her and gave her a hard shovethrough the doorway into Mr. Rhett's office. She resisted and heimmediately released her. But he locked the balcony door.
"You're driving me crazy!" he cried furiously. "Now get out of here!Unless you do--"
Potts was such a ridiculous little fellow that Penny could not be afraidof him. However, she decided that her joke had been carried a trifle toofar.
"Okay, I'm going," she muttered. "Thanks for all your courtesy."
"Mind you print only the truth in your paper," Potts hurled after her asshe went out the door. "If you don't, you may have a lawsuit on yourhands!"
Penny reached the street to find that the police car had gone and Louisewas nowhere to be seen. Deciding that her chum had grown tired ofwaiting, she hastened to a nearby drugstore to telephone the _Star_office.
Editor DeWitt answered, and Penny gave him the story straight and fast.
"Hamilton Rhett, the banker!" he exclaimed. "Sure you got the nameright?"
"Positive!"
"This is apt to be a big story, especially if the man was kidnapped orwalked off with the bonds! Grab a taxi and run out to the Rhett estate.Get all the dope you can from Mrs. Rhett, and don't forget pictures!We'll want one of Rhett. Better take all she has of him to keep the_Times_ from getting them! Got that straight?"
"I think so."
"Okay, go right to town on the old gal and learn everything you can abouther quarrel with Rhett! I'll send a photographer out there as soon as Ican round one up."
Penny felt a trifle weak as she hung up the receiver. Editor DeWitt tookit for granted she would bring in a bang-up story when she returned tothe newspaper office. But from what she had learned of Mrs. Rhett, shesurmised that an interview might not be granted willingly.
Looking up the address of the Rhett estate, Penny hailed a passing taxi.As the cab sped along the winding river boulevard, she speculated uponhow best to approach Mrs. Rhett.
"I wish I were more experienced as a reporter," she thought, nervouslyexamining her pocketbook to be certain she had paper and pencil."Something tells me this story will be hard to get."
The only daughter of a distinguished newspaper owner and publisher, Pennyconsidered herself an essential part of the _Star_ office. Even as ayoungster in pigtails, she had haunted the big noisy newsroom, pecking atthe typewriters and making a pest of herself.
From her father, Editor DeWitt, Jerry Livingston, a star reporter, andthe printers who adored her, the alert girl had gleaned much usefulinformation. But there were yawning gaps in her newspaper experience. Noone realized it better than she.
Gazing thoughtfully toward the river, Penny recalled the first story sheever had written, carried in the paper under the title, "Tale of theWitch Doll." Another yarn, "The Vanishing Houseboat," also had beenbannered across the front page of the _Star_, but in acquiring that storyPenny and Jerry had nearly lost their lives.
Slight wonder that Mrs. Maud Weems, the Parker housekeeper, was reluctantto see the girl she loved so dearly take up a journalistic career. Sadlyshe declared that Penny's nose for news and mystery would lead her intoserious trouble. Mr. Parker, however, did not worry. "Penny has goodhorse sense," he said. "And she was born with printer's ink in her bloodstream!"
The taxi stopped with a jerk in front of a large red brick mansion. Largeacreage was enclosed by a wooden rail fence flanked by tall untrimmedbushes.
"Shall I wait?" inquired the cab driver as Penny alighted.
She shook her head, started to pay him, then thought of a better idea."Charge this to the _Star_," she instructed.
The cab driver looked a trifle worried as if he were fearful of losingthe fare, so Penny flashed her press card again. It worked like magic.
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"Okay, a charge it is," he agreed. He shifted gears and drove away.
No sooner had Penny dismissed the cab than she regretted it. Although sheexpected to catch a ride with the _Star_ photographer back to the paper,the mansion had a deserted look. As she walked up the gravel path, shenoticed that many of the shades were drawn.
"There's no one here," she thought. "I've wasted my time coming."
Nevertheless, Penny walked on to the front door to ring the doorbell.Instead she found a brass knocker in the shape of an ugly carved face.She stared at it a moment, then let it fall against the brass plate.
As Penny had feared, no one came to admit her. She was turning away indefeat, when she fancied she saw a shade move in one of the upstairsrooms. Encouraged, she knocked again.
Still there was no answer, but distinctly she saw the curtain flutter.Stepping back a pace, she gazed upward.
A dark face was visible in a circular window of one of the tower rooms.For a moment appraising eyes focused upon her. Then the curtain jerkedconvulsively, and the man was gone.
Whispering Walls Page 2
