Whispering Walls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  CHAPTER 10 _CHEAP LODGING_

  Street lights blinked on as Penny and Jerry reached the corner of Fultonand Cherry Streets, in the poorer section of Riverview.

  "That must be the building," the reporter said, indicating an old,discolored brick building with a faded sign which proclaimed it a cheaprooming house of the type patronized by those who could afford only a fewcents for a bed.

  They crossed the street. Penny's courage faltered as she saw that theymust climb a long, dark stairway. Dust was very thick; the air inside wasstuffy.

  "You still can change your mind, you know," said Jerry. "Why not waitoutside, while I go up?"

  Penny shook her head.

  Climbing the stairs, they entered an open space from which branchednarrow corridors. The landing was even dirtier and darker than thestairway, with a huge pasteboard carton standing in a corner filled withempty bottles.

  In a little office room, behind a cage window, sat a plump middle-agedwoman with reddish frizzled hair. She eyed the pair suspiciously. To herexperienced eye, their manner and clothing immediately stamped them as"outsiders," perhaps investigators. She smiled ingratiatingly at Jerry.

  "We're looking for a man," he said briefly.

  "You're from the police, ain't you?" she demanded. "We got nothin' tohide. My husband and me run a respectable place for poor workin' men."

  "May we see your room register?"

  "Sure. Ever since that last copper was here I been keepin' it just likehe told me I had to do."

  Through the wooden slats of the cage, the woman thrust a grimy notebookwhich had been ruled off to provide spaces for names, addresses and dateof registry.

  Rapidly Jerry scanned the entries for several days back. No one by thename of Rhett had registered, but neither he nor Penny had expected thebanker would be stupid enough to use his real name, if indeed he had cometo such a place.

  As Penny glanced about the dingy, smoke-stained room, it seemedimpossible to her that Mr. Rhett, a man of culture and wealth, wouldvoluntarily seek such quarters.

  "The man we're looking for is middle-aged," Penny explained. "He woreglasses and may have been well dressed. We were told he was seen hereearlier tonight."

  "They all look alike to me," the woman said wearily. "Most of my roomsare empty now. We don't fill up until the coppers start runnin' loiterersoff Cherry Street around ten o'clock. It's still warm enough outside so'sa lot o' the cheap skates can sleep out on the river bank."

  "Isn't anyone here?" inquired Jerry.

  "Maybe one or two men. A fella name of Ben Smith came in about an hour ortwo ago. He signed up for one of the flops. Come to think of it, maybehe's the one you're after. He acted nervous like and I figured maybe hewas dodgin' the police. Another thing, he acted like he was used tohavin' money."

  "Did he have much on him?"

  "I couldn't see, but he paid me with a five dollar bill. And why would afella with even that much dough sleep in a flop if he wasn't tryin' tododge the cops?"

  "Suppose you describe the man."

  "He was about average height and middle-aged. No glasses, though. Hecouldn't have been down and out very long, because he still wore a ring."

  "Describe it, please," requested Penny.

  "It was a gold ring with a picture of a snake on it--some sort of orderprobably."

  "The plumed serpent!" exclaimed Penny. "Jerry, perhaps Tommy was right!"

  "Take us to this man," the reporter directed the landlady.

  "How do I know if he's still here? The men come and go and so long asthey're paid up, I don't pay no attention. What's he done anyhow?"

  "Nothing very serious," Jerry replied. "Anyway, we're not from the policestation."

  The woman's pretended friendliness vanished. "Then what you pryin' aroundhere for?" she demanded. "Who are you anyhow?"

  "We're newspaper reporters."

  "I don't want my name in the paper, and we don't want nothing writtenabout this place!"

  "Take it easy," Jerry advised. "Your name won't be in the paper. We'reonly looking for a man. Now lead us to him."

  "When people take rooms or a bed in this place they got a right toprivacy," the woman argued unpleasantly. "It ain't none o' my businesswhat folks have done that come here."

  "We want to talk to this man who registered as Smith. Either take us tohim, or we'll have to call in the police. I'm a personal friend of JoeGrabey, the patrolman on this beat."

  "I was only kiddin'," the woman said hastily. "You can talk to him ifhe's here."

  Locking the office door behind her, the woman led the pair down a narrowcorridor with rooms on either side. A door stood open. Penny caught aglimpse of a cell-like chamber, furnished only with a sagging bed, soiledblankets, and a rickety dresser. The dingy walls were lined with pegs.

  "Those nails are for hanging up clothes, and symbolize a man's rise inthe world," Jerry pointed out to her. "Men who patronize the flopsusually have only the suit on their backs. But when they make a littlemoney and get two suits, they need a safe place to keep the extra clothesduring the day. So they rent one of these tiny rooms which can belocked."

  Leading the way down a dark hall to the very end, the landlady opened adoor. This room with paper-thin walls, sheltered perhaps twenty men, eachcot jammed close to its neighbor. The air was disagreeable with the odorof strong disinfectant which had been used on the bare wood floor.

  The room now was deserted save for a man in baggy black trousers who saton one of the cots, reading a comic magazine. Other beds were made up,but empty.

  "Is that man Ben Smith?" Penny asked in disappointment, for he bore notthe slightest resemblance to the picture of Mr. Rhett.

  "No, I don't know what became of Smith, if he ain't here," the landladyanswered. She called to the man on the cot. "Jake, seen anyone in hereduring the last hour?"

  He shook his head, staring curiously at the intruders.

  To Jerry the woman said: "You'll have to come back later if you want tosee Smith. Maybe after ten o'clock."

  Jerry scribbled his name and telephone number on a sheet of notebookpaper.

  "If he does show up, will you telephone me?" he requested.

  "Oh, sure," the woman replied, her careless tone making it clear shewould never put herself to so much trouble.

  Jerry gave her a five dollar bill. "This should make it worth yourwhile," he said. "You'll earn another five if we find the man."

  "I'll call you the minute he comes in," the woman promised with moreenthusiasm.

  Penny drew a deep breath as she and Jerry left the building, stepping outinto the cool, sweet air of the street.

  "I still doubt we're trailing the right man," remarked Jerry. "Why wouldHamilton Rhett hole in at a place like this?"

  "It does seem out of the picture. However, we know he wore a serpent ringat the time of his disappearance."

  "The ring may not be the same. Also, if Rhett had been the victim ofviolence, a bum might have stolen it from him."

  "I never thought of that. Should we report what we've learned to thepolice?"

  "Not yet," advised Jerry. "Our clue is pretty flimsy. Let's watch andwait. The landlady may call us, and in any case I'll keep my eye on thisplace."

  It now was so late that Penny decided to return home immediately. BiddingJerry goodbye at the next corner, she boarded a bus and presently wasslipping quietly into her own home.

  If she had hoped to elude the watchful eye of Mrs. Maud Weems, thehousekeeper, she was doomed to disappointment.

  The plump, kindly lady who had looked after Penny since the death of Mrs.Parker many years before, had finished the dishes and was sweeping thekitchen. Fixing the girl with a stern eye, she observed:

  "You're later than ever tonight, Penny. When your father came home nearlytwo hours ago, he had no idea what had become of you."

  "Then Dad isn't keeping tab on his employes," chuckled Penny. "I've beenworking on a
special story for the _Star_."

  "I've heard that one before," sighed the housekeeper. "In fact, I suspectyou charge a great many of your escapades to your work! If I had my wayyou would give it up."

  "Oh, Mrs. Weems, don't be cross," Penny pleaded, giving her a squeeze."Newspaper work is wonderful! Next time I'll telephone you if I know I'llbe late."

  "Have you had anything to eat?" the housekeeper asked in a softened tone."Dinner was over an hour ago."

  "I'll dig up something for myself from the refrigerator. Where's Dad?"

  Even as Penny asked the question, Anthony Parker, a tall, lean man withgraying hair, came to the arched doorway of the kitchen. "Now what's allthis?" he inquired. "Penny off the reservation again?"

  Mrs. Weems made no reply, knowing only too well that in almost anyargument the publisher would support his daughter. Many times, andwithout success, she had told him she disapproved of his system ofgranting Penny almost unrestricted freedom.

  No one doubted that Mr. Parker was an over-indulgent father, but thepublisher had raised his daughter according to a strict code. He knewthat she had writing talent and a flair for tracking down a story. Onlybecause she had demonstrated that she could look after herself and thinkclearly in an emergency, did he allow her to make most of her owndecisions.

  Now, Penny eagerly poured out an account of her experiences in trying toget the Rhett story for the _Star_. Mr. Parker, who had read most of itin the Green Streak edition, listened attentively, offering littlecomment other than to say:

  "I met Rhett once at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon. Not a bad fellow."

  "What was he like?" Penny inquired eagerly.

  "Quiet and rather bored by the meeting. I don't recall that he said adozen words during the luncheon."

  "Did he look like a man who would walk off with $250,000 in bonds?"

  "Not that I noticed," commented the publisher dryly. "But then, nobodycan judge character by external appearances."

  Hat in hand, Mr. Parker moved toward the kitchen exit.

  "Are you going back to the _Star_ office?" his daughter asked with alertinterest.

  "No." Mr. Parker edged nearer the door, but Penny blocked the way.

  "Then where are you going, Dad? You're holding out!"

  "Must I give you a schedule of my life?"

  "You're slipping off somewhere, and you don't want me to go!"

  "If you must know, I thought I would drop in at the Gay Nineties, a newnight club that is opening tonight. The proprietor is one of our bestadvertisers and he extended a special invitation to attend."

  "Fine!" chuckled Penny. "I'll be with you in five minutes. Just give metime to wash my face and pull the snarls out of my hair."

  "I was afraid of it," groaned the publisher. "Haven't you any school workto do?"

  "Nary a bit. Besides, it's Saturday night and I haven't had any dinner.You can buy me a great big steak with all the trimmings. And perhaps youwill dance with me."

  Mr. Parker gazed helplessly at Mrs. Weems, but the housekeeper did notcome to his rescue. Her shrug indicated that the problem was entirelyhis.

  "Well, all right," he gave in. "But I'll warn you now, this is no party.We'll drop in for an hour or so, then come straight home."

  Penny was off like a shot, bounding upstairs to her room. There was notime to change her dress, but she freshened up, and was ready by the timeher father had backed the car from the garage.

  The Gay Nineties on Euclid Avenue twinkled with lights, and many personsin evening dress were entering beneath the bright red street canopy.

  "Looks like all the socialites of the city are here," Penny observed."Maybe I should have worn my pearls."

  "Or washed behind your ears," Mr. Parker chuckled, escorting her inside.

  Penny and her father were given one of the best tables in the night club.Studying the menu, the girl was a trifle alarmed to note the prices.

  "I'm dreadfully hungry too," she declared. "Dad, I hope you're notintending to charge this outing against my allowance."

  "I know I'd have no chance to collect," he teased. "Just relax and selectwhatever you want. I can stand it this time."

  After the order had been given, Penny glanced about the dimly lightedroom. The floor show had not yet started. Everywhere she saw well-to-doand prominent persons who had turned out for the gala opening.

  Suddenly her attention centered upon a couple who had just entered thedoor. The woman wore an obviously new white evening gown, and behind hercame a short, stubby little man.

  "Dad!" she whispered, giving him a kick with the toe of her slipper. "Seethat man who just came in?"

  "Where?" he asked, turning his head.

  "He's with the middle-aged woman in white."

  "Oh, yes, who are they?" Mr. Parker commented, only mildly interested."No one I know."

  "The man is Albert Potts, secretary to Mr. Rhett at the First NationalBank," Penny replied impressively. "How do you suppose he can afford tocome to such an expensive night club? If you ask me, Dad, it looks odd!"