“Up the river just beyond that crooked maple tree. I hide it in the bushes and I keep the oars inside a hollow log close by. You won’t have any trouble finding it.”
Penny and Louise said goodbye to the lad and scrambled up the bank.
“I’m sure I’ll not be going back to that place,” the latter declared emphatically. “I just wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t broken away.”
“We might have been locked up in the stone tower,” Penny laughed. “Then another one of my theories would have proven itself.”
“Oh, you and your theories! You can’t make me believe that gardener didn’t mean to harm us. He was a very sinister character.”
“Sinister is a strong word, Lou. But I’ll agree he’s not any ordinary gardener. Either he’s been hired by the Kippenberg family for a very special purpose or else he’s gained their confidence and means to bend them to his own ends.”
“His own ends! Why, Penny, what do you mean? Have you learned something you haven’t told me?”
“Only this. I’m satisfied Old Peter is no gardener. He’s wearing a disguise.”
“Well, what won’t you think of next! You’ve been reading too many detective stories, Penny Parker.”
“Have I? Then there’s no need to tell you—”
“Yes, there is,” Louise cut in. “Your ideas are pretty imaginative, but I like to hear them anyway.”
“Considerate of you, old thing,” Penny drawled in her best imitation of an English accent. “You don’t deserve to be told after that crack, but I’ll do it anyhow. When I pulled the gardener’s hat down over his eyes, I felt something slip!”
“Maybe it was his skin peeling off.”
“He wore a wig,” Penny said soberly. “That’s why he looked so startled when I jerked the hat.”
“Did you actually see a wig?”
“No, but he must have had one on his head. I felt it give, I tell you.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past that fellow. But if he isn’t a gardener, then who or what is he?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to do some intensive investigation.”
“Just how, may I ask?”
Penny gazed speculatively toward the drawbridge, noting that the old watchman had been deserted by the group of reporters. He sat alone, legs crossed, his camp stool propped against the side of the gearhouse.
“Let’s talk with him, Lou. He might be able to tell us something about the different employees of the estate.”
They walked over to where the old man sat, greeting him with their most pleasant smiles.
“Good morning,” said Penny.
The old man finished lighting his pipe before he deigned to notice them.
“Good morning,” repeated Penny.
“Mornin’,” said the watchman. He looked the two girls over appraisingly and added: “Ain’t you children a long ways off from your Ma’s?”
The remark both startled and offended Penny, but instantly she divined that the old fellow’s memory was short and his eyesight poor. He had failed to recognize her in everyday clothes.
“Oh, we’re just out for a hike,” she answered. “You see, we get tired of all the ordinary places, so we thought we would walk by here.”
“We’re interested in your bridge,” added Louise. “We just love bridges.”
“This one ain’t so good any more,” the old man said disparagingly.
“Doesn’t it get lonely here?” ventured Louise. “Sitting here all day long?”
“It did at first, Miss. But I got used to it. Anyway, it beats leanin’ on a shovel for the gov’ment. I got a little garden over yonder a ways. You ought to see my tomatoes. Them Ponderosas is as big as a plate.”
“Do you ever operate the bridge?” Louise inquired, for Penny had not told her that the structure was still in use.
“Oh, sure, Miss. That’s what I’m here for. But it ain’t safe for nothin’ heavier than a passenger car.”
“I’d love to see the bridge lowered.” Louise stared curiously up at the tall cantilevers which pointed skyward. “When will you do it next time, Mr.—?”
“Davis, if you please, Miss. Thorny Davis they calls me. My real name’s Thorndyke.”
The old man pulled a large, silver watch from his pocket and consulted it.
“In about ten minutes now, Mrs. Kippenberg will be comin’ back from town. Then we’ll make the old hinge bend down agin’.”
“Let’s wait,” said Louise.
Penny nodded and then as Thorny did not seem to object, she peeped into the gear house, the door of which stood half open. A maze of machinery met her eye—an electric motor and several long hand-levers.
Presently Thorny Davis listened intently. Penny thought he looked like an old fox who had picked up the distant baying of the pack.
“That’s her car a-comin’ now,” he said. “I can tell by the sound of the engine. Well, I reckon I might as well let ’er down.”
Thorny arose and knocked the ashes from his corn-cob pipe. He opened the door of the gear house and stepped inside.
“May I see how you do it?” asked Penny. “I always was interested in machinery.”
“The women will be runnin’ locomotives next,”Thorny complained whimsically. “All right, come on in.”
The old watchman pulled a lever on the starting rheostat of the motor which responded with a sudden jar and then a low purr. It increased its speed as he pushed the lever all the way over.
“Now the power’s on. The next thing is to drop ’er.”
Thorny grasped one of the long hand-levers and gently eased it forward. There was a grind of gears engaging and the bridge slowly crept down out of the sky.
Penny did not miss a single move. She noted just which levers the watchman pulled and in what order. When the platform of the bridge was on an even keel she saw him cut off the motor and throw all the gear back into its original position.
“Think you could do ’er by yourself now?” Thorny asked.
“Yes, I believe I could,” Penny answered gravely.
The old watchman smiled as he stepped to the deck of the bridge.
“It ain’t so easy as it looks,” he told her. “Well, here comes the Missuz now and we’re all ready for her. Last time she came along I was weedin’ out my corn patch and was she mad?”
As the black limousine rolled up to the drawbridge Penny turned her face away so that Mrs. Kippenberg would not recognize her. She need have had no uneasiness, for the lady gazed neither to the right nor the left. The car crept forward at a snail’s pace causing the steel structure to shiver and shake as if from an attack of ague.
“Dear me, I think this bridge is positively dangerous,”Louise declared. “I shouldn’t like to drive over it myself.”
As the old watchman again raised the cantilevers, Penny studied his every move.
“For a girl you’re sure mighty interested in machinery,” he remarked.
“Oh, I may grow up to be a bridgeman some day,”Penny said lightly. “I notice you keep the gear house locked part of the time.”
“I have to do it or folks would tamper with the machinery.”
The old man snapped a padlock on the door.
“Now I’m goin’ to mosey down to my garden and do a little hoein’,” he announced. “You girls better run along.”
Thus dismissed, Louise started away, but Penny made no move to leave. She intended to ask a few questions.
“Thorny, are you any relation to the Kippenberg’s head gardener?” she inquired with startling abruptness.
“Am I any relation to that old walrus?” Thorny fairly shouted. “Am I any relation to him? Say, you tryin’ to insult me?”
“Not at all, but I saw the man this morning, and I fancied I noticed a resemblance. Perhaps you don’t know the one I mean.”
“Sure, I know him all right.” Thorny spat contemptuously. “New man. He acts as know-it-all and bossy as if he owned the whole place.”
&
nbsp; “Then you don’t like him?”
“There ain’t no one that has anything to do with him. He’s so good he can’t live like the rest of the servants. Where do you think I seen him the other night?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. Where?”
“He was at the Colonial Hotel, eatin’ in the main dining room!”
“The Colonial is quite an expensive hotel at Corbin, isn’t it?”
“Best there is. They soak you two bucks just to park your feet under one of their tables. Yep, if you ask me, Mrs. Kippenberg better ask that gardener of hers a few questions!”
Having delivered himself of this tirade, Thorny became calm again. He shifted his weight and said pointedly: “Well, I got to tend my garden. You girls better run along. Mrs. Kippenberg don’t want nobody hangin’ around the bridge.”
The girls obligingly took leave of him and walked away. But when they were some distance away, Penny glanced back over her shoulder. She saw Thorny down on his hands and knees in front of the gear house. He was slipping some object under the wide crack of the door.
“The key to the padlock!” she chuckled. “So that was why he wanted us to leave first. We’ll remember the hiding place, Lou, just in case we ever decide to use the drawbridge.”
CHAPTER 17
A SEARCH FOR JERRY
After leaving the Kippenberg estate, Penny and Louise motored to Corbin. More from curiosity than for any other reason they dined at the Colonial Hotel, finding the establishment as luxurious as the old watchman had intimated. A full hour and a half was required to eat the fine dinner which was served.
“Our friend, the gardener, does have excellent taste in food,” remarked Louise. “What puzzles me is where does he get the money to pay for all this?”
“The obvious answer is that he’s not a gardener.”
“Maybe he has rooms here too, Penny.”
“I’ve been wondering about it. I mean to investigate.”
Louise glanced at her wristwatch. “Do you think we should take the time?” she asked. “It will be late afternoon now before we reach home.”
“Oh, it won’t take a minute to inquire at the desk.”
Leaving the dining room, the girls made their way to the lobby. When the desk clerk had a free moment Penny asked him if anyone by the name of Peter Henderson had taken rooms at the hotel.
“No one here by that name,” the man told her. “Wait, I’ll look to be sure.”
He consulted a card filing system which served as a register, and confirmed his first statement.
“The man I mean would be around sixty years of age,” explained Penny. “He works as a gardener at the Kippenberg estate.”
“Perhaps you have come to the wrong hotel,” said the clerk aloofly. “We do not cater to gardeners.”
“Only to people who employ gardeners, I take it.”
“Our rates start at ten dollars a day,” returned the clerk coldly.
“And does that include free linen and a bath?”Penny asked with pretended awe.
“Certainly. All of our rooms have private baths.”
“How wonderful,” giggled Penny. “We thought this might be one of those places with a bath on every floor!”
Suddenly comprehending that he was being made an object of sport, the clerk glared at the girls and turned his back.
Penny and Louise went cheerfully to their car, very much pleased with themselves for having deflated such a conceited young man. They drove away, and late afternoon brought them to Riverview, tired and dusty from their long trip.
After dropping her chum off at the Sidell home, Penny rode directly to the newspaper office. Finding no parking place available on the street, she ran her car into the loading area at the rear of the building, nosing into a narrow space which had just been vacated by a paper-laden truck.
“Hey, you lady,” shouted an employee. “You can’t park that scrap iron here. Another paper truck will be along in a minute.”
Penny switched off the engine.
“I guess you’re new around here,” she said, climbing out. “The next truck isn’t due until five-twenty-three.”
“Say, who do you think you are, tellin’ me—?”
The employee trailed off into silence as another workman gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.
“Pipe down,” he was warned. “If the boss’ daughter wants to park her jitney in the paper chute it’s okay, see?”
“Sure, I get it,” the other mumbled.
Penny grinned broadly as she crossed the loading area.
“After this, you might mention my automobile in a more respectful tone,” she tossed over her shoulder. “It’s not scrap iron or a jitney either!”
Riding up the freight elevator, Penny passed a few remarks with the smiling operator and stepped off at the editorial floor. She noticed as she went through the news room that Jerry Livingston’s desk was vacant. And because the waste basket was empty, the floor beside it free from paper wads, she knew he had written no story that day.
Penny tapped lightly on the closed door of her father’s private office and went in.
“Hello,” he said, glancing up. “Just get back from Corbin?”
“Yes, Louise and I had plenty of excitement, but I didn’t dig up any facts you’ll dare print in the paper.”
“Did you meet Jerry anywhere?”
“Why, no, Dad.”
“The young cub is taking a vacation at my expense, running up a big motorboat bill! He should have been back here three hours ago.”
“Oh, be reasonable, Dad,” said Penny teasingly. “You can’t expect him to trace down those men just in a minute.”
“It was a wild chase anyway,” the editor growled. “I let him do it more to please you than for any other reason. But that’s beside the point. He was told to be back here by four o’clock at the latest, even if he had nothing to report.”
“Jerry is usually punctual, Dad. But I suppose being on the river he couldn’t get here just when he expected.”
“He’s probably gone fishing,” Mr. Parker declared.
He slammed down the roll top on his desk and picked up his hat.
“Will you ride home with me?” Penny invited. “Leaping Lena would be highly honored.”
“It’s a mighty sight more comfortable on the bus,” her father replied. “But then, I can stand a jolting.”
As they went out through the main room he paused to speak with DeWitt, leaving an order that he was to be called at his home as soon as Jerry Livingston returned.
Mr. Parker raised his eyebrows as he saw where Penny had left the car.
“Haven’t I told you that the trucks need this space to load and unload?” he asked patiently. “There is a ten cent parking lot across the street.”
“But Dad, I haven’t ten cents to spare. The truth is, I spent almost every bit of my allowance today over at Corbin.”
“NO!” said Mr. Parker firmly. “NO!”
“No what?”
“Not a penny will you get ahead of time.”
“You misjudge me, Dad. I had no intention of even mentioning such a painful subject.”
They drove in silence for a few blocks and then Penny indicated the gasoline gauge on the dashboard.
“Why, it’s nearly empty!” she exclaimed. “We won’t have enough to reach home!”
“Well, get some,” said Mr. Parker automatically. “We don’t want to stall on the street.”
A flip of the steering wheel brought the car to a standstill in front of a gasoline pump.
“Fill it up,” ordered Penny.
While Mr. Parker read his newspaper, the attendant polished the windshield and checked the oil, finding it low. At a nod from Penny he added two quarts.
“That will be exactly two fifty-eight.”
Penny repeated the figure in a louder tone, giving her father a nudge. “Wake up, Dad. Two fifty-eight.”
Absently, Mr. Parker reached for his wallet. Not until the attendant br
ought the change did it dawn upon him that Penny had scored once more.
“Tricked again,” he groaned.
“Why, it was your own suggestion that we stop for gasoline,” Penny reminded him. “I shouldn’t have minded taking a chance myself. You see, the gauge is usually at least a gallon off.”
“Anyway, I would rather pay for it than have you siphon it out of my car.”
“Thanks for the present,” laughed Penny.
Dinner was waiting by the time they reached home. Afterwards, Penny helped Mrs. Weems with the dishes while her father mowed the lawn. Hearing the telephone ring he came to the kitchen door.
“Was that a call for me?” he asked.
“No, Dad, it was for Mrs. Weems.”
“Strange DeWitt doesn’t call,” Mr. Parker said. “I believe I’ll telephone him.”
After Mrs. Weems had finished with the phone he called the newspaper office only to be told that Jerry Livingston had not put in an appearance.
“At least he might have communicated with the office,” Mr. Parker said as he hung up the receiver.
He went back to lawn mowing but paused now and then to stare moodily toward the Kobalt river which wound through the valley far below the terrace. Penny finished drying the dishes and went outside to join him.
“You’re worried about Jerry, aren’t you?” she asked after a moment.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “But he should have been back long ago.”
“He never would have stayed away without good reason. We both know Jerry isn’t like that.”
“No, he’s either run into a big story, or he’s in trouble. When I sent him away this morning, I didn’t look upon the assignment as a particularly dangerous one.”
“And yet if he met those two seamen anything could have happened. They were tough customers, Dad.”
“I could notify the police if Jerry isn’t back within an hour or two,” Mr. Parker said slowly. “Still, I hate to do it.”
“Where did Jerry rent his boat, Dad?”
“I told him to get one at Griffith’s dock at twenty-third street.”
“Then why don’t we go there?” suggested Penny. “If he hasn’t come in we might rent a boat of our own and start a search.”
Mr. Parker debated and then nodded. “Bring a heavy coat,” he told her. “It may be cold on the river.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 10
