The third word in the message was similar, although not the same as the one she had written by accident. Penny typed them one above the other.
GLMLFFLS
GLULFFLS
“They’re identical except for the third letter,” she mused. “Why, I believe I have it! You simply strike the letter directly below the true one—that is, the one in the next row of keys. And when your true letter is in the bottom row, you strike the corresponding key on the top row. That’s why I wrote an M for a U!”
Penny was certain she had deciphered the third word of the code and that it was the same as she had written unintentionally. Quickly she wrote out the entire jumbled message, and under it her translation.
YL GFZKY GLULFFLS
NO TRAIN TOMORROW
“That’s it!” she chortled, bounding up and down in bed.
And then her elation fled away. A puzzled expression settled over her face.
“I have it, only I haven’t,” she muttered. “What can the message mean? There are no trains at Pine Top—not even a railroad station. This leaves everything in a worse puzzle than before!”
CHAPTER 17
STRANGE SOUNDS
Penny felt reasonably certain that she had deciphered the code correctly, but although she studied over the message for nearly an hour, she could make nothing of it.
“No train tomorrow,” she repeated to herself. “How silly! Perhaps it means, no plane tomorrow.”
She worked out the code a second time, checking her letters carefully. There was no mistake.
Later in the evening when Mrs. Downey stopped to inquire how she was feeling, Penny asked her about the train service near Pine Top.
“The nearest railroad is thirty miles away,” replied the woman. “It is a very tedious journey to Pine Top unless one comes by airplane.”
“Is the plane service under the control of the Fergus-Maxwell interests?”
“Not to my knowledge,” returned Mrs. Downey, surprised by the question. “This same airline company sent planes here even before the Fergus hotel was built, but not on a regular schedule.”
Left alone once more, Penny slipped the typewritten message under her pillow and drew a long sigh. Somehow she was making no progress in any line. From whom had Ralph Fergus received the coded note, and what was its meaning?
“I’ll never learn anything lying here in bed,” she murmured gloomily. “Tomorrow I’ll get up even if it kills me.”
True to her resolve, she was downstairs in time for breakfast the next morning.
“Oh, Penny,” protested Mrs. Downey anxiously,“don’t you think you should have stayed in bed? I can tell it hurts you to walk.”
“I’ll limber up with exercise. I may take a little hike down to the village later on.”
Mrs. Downey sadly shook her head. She thought that Penny had entirely too much determination for her own good.
Until ten o’clock Penny remained at the lodge, rather hoping that Sara Jasko would put in an appearance. When it was evident that the girl was not coming, she bundled herself into warm clothing and walked painfully down the mountain road. Observing old Peter Jasko in the yard near the cabin, she did not pause but went on until she drew near the Fergus hotel.
“I wish I dared go in there,” she thought, stopping to rest for a moment. “But I most certainly would be chased out.”
Penny sat down on a log bench in plain view of the hostelry. Forming a snowball, she tossed it at a squirrel. The animal scurried quickly to a low-hanging tree branch and chattered his violent disapproval.
“Brother, that’s the way I feel, too,” declared Penny soberly. “You express my sentiments perfectly.”
She was still sunk in deep gloom when she heard a light step behind her. Turning her head stiffly she saw Maxine Miller tramping through the snow toward her.
“If it isn’t Miss Parker!” the actress exclaimed with affected enthusiasm. “How delighted I am to see you again, my dear. I heard about the marvelous way you stopped the bob-sled yesterday. Such courage! You deserve a medal.”
“I would rather have some new skin,” said Penny.
“I imagine you do feel rather bruised and battered,” the actress replied with a show of sympathy. “But how proud you must be of yourself! Everyone is talking about it! As I was telling Mr. Jasko last night—”
“You were talking with Peter Jasko?” broke in Penny.
“Yes, he came to the hotel to see Mr. Fergus—something about a lease, I think. Imagine! He hadn’t heard a word about the accident, and his granddaughter was in it!”
“You told him all about it I suppose?” Penny asked with a moan.
“Yes, he was tremendously impressed. Why, what is the matter? Do you have a pain somewhere?”
“Several of them,” said Penny. “Go on. What did Mr. Jasko say?”
“Not much of anything. He just listened. Shouldn’t I have told him?”
“I am sorry you did, but it can’t be helped now. Mr. Jasko doesn’t like to have his granddaughter ski or take any part in winter sports.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Then I did let the cat out of the bag. I thought he acted rather peculiar.”
“He was bound to have found out about it sooner or later,” Penny sighed. With a quick change of mood she inquired: “What’s doing down at the hotel? Any excitement?”
“Everything is about as usual. I’ve sold two fur coats. Don’t you think you might be interested in one yourself?”
“I would be interested but my pocketbook wouldn’t.”
“These coats are a marvelous bargain,” Miss Miller declared. “Why don’t you at least look at them and try one on. Come down to the hotel with me now and I’ll arrange for you to meet my employer.”
“Well—” Penny hesitated, “could we enter the hotel by the back way?”
“I suppose so,” replied the actress in surprise. “You’re sensitive about being crippled?”
“That’s right. I don’t care to meet anyone I know.”
“We can slip into the hotel the back way, then. Very few persons use the rear corridors.”
Penny and Miss Miller approached the building without being observed. They entered at the back, meeting neither Ralph Fergus or Harvey Maxwell.
“Can you climb a flight of stairs?” the actress asked doubtfully.
“Oh, yes, easily. I much prefer it to the elevator.”
“You really walk with only a slight limp,” declared Miss Miller. “I see no reason why you should feel so sensitive.”
“It’s just my nature,” laughed Penny. “Lend me your arm, and up we go.”
They ascended to the second floor. Miss Miller motioned for the girl to sit down on a sofa not far from the elevator.
“You wait here and I’ll bring my employer,” she offered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Who is this man?” inquired Penny.
The actress did not hear the question. She had turned away and was descending the stairs again to the lobby floor.
For a moment or two the girl sat with her head against the back rest of the sofa, completely relaxed. The trip down the mountainside had tired her more than she had expected. She was afraid she had made a mistake in coming boldly to the hotel. If Harvey Maxwell caught her there he would not treat her kindly.
As for seeing the fur coats, she had no intention of ever making a purchase. She had agreed to look at them because she was curious to learn the identity of Miss Miller’s employer, as well as the nature of the proposition which might be made her.
Presently, Penny’s attention was directed to a distant sound, low and rhythmical, carrying a staccato overtone.
At first the girl paid little heed to the sound. No doubt it was just another noise incidental to a large hotel—some machine connected with the cleaning services perhaps.
But gradually, the sound impressed itself deeper on her mind. There was something strangely familiar about it, yet she could not make a positive identificatio
n.
Penny arose from the sofa and listened intently. The sound seemed to be coming from far down the left hand hall. She proceeded slowly, pausing frequently in an effort to discover whence it came. She entered a side hall and the noise increased noticeably.
Suddenly Penny heard footsteps behind her. Turning slightly she was dismayed to see Ralph Fergus coming toward her. For an instant she was certain he meant to eject her from the hotel. Then, she realized that his head was down, and that he was paying no particular attention to her.
Penny kept her back turned and walked even more slowly. The man overtook her, passed without so much as bestowing a glance upon her. He went to a door which bore the number 27 and, taking a key from his pocket, fitted it into the lock.
Penny would have thought nothing of his act, save that as he swung back the door, the strange sound which previously had drawn her attention, increased in volume. It died away again as the door closed behind Fergus.
Waiting a moment, Penny went on down the hall and paused near the room where the hotel man had entered. She looked quickly up and down the hall. No one was in sight.
Moving closer, she pressed her ear to the panel. There was no sound inside the room, but as she waited, the rhythmical chugging began again. And suddenly she knew what caused it—a teletype machine!
Often in her father’s newspaper office Penny had heard that same sound and had watched the printers recording news from all parts of the country. There was no mistaking it, for she could plainly distinguish the clicking of the type against the platen, the low hum of the machine itself, the quick clang of the little bell at the end of each line of copy.
“What would the hotel be doing with a teletype?” she mused. “They print no newspapers here.”
Into Penny’s mind leaped a startling thought. The coded message in upper case letters which Fergus had dropped in the snow! Might it not have been printed by a teletype machine?
“But what significance could it have?” she asked herself. “From what office are the messages being sent and for what purpose?”
It seemed to Penny that the answer to her many questions might lie, not in the Green Room as she had supposed, but close at hand in Number 27.
Her ear pressed to the panel, the girl made out a low rumble of voices above the clatter of the teletype. Ralph Fergus was talking with another man but she could not distinguish a word they were saying. So intent was she that she failed to hear a step behind her.
A mop handle clattered to the floor, making a loud sound on the tiles. Penny whirled about in confusion. A cleaning maid stood beside her, regarding her with evident though unspoken suspicion.
CHAPTER 18
QUESTIONS AND CLUES
“Good morning,” stammered Penny, backing from the door. “Were you wanting to get into this room?”
“No, I never clean in there,” answered the maid, still watching the girl with suspicion. “You’re looking for someone?”
Penny knew that she had been observed listening at the door. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.
She answered frankly: “No, I was passing through the corridor when I heard a strange sound in this room. Do you hear it?”
The maid nodded and her distrustful attitude changed to one of indifference.
“It’s a machine of some sort,” she answered. “I hear it running every once in a while.”
Penny was afraid to loiter by the door any longer lest her own voice bring Ralph Fergus to investigate. As the cleaning woman picked up her mop and started on down the hall, she fell into step with her.
“Who occupies Room 27?” she inquired casually.
“No one,” said the maid. “The hotel uses it.”
“What goes on in there anyway? I thought I heard teletype machines.”
The maid was unfamiliar with the technical name Penny had used. “It’s just a contraption that prints letters and figures,” she informed. “When I first came to work at the hotel I made a mistake and went in there to do some cleaning. Mr. Fergus, he didn’t like it and said I wasn’t to bother to dust up there again.”
“Doesn’t anyone go into the room except Mr. Fergus?”
“Just him and George Jewitt.”
“And who is he? One of the owners of the hotel?”
“Oh, no. George Jewitt works for Mr. Fergus. He takes care of the machines, I guess.”
“You were saying that the machine prints letters and figures,” prompted Penny. “Do you mean messages one can read?”
“It was writing crazy-like when I watched it. The letters didn’t make sense nohow. Mr. Fergus he told me the machines were being used in some experiment the hotel was carrying on.”
“Who occupies the nearby rooms?” Penny questioned. “I should think they would be disturbed by the machines.”
“Rooms on this corridor are never assigned unless everything else is full up,” the maid explained.
Pausing at a door, the cleaning woman fitted a master key into the lock.
“There’s one thing more I’m rather curious about,” said Penny quickly. “It’s this Green Room I hear folks mentioning.”
The maid gazed at her suspiciously again. “I don’t know anything about any Green Room,” she replied.
Entering the bedroom with her cleaning paraphernalia, she closed the door behind her.
“Went a bit too far that time,” thought Penny,“but at least I learned a few facts of interest.”
Turning, she retraced her steps to Room 27, but she was afraid to linger there lest Ralph Fergus should discover her loitering in the hall. Miss Miller had not put in an appearance when she returned to the elevators. She decided not to wait.
Scribbling a brief note of explanation, Penny left the paper in a corner of the sofa and hobbled down the stairway to the first floor. She let herself out the back way without attracting undue attention. Safely in the open once more she retreated to her bench under the ice-coated trees.
“I need to give this whole problem a good think,” she told herself. “Here I have a number of perfectly good clues but they don’t fit together. I’m almost as far from getting evidence against Fergus and Maxwell as I was at the start.”
Penny could not understand why the hotel would have need for teletype machine service. Such machines were used in newspaper offices, for railroad communication, brokerage service, and occasionally in very large plants with widely separated branch offices. Suddenly she recalled that her father had once told her Mr. Maxwell kept in touch with his chain of hotels by means of such a wire service. Surely it was an expensive and unnecessary means of communication.
The cleaning woman’s information that messages came through in unintelligible form convinced Penny a code was being used—a code to which she had the key. But why did Maxwell and Fergus find it necessary to employ one? If their messages concerned only the routine operation of the various hotels in the chain, there would be no need for secrecy.
The one message she had interpreted—“No Train Tomorrow”—undoubtedly had been received by teletype transmission. But Penny could not hazard a guess as to its true meaning. She feared it might be in double code, and that the words did not have the significance usually attributed to them.
“If only I could get into Room 27 and get my hands on additional code messages I might be able to make something out of it,” she mused. “The problem is how to do it without being caught.”
Penny had not lost interest in the Green Room. She was inclined to believe that its mystery was closely associated with the communication system of the hotel. But since, for the time being at least, the problem of penetrating beyond the guarded Green Door seemed unsolvable, she thought it wiser to center her sleuthing attack elsewhere.
“All I can do for the next day or so is to keep an eye on Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell,” she told herself. “If I see a chance to get inside Room 27 I’ll take it.”
Penny arose with a sigh. She would not be likely to have such a chance unless she made it for
herself. And in her present battered state, her mind somehow refused to invent clever schemes.
The walk back up the mountain road was a long and tiring one. Finally reaching the lodge after many pauses for rest, Penny stood for a time watching the skiers, and then entered the house.
Mrs. Downey was not in the kitchen. Hearing voices from the living room, Penny went to the doorway and paused there. The hotel woman was talking with a visitor, old Peter Jasko.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Penny apologized for her intrusion. She started to retreat.
Peter Jasko saw her and the muscles of his leathery face tightened. Pushing back his chair he got quickly to his feet.
“You’re the one who has been trespassing on my land!” he accused, his voice unsteady from anger. “You’ve been helping my granddaughter disobey my orders!”
Taken by surprise, Penny could think of nothing to say in her own defense.
After his first outburst, Peter Jasko ignored the girl. Turning once more to Mrs. Downey he said in a rasping voice:
“You have my final decision, Ma’am. I shall not renew the lease.”
“Please, Mr. Jasko,” Mrs. Downey argued quietly. “Think what this means to me! If I lose the ski slopes I shall be compelled to give up the lodge. I’ve already offered you more than I can afford to pay.”
“Money ain’t no object,” the old man retorted. “I’m against the whole proposition.”
“Nothing I can say will make you reconsider?”
“Nothing, Ma’am.”
Picking up his cap, a ridiculous looking affair with ear muffs, Peter Jasko brushed past Penny and went out the door.
CHAPTER 19
PETER JASKO SERVES NOTICE
After the old man had gone, Penny spoke apologetically to Mrs. Downey.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I ruined everything, coming in just when I did.”
Mrs. Downey sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window after the retreating figure of Peter Jasko.
“No, it wasn’t your fault, Penny.”
“He was angry at me because I’ve been helping Sara get in and out of the cabin. I never should have done it.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 24
