“The old fellow is right in a way,” replied Mr. Maxwell. “Not about the paper. We did detain him here for his own good, and he managed to get away. I regret to say he went completely out of his mind, became violent, threatened our guests, and it was necessary to hold him until the doctor could arrive. We’ve already sent for Doctor Corbin.”
“That’s just what I was telling them,” added Ralph Fergus.
“Now let me speak my piece,” said Penny. “Peter Jasko was held a prisoner here because Fergus and Maxwell wanted him to sign a paper leasing his ski slopes to the hotel. That was only one of their many little stunts. Fergus and Maxwell are the heads of a gigantic fur smuggling business, and they use their hotels merely as a legitimate front.”
“Your proof?” demanded Harvey Maxwell sarcastically. “The real truth is that I am suing this girl’s father for libel. He sent her here to try to dig up something against me. She’s using every excuse she can find to involve me in affairs about which I know nothing.”
“If you want proof, I’ll furnish it,” said Penny. “Just step into the Green Room where Henri Croix, a phony Frenchman, is engaged in selling fur coats to three ladies.”
“There’s no crime in that,” declared Ralph Fergus angrily. “Mr. Croix pays the hotel three hundred dollars a month for the use of this wing. So far as we know his business is legitimate. If for any reason we learn it is not, we will be the first to ask for an investigation.”
“Not quite the first,” smiled Penny, “for I’ve already made the request. To go on with my proof, it might be well to investigate Room 27 on this same floor.”
“Room 27 is given over to our teletype service,” interrupted Maxwell. “Our guests like to get the stock reports, you know, and that is why we have the machines.”
“In Room 27 you will find a storage vault for furs,”Penny went on, thoroughly enjoying herself. “A panel revolves, opening the way to a secret stair which leads down into the basement of the hotel. I’m not certain about the rest—”
“No?” demanded Maxwell ironically.
“There are additional storage vaults in the basement,”Penny resumed. “A man is down there guarding what appears to be a tunnel. Tell me, is this hotel close to the old silver mine?”
“About a quarter of a mile from the entrance,” replied the sheriff. “Some of the tunnels might come right up to the hotel grounds.”
“I understand the hotel bought out the mine, and I believe they may be making use of the old tunnels. At least, the place will bear an investigation. Oh, yes, this paper came off one of the teletype machines.”
Penny took the torn sheet from her pocket and gave it to the sheriff.
“I can’t read it,” he said, frowning.
“Code,” explained Penny. “If I had a typewriter I could figure it out. Suppose we go to Room 27 now. I’m positive you’ll learn that my story is not as fantastic as it seems.”
Leaving Peter Jasko and two deputies to guard Fergus and Maxwell and to see that no one left the Green Room, Penny led the sheriff and four other armed men down the hall. In her excitement she failed to observe Francine Sellberg standing by the elevator, watching intently.
“Here are the teletype machines,” Penny indicated, pausing beside them. “Now let me have that message. I think I can read it.”
Studying the keyboard of the teletype for a moment, she wrote out her translation beneath the jumbled line of printing. It read:
“Train Arrives approximately 11:25.”
“What does that mean?” the sheriff inquired. “We have no trains at Pine Top.”
“We’ll see,” chuckled Penny.
She showed the men the vault filled with furs, and pressed the spring which opened the wall panel.
“Be careful in descending the stairway,” she warned. “I know they have one guard down there and possibly others.”
Sheriff Clausson and his men went ahead of Penny. The guard, taken completely by surprise, was captured without a shot being fired.
“Now what have we here?” the sheriff inquired, peering into the dimly lighted tunnel.
As far as one could see stretched a narrow, rusted track with an extra rail.
“A miniature electric railway!” exclaimed the sheriff.
“How far is it from here to the border?” inquired Penny thoughtfully.
“Not more than a mile.”
“I’ve been told Harvey Maxwell has a hotel located in Canada.”
“Yeah,” nodded the sheriff, following her thought. “We’ve known for years that furs were being smuggled, but we never once suspected the outfit was located here at Pine Top. And no wonder. This scheme is clever, so elaborate a fellow never would think of it. The underground railroad, complete with drainage pumps, storage rooms and electric lights, crosses the border and connects with the Canadian hotel. Fergus and Maxwell buy furs cheap and send them here without paying duty.”
“And teletype communication is maintained just as it is on a real railroad,” added Penny. “Fergus and Maxwell must have bought up the old mine just so they could make use of the tunnels. And they wanted to get rid of Mrs. Downey’s Inn so there would be no possible danger of a leak. How large do you suppose the smuggling ring is, Mr. Clausson?”
“Large enough. Likely it will take weeks to get all of the guilty persons rounded up. But I’m satisfied we have the main persons.”
“If I interpreted the code message right, a fur train should be coming in about eleven-thirty.”
“My men will be waiting,” the sheriff said grimly. “I’ll get busy now and tip off the Canadian authorities, so they can close in on the gang from the other end of the line.”
“What about Fergus and Maxwell?” asked Penny. “There’s no chance they can trump up a story and get free?”
“Not a chance,” returned the sheriff gruffly. “You’ve done your work, and now I’ll do mine.”
Penny started to turn away, then paused. “Oh, may I ask a favor?”
“I reckon you’ve earned it,” the sheriff answered, a twinkle in his eye.
“There’s one person involved in this mess who isn’t really to blame. An actress named Maxine Miller. She’s only been working for the hotel a few days, and I doubt if she knows what it’s all about.”
“We’ll give her every benefit of the doubt,” promised the sheriff. “I’ll remember the name. Miller.”
In a daze of excitement Penny rushed back up the stairway to the Green Room. Fergus and Maxwell, Henri Croix, and Maxine Miller were in custody, all angrily protesting their innocence. The commotion had brought many hotel guests to the scene. Questions were flying thick and fast.
Penny drew Peter Jasko aside to talk with him privately.
“I think you ought to go to Mrs. Downey’s lodge as soon as you can,” she urged. “Sara is there, and she’s dreadfully worried about you.”
“I’ll go now,” the old man said, offering his gnarled hand. “Much obliged for all you done tonight.”
“That’s quite all right,” replied Penny. “I was lucky or I never would have discovered where those men were keeping you.”
The old man hesitated, obviously wishing to say something more, yet unable to find the words.
“I done some thinkin’ tonight,” he muttered. “I reckon I been too strict with Sara. From now on maybe I’ll let her have a looser rein.”
“And ski all she likes,” urged Penny. “I really can’t see the harm in it.”
“I been thinkin’ about that lease, too,” the old man added, not looking directly at the girl. “When I see Mrs. Downey tonight I’ll tell her I’m ready to sign.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Penny exclaimed. “With the Fergus-Maxwell hotel out of the running, she ought to have a comfortable time of it here on Pine Top mountain.”
“Thanks to you,” grinned Peter Jasko. He offered his hand again and Penny gave it a firm pressure.
“I must hurry now,” she said. “This is a tremendous story, and I want to te
legraph it to Dad before Francine Sellberg beats me to the jump.”
“Sellberg?” repeated the old man. “She ain’t that girl reporter that’s been stayin’ here at the hotel?”
Penny nodded.
“Then you better step,” he advised. “She’s on her way to the village now.”
“But how could Francine have learned about it so soon?” Penny wailed in dismay.
“I saw her talking with one of the deputies. She was writing things down in a notebook.”
“She couldn’t have learned everything, but probably enough to ruin my story. When did Francine leave, Mr. Jasko?”
“All of fifteen minutes ago.”
“Then I never can overtake her,” Penny murmured. “This is absolutely the worst break yet! Francine will reach the telegraph office first and hold the wire so I can’t use it. After all my work, her paper will get the big scoop!”
CHAPTER 25
SCOOP!
Penny knew that she had only one chance of getting her story through to Riverview, and that was by means of long distance telephone. At best, instead of achieving a scoop as she had hoped, she would have only an even break with her rival. And if connections could not be quickly made, she would lose out altogether.
Hastily saying goodbye to Peter Jasko, Penny raced for the stairway. She did not have a word of her story written down. While she could give the facts to a rewrite man it would take him some time to get the article into shape.
“Vic Henderson writes such colorless stories, too,” she moaned to herself. “He’ll be afraid some fact isn’t accurate and he’ll jerk it out. This is the one yarn I want to write myself!”
Penny ran full tilt into Sheriff Clausson. She brought up shortly, observing that he had a prisoner in custody.
“Miss Parker, we caught this fellow down in the tunnel,” he said. “Can you identify him?”
“I’m not sure of his name. He works for Fergus and Maxwell as a teletype attendant. He may be George Jewitt.”
Penny started to hasten on, and then struck by a sudden idea, paused. Addressing the prisoner she demanded:
“Isn’t it true that there is a direct wire connection between this hotel and the one in Riverview?”
The man did not speak.
“You may as well answer up,” said the sheriff. “It’s something which can be checked easily.”
“Yes, there is a direct connection,” answered the attendant.
“And if I know anything about leased wires,” continued Penny with mounting excitement, “it would be possible to have the telephone company switch that wire right over to the Riverview Star office. Then I’d have a direct connection from here to the newspaper. Right?”
“Right except for one minor detail,” the man retorted sarcastically. “The telephone company won’t make a switch just to oblige a little girl.”
Penny’s face fell. “I suppose they wouldn’t do it,” she admitted. “But what a whale of an idea! I could send my story directly to the newspaper, and get my scoop after all. As it is, the Record is almost certain to beat me.”
“Listen!” said the sheriff. “Maybe the telephone company couldn’t make the switch on your say-so, but they’ll pay attention to an order from me. You get busy writing that story, young lady, and we’ll see what can be done.”
Sheriff Clausson turned his prisoner over to a deputy, and returned to find Penny busily scribbling on the back of an envelope, the only writing paper available. Together they went to the long distance telephone, and in a quicker time than the girl had dared hope, arrangements were made for the wire shift to be made.
“Now get up to Room 27 and start your story going out,” the sheriff urged. “Will you need the attendant to turn on the current for you?”
“No, I know how it’s done!” Penny declared. “You’re sure the connection has been made?”
“The telephone company reports everything is set. So go to it!”
Penny hobbled as fast as her injured ankle would permit to Room 27. She switched on the light, and turned on the current which controlled the teletype machines. Sitting down at a chair in front of the direct keyboard, she found herself trembling from excitement. She had practiced only a few times and was afraid she might make mistakes. Every word she wrote would be transmitted in exactly that form to a similar machine stationed in the Star office.
She could picture her father standing there, waiting, wondering what she would send. He had been warned that a big story was coming.
Penny consulted her envelope notes and began to tap the keys. Now and then she had moments of misgiving, wondering if her work was accurate, and if it were going through. She finished at last, and sat back with a weary sigh of relief. Her story was a good one. She knew that. But had it ever reached the Star office?
A machine to her right began its rhythmical thumping. Startled, Penny sprang to her feet and rushed over to see the message which was slowly printing itself across the copy paper.
“STORY RECEIVED OK. WONDERFUL STUFF. CAN YOU GET AN INTERVIEW WITH SHERIFF CLAUSSON?”
Penny laughed aloud, and went back to her own machine to tap out an answer. Her line had a flippant note:
“I’LL HAUL HIM UP HERE AS SOON AS THE 11:30 TRAIN COMES IN. LET ME TALK TO DAD.”
There was a little wait and then the return message came in over the other teletype.
“YOU’VE BEEN TALKING WITH HIM. AM SENDING SALT SOMMERS BY PLANE TO GET PICTURES. SORRY I DIDN’T TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU WROTE MAXWELL WAS INVOLVED IN ILLEGAL BUSINESS AT PINE TOP. THIS OUGHT TO MOP UP HIS SUIT AGAINST THE PAPER. GREAT STUFF, PENNY! WHO UNCOVERED THE STORY?”
Chuckling to herself, Penny went back to her keyboard and tapped:
“DON’T ASK ME. I’M TRYING TO BE MODEST.”
She waited eagerly for the response and it came in a moment.
“I WAS AFRAID OF IT. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”
Thoroughly enjoying the little game of questions and answers, Penny once more tapped her message.
“FINE AS SILK. WHEN ARE YOU COMING TO PINE TOP? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME FOR XMAS? IT SHOULD BE SOMETHING GOOD AFTER THIS.”
Soon Mr. Parker’s reply appeared on the moving sheet of paper.
“SOON. PERHAPS SOMETHING WITH FOUR WHEELS AND A HORN.”
Penny scarcely could control herself long enough to send back:
“OH, YOU WONDERFUL DAD! I COULD HUG YOU! PLEASE MAKE IT MAROON WITH MOHAIR UPHOLSTERY. AND HANG A WREATH ON LEAPING LENA.”
Sinking back in her chair, Penny gazed dreamily at the ceiling. A new car! It was almost too good to believe. She knew that her father must have been swayed by excitement or else very grateful to offer such a magnificent Christmas present as that. What a night of thrills it had been! Within a few hours Pine Top would be crowded with reporters and photographers, but she had uncovered the story, and had saved her father from a disastrous lawsuit.
As Penny waited, her thoughts far away, one more message came through on the teletype. She tore it from the roller of the machine, and smiled as she read her father’s final words:
“PRESSES ROLLING. FIRST EDITION ON THE STREET AHEAD OF THE RECORD. THE STAR SCORES AGAIN. THIS IS ANTHONY PARKER SIGNING OFF FOR A CUP OF COFFEE.”
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
CHAPTER 1
DOUBLE TROUBLE
“Now I ask you, Lou, what have I done to deserve such a fate?”
Jerking a yellow card from beneath the windshield of the shiny new maroon-colored sedan, Penny Parker turned flashing blue eyes upon her companion, Louise Sidell.
“Well, Penny,” responded her chum dryly, “in Riverview persons who park their cars beside fire hydrants usually expect to get parking tickets.”
“But we were only inside the drugstore five minutes. Wouldn’t you think a policeman could find something else to do?”
“Oh, the ticket won’t cost you more than five or ten dollars,” teased Louise wickedly. “Your father should pay it.”
“He shou
ld but he won’t,” Penny answered gloomily. “Dad expects his one and only daughter to assume her own car expense. I ask you, what’s the good of having a weekly allowance when you never get to use it yourself?”
“You are in a mood today. Why, I think you’re lucky to have a grand new car.”
Louise’s glance caressed the highly polished chrome plate, the sleek, streamlined body which shone in the sunlight. The automobile had been presented to Penny by her father, Anthony Parker, largely in gratitude because she had saved his newspaper, The Riverview Star, from a disastrous law suit.
“Yes, I am lucky,” Penny agreed without enthusiasm. “All the same, I’m lonesome for my old coupe, Leaping Lena. I wish I could have kept her. She was traded in on this model.”
“What would you do with that old wreck now, Penny? Nearly every time we went around a corner it broke down.”
“All the same, we had marvelous times with her. This car takes twice as much gasoline. Another thing, all the policemen knew Lena. They never gave her a ticket for anything.”
Penny sighed deeply. Pocketing the yellow card, she squeezed behind the steering wheel.
“By the way, whatever became of Lena?” Louise asked curiously, slamming the car door. She glanced sharply at Penny.
“Oh, she’s changed hands twice. Now she’s at Jake Harriman’s lot, advertised for fifty dollars. Want to drive past there?”
“Not particularly. But I’ll do it for your sake, pet.”
As the car started toward the Harriman Car Lot, Louise stole an amused glance at her chum. Penny was not unattractive, even when submerged in gloom. Upon the slightest provocation, her blue eyes sparkled; her smile when she chose to turn it on, would melt a man of stone. She dressed carelessly, brushed a mop of curly, golden hair only if it suited her fancy, yet somehow achieved an appearance envied by her friends.
The automobile drew up at the curb.
“There’s Lena.” Penny pointed to an ancient blue coupe with battered fenders which stood on the crowded second-hand lot. A For Sale sign on the windshield informed the public that the auto might be bought for forty dollars.
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 28
