“And how was the paint made to appear wet?”
“Poppy oil.”
“One more question, Mr. Gepper. I never could understand how you were able to raise the kitchen table at Mrs. Hodges’ cottage.”
“No?” Al Gepper smiled mockingly. “I assure you I had nothing to do with that demonstration. It was a true spirit manifestation.”
“I’ll never believe that,” declared Penny.
“Then figure it out for yourself,” replied the medium. “You are such a very brilliant child.”
Before the prisoners were led to the police car, Salt Sommers set up his camera and took a number of flashlight pictures for the Star.
“How about it, Mr. Parker?” inquired Jerry eagerly. “Are we putting out an extra?”
“We are,” said the publisher crisply. “This is the big break I’ve been hoping we would get! We should beat the Record on the story by at least a half hour.”
The three men hurriedly left the Celestial Temple, with Penny trailing behind them. At the main street intersection they finally obtained a taxicab.
“To the Star office,” Mr. Parker ordered. “An extra dollar if you step on it.”
“How about my pictures?” Salt Sommers asked, as the cab rocked around a corner. “They ought to be dandies.”
“Rush them through as soon as we get to the office,”Mr. Parker instructed. “If they’re any good we’ll run’em on page one. Jerry, you handle the story—play it for all it’s worth.”
Jerry glanced at Penny who sat very still between her father and Salt. Their eyes met.
“Chief,” he said, “there’s a sort of fraternity among reporters—an unwritten rule that we never chisel on each other’s work.”
“What’s that?” Mr. Parker asked, startled. “I don’t get it.”
Then his glance fell upon his daughter, and he smiled.
“Oh, so it’s that way! You think Penny should write the story?”
“I do, Chief. It’s hers from the ground floor up.”
“Please, Dad, may I?” Penny pleaded.
The cab rolled up to the Star office, stopping with a jerk. Mr. Parker swung open the door, helping her alight.
“The story is yours, Penny,” he said. “That is, if you can crack it out fast enough to make the extra.”
“I’ll do it or die in the attempt.”
“Keep to the facts and write terse, simple English—”Mr. Parker began, but Penny did not wait to hear his instructions.
With a triumphant laugh, she ran ahead into theStar office. Her entry into the newsroom was both dramatic and noisy.
“Big scoop, Mr. DeWitt,” she called cheerily. “Start the old print factory running full blast!”
Dropping into a chair behind the nearest typewriter, she began to write.
CHAPTER 25
EXTRA!
Penny stood at the window of her father’s office, listening to the newsboys crying their wares on the street.
“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Police Capture Three in Raid on Celestial Temple! Extra! Extra!”
Mr. Parker rocked back in his swivel chair, smiling at his daughter.
“Your story was first-class, Penny,” he said. “Thanks to you we scooped the Record. Tired?”
“I do feel rather washed out,” Penny admitted. “Writing at high speed with a deadline jabbing you in the back is worse than facing a gang of crooks. But it was exciting.”
“You turned in a good story,” her father praised again. “In fact, you may as well take credit for breaking up that outfit of fake spiritualists.”
“So far the police have only captured Al Gepper, Slippery and Pete. There’s not much evidence against the others.”
“True, but rest assured those who aren’t rounded up will leave Riverview. The backbone of the organization has been smashed.”
Penny sank wearily into a chair, picking up a copy of the Star which lay on her father’s desk. Two-inch, black headlines proclaimed the capture, and opening from the banner was her own story tagged with a credit line: by Penelope Parker. Salt Sommer’s photographs had made the front page, too, and there was a brief contribution by Jerry telling of Al Gepper’s attempted flight in Leaping Lena.
“Dad, you must admit that it was a stroke of genius when I bought back that old car,” remarked Penny. “Why, if it hadn’t been for Lena, Al Gepper surely would have escaped.”
“That and the fact you always run your cars on an empty tank,” responded Mr. Parker. “I suppose you foresaw the future when you made your brilliant purchase?”
“Not exactly. It was just a feeling I had—the same sort of hunch which came to me when I found the silken ladder at Kano’s Curio Shop. If I depended upon a mere brain to solve mysteries, why I’d be no better than the police.”
“Your modesty overwhelms me,” chuckled her father. “I’m thankful my other reporters aren’t guided by their instincts. Otherwise I might have a scoop a day.”
“There’s one thing which annoys me,” Penny said, frowning.
“And what is that?”
“Two of Al Gepper’s tricks haven’t been explained. How was he able to raise a table and read a message in a sealed envelope?”
“I was talking to the Chief of Police about that letter trick only this morning, Penny. Magicians often employ it. Wasn’t the message written on a pad of paper before it was placed in the envelope?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Then very likely Gepper read the message from the pad. He could have placed carbon paper beneath the second or third sheets. Possibly he resorted to a thin covering of paraffin wax which would be less noticeable.”
“Now that I recall it, he did glance at the pad! How would you guess he lifted the table?”
“Were his hands held high above it, Penny?”
“Only an inch or two. However, he never touched the table. I was able to see that.”
“Could he have used sharp, steel pins held between his fingers?”
“I doubt it. But I think I know what he may have used! Did you notice two small suction cups which were taken from his pockets by the police?”
“Well, no, I didn’t, Penny.”
“The longer I mull over it, the more I’m convinced he used them to raise the table. They could be held between the fingers and wouldn’t be observed in a darkened room. Dad, if I can get those rubber cups from the police, I’ll have some fun!”
The telephone rang. It was Mrs. Weems calling to ask if Penny were safe. Mr. Parker replied in the affirmative and handed the receiver to his daughter.
“Penny, I just read your story in the paper,” the housekeeper scolded. “You never should have pitted yourself against those dangerous men! I declare, you need someone to watch you every minute.”
“I need you,” said Penny. “And so does Dad. Why not promise to stay with us instead of going away on a trip?”
“Of course, I’ll remain,” came Mrs. Weems’ surprising answer. “I made up my mind to that two days ago. You and your father never could take care of yourselves.”
“What will you do with your inheritance, Mrs. Weems?”
“I hope your father will invest it for me,” replied the housekeeper meekly. “One thing I know. No medium will tell me what to do with it.”
The hour was late. Penny felt relieved when her father locked his desk in preparation for leaving the office.
They walked through the newsroom, down the stairway to the street. A middle-aged man in a brown suit and derby hat alighted from a taxi, pausing as he saw them.
“Mr. Parker!” he called. “May I speak with you?”
The publisher turned, recognizing him. “Mr. Henley!” he exclaimed.
“I have just come from the police station,” the advertiser said in an agitated voice. “I was told that your daughter is responsible for the capture of the men who robbed our home tonight.”
“Yes, Penny managed to have a rather busy evening,” smiled Mr. Parker. “I hope you suffere
d no loss.”
“Everything was recovered, thanks to your daughter. Miss Parker, I realize I never can properly express my appreciation.”
“I was sorry I couldn’t prevent the burglary,” replied Penny stiffly. “As it turned out, the capture of the crooks was mostly due to luck.”
“You are too modest,” protested Mr. Henley. “I’ve talked with the police, you know. I am truly grateful.”
The man hesitated, evidently wishing to say more, yet scarcely knowing how to shape his words. Penny and her father started to move away.
“Oh, about that contract we were discussing today,” the advertiser said quickly.
“Yes?” Mr. Parker paused.
“I’ve been thinking it over. I acted too hastily in deciding to cancel.”
“Mr. Henley, please do not feel that you are under obligation,” said the publisher quietly. “Even though Penny accidentally did you a favor—”
“It’s not that,” Mr. Henley interrupted. “The Star is a good paper.”
“The best in Riverview,” said Penny softly.
“Yes, it is!” Mr. Henley declared with sudden emphasis. “I tell you, Parker, I was irritated because of a trivial mistake in my firm’s copy. I’ve cooled off now. Suppose we talk over the matter tomorrow at lunch.”
“Very well,” agreed Mr. Parker. “The Commodore Hotel at one.”
Bowing to Penny, Mr. Henley retreated into a waiting taxi and drove away.
“How do you like that, Dad?” Penny inquired after a moment’s silence.
“I like it,” answered Mr. Parker. “The Star could have limped along without Mr. Henley. But the going would have been tough.”
“He’ll renew the old contract?”
“Oh, yes, and probably give us a better one. Stealing Mr. Henley’s words, I am truly grateful.”
Penny gazed at her father with twinkling eyes.
“Are those idle words, Dad? Or are you willing to back them in a material way?”
“I might,” grinned Mr. Parker. “Present your bill.”
“Well, Dad, I’ve discovered to my sorrow that I can’t support two cars on my present allowance. I need a generous raise.”
“You could get rid of Lena.”
“Why, Dad! After her noble work tonight!”
“No, I suppose not,” sighed Mr. Parker. “You’ve earned an increase, and I may as well grant it.”
“Retroactive to the time I started working on the story,” added Penny. “I figure if you pay back allowance, I’ll be solvent once more!”
“You drive a hard bargain,” chuckled the publisher. “But I’ll agree.”
Arm in arm, they started on down the street. Rounding a corner of the Star building they abruptly paused before the plate-glass window to watch a long, unbroken sheet of white paper feed through the thundering press. Freshly inked newspapers, cut and folded, slid out one upon the other to be borne away for distribution.
“It’s modern magic, isn’t it, Dad?” Penny said reflectively as the great machine pounded in steady rhythm.
“Yes, Penny,” her father agreed. “And for this edition, at least, you were the master magician!”
THE SECRET PACT
CHAPTER 1
ABOARD THE GOODTIME
A blanket of fog, thick and damp, swirled about the decks of the excursion steamer, Goodtime, cautiously plying its course down the river. At intervals, above the steady throb of the ship’s engines, a fog horn sounded its mournful warning to small craft.
“I hope we don’t collide with another boat before we make the dock,” remarked Louise Sidell who stood at the railing with her chum, Penelope Parker.
“That would be a perfect ending for an imperfect day,” returned Penny, fitting her coat collar more snugly about her throat.
“An imperfect day! I call it a miserable one. Rain and fog! Rain and fog! It’s made my hair as straight as the shortest distance between two points.”
“Mine’s as kinky as wool.” Impatiently Penny brushed a ringlet of golden hair from her eyes. “Well, shall we go inside again?”
“No, I’d rather freeze than be a wallflower,” the dark-eyed girl responded gloomily. “We haven’t been asked to dance once this evening.”
“That’s because we came without our own crowd, Lou. Except for that couple yonder, we’re practically the only persons aboard unattached to a group.”
Penny jerked her head in the direction of a young man and girl who slowly paced the deck. Earlier in the evening their peculiar actions had attracted her attention. They kept strictly to themselves, avoiding the salon, the dining room, and all contact with other excursionists.
“I wonder who they are?” mused Louise, turning to stare. “The girl wears a veil as if she were afraid someone might recognize her.”
“Yes, I noticed that, and whenever anyone goes near her, she lowers her head. I wish we could see her face.”
“Let’s wander over that way,” proposed Louise.
Arm in arm, they sauntered toward the couple. The young man saw them coming. He touched his companion’s arm and, turning their backs, they walked away.
“They did that to avoid meeting us!” Louise declared in an excited undertone. “Now why, I wonder?”
The couple had reached the end of the deck. As the young woman turned to glance over her shoulder, a sudden gust of wind caught her hat. Before she could save it, the head-gear was swept dangerously close to the railing.
Not giving the young man an opportunity to act, Penny darted forward. Rescuing the hat, she carried it to the couple.
“Thank you,” the girl mumbled, keeping her head lowered. “Thank you very much.”
Quickly she jammed the felt hat on her head and replaced the veil, but not before Penny had seen her face clearly. The young woman was unusually pretty with large brown eyes and a long, smoothly brushed black bob.
“This is certainly a miserable night,” Penny remarked, hoping to start a conversation.
“Sure is,” replied the young man with discouraging brevity.
He tipped his hat and steered his companion away from the girl.
Ruefully Penny returned to Louise who had been an interested spectator.
“Did you get a good look at the pair?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes, but I’ve never seen either of them before.”
“They wouldn’t talk?”
“No, and the girl lowered her veil as soon as she could.”
“Perhaps she’s a movie actress traveling in disguise.”
“Aboard a river excursion boat? I’m afraid not, Lou.”
“Then maybe she’s a criminal trying to elude the police.”
“I fear the mystery of her identity must remain forever unsolved,” chuckled Penny. “We’ll dock in another five minutes.”
Through the fog could be seen a dim glow of lights along the Riverview wharf. The Goodtime, its whistle tooting repeated signals, was proceeding more slowly than ever. Sailors stood ready to make the vessel fast to the dock posts when she touched.
Passengers began to pour from the salon, and Penny and Louise joined the throng. Many persons pushed and jostled each other, trying to obtain a position close to the gangplank.
Suddenly a girl who stood not far from Penny gave an alarmed cry.
“My pocketbook! It’s gone!”
Those near her expressed polite concern and assisted in searching the deck. The missing purse was not found. Before the captain could be notified, the gangplank was lowered, and the passengers began to disembark from the steamer.
The girl, whose pocketbook had been lost, remained by the railing, quite forgotten. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Excuse me,” said Penny, addressing her, “is there anything I can do to help?”
Disconsolately, the girl shook her head. She made a most unattractive picture, for her blouse was wrinkled and her skirt was spotted with an ugly coffee stain. Beneath a brown, misshapen roll-brim hat hung a tangle of brown hair.
“Someone stole my pocketbook,” she said listlessly. “I had twelve dollars in it, too.”
“You’re sure you didn’t leave it anywhere?” Louise inquired.
“No, I had it in my hand only a minute ago. I think someone lifted it in the crowd.”
“A pickpocket, no doubt,” Penny agreed. “I’ve been told they frequent these river boats.”
“Nearly everyone has left the steamer now, so I suppose it would do no good to notify the captain,” commented Louise.
She and Penny started to turn away, then paused as they noticed that the girl remained in the same dejected posture.
“You have friends meeting you at the boat?” Penny inquired kindly.
“I haven’t any friends—not in Riverview.”
“None?” Penny asked in surprise. “Don’t you live here?”
“No,” answered the girl. “I’ve been working as a waitress at Flintville, up-river. The job played out last week. Today I took this boat, thinking I might find work in Riverview. Now I’ve lost my purse and I don’t know what to do or where to go.”
“Haven’t you any money?” inquired Penny.
“Not a cent. I—I guess I’ll have to sleep in the park tonight.”
“No, you won’t,” declared Penny. Impulsively, she opened her own purse and, removing a five dollar bill, thrust it into the girl’s hand. “This isn’t much, but it may tide you over until you can find work.”
“Oh, you’re kind to help me. I’ll pay you back just as soon as I get a job.”
“Don’t worry about that,” replied Penny. “However, I should like to know your name.”
“Tillie Fellows.”
“Mine is Penelope Parker and my friend is Louise Sidell. Well, good luck in finding that job.”
Edging away from Tillie who would have detained them indefinitely, the girls crossed the gangplank to shore.
“You were generous to give a stranger five dollars, Penny,” commented Louise when they were beyond hearing.
“Oh, she needed it.”
“Your allowance money, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t allow the girl to go hungry or sleep in the park.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 41
