The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  As a hard object shattered a pane of glass, Penny and Louise heard a terrified scream from the kitchen. A moment later a girl ran into the room. She stopped short as she saw Penny and Louise. They also stared, for it was Tillie Fellows.

  “Stop that silly screeching!” Fenestra ordered sharply. “The center of the storm is passing to the south. Now get back to your work!”

  “Yes, sir,” Tillie mumbled.

  Still gazing at Penny and Louise, she slowly retreated. However, as Peter Fenestra went to the window, turning his back, she made strange signs to the girls which they were unable to understand. Obviously she did not wish them to speak to her for she raised a finger to her lips, indicative of silence.

  A gate was wrenched from its hinges and carried across the yard. From across the road came the crash of an uprooted tree. With a stifled scream Tillie fled to the kitchen.

  “That stupid girl drives me crazy,” Fenestra muttered. “I don’t know why I ever hired her.”

  “You can’t blame her for being frightened,” declared Louise quickly. “This is a dreadful storm.”

  “The worst is over now,” said Fenestra. “You’ll be able to go in a few minutes.”

  Penny and Louise glanced at each other. Peter Fenestra’s remark made it very clear that he did not wish them to linger after the storm had passed. Without inviting them to sit down, he nervously went from window to window, watching the clouds.

  Rain began to fall. At first it came in a heavy downpour, then slackened somewhat. The wind no longer tore at the doors.

  “You’ll be able to go any time now,” said Fenestra. “I can let you have an umbrella.”

  “It’s still rather bad,” answered Penny. “If you don’t mind, I believe we’ll wait a few minutes longer.”

  The decision displeased the man. Frowning, he turned to gaze at the girls somewhat critically.

  “Who sent you here?” he demanded. “Why did you come?”

  His manner was so suspicious that Penny sensed it was no time to reveal the real purpose of the visit. Instead she said:

  “My father has a cottage along the river. We were returning from there when the storm broke.”

  Her explanation seemed to satisfy the man. He shrugged and fell to pacing the floor restlessly.

  The rain presently ceased. Penny and Louise felt that they no longer could delay their departure. Saying good-bye to Fenestra, they left the house.

  Rounding a corner of the building, they were startled to hear a light tap on the window. Glancing up, they saw Tillie Fellow’s face pressed against the pane.

  “She’s signaling for us to wait,” observed Penny. “I guess she wants to talk with us.”

  The girls stepped into the doorway of a woodshed. In a moment Tillie slipped from the house, a coat thrown over her head.

  “I hope old Fenestra doesn’t see me,” she greeted the girls nervously. “Let’s get out of sight.”

  Penny and Louise followed her into the woodshed, closing the door.

  “How long have you worked here?” the latter inquired curiously.

  “Ever since I met you girls on the boat. I answered an advertisement the next morning and got this job.”

  “Do you like it?” asked Penny. “I imagine farm work is hard.”

  “The work is easy enough. But I hate the place! That’s why I wanted to talk with you. Do you know of anyone who needs a girl? I’ll work for very small wages.”

  “I don’t know of anyone at the moment,” responded Penny.

  “I can’t stay here much longer,” Tillie said, a note of desperation in her voice. “Mr. Fenestra is so overbearing and mean! He can’t bear noise either. If I as much as rattle a dish he berates me.”

  “Does he pay you a decent wage?” inquired Louise.

  “Ten dollars a week. I can’t complain on that score. But there’s something about him—I can’t explain—it gives me the creeps.”

  “Fenestra is a peculiar type,” admitted Penny. “He didn’t act very friendly toward Louise and me. By the way, why does he keep the storm cellar padlocked?”

  “That’s something I wish you would tell me.”

  “He wouldn’t allow us to enter it even when the storm was coming.”

  “Fenestra always keeps the cave padlocked,” revealed Tillie. “He goes there every day, too. Sometimes he spends hours beneath ground. It rather frightens me.”

  “What do you think he does there?”

  “I don’t know. Once I asked him about the cave and he flew into a violent rage. He said if he ever caught me near it he would discharge me.”

  “He told us that the cave was half filled with water.”

  “I don’t believe that,” said Tillie. “He has something hidden down there.”

  “Haven’t you any idea what it is?”

  “No, and I don’t care very much,” returned Tillie. “All I want to do is get away from this place. If you hear of a job anywhere will you let me know?”

  “Of course,” promised Penny. “Mrs. Weems, our housekeeper, may know of a vacancy. If she does, I’ll telephone.”

  “We haven’t a telephone. Mr. Fenestra had it taken out because the ringing of the bell made him jumpy. He said the neighbors always listened to his conversations, too. He’s very suspicious of everyone.”

  “Then I can run out in the car,” said Penny. “I don’t blame you for not liking this place. I shouldn’t either.”

  “Thanks for everything,” replied Tillie gratefully. “You’ve been awfully good to me. I must run back now or old Fenestra will ask me a million questions.”

  Hastily saying good-bye, she darted away. Walking slowly toward the road, Penny and Louise discussed Peter Fenestra’s strange actions. They were inclined to agree with Tillie that he had hidden something of value beneath ground.

  Across the road from the farmhouse a giant elm tree had been uprooted. They saw overturned chicken houses, fences laid flat, tangles of telephone and electric wires.

  “Even more damage must have been done farther down the river,” remarked Penny anxiously. “I hope our new cottage hasn’t blown away.”

  “Shall we go there and see?”

  “I wish we could.”

  For several hundred yards the girls followed the road, then once more they cut across the fields toward the winding river. As they approached the Parker property their misgivings increased. All along the water front, trees had been toppled and split. In sections there were wide paths cut as if by a scythe.

  “The cottage is still there!” Penny cried as they presently ascended to higher ground. “I can see it.”

  “Several trees are down,” observed Louise. “One has fallen across the porch.”

  “A beautiful birch, too,” murmured Penny. “Anchor Joe will have a job clearing it away.”

  Approaching the cottage, the girls saw no glimpse of the workman. Penny called his name several times.

  “I wonder where he went?” she murmured.

  The girls rounded the corner of the cottage. As their eyes fell upon the giant birch which had demolished the porch railing, they were startled to see a slight movement among the leaves. A hand lay limp against the trunk.

  “Anchor Joe!” gasped Penny in horror. “He’s pinned beneath the tree!”

  CHAPTER 10

  A WORD TO THE WISE

  Penny and Louise stooped beside the groaning man who lay pinned on his side beneath the tree. As they attempted to move him he writhed in pain and pleaded with them not to touch him.

  “The tree will have to be lifted,” declared Penny. “I’ll go for help.”

  Leaving Louise to encourage Anchor Joe, she ran the entire distance to the main road. The nearest house was the one owned by Peter Fenestra. However, as she hastened in that direction, she observed a truck filled with telephone linemen coming toward her. Hailing the men, she told them what had occurred.

  “I am afraid Anchor Joe is badly hurt,” she added. “I’ll telephone for a doctor while you go o
n to the cottage.”

  One of the linemen offered to make the call, leaving her free to guide the other four men to the Parker camp. Reaching the spot, the men raised the fallen tree. Carefully they lifted Anchor Joe who had lapsed into unconsciousness.

  “Bring him into the cottage,” Penny directed, going ahead to open doors.

  One of the rooms had been furnished as a bedroom with an old cot, a chest of drawers and odd pieces brought from the Parker home. Penny spread a blanket over the mattress and the injured man was stretched upon it.

  “He’s seriously hurt, isn’t he?” she asked anxiously.

  “Afraid he is,” admitted one of the linemen. “Heat up some water and I’ll do what I can until the doctor gets here.”

  Penny and Louise hastened to the kitchen to struggle with the wood-burning range. By the time they had the fire going well they heard voices in the yard. Glancing out the window they saw a lineman coming toward the cottage and walking beside a doctor who carried a light, black bag.

  “It’s Doctor Griswold,” observed Louise. “He made a quick trip from town.”

  Penny ran to open the door for the two men. Then, at the doctor’s bidding, she went to the kitchen again for the boiling water.

  “You carry it in,” urged Louise. “I can’t bear to see poor Anchor Joe.”

  The linemen had left by the time Penny reentered the bedroom. The doctor was working over Anchor Joe, and she observed in relief that he had recovered consciousness.

  “Where do you feel pain?” the doctor inquired as he unfastened the man’s shirt.

  “My back and chest, doc,” the sailor mumbled. “Feels like all my insides is crushed.”

  “Hardly that,” said the doctor cheerfully, “or you wouldn’t be telling me about it. Now let’s see.”

  He took Anchor Joe’s pulse, then gently probed his chest and sponged a break in the skin. Carefully he turned the man upon his back.

  Penny drew in her breath, nearly dropping the pan of water. Across Anchor Joe’s back was tattooed the sprawling figure of an octopus. She bent closer. Beneath the front arms of the repulsive sea creature appeared a single word: One.

  “John Munn’s tattoo was exactly the same, save for the word!” thought Penny. “It was ‘All’ while this is‘One.’ What can be the significance?”

  Even the doctor was startled by the strange tattoo for he glanced at it curiously as he probed.

  “You are a sailor?” he inquired.

  “That’s right,” muttered Anchor Joe. “Ouch, doc! Take it easy, will you?”

  Penny could not remain silent. “Joe, do you know a man named John Munn?” she asked.

  “Sure I know him,” the sailor mumbled. “We shipped together on the Dorasky.”

  “Your tattoo is very similar to his.”

  Anchor Joe’s pain-glazed eyes turned upon Penny as if he were seeing her for the first time. He made an effort to pull the blanket over his back.

  “We had ’em put on together,” he muttered. “Jack an’ John, and that rat, Otto—”

  “Please don’t talk to the patient,” said the doctor significantly. “He should be kept quiet.”

  “I’m sorry,” apologized Penny.

  She did not speak again until the doctor had completed his examination and had bandaged Anchor Joe’s cuts and bruises.

  “What do you advise, doctor?” she asked. “Will it be necessary to remove Joe to a hospital?”

  “Neither advisable nor desirable for at least twenty-four hours,” he replied. “I find no indication of internal injury, but it is best to be safe. The patient should be kept quiet, in bed, for at least a day or two.”

  “It’s something of a problem to care for him here,” said Penny frowning. “Do you suggest a nurse?”

  “Any woman who has had practical experience in caring for the sick would do.”

  “Mrs. Weems may be willing to come,” said Penny. “I’ll telephone home at once and learn what arrangements can be made.”

  When the doctor left, Penny accompanied him as far as the first house. From there she telephoned her father, who promised to get Mrs. Weems and come at once to the cottage.

  Louise was uneasily waiting by the time Penny returned. Outside the bedroom they held whispered consultation.

  “Has Anchor Joe talked?” Penny questioned. “You know what I mean. Has he said anything about John Munn or the tattoo?”

  “Not a word. But every so often he mutters that he’ll get even with someone by the name of Otto—a fellow sailor who ‘ratted.’”

  “He mentioned Otto when I was in the room,” nodded Penny. “I wish we dared question Joe, but the doctor advised against it.”

  “I don’t think we should annoy him now. Perhaps later on he’ll tell us about the tattoo and its meaning.”

  “Perhaps,” echoed Penny. “However, if I am any judge of character, Anchor Joe isn’t the talkative type. As soon as he gets over the shock of this accident, he’ll lock those lips of his. We’ll learn nothing.”

  “Why are you so convinced there’s a deep mystery connected with the tattoo?”

  “I can’t explain it, Lou. I just know there is. I’ll never rest until I learn the significance of those words, All and One.”

  Within a half hour Mrs. Weems and Mr. Parker arrived at the cottage, bringing a supply of linen, food, and comforts for the injured man. The housekeeper agreed to assume charge until Anchor Joe could be safely removed to a hospital.

  When Mr. Parker drove to Riverview the girls accompanied him. During the ride Penny questioned her father regarding Anchor Joe.

  “I know almost nothing about him,” he replied. “He was sent to me by the Acme Employment Agency, and I didn’t bother to ask for a recommendation.”

  “I’ve learned that he’s a friend of John Munn,” revealed Penny. “As soon as he’s able to get about again, I mean to ask him a number of things.”

  Mr. Parker drove Louise to her home, and at Penny’s request dropped her off at the Weekly Times office.

  “By the way, what about dinner tonight?” he inquired. “Shall we dine at the Commodore Hotel?”

  “Oh, Dad, I wish I could,” Penny sighed wistfully. “Work is stacked a mile high on my desk. I’ll just grab a sandwich somewhere and work late.”

  “I am afraid you are taking the newspaper business too seriously,” replied her father. “Shall I leave the car for you?”

  “It would be a help.”

  “All right, Penny.”

  Mr. Parker gave her the car keys, and walked on to his own newspaper. Entering the Times building, Penny spoke to several high school boys who were working in the advertising office, and climbed the stairs to her own office.

  For the next half hour she checked over galley proofs, marking corrections on the margins.

  “I never imagined there could be so many things to do on a weekly,” she sighed. “One never gets through.”

  A board creaked in the newsroom. Penny heard it and glanced up. A shadow passed slowly across the frosted glass of the office door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  No one answered, and the shadow disappeared. Penny waited a moment, then impatiently arose and went to the door. The newsroom was deserted.

  “Queer,” she thought. “Someone walked past my office door.”

  Thinking that it might have been one of the high school boys, Penny went to the head of the stairs and called:

  “Did anyone come up here a moment ago?”

  “Not unless it was by way of the back entrance,” was the reply.

  Decidedly puzzled, Penny returned to her desk. As she sat down a sheet of paper lying on the blotter pad drew her attention. She was certain it had not been there a few minutes earlier.

  Reaching for it, she gasped in astonishment. The paper bore a message scrawled in black ink and read:

  “To the Editor of the Weekly Times:

  You are hereby warned to give up your newspaper which offends public taste. We give y
ou three days to wind up your business and close doors. A word to the wise is sufficient.”

  CHAPTER 11

  MR. JUDSON’S DAUGHTER

  Penny read the message three times. Obviously, it had been placed on her desk during the few minutes she had been absent. Yet she reasoned that it would be useless to search for the cowardly person who undoubtedly had slipped from the building.

  “So I am warned to close shop!” she muttered angrily. “And the Weekly Times offends public taste!”

  Penny crumpled the paper into a ball, hurling it toward the wire basket. Reconsidering her action, she recovered the note and, carefully smoothing the wrinkles, placed it in her purse.

  “I’ll show this to Dad,” she told herself. “But no one else.”

  When Penny’s anger had cooled she was left with a vague sensation of misgiving. Resolutely she reflected that it was not unusual for editors to receive threatening notes. Often her father had shown her such communications sent to the Star by cranks.

  “It doesn’t mean a thing,” she assured herself. “Not a thing. I’ll keep on publishing the Weekly as long as I please.”

  One fact contributed to Penny’s uneasiness. Often she worked late in the building, and a single light burning from an upper story window proclaimed to any street watcher that she was alone. In the future she must use far more caution.

  Try as she would, Penny could not forget the warning. After the boys who comprised the advertising staff had gone home for dinner, she caught herself listening tensely to every unusual sound. At length she shut the desk and arose.

  “I’m doing no good here,” she thought in disgust. “I may as well go home.”

  Taking particular care to lock all doors and windows, Penny left the building. Street lights were blinking on as she climbed into the parked automobile.

  Driving mechanically, she weaved through downtown traffic, now and then halting for a red light. As she was starting ahead from an intersection, an elderly man suddenly stepped from the curb. His gaze was upon the pavement, and he did not see the car.

  Penny swerved the wheel and slammed on the foot brake. The edge of the fender brushed the man’s overcoat. He gasped in astonishment and staggered backwards.

  Penny brought the car to a standstill at the curb.