“Is it damaged in any way?” Penny asked.
“It doesn’t seem to be. So the professor had it all the time just as we thought!”
“And here are the plates I tossed into the car the night of the explosion!” Penny added, burrowing deeper into the pile of clothing. “They’re probably ruined by now.”
“Maybe not,” said Salt, examining them. “The professor may have thought they were unexposed plates and kept them for use later on.”
“Anyway, it was crooked of him to try to keep the camera,” Penny declared. “Though I suppose such a small theft doesn’t amount to much in comparison to the trick he nearly played on Mr. Johnson.”
“It matters to me,” the photographer chuckled. “Am I glad to get this camera back! The plates won’t do us any good now they are outdated, but I’ll take them along anyhow. I’m curious to see if they would have shown anything of significance.”
“By all means develop them,” urged Mr. Parker. “Anything else in the suitcase?”
In a pocket of the case Penny found several letters from Mr. Johnson which she gave to her father. Knowing they would be valuable in establishing a case of attempted fraud against the professor, he kept them.
“I wish Webb Nelson hadn’t managed to escape,”Penny remarked as the trio went downstairs again. “He must have started for Newhall, perhaps to catch a train.”
“Any due at this time?” her father asked thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Tell you what,” Mr. Parker proposed. “We can do nothing more here. We may as well drive to the village again and press an inquiry for Webb.”
Once more the car with Salt as driver careened over the bumpy country road to Newhall. They reached the town without sighting anyone who resembled the professor’s helper.
“Drive to the station,” Mr. Parker instructed Salt. “There’s an outside chance Webb went there.”
The depot was a drab little red building, deserted except for a sleepy-eyed station agent who told them there was no passenger train scheduled to leave Newhall before six o’clock the next morning.
“Any freight trains?” Mr. Parker inquired.
“A couple are overdue,” the agent said. “No. 32 from the east, and No. 20, also westbound. No. 20’s just coming into the block.”
Although it seemed unlikely Webb would take a freight train out of town, Mr. Parker, Salt and Penny, decided to wait for it to come in. They went outside, standing in the shadow of the station.
“No sign of anyone around,” Salt declared, looking carefully about. “We may as well go back to the lake.”
“Let’s wait,” Penny urged.
No. 20 rumbled into the station, stirring up a whirlwind of dust and cinders. A trainman with a lantern over his arm, came into the station to get his orders from the agent. He chatted a moment, then went out again, swinging aboard one of the cars. A moment later, the train began to move.
“Shall we go?” Mr. Parker said impatiently.
Penny buttoned her coat as she stepped beyond the protection of the building, for the night air was cold and penetrated her thin clothing. Treading along behind her father and Salt to the car, she started to climb in, when her attention riveted upon a lone figure some distance from the railroad station. A man, who resembled Webb Nelson in build, had emerged from behind a tool shed, and stood close to the tracks watching the slowly moving freight.
Then he ran along beside the train and suddenly leaped into one of the empty box cars.
“Dad! Salt!” she exclaimed. “I just saw someone leap into one of those cars! I’m sure it was Webb!”
“Where?” demanded her father. “Which car?”
“The yellow one. Oh, he’ll get away unless we can have him arrested at the next town!”
“He won’t escape if I can stop him!” Salt muttered.
Racing across the platform, he waited for the car Penny had indicated. Although the train was moving faster now, he leaped and swung himself to a sitting position in the open doorway.
“Look out! Look out!” Penny screamed in warning.
Behind Salt, the man who had taken refuge in the car, moved stealthily toward him, obviously intending to push him off the train. But the photographer knew what to expect and was prepared.
He whirled suddenly and scrambled to his feet. His attacker caught him slightly off balance, and they went down together, rolling over and over on the straw littered floor.
Worried for Salt, Penny and Mr. Parker ran along beside the train. The publisher tried to leap aboard to help the photographer, but lacking the younger man’s athletic prowess, he could not make it. Already winded, he began to fall behind.
Penny kept on and managed to grasp the doorway of the car, but she instantly realized she could not swing herself through the opening. The train now was moving rapidly and gaining speed each moment.
Inside the box car, the two men were rolling over and over, each fighting desperately to gain the advantage. Penny could not see what was happening. Forced by the speed of the train, she let go her hold. Her feet were swept from beneath her, and she stumbled and fell along the right of way.
Before she could scramble to her feet, her father had caught up with her.
“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.
Penny’s knees were skinned but the injury was so trifling she did not speak of it. Her one concern was for Salt.
“Oh, Dad,” she said, grasping his arm nervously. “What are we going to do? That brute may kill him!”
Mr. Parker shared Penny’s concern, but he said calmly: “There’s only one thing we can do now. We’ll have the station agent send a wire to the next station. Police will meet the train and take Webb into custody.”
“He may not be on the train by the time it reaches the next town! Oh, Dad, Salt may be half killed before then!”
Penny and her father stared after the departing freight. The engineer whistled for a high trestle spanning a narrow river, and the train began to rumble over it.
Suddenly Penny stiffened into alert attention. In the doorway of the open boxcar, she could see the two struggling men. Mr. Parker, too, became tense.
As they watched fearfully, one of the men was pushed from the car. He rolled over and over down a steep embankment toward the creek bed.
The other man, poised in the doorway an instant, then just before the car reached the trestle, leaped.
CHAPTER 23
ESCAPE BY NIGHT
Fearful for Salt, Penny and her father ran down the tracks toward the railroad trestle. Scrambling and sliding down the slippery embankment, they saw Salt lying in a heap near the edge of the creek.
Webb, his ankle injured, was trying to hobble toward a corn field just beyond the railroad right of way.
“Get him! Don’t let him escape!” Salt cried, raising himself to his knees.
Although alarmed for the photographer who appeared to have been injured by his leap, Penny and her father pursued Webb. Handicapped as he was with an injured ankle, they overtook him by the barbed wire fence.
Already badly battered from the fight, and bruised as a result of his fall from the train, the man put up only a brief struggle as Mr. Parker pinned him to the ground.
“Quick!” the publisher directed Penny. “See what you can do for Salt. He may be badly injured.”
The photographer, however, had struggled to his feet. He stood unsteadily, staring down at his torn clothing.
“Are you all right?” Penny asked anxiously, running to his side.
“Yes, I’m okay,” he said, gingerly touching a bruised jaw. “Boy! Is that lad a scrapper? Did you see me push him out of the boxcar?”
“We certainly did, and we were frightened half to death! We thought you would be killed.”
Hobbling over to the fence, Salt confronted his assailant. Webb’s face was a sorry sight. His nose was crimson, both eyes were blackened and his lip was bleeding.
“You may as well come along without
making any more trouble,” Mr. Parker told him grimly. “Professor Bettenridge has been taken into custody, and the entire fraud has been exposed.”
“I figured that out when I heard the mine go off,” the man returned sullenly. “Okay, you got me, but I was only carrying out orders. I worked for Professor Bettenridge, but any deals he made were his business, not mine.”
“That remains to be seen,” replied Mr. Parker. “We’ll let you talk to the sheriff. Move along, and no monkey business.”
Having no weapon, Salt and the publisher walked on either side of the prisoner, while Penny brought up the rear.
“You don’t need to hang onto me,” he complained bitterly. “I ain’t going to try to escape.”
“We’re sure you won’t,” returned Salt, “because we’ll be watching you every step of the way.”
At first, as the four tramped down the tracks toward the station, the prisoner showed no disposition to talk. But gradually his curiosity gained the better of him. He sought information about Professor Bettenridge’s arrest, and then tried to build up a story that would convince his captors he had only been an employee hired on a weekly basis.
“I suppose you know nothing about the Snark either,” Penny observed bitterly. “After Ben Bartell and I pulled you out of the river, you repaid us by stealing his watch.”
To her astonishment, the man reached in his pocket and gave her the timepiece.
“Here,” he said gruffly, “give it back to him. I won’t need it where I’m going.”
“Why did you take the watch when it didn’t belong to you?” Penny pursued the subject. “Especially after Ben risked his life to pull you out of the river.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the man answered impatiently. “I needed a watch, so I took it. Quit askin’ so many questions.”
“Why were you pushed off the Snark?” Penny demanded, refusing to abandon the subject.
She did not expect Webb to answer the question as he had refused to explain at the time of his rescue. To her surprise, he replied grimly:
“They tried to get rid of me. We had a disagreement over a job they wanted me to pull.”
“What job was that?” Mr. Parker interposed.
“Dynamiting the Conway Steel Plant.”
The words produced a powerful effect upon the publisher, Salt, and Penny. At their stunned silence, Webb added hastily:
“You understand, I didn’t do it. They got sore because I refused to pull the job.”
“Why, that doesn’t make sense,” Penny protested. “Evidently, you are mixed up on your dates, because the Conway Plant explosion took place before the night we rescued you from the water.”
“Sure, I know,” the man muttered, trying to cover his slip of tongue. “They were afraid I’d squawk to the police and that was why they pitched me overboard.”
“Who pulled the job?” Salt asked.
“I don’t know. Someone was hired to set off the explosion.”
Webb’s story was accepted but not believed. Penny knew from previous experience that the man was more inclined to tell a lie than the truth. Convinced that he might have been implicated in the explosion, she suddenly recalled his visit to the office of Jason Cordell. Could his call there have any hidden significance?
“You’re a friend of Mr. Cordell’s, aren’t you?” she inquired abruptly.
The question caught Webb off guard. He gave her a quick look but answered in an indifferent way:“Never heard of him.”
“I’m certain I saw you in his office,” Penny insisted.
Realizing that his loose talk was building up trouble for himself, Webb would say no more. At the sheriff’s office, he repeated practically the same story, insisting that he had been hired by Professor Bettenridge on a wage basis, and that he was in no way implicated in the plot to defraud Mr. Johnson.
“Your story doesn’t hang together,” Mr. Parker said severely. “Naturally you knew that the professor’s machine was worthless?”
“Not at first,” Webb whined. “He only told me he wanted a mine exploded at a certain time. It was only by chance that I learned he intended to cheat Mr. Johnson.”
“Considering the conversations I overheard between you and the professor, that is a little hard to believe,” Penny contributed.
“It might go a little easier with you, if you come through with the truth,” a deputy sheriff in charge of the office, added. “Anything you want to say before we lock you up?”
Webb hesitated a long while, and then in a subdued voice said: “Okay, I may as well tell you. Sure, I knew the professor and his wife were crooks. They offered me a split on the profits if Johnson bought the secret ray machine.”
“Where did you obtain your mines?” Salt asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” Webb answered, and for once spoke the truth. “Professor Bettenridge had a friend hooked up in a munitions plant who supplied him with a few which were defective.”
“Now tell us the truth about the Snark,” Penny insisted. “You said those men were mixed up in the dynamiting of the Conway Steel Plant. Was that one of the professor’s jobs?”
“No, he had nothing to do with it.”
“His car was in the vicinity of the plant on the night of the explosion.”
“It was just accident then,” Webb maintained. “He had nothing to do with it.”
“Then you do know the persons involved?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Webb said sullenly. “Why not go to the Snark and get information first hand if you want it.”
It was evident the man would reveal no more, so the deputy sheriff locked him up. Within a few minutes Professor Bettenridge and his wife were brought in, and although they indignantly demanded release, they too were placed in jail cells.
Mr. Johnson who had accompanied Major Bryan to the sheriff’s office, seemed rather stunned by the events which had transpired. He shook Penny’s hand and could not praise her enough for exposing the professor’s trickery.
“What a fool I was,” he acknowledged. “His smooth talk hypnotized me. Why, I might have paid a large sum of money to him, if it hadn’t been for you. Now I shall prosecute charges vigorously.”
The wealthy man tried to press money upon both Penny and Salt, who smilingly refused to accept it. They assured him that knowing the professor’s trick had failed was ample reward.
By the time Penny, her father and Salt finally reached the Parker home it was nearly midnight. Somewhat to their surprise, Mrs. Weems was still waiting up.
“I’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed, before they could explain what had happened. “Nearly an hour ago someone telephoned, asking for Penny. I think the message may be important.”
“Who was it?” Penny asked.
“A man named Edward McClusky.”
“The river diver!” Penny exclaimed. “What did he want, Mrs. Weems?”
“At first he wouldn’t tell me, saying he had to talk to you personally. However, I finally persuaded him to trust me with the message. He said: ‘Tell Miss Parker that her friend Ben Bartell went aboard theSnark last night and hasn’t been seen since.’”
CHAPTER 24
A RAID ON THE SNARK
“Oh, why didn’t Mr. McClusky call the police instead?”Penny cried anxiously. “Ben may be in serious trouble!” Turning to her father she added: “Dad, we must go there right away!”
“To the Snark?” Mr. Parker frowned and reached for the telephone. “The matter is one for the police, Penny. I’ll call the night inspector.”
Contacting the police station, the publisher explained why he believed it advisable to search the Snark. He was assured that a squad would be sent there at once to investigate.
“We’ve had other complaints about that vessel,” the inspector said. “So far we’ve not been able to find anything out of the way.”
Having notified the police, Mr. Parker felt that his duty was done, but not Penny.
“Dad, can’t we go there
too?” she pleaded. “Ben is in trouble and we may be able to help him.”
“I don’t see what we could do, Penny. Besides, you know how I feel about Ben.”
“And you’re dead wrong. You’ve done him a dreadful injustice. Tonight may prove it.”
Mr. Parker wavered, then suddenly gave in. “All right, get your heavy coat,” he instructed. “It will be cold along the waterfront.”
Penny raced for the warm garment and joined her father and Salt as they were backing the press car out of the driveway.
“The Snark is tied up at Pier 23,” Penny directed. “Straight down this street and turn at Jackson.”
The car reached the docks, parking alongside a dark warehouse. There was no sign of the police. A short distance away, the Snark with only dim deck lights showing, and no one in view, tugged at her heavy ropes.
“We’ll wait for the police,” Mr. Parker decided.
Within five minutes, two cars glided noiselessly up to the pier and a dozen men in uniform leaped out. Captain Bricker, in charge of the squad, strode to the Snark and called loudly: “Ahoy, there!”
No one answered.
“Ahoy, the Snark!” he shouted again.
Still receiving no answer, he ordered his men aboard. Single file, they crawled cautiously up a ladder to the dark deck.
“Anyone aboard?” the captain called once more.
Salt, Mr. Parker and Penny, eager for first hand information, followed the policemen up the ladder.
“My men will search the vessel,” Captain Bricker told them, “but no one appears to be aboard. Everything seems in order.”
Spreading out over the ship, the policemen returned one by one to report they could find nothing amiss. Not even a watchman was aboard.
“This seems to be a wild-goose chase, Captain,”Mr. Parker apologized. “Sorry to have bothered you. We considered our information reliable.”
The policemen began to leave. Penny, lingering on deck until the last, was being helped onto the ladder by Captain Bricker, when they both heard a sound below decks.
“What was that?” the officer muttered, listening alertly.
“It sounded like someone thumping on a wall,”Penny cried. “There it is again!”
The noise was not repeated a third time, but Captain Bricker had heard enough to make him believe that someone remained below. Drawing his revolver, and warning Penny to keep back, he started down the dark companionway.
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 159
