The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “This place really isn’t half bad by daylight,” she told herself. “Dad would be certain to get a complete rest here.”

  Penny went back into the house and set about cleaning up the kitchen. She had just finished the task when Mr. Nichols appeared in the doorway.

  “Are there any mirrors in this place?” he asked irritably. “I’d like to know how I’m to get my whiskers cut off!”

  “Why not let them grow?” giggled Penny. “I think you’d look real cute with a beard!”

  “Oh, you do?” demanded her father.

  “There’s a looking glass over the sink,” Penny told him. “And plenty of water if you like it cold.”

  “Why not heat some on the stove?”

  “That would be a good idea,” Penny admitted, “only I can’t find any matches. And apparently one is expected to cut down a tree for wood!”

  “We’re starting right back to Belton City as soon as I’ve shaved,” said Mr. Nichols firmly.

  “No, I’ve changed my mind about this place, Dad,” Penny replied quickly. “If our landlord, Mr. Crocker, will only fix things up, it won’t be half bad.”

  “The cottage would need to be rebuilt to make it comfortable. I doubt that Mr. Crocker will consent to do that.”

  “He might clean it up for us, furnish wood and clean bedding, and see that the lights are turned on,” Penny said. “We could get along then. It wouldn’t hurt us to rough it for a few weeks.”

  “I guess I am too much attached to my comforts,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “So you really are willing to stay?”

  “I think you’d have a grand rest here.”

  “And what would you do, Penny?”

  “Oh, cook and hike. I’d manage to keep occupied.”

  “You’re being a good sport about this,” the detective said gravely. “For myself, I’d not mind staying here. It’s a change and that’s what I need.”

  “Then it’s settled,” laughed Penny. “While you’re shaving, I’ll run down and see our landlord. Perhaps I can borrow a few supplies from him too.”

  Mr. Nichols tossed her the car keys.

  “No, I’ll walk,” Penny called over her shoulder as she left the cottage. “I need the exercise.”

  By daylight the old Crocker home was nearly as gloomy as when viewed amid the shadows. Penny paused at the entrance of the narrow, rutty lane and stared at the place. Everything was quiet. The blinds were all drawn and she could see no one moving about.

  “It looks almost as if no one were here,” she thought.

  The winding lane led through the trees to the house and on either side were rows of tall, uncut privet hedge.

  Suddenly as Penny walked hurriedly along, she was startled to see a lean, yellow hound hurl itself over the top of the hedge directly in her path. She stopped short. The animal bared his fangs, growling low.

  Penny was not afraid of dogs as a usual thing, but she had never seen a more vicious looking hound. She had every reason to believe that if she tried to go on up the lane he would attack.

  Penny reached down and seized a stout stick. She did not know whether to try to advance or retreat.

  As she was eying the hound speculatively, Penny heard another sound directly behind her. She whirled about to see an old man with intent dark eyes watching her from beyond the hedge. Only his face was visible for the dense green foliage completely screened his body.

  “What do you want here?” asked the old fellow in a harsh voice. “Who are you?”

  CHAPTER III

  A Queer Old Man

  “My name is Penelope Nichols,” the girl introduced herself after she had recovered from astonishment. “Are you Mr. Crocker?”

  “I am,” replied the old man grimly. “What do you want here?”

  “Why, my father and I rented your cottage,” Penny told him quickly. “Would you mind calling off your dog? He acts as if he’d enjoy chewing me to pieces.”

  “Rudy has been trained to attack anyone who tries to come up the lane,” Herman Crocker said evenly.

  He stepped through a gap in the hedge and spoke sharply to the hound. Rudy went reluctantly to the side of his master.

  Penny could not help but stare at the old man. He was short and stooped and his clothes were not very clean. She saw that he was carrying a shotgun.

  Herman Crocker studied the girl shrewdly.

  “What is it you want of me?” he asked gruffly. “I told Kilkane he was to handle everything about the cottage. I don’t want to be bothered.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Crocker, but there are a few details which must be settled if my father and I are to remain.”

  “What’s your complaint?”

  “The electricity hasn’t been turned on, Mr. Crocker. The cottage needs cleaning. There is no wood. I can’t find half enough dishes or cooking pans. We’ll need more linen and blankets.”

  “You can’t expect me to fix up the place like it was a palace,” complained the old man. “You’re only paying fifteen dollars a week.”

  “If you’re unwilling to do anything about it then we’ll leave this morning.” Penny turned to walk away.

  “Here, wait,” called the old man. “I’m willing to do anything that’s reasonable. Come up to the house and I’ll give you some clean linen.”

  Penny walked with Mr. Crocker up the lane, trying not to show that she felt uneasy. The old man caught her staring at his shotgun.

  “I was hunting squirrels early this morning,” he explained.

  “Isn’t this out of season?” Penny asked before she stopped to think.

  Herman Crocker glanced at her with an expression which she was unable to fathom.

  “Seasons make no difference to me,” he answered shortly. “I go hunting when I please.”

  They walked on in silence. When they were near the house Penny said casually:

  “Oh, by the way, my father and I met your nephew last night.”

  “My nephew?”

  “Why, yes, Walter Crocker. He told us he was on his way to visit you.”

  Penny saw the old man glance quickly toward her. She could tell that her words had disturbed him.

  “Oh, I couldn’t think who you meant at first,” he muttered. “Yes, Walter was here last night. But he’s gone back to the city.”

  Penny allowed the subject to drop, yet she wondered if Herman Crocker were telling the truth. Had the younger man really visited his uncle for the purpose of claiming an inheritance? He had seemed very bitter toward the old fellow. From her observation of Walter Crocker she did not believe that he was a person who would be easily discouraged in his ambitious designs.

  Penny had learned from past experience that if one wished to avoid trouble it did not pay to ask too many questions. More than once an inquiring turn of mind had involved her in strange adventures. Not so many months before this same trait of curiosity had drawn her into a detective case which had baffled the Belton City police. Her clever work, which resulted in the capture of a daring group of auto thieves, is recounted in the first volume of this series, “Penny Nichols Finds a Clue.”

  Even more recently, Penny had solved a mystery which concerned a queer sculptured figure called The Black Imp. By exposing an unscrupulous dealer in paintings who sought to betray his patrons, she saved many persons from being swindled and at the same time gained honor for herself.

  At the moment, Penny was not eager to involve herself in trouble. She determined to say no more about Walter Crocker unless the old man reopened the subject.

  “I’ll get the things for you,” said Herman Crocker as they reached the kitchen door. “Just wait here.”

  Penny was a little surprised because the old man did not invite her into the house.

  “It won’t take me long,” he said, deliberately closing the door behind him.

  Penny seated herself on the steps of the sagging porch and kept her eye upon Herman Crocker’s dog which had stationed himself only a few feet away.

  “That anima
l is vicious,” she thought uneasily. “I don’t see why Crocker keeps him around.”

  Hearing a slight sound Penny gazed toward the right and was surprised to observe a small boy peering at her from the corner of the house. He was tall and very thin but did not appear to be more than nine or ten years of age.

  “Hello there,” said Penny in a friendly voice.

  “Hello,” answered the boy. He moved slowly toward her, staring rather blankly.

  “You’re not Mr. Crocker’s little boy?” Penny asked, hoping to draw him into conversation.

  “I’m his grandson.”

  “Oh, his grandson,” repeated Penny, studying the lad with interest. He bore slight resemblance to Herman Crocker. “And is Rudy your dog?”

  “No!” replied the lad bitterly. “I hate him. If I tried to go away from here he’d attack me. My grandfather has trained him to do that.”

  Penny was not certain that she had understood correctly. She could not believe that Herman Crocker deliberately kept his grandson a prisoner on the property.

  “You don’t mean—” she began, but the words died away.

  The kitchen door had opened. Herman Crocker stood scowling at his grandson.

  “Perry!” he said harshly. “Get inside! There’s work to be done!”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the boy meekly.

  With a frightened glance directed toward Penny he scuttled into the house. Mr. Crocker closed the door again.

  “I do believe that old man was afraid to have me talk with his grandson!” Penny thought shrewdly. “How strange!”

  She did not have long to reflect upon the queer actions of her new landlord, for in a very few minutes he reappeared with an armload of linen and blankets.

  “I’ve telephoned the electric company for you,” he told her. “Your lights ought to be on before night.”

  “And will you have the cottage cleaned for us?” Penny requested.

  “I can’t do the work myself,” scowled the man. “But if you want to get Mrs. Masterbrook, I’ll pay the bill.”

  “Who is she?” inquired Penny.

  “I’ll give you her address. She does cleaning work by the day.”

  Penny was not very well pleased with the arrangement because it meant that she must make a special trip to find Mrs. Masterbrook. However, there seemed no other way since the landlord had proved himself to be such an unaccommodating person.

  “You’ll likely be going in to town sometime today?” ventured Mr. Crocker as Penny turned to leave.

  “Why, I imagine so. We’ll need supplies.”

  The man hesitated, and then said in a tone which he tried to make sound casual: “It might be just as well for you not to mention to folks that you saw my nephew. Not that I have any secrets to keep. I just don’t like folks nosing into my affairs. Anyway, Walter’s gone now and it’s no one’s business but my own.”

  “I am a stranger in the community,” replied Penny. “I’d have no occasion to speak of your nephew.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Herman Crocker in a tone of relief. “Well, if there’s anything more you need, let me know. And I’ll see that you get a supply of wood before nightfall.”

  “Thank you,” Penny responded.

  She permitted herself a smile as she walked down the lane with the arm load of bedding. It was easy enough to see why Mr. Crocker had become so obliging. He expected a favor in return—her silence regarding Walter Crocker.

  “He acts almost as if he is ashamed of his nephew,” she thought. “I wonder why he doesn’t wish folks to learn about him.”

  Mr. Nichols had finished shaving by the time Penny reached the cottage.

  “Well, I hope you rounded up some breakfast for us,” he remarked.

  Penny shook her head as she dropped the pile of linen on the table.

  “No such luck, Dad. I asked Mr. Crocker for so many things I didn’t try to get any food. He’s the strangest man!”

  “What’s so strange about him?”

  “I suspect he’s a miser or something of the sort. Anyway, he keeps a wicked looking dog and goes around the premises with a shotgun. He won’t let his grandson talk with strangers, either.”

  “You didn’t learn much, did you?”

  “Well, I didn’t have a very good chance,” Penny grinned. “You see, he wouldn’t let me into the house. I had to wait on the porch while he brought the things.”

  “Penny, are you making all this up?”

  “Of course not!” she retorted indignantly. “Wait until you meet Mr. Crocker. He’s a very mysterious character.”

  “Then I’d just as soon not meet him,” laughed the detective. “In my present mood he’d not interest me a bit.”

  “I’ll tell you about the practical results of our talk,” smiled Penny. “We’re to have all the wood we need and our electric lights should be hooked up by nightfall. Mr. Crocker has promised to pay for having the cottage cleaned. He gave me the name and address of a woman who will do the work.”

  “That’s fine,” said the detective. “If she’s any good as a housekeeper, why not hire her ourselves by the week? Then you’d be free to roam around and have a good time.”

  “The idea sounds all right to me,” Penny declared quickly. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about cooking on an old-fashioned stove.”

  “Let’s drive down to the village now,” suggested the detective. “We’ll have breakfast and then find the cleaning woman.”

  Penny and her father rode down Knob Hill to the little town of Kendon. Fortified by an excellent meal at the Florence Cafe they set forth to find the home of Anna Masterbrook. They were told that she was a spinster who lived two miles from the village.

  “Why, this is the same road we came over last night,” Penny observed as they drove along.

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Mr. Nichols. “For half a cent I’d keep right on going until we reached Belton City.”

  “Oh, we’ll both like it after we get the cottage in order,” Penny said cheerfully. “Mrs. Masterbrook may easily turn out to be a diamond in the rough.”

  “I hope so,” sighed Mr. Nichols. “But our luck isn’t running very well.”

  The car rolled over a low hill and Penny observed a curve just ahead.

  “Dad, didn’t we pick up Walter Crocker at just about this point?” she asked.

  “I think this was the place,” he agreed.

  The car swung slowly around the bend. Both Penny and her father turned their heads to glance toward the ditch. They were surprised to see Walter Crocker’s automobile still tipped over on its side. Apparently it had not been greatly damaged.

  “Well, that’s certainly odd,” said Penny as they drove on past the scene of the accident.

  “Meaning just what, Penny?”

  “Why, it seems queer to me that the car hasn’t been towed to a garage,” she replied thoughtfully. “Mr. Crocker told me his nephew had gone back to the city. If that is true, why did the man abandon a good automobile?”

  CHAPTER IV

  Inside Information

  “The garage may be slow in towing the car into town,” replied Mr. Nichols. “I’ve noticed that things don’t move at lightning speed around Kendon.”

  “I suppose that could be the reason,” Penny admitted reluctantly. “But wouldn’t you think that Walter Crocker would want to find out how much damage had been done to his car before he left?”

  “Oh, he may have so much money that it doesn’t matter.”

  “I doubt that, Dad. You remember he told us he was coming here to claim an inheritance. After meeting old Herman I’d guess that he didn’t get it. Would you think—”

  “I’m not thinking at all these days,” chuckled Mr. Nichols. “I’ve padlocked my brain for two weeks. Please, Penny, don’t try to stir up imaginary cases for me to solve.”

  Penny made no reply, for just then they came within view of an old farmhouse which answered the description provided by Herman Crocker. A tin mai
lbox by the roadside bore the name Anna Masterbrook.

  “This is the right place,” Mr. Nichols declared.

  They went up the front walk, observing that it had been swept that morning. The porch was freshly scrubbed, too, and clean curtains hung in the windows.

  “Mrs. Masterbrook must be a good housekeeper,” the detective said. “I think we’ll employ her if her price is right.”

  He rapped on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, gaunt-looking woman of middle age. Her black hair had been drawn back tightly from her face, accentuating the high cheek bones.

  “Mrs. Masterbrook?” inquired the detective, lifting his hat.

  “That’s my name,” said the woman. Her voice was high pitched and unpleasant. “If you’re selling anything—”

  “I am not a salesman,” Mr. Nichols assured her. “Mr. Crocker sent us to you. I understand that you do cleaning work.”

  “I worked for Herman Crocker seven years,” the woman said. “Precious little pay or thanks I ever got for it too!”

  “We are staying in his cottage,” Penny explained. “Mr. Crocker said we were to have you clean it up for us, and he would pay the bill.”

  “How do I know he’ll keep his promise?”

  “Does Mr. Crocker usually break his word?” asked the detective.

  “Well, he’s close,” Mrs. Masterbrook replied. “A dollar looks as big as a mountain to Herman.”

  “If Mr. Crocker fails to settle the bill, I’ll look after it myself,” Mr. Nichols promised. “And another thing. Would you be willing to take a position as housekeeper for a couple of weeks?”

  “What would it pay?” Mrs. Masterbrook demanded quickly.

  “Well, I might let you name your price.”

  “Five dollars a week,” the woman said firmly after a moment of thought. “I wouldn’t come for a cent less.”

  Penny and Mr. Nichols glanced at each other. They had expected Mrs. Masterbrook to ask double the amount.

  “You are hired, Mrs. Masterbrook,” said the detective gently.

  Penny and her father went back to the car to wait while the woman collected a few things to take with her.

  “I think we’ve found a jewel, Penny,” the detective declared enthusiastically. “If I’m any judge of character, she’s a good housekeeper.”