The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (209 page)

Ben also had changed his clothes. He busied himself starting a fire in the rusty old stove, and once he had a feeble blaze, hung up all the garments to dry.

The room was so barren that Penny tried not to give an appearance of noticing. There was only a table, one chair, the sagging bed, and a shelf with a few cracked dishes.

“I’ll get along with him all right,” Ben said, obviously expecting Penny to leave.

She refused to take the hint. Instead she said:“This man will either have to go to a hospital or stay here all night. He’s in no condition to walk anywhere.”

“He can have my bed tonight,” Ben said. “I’ll manage.”

The stranger’s intent eyes fastened first upon Penny and then Ben. But not a word of gratitude did he speak.

“You’ll need more blankets and food,” Penny said, thinking aloud. “I can get them from Mrs. Weems.”

“Please don’t bother,” Ben said stiffly. “We’ll get along.”

Though rebuffed, Penny went over to the bedside. Instantly she saw a bruise on the stranger’s forehead and a sizeable swollen place.

“Why, he must have struck his head!” she exclaimed, then corrected herself. “But he didn’t strike anything that we saw. Ben, he must have been slugged while aboard the
Snark
!”

The stranger turned so that he looked directly into the girl’s clear blue eyes. “Nuts!” he said emphatically.

“Our guest doesn’t seem to care to discuss the little affair,” Ben commented dryly. “I wonder why? He escaped drowning by only a few breaths.”

“Listen,” said the stranger, hitching up on an elbow. “You fished me out of the water, but that don’t give you no right to put me through the third degree. My business is my business—see!”

“Who are you?” demanded Penny.

She thought he would refuse to answer, but after a moment he said curtly: “James Webster.”

Both Penny and Ben were certain that the man had given a fictitious name.

“You work aboard the
Snark
?” Ben resumed the questioning.

“No.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

“And why were you pushed overboard?” Penny demanded as the man failed to answer the first question.

“I wasn’t pushed,” he said sullenly.

“Then how did you get into the water?” Penny pursued the subject ruthlessly.

“I tripped and fell.”

Penny and Ben looked at each other, and the latter shrugged, indicating that it would do no good to question the man. Determined to keep the truth from them, he would tell only lies.

“You can’t expect us to believe that,” Penny said coldly. “We happened to see you when you went overboard. There was a scuffle. Then the men who threw you in, disappeared. For the life of me, I can’t see why you would wish to protect them.”

“There are a lot of things you can’t see, sister,” he retorted. “Now will you go away, and let me sleep?”

“Better go,” Ben urged in a low tone. “Anyone as savage as this egg, doesn’t need a doctor. I’ll let him stay here tonight, then send him on his way tomorrow morning.”

“You really think that is best?”

“Yes, I do, Penny. We could call the police, but how far would we get? This bird would deny he was pushed off the boat, and we would look silly. We couldn’t prove a thing.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Penny sighed. “Well, I hope everything goes well tonight.”

Moving to the door, she paused there, for some reason reluctant to leave.

“I’ll take you home,” Ben offered.

“No, stay here,” Penny said firmly. “I’m not afraid to go alone. I only hope you get along all right with your guest.”

Ben followed her outside the shack.

“Don’t worry,” he said, once beyond hearing of the stranger. “This fellow is a tough hombre, but I know how to handle him. If he tries to get rough, I’ll heave him out.”

“I never saw such ingratitude, Ben. After you risked your life to save him—”

“He’s just a dock rat,” the reporter said carelessly.

“Even so, why should he refuse to answer questions?”

“Obviously, he’s mixed up in some mess and doesn’t dare talk, Penny. I’ve always had my suspicions about the
Snark
and her owners.”

“What do you mean, Ben?”

Before the reporter could answer, there came a thumping from inside the shack. Welcoming the interruption, Ben turned quickly to re-enter.

“Can’t tell you now,” he said hurriedly. “We’ll talk some other time. So long, and don’t worry about anything.”

Firmly, he closed the door.

Penny stood there a moment until satisfied that there was no further disturbance inside the shack. Then with a puzzled shake of her head, she crossed the vacant lot to the docks.

“Those men aboard the
Snark
should be arrested,” she thought indignantly. “I wish I could learn more about them.”

She stood for a moment lost in deep reflection. Then with sudden decision, she turned and walked toward the
Snark
.

CHAPTER 8

A SWINGING CHAIN

Approaching the
Snark
, Penny saw several men moving about on the unlighted decks. But as she drew nearer, their forms melted into the darkness. When she reached the dock, the vessel appeared deserted.

Yet, peering upward at the towering vessel, the girl had a feeling that she was being watched. She was satisfied that the rescue of the man who called himself James Webster had been observed. She was equally certain that those aboard the
Snark
were aware of her presence now.

“Ahoy, the
Snark
!” she called impulsively.

There was no answer from aboard the tied-up vessel, but footsteps pounded down the dock. Penny whirled around to find herself the target for a flashlight. Momentarily blinded, she could see nothing. Then, the light shifted away from her face, and she recognized a wharf guard.

“What you doing here?” he demanded gruffly.

Though tempted to tell the entire story, Penny held her tongue. “Just looking,” she mumbled.

“Didn’t I hear you call out?”

“Yes.”

“Know anyone aboard the
Snark?
”

“No.”

“Then move along,” the guard ordered curtly.

Penny did not argue. Slipping quietly away, she sought a brightly lighted street which led toward the newspaper office. Midway there, she stopped at a corner drugstore to call home and inquire for her father. Mrs. Weems told her that so far as she knew Mr. Parker had returned to the
Star
office to do a little extra work.

“Then I’ll catch him there,” Penny declared.

“Is anything wrong?” the housekeeper inquired anxiously.

“Just something in connection with a news story,”Penny reassured her. “I’ll be home soon.”

Hanging up the receiver before the housekeeper could ask any more questions, she walked swiftly on to the
Star
building. The front door was locked, but Penny had her own key. Letting herself in through the darkened advertising room, she climbed the stairs to the news floor.

A few members of the Sunday staff were working at their desks, but otherwise the room was deserted. Typewriters, like hooded ghosts, stood in rigid ranks.

Pausing to chat for a moment with the Sunday editor, Penny asked if her father were in the building.

“He was in his office a few minutes ago,” the man replied. “I don’t know if he left or not.”

Going on through the long newsroom, Penny saw that her father’s office was dark. The door remained locked.

Disappointed, she started to turn back when she noticed a light burning in the photography room. At this hour she knew no one would be working there, unless Salt Sommers or one of the other photographers had decided to develop and print a few of his own pictures.

“Dad, are you there?” she called.

No one answered, but Penny heard a scurry of footsteps.

“Salt!” she called, thinking it must be one of the photographers.

Again there was no reply, but a gust of wind came suddenly down the corridor. The door of the photography room slammed shut.

Startled, Penny decided to investigate. She pushed open the door. The light was on, but no one was in the room.

“Salt!” she called again, thinking that the photographer might be in the darkroom.

He did not reply. As she started forward to investigate, the swinging chain of the skylight drew her attention. The glass panels were closed and there was no breeze in the room. Yet the brass chain swung back and forth as if it had been agitated only a moment before.

“Queer!” thought Penny, staring upward. “Could anyone have come in here through that skylight?”

The idea seemed fantastic. She could think of no reason why anyone should seek such a difficult means of entering the newspaper office. To her knowledge, nothing of great value was kept in the photography rooms.

Yet, the fact remained that the light was on, the chain was swaying back and forth, and a door had slammed as if from a gust of wind.

Studying the skylight with keen interest, Penny decided that it would be possible and not too difficult for a person on the roof to raise the glass panels, and by means of the chain, drop down to the floor. But could a prowler reverse the process?

Penny would have dismissed the feat as impossible, had not her gaze focused upon an old filing cabinet which stood against the wall, almost directly beneath the skylight. Inspecting it, she was disturbed to find imprints of a man’s shoe on its top surface.

“Someone was in here!” Penny thought. “To get out, he climbed up on this cabinet!”

The brass handles of the cabinet drawers offered convenient steps. As she tried them, the cabinet nearly toppled over, but she reached the top without catastrophe. By standing on tiptoe, her head and shoulders would just pass through the skylight.

Pulling the brass chain, she opened it, and peered out onto the dark roof. No one was in sight. In the adjoining building, lights burned in a number of offices.

Suddenly the door of the photography room opened. Startled, Penny ducked down so fast that she bumped her head.

“Well, for Pete’s sake!” exclaimed a familiar voice. “What are you doing up there?”

Penny was relieved to recognize Salt. She closed the skylight and dropped lightly to the floor.

“Looking for termites?” the photographer asked.

“Two legged ones! Salt, someone has been prowling about in here! Whoever he was, he came in through this skylight.”

“What makes you think so, kitten?” Salt looked mildly amused and not in the least convinced.

Penny told him what had happened and showed him the footprints on the filing cabinet. Only then did the photographer take her seriously.

“Well, this is something!” he exclaimed. “But who would sneak in here and for what reason?”

“Do you have anything valuable in the darkroom?”

“Only our cameras. Let’s see if they’re missing.”

Striding across the room, Salt flung open the door of the inner darkroom, and snapped on a light. One glance assured him that the cameras remained untouched. But several old films were scattered on the floor. Picking them up, he examined them briefly, and tossed them into a paper basket.

“Someone has been here all right,” he said softly. “But what was the fellow after?”

“Films perhaps.”

“We haven’t anything of value here, Penny. If we get a good picture we use it right away.”

Methodically, Salt examined the room, but could find nothing missing.

“Perhaps the person, whoever he was, didn’t get what he was after,” Penny speculated. “I’m inclined to think this isn’t his first visit here.”

Questioned by Salt, she revealed Elda Hunt’s recent experience in the photography room.

“That dizzy dame!” he dismissed the subject. “She wouldn’t know whether she saw anything or not.”

“Something frightened her,” Penny insisted. “It may have been this same man trying to get in. Can’t the skylight be locked?”

“Why, I suppose so,” Salt agreed. “The only trouble is that this room gets pretty stuffy in the daytime. We need the fresh air.”

“At least it should be locked when no one is here.”

“I’ll see that it is,” Salt promised. “But it’s not likely the prowler will come back again—especially as you nearly caught him.”

It was growing late. Convinced that her father had left the
Star
building, Penny decided to take a bus home. As she turned to leave, she asked Salt carelessly:

“By the way, did you know Ben Bartell?”