Part 10

"Just our luck!" muttered Mr. Parker.

Several times the driver tried to back the car from the ditch. Failing, he and Mr. Parker pushed while Penny handled the steering wheel. The tires kept spinning and would not grip the ice.

"No use," the publisher acknowledged at last. "We're only wasting time. We need a tow car."

"The nearest house or filling station is at least a mile up the road," volunteered Penny. "I'm afraid we're stalled here until the police car comes along."

They climbed into the taxi and waited. No vehicle of any description came by. With increasing impatience, Mr. Parker looked at his watch.

"It's nearly seven o'clock now!" he exclaimed. "Either the police are waiting farther down the road, or they've taken a different route!"

"What are we going to do?" Penny asked helplessly. "If we sit here much longer we'll miss catching those men at their meeting."

"I don't see what we can do. Maybe our best bet is to walk to the nearest filling station."

Penny suddenly was struck with an idea. "The Riverview Yacht Club is closer!" she cried.

"True, but it's closed for the winter."

"My iceboat is still there," said Penny. "If you're not afraid to ride with me, I could get you to Johnson's Warehouse in nothing flat."

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Mr. Parker.

Leaving the cab driver behind, Penny and her father ran most of the way to the club. The _Icicle_, covered with snow, runners frozen to the ice, remained where it had been abandoned.

"The sail's here too!" Penny declared, burrowing in a box hidden deep in the cockpit. "In this wind, we'll go places!"

"Are you sure you can handle the boat?" Mr. Parker asked anxiously. He had never ridden in the _Icicle_ and from his daughter's vivid descriptions, had no great desire to do so.

"I know I can start it going," Penny replied with a quick laugh. "I'll worry about stopping it when the time comes!"

They cleared the little boat of snow and pushed it out on the smooth ice of the river. Penny made certain that all the ropes were free running.

"Now you get in, Dad," she advised as she hoisted the flapping sail. "I want to be sure where you are when the fireworks begin."

The wind filled the big sail like a balloon. Nothing happened. The iceboat did not move an inch.

"Why don't we go?" growled Mr. Parker. "Runners dull?"

Penny gave the boat a hard push.

"Want me to help?" offered her father.

"No, thanks," puffed Penny. "When this baby makes up its mind, it will go so fast you'd be left behind."

Once more she pushed. The sail filled again and the runners stirred.

"It's moving!" shouted Penny.

The _Icicle_ was pulling away from her. She clung fast, trying to scramble aboard. Her feet went out from under her and she was dragged over the ice.

"Hang on!" shouted Mr. Parker. "I can't sail this thing alone!"

Penny clung desperately. Away flew a mitten. Her scarf flapped in her face. With a supreme effort, she pulled herself aboard, and took command of the tiller.

"Are you hurt?" Mr. Parker shouted anxiously in her ear.

Penny shook her head and laughed. "Getting started always is quite a trick," she replied. "Sit tight! We have a stiff breeze tonight."

Penny and her father wore no protective goggles. The sharp wind stung their eyes even though they kept their heads low.

"How'll we know when we get to the warehouse?" Mr. Parker shouted. "I can't see anything!"

"Just trust me," laughed Penny. "All I worry about is stopping this bronco when we get there!"

The boat was moving with the speed of an express train. Penny made her decisions with lightning-like rapidity, twice steering to avoid open stretches of water. She was worried, but had no intention of letting her father know.

The boat raced on. Then far ahead loomed the dark outline of a building.

"That's the warehouse!" shouted Mr. Parker. "Don't go past it!"

Penny gradually slowed the _Icicle_. Approaching shore, she slacked the main sheet and shot up into the wind. By using her overshoes for brakes, she finally brought the boat to a standstill not far from the warehouse.

"Well done, skipper," praised Mr. Parker.

Scrambling from the boat, they glanced anxiously about. A dim light shone from inside the warehouse. Not far from its side entrance stood a truck. There were no other vehicles, no sign of the expected police car.

"Is this the place?" Penny asked doubtfully.

"Yes, it's the only warehouse within a mile. Queer the police aren't here to meet us."

The publisher waded through a shrunken snowdrift to a side door of the building. It was not locked and he pushed it open a crack. Far down a deserted corridor shone a dim lantern light.

"Oughtn't we to wait for the police?" Penny whispered uneasily.

Without answering, Mr. Parker started down the corridor. Penny quickly overtook him, padding along close at his side.

The corridor opened into a large storage room used in years past to house river merchandise. Now the walls were stacked high with tires.

On the ground floor stood a truck which several men were loading. Two others watched the work from a balcony overhead.

"Dad, do you recognize any of those men?" Penny whispered.

"No, but we've evidently come to the right place," he replied.

The men did not talk as they loaded the tires into the truck. For many minutes Penny and her father watched the work.

"That truck soon will be pulling out," Penny observed. "Why don't the police come?"

"I'm going to talk to those men," Mr. Parker decided. "You stay here."

Before Penny could protest, her father stepped boldly into the lighted room. Immediately work ceased. Every eye focused upon him.

"Good evening," said Mr. Parker casually.

The remark was greeted by a suspicious silence. Then one of the men, a red-faced fellow with a twisted lower lip, asked: "You lookin' fer somebody?"

"Just passing through and noticed the light," replied Mr. Parker. "Wondered what's going on."

"You can see, can't you?" growled one of the workmen. "We're trying to load tires. Now get out of here or I'll bounce one on your head! We got work to do."

Mr. Parker did not lack courage. However, the grim faces warned him that the men would not hesitate to make their promise good. With Penny unprotected in the corridor he could afford to take no chances.

"Sorry to have bothered you," he apologized, and retreated.

Penny waited nervously in the dark hallway. "Now what are we to do?" she whispered as her father rejoined her.

"We'll telephone again for the police. Let's get out of here."

Noiselessly they stole from the building. As they huddled in the lee of a brick wall, a car came down the road.

"That may be the police now!" Penny murmured hopefully.

The car turned in at the warehouse. A lone policeman alighted. As he came over to the building, Penny recognized him as Carl Burns.

"Where's the rest of your men?" Mr. Parker demanded. "Surely you don't expect to handle this tire gang single handed?"

"Aren't you a bit mixed up?" the policeman drawled.

"Mixed up?"

"I'm here on a routine inspection. This is a defense plant, or didn't you know?"

"A defense plant!" Mr. Parker echoed.

"A warehouse for one, I should say," corrected the policeman. "Tires intended for the Wilson war plant are earmarked and shipped out from here. A couple of trucks are going out tonight. I'm on the job to see they're not hijacked."

Penny gazed blankly at her father. If the policeman's information was correct, then they had nearly made a serious blunder.

"Guess we've been tricked," Mr. Parker muttered. "We were told this place operates in the Black Market."

"That's a laugh," responded the policeman. "Who told you that yarn?"

"I can't divulge my source."

"Well, you sure were taken for a ride!" the policeman taunted. "Mr. Parker, why not let the police handle the crooks while you look after your newspaper business? You've not been yourself since you were in that auto accident."

Penny and her father resented the implication, but wisely allowed the remark to pass without comment. Decidedly crestfallen, they bade the policeman goodbye and returned to the iceboat.

"We've made ourselves ridiculous!" Mr. Parker commented bitterly as they shoved off down river. "Taken in by Sam Burkholder!"

"He probably lied to get rid of us," agreed Penny. "By this time he's likely removed every tire from Mattie's garage!"

Mr. Parker nodded and did not speak again. His failure to learn the identity of the key men associated with Ropes Mollinberg, had been a bitter disappointment.

Penny handled the _Icicle_ effortlessly and without much thought. Faster and faster the little boat traveled, its runners throwing up a powdery dust.

Then without warning the _Icicle_ struck something frozen in the ice. Before Penny could make a move, the runners leaped from the surface. The boat tilted to a sharp angle, and went over.

Penny felt herself sliding. Snow filled her mouth, the sleeves of her coat. Her cap hung over one ear. Laughing shakily, she scrambled to her feet.

"Are you all right, Dad?" she called anxiously.

Then she saw him. Mr. Parker was sprawled flat on the ice a few yards away. He did not move. Terrified, she ran to him and grasped his arm.

"Dad! Speak to me!"

Mr. Parker stirred slightly. He raised a hand and rubbed his head. Slowly he pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Penny--" he mumbled, staring at her.

"Yes, Dad."

"It's come to me--in a flash!"

"What has, Dad?" Penny asked, wondering how badly her father had been stunned.

"Why, all the evidence I had in my portfolio! Names! Pictures! I know every man who was mixed up in the tire deal. Jerry gave it all to me."

"You remember everything?" cried Penny. "Dad, that's wonderful! It's just like Doctor Greer said. You've regained your memory as the result of a sudden blow."

"Things did seem to rush back to me after I hit my head on the ice."

Gripping Penny's hand, Mr. Parker pulled himself to his feet. Still giddy, he staggered and caught the iceboat for support. Then recovering, he exclaimed:

"We've got to go back there right away!"

"Where, Dad?"

"To the warehouse. We were tricked, but not by Sam Burkholder! Policeman Burns is one of the men I aim to expose!"

CHAPTER 25 _FINAL EDITION_

Penny and her father had no definite plan as they raced toward Johnson's warehouse in the iceboat. Their only thought was to return and somehow prevent the escape of the tire thieves.

"Dad, is Harley Schirr one of the gang?" Penny shouted in Mr. Parker's ear.

"Schirr?" he repeated impatiently. "Of course not!"

"Then why didn't he want you to publish the tire stories in the _Star_?"

"Oh, Schirr's a natural-born coward," Mr. Parker answered. "He likes to snoop and give unasked advice. Let's forget him."

The _Icicle_ slowed to a standstill near the warehouse. Penny and her father leaped out and climbed the slippery bank. Nearby they saw a loaded truck about to pull away from the building.

"We never can stop those men now!" gasped Penny.

"Yes, we can!" cried her father. "A police car is coming, and this time it's no fake!"

As he spoke, an automobile bearing the notation, "Police Department" in bold letters, skidded into the driveway. Detective Fuller was at the wheel and at least four policemen were with him.

"Stop that truck!" Mr. Parker shouted. "Don't let it get away!"

Detective Fuller and four companions leaped from the police car. As the loaded truck started off with a roar, they blocked the road.

"Halt!" shouted Detective Fuller.

When the order was ignored, he fired twice. The bullets pierced the rear tires of the truck. Air whistled out and the rubber slowly flattened.

For a few yards the truck wobbled on, then stopped. Two detectives leaped for the cab.

"All right, get out!" ordered Detective Fuller, covering the men.

The truck driver and two others slouched sullenly out of the cab. As flashlights swept their faces, Penny recognized one of the men.

"Hank Biglow!" she identified the driver.

"And this man is Ham Mollinberg, a brother of Ropes," said Mr. Parker, indicating a red-faced fellow in a leather jacket. "The man beside him is Al Brancomb, wanted for skipping parole in California."

"Any others in the warehouse?" demanded Detective Fuller.

"There should be," said Penny excitedly. "Where's Mr. Burns?"

"What Burns do you mean?" questioned one of the detectives.

"Connected with your police force, unfortunately," informed Mr. Parker. "That's why I planned to consult the Prosecutor before I spread the story on the _Star's_ front page. You boys have done good work in Riverview and I didn't want to make the department look bad."

"Burns, eh?" Detective Fuller repeated. "We'll find out what he has to say!"

The policeman, however, was not to be apprehended so easily. Four men, including Ropes Mollinberg, were captured inside the warehouse. Burns had left the building some minutes earlier and had returned to Riverview.

"Don't worry, we'll get him!" Detective Fuller promised Mr. Parker. "How about these other eggs? Can you identify them?"

"They're all members of the outfit," the publisher said without hesitation. "One of my reporters, Jerry Livingston, spent weeks watching these men and getting wise to their methods."

"Then he can testify against them."

"He can if he gets back," agreed Mr. Parker. "Jerry's in Canada and for some reason we've been unable to locate him."

Penny and her father remained at the warehouse until the handcuffed prisoners had been taken away. They were jubilant over the capture. Not only would the tire-theft gang be broken up, but the _Star_ had achieved another exclusive front-page story.

"The best part of all is that you've recovered your memory!" Penny declared to her father. "After this, you won't dare fuss when I tell you I'm going ice-boating!"

"You're right," agreed Mr. Parker. "The _Icicle_ is the best pal I ever had!"

Within an hour after Penny and her father left the warehouse they were notified that Mr. Burns had been taken into custody. Evidence piled up rapidly against the policeman. As it definitely was established that he had accepted money from Ropes Mollinberg, he was stripped of his badge and put behind bars.

Police were not compelled to search the Williams' garage. Before they could act, Sam Burkholder came voluntarily to Central Station, offering to make a clean breast of his part in the Black Market dealings. Both he and Mattie were held as witnesses against the tire thieves.

"Will Mattie be kept in jail long?" Penny asked her father.

"I doubt it," he replied. "Apparently, Sam acted alone in selling illegal tires. Since he's showing a disposition to cooperate with police, he'll probably escape with a heavy fine."

With the tire theft case soon to come up for trial, Penny was disturbed lest Jerry Livingston fail to return from Canada in time to testify. For many days she tormented herself with wild speculations. Then one afternoon her worries were brought to an end by the arrival of a telegram. Nothing had happened to the young reporter. He had failed to reply to messages only because he had been out of touch with civilization.

In his wire, Jerry stated that he would return to Riverview at once to aid in the search for the publisher.

"Jerry doesn't know yet that you've been found!" Penny said to her father. "We must wire him right away to set his mind at rest."

The message was sent, and within a few hours a reply arrived, addressed to Penny.

"COMING ANYWAY," it read. "AM BRINGING YOU A BEAR RUG TOGETHER WITH A NICE BEAR HUG."

As if pleasant surprises never would end, still another came Penny's way. Police notified her that among the tires seized at the Johnson Warehouse was a set of five belonging to her stripped car.

"You're much better off than I," Mr. Parker teased her. "Your car now is in running order again. Mine will be in the garage for many a day. I'll have to pay my own repair bill, too."

"Unless the hit-skip driver is found."

"I'm afraid he never will be," sighed Mr. Parker. "I'll always believe the men who crowded me off the road were hired by the tire-theft gang. No way to prove it though."

"The car license number Mrs. Botts gave police didn't seem to be accurate," Penny replied. "By the way, have you decided what you'll do about her?"

"Mrs. Botts?"

"Yes, so far you've placed no formal charge against her."

Mr. Parker smiled as he reached for a final edition of the _Star_. The paper carried not only an account of the round-up at Johnson's Warehouse, but a full confession from Mrs. Botts.

"I bear the woman no ill will," he said. "She's already lost her position as caretaker at the Deming estate. That's punishment enough as far as I'm concerned."

Presently Mrs. Weems entered the living-room with a glass of milk. When she tried to make the publisher take it he complained that he no longer was an invalid.

"Now drink your milk like a good lad," Penny scolded. "Why, you're still as thin as a ghost."

With a wry face Mr. Parker gulped down the drink.

"Let's not speak of ghosts," he pleaded. "I'm well now, and I don't like to be reminded of those disgraceful night-shirt parades."

"Are you sure you're perfectly well?" teased Penny.

"Of course I am. My memory is as good as it ever was!"

"Haven't you forgotten a rather important financial item?"

Mr. Parker looked puzzled. Then light broke over his face.

"Your allowance! I've not paid it for a long while, have I?"

"You certainly haven't," grinned Penny. "The old till is painfully empty. I can use a little folding money to good advantage."

Her father smiled and opened his pocketbook. "Here you are," he said. "Go out and paint the town red!"

When Penny thumbed over the little stack of "folding money" she drew in her breath. Then she leaped to her feet in youthful exuberance.

"Oh, Dad, you're a darling!" she cried. "Why, this will buy a brush and a whole barrel of red paint! Look out, Riverview, here I come!"

Transcriber's Notes

--Silently corrected a handful of palpable typos.

--Replaced the list of books in the series by the complete list, as in the final book, "The Cry at Midnight".

End of Project Gutenberg's Ghost Beyond the Gate, by Mildred A. Wirt