Part 5

"Offer a suitable reward and information will be provided as to the whereabouts of your father. Make your offer known in the _Star_."

CHAPTER 11 _BY A CEMETERY WALL_

Penny and Mrs. Weems reread the anonymous message many times, analyzing every word.

"Plainly this note was written by a woman of some means for the paper is fine quality," Penny commented. "She must have sneaked up on the porch about an hour ago."

"Call the police at once," urged Mrs. Weems. "They'll tell us what we should do."

"Whoever left the note may be watching the house."

"We must risk that, Penny. I'll call the station myself."

While Mrs. Weems busied herself at the telephone, Penny switched off the living-room light. She could see no one loitering anywhere near the house. Slipping on her coat, she went outside to inspect the footprints left on the porch. Only a few remained uncovered by snow. There was no way to tell in which direction the writer of the anonymous message had gone.

Mrs. Weems had completed her telephone call by the time Penny reentered the house.

"Two detectives will be here in a few minutes," she revealed. "You keep watch for them while I run upstairs and get into something more suitable than a lounging robe."

Within ten minutes a car drew up in front of the house. Penny already was acquainted with Detectives Dick Brandon and George Fuller, and had great confidence in their judgment. Anxiously she and Mrs. Weems waited while the men scanned the anonymous message.

"This might be only a crank note," commented Brandon. "Someone who's read of Mr. Parker's disappearance, and hopes to pick up a little cash."

"Then you don't think it came from the tire-theft gang?" Penny asked.

"Not likely. A professional kidnaper never would have sent a note like this. The handwriting hasn't even been disguised."

"Will it be possible to trace the person?"

"It should be if we have a little luck." Detective Brandon pocketed the letter. "Now this is what you must do, Miss Parker. Offer a reward--say five thousand dollars--for information about your father."

"I'll get the story in every edition of the _Star_ tomorrow. And then what am I to do?"

"You'll likely hear from the writer of this anonymous message, either by letter or telephone. If you contact the woman, arrange a meeting. Then notify us immediately."

The discussion went on. When at length the two detectives left, Penny and Mrs. Weems were hopeful that within another twenty-four hours they might know Mr. Parker's fate.

In the morning, after only five hours of sleep, Penny was back at her desk. Her first act was to dictate the story offering a five-thousand-dollar reward for information about her father. Not even to Salt Sommers did she confide that she had received an anonymous message.

"Everything's going well here at the plant," he assured her. "Harley Schirr hasn't so much as stuck his nose through the door."

"I hope we're through with him," replied Penny soberly. "However, I don't feel that we are. By the way, no telegram has come from Jerry?"

"No message yet. Guess he didn't get your wire."

Throughout the morning, Penny worked tirelessly at her desk. Although her father's office now was vacant, she did not take possession. Even when she occasionally entered to get papers from the file, it gave her a queer, tight feeling. Her father's old neck-scarf still hung on the clothes tree. The rubbers he hated to wear stood heel to heel against the wall.

"Dad is alive and well," she told herself whenever her courage faltered. "By tomorrow he'll be back. I know he will."

At noon Salt brought Penny a sandwich which she ate without leaving her desk. As she struggled with the last mouthful, the telephone rang.

"Is this Miss Parker?" inquired a woman's voice.

Penny gripped the receiver tightly. Her pulse began to pound. Although she had no real reason for thinking so, she suddenly knew that she was in contact with the mysterious writer of the anonymous message.

"Yes," she replied, keeping her voice calm.

"You offered a reward in your paper today. Five thousand dollars for information about Mr. Parker."

"True. Can you tell me anything about his disappearance?"

"I can if you're willing to pay the money."

"I'll be glad to do it."

"And no questions asked?"

"No questions," Penny promised. "If you actually can provide information that will help me find my father, I'll be happy to give you the money."

There was a long silence. Fearful lest the woman had lost her nerve and was about to hang up, Penny said anxiously:

"Where shall I meet you? Will you come to my home?"

"That's too risky."

"Then where shall I meet you?"

"Tonight at eight. You know the cemetery out on Baldiff Road?"

"Baldiff Road?" Penny repeated doubtfully.

"You'll find it on a county map," the woman instructed. "Meet me at the cemetery wall promptly at eight. And don't bring anyone with you. Just the money. I'll guarantee to tell you where you can find your father."

The receiver clicked.

Greatly excited, Penny made a futile attempt to trace the telephone call. Failing, she set off for the police station to talk to Detectives Fuller and Brandon.

"The woman must be a rank amateur or she wouldn't have arranged a meeting in the way she did!" Detective Brandon assured Penny. "Now let's find out where Baldiff Road is located."

Using a large map, he circled an area several miles south of Riverview. Penny was surprised to note that Baldiff Road branched off from the same deserted thoroughfare which she and Louise had followed on the night of the blizzard. The cemetery, Oakland Hills, was situated perhaps a mile from the old Harrison place where Mose Johnson had claimed to have seen a ghost.

"It shouldn't be hard to nab the woman when she shows up," Detective Fuller declared. "Dick and I will get there early and keep watch."

"Just what am I to do?" Penny inquired. "Shall I take the reward money with me?"

"We'll give you a package of fake money," the detective answered. "Drive to the cemetery alone at the appointed hour. If the woman shows up, talk to her, try to learn what she knows. We'll attend to the rest."

Penny returned home to consult with Mrs. Weems. How to reach the cemetery was something of a problem. Her own car, minus its wheels, remained at the Yacht Club, and Mr. Parker's automobile had been hauled to a garage for extensive repairs.

"Can't you borrow a car from someone at the _Star_ office?" suggested the housekeeper. "And do take a man with you when you drive to the cemetery."

"No, I must go alone," insisted Penny. "That part is very important."

In the end she was able to borrow Salt Sommer's coupe. A little after seven o'clock she set off for Baldiff Road with the package of fake money in her possession. The night was not cold, but a stiff wind blew through the evergreens; whirlwinds of snow chased one another across the untraveled road.

"What a dreary place for a meeting," Penny shivered as she glimpsed the bleak cemetery on a hilltop.

The area, a full half-mile from any house, was bounded by a high snow-covered brick wall. Beyond the barrier, starlight revealed a cluster of rounding tombstones layered with white. No one was visible, neither the woman nor members of the police force.

Penny glanced at her watch. It lacked ten minutes of eight o'clock. She parked not far from the cemetery entrance and switched off the engine.

Twenty minutes elapsed. Nervous and cold, Penny climbed from the car and tramped back and forth to restore circulation. She had begun to doubt that the woman would keep the appointment.

Then, coming swiftly down the road, she saw a strange looking figure. The one who approached wore a long, tight-fitting coat. A hat with a dark veil covered the woman's face.

"There she is!" thought Penny, every nerve tense.

The woman came closer. While still some distance from the cemetery entrance, she suddenly paused. Her head jerked sideways. Then to Penny's dismay, she turned and fled toward the woods.

"Wait!" Penny shouted. "Don't be afraid! Wait!"

The woman paid no heed. Lifting her coat the better to run, she disappeared among the trees.

CHAPTER 12 _FLIGHT_

As Penny wondered what to do, Detectives Brandon and Fuller leaped from their hiding place behind the cemetery wall. Their car had been secreted in a clump of bushes farther down the road. By pure mischance, the woman in the black veil had seen it as she approached, and fearing treachery, had fled.

"Quick, Dick, or she'll get away!" Fuller shouted.

Penny did not join in the pursuit. Reentering her car, she waited anxiously. From the crashing of underbrush, she knew the detectives were having difficulty in following the woman. In the dark forest it would be very easy for her to elude the officers.

Three quarters of an hour elapsed before the men returned.

"We lost her," Detective Brandon reported. "No use searching any longer."

Sick at heart, Penny drove slowly toward home. Her hopes had been completely dashed. Not only had she failed to contact the mysterious woman, but there now seemed little likelihood of doing so.

"I may receive another telephone message," she thought, "but I doubt it. That woman probably will be too badly frightened to try to contact me again."

At the exit of Baldiff Road, Penny headed down the winding hillside highway which she and Louise had followed on the night of the blizzard. The route, although slightly longer, would take her close to the Riverview Yacht Club.

"I'll go that way and see if my car is still there," she decided. "Then tomorrow I can have it hauled home and jacked up. I should have looked after the matter long ago."

The coupe rounded a curve and the road dipped between an avenue of swaying, whispering pines. To the left, shrouded in snow, loomed the old Harrison house. The estate was picturesque in itself, and Mose Johnson's tale about a ghost had intensified the girl's interest.

"Wonder who owns the place now?" she speculated. "Probably not any member of the Harrison family, as I believe they were old-timers in Riverview."

Penny slowed the car to idling speed. Deliberately keeping to the left hand side of the road, she studied with deep interest the long, snow-frosted fence which bounded the grounds. The barrier was an unfriendly one, high and spiked at the top.

Suddenly her attention focused upon a well-beaten path in the snow just inside the fence. The footprints, plainly visible in the bright moonlight, extended the full width of the grounds.

Into Penny's mind flashed the wild yarn told by Mose Johnson.

"Ghost tracks!" she thought. "At least those prints must have been made by whatever he saw beyond the gate."

So interested was Penny in the path that for an instant she completely forgot her driving. The front left wheel of the car struck a tiny mound of ice and snow at the road's edge.

Barely in time to avoid an accident, the girl twisted the steering wheel and brought the car back on the highway.

"Another second and I'd have been in the ditch!" she thought shakily. "If I must look for a ghost, guess I'll do the job right."

Penny pulled up, this time at the opposite side of the road. Getting out, she crossed to the iron fence and peered through it. The path which had attracted her attention had been pounded hard by someone who had walked just inside the enclosure.

"Odd!" she reflected. "Maybe Old Mose's ghost has more substance than I thought."

Penny glanced toward the big house, dark and majestic in its setting of evergreens. Obviously the place had been closed for the winter. Walks were not shoveled, blinds had been drawn, and no tire tracks led to and from the three-car garage.

"Wonder who or what could have made that path?" she mused. "Certainly not an animal."

Unable to solve the mystery, Penny turned to re-enter the parked coupe. Before she could cross the road, a light went on in a third floor room of the estate house. Startled, she stared at it. As she watched, it was extinguished.

"Someone must live here!" thought Penny. "Or am I seeing spooks myself?"

For a long while she watched the upper floor of the house. The light did not reappear. At length, wearying of the vigil, she returned to the car.

Penny started the engine and bent down to open the fins of the heater. Straightening, she cast a last, careless glance toward the old estate. Her heart did a flip-flop.

Beyond the iron gate, in the garden area, a white-robed figure slowly paced back and forth!

"My Aunt!" whispered Penny. "Am I seeing things or am I seeing things?"

For a moment she sat very straight, watching. The ghostly figure, white from head to toe, moved with measured steps toward the high gate.

"There aren't any ghosts," she encouraged herself. "But if that's not a spook, it must be someone dressed up like one! And who would play Hallowe'en games on a cold night like this?"

Alone, frankly nervous, Penny had no overpowering desire to investigate the white-robed figure at close range. A large, spreading evergreen half-blocked her view of the gate. She could not see the ghost plainly, but she distinctly heard the rattle of a chain as the apparition tested the lock.

"Real or imaginary, that spook is trying to get out!" Penny thought with a shiver. "If Mose were here now I'd challenge him to a race!"

The white-gowned figure shook the gate chain a second time, then slowly retreated. Penny watched for a moment, before abruptly swinging open the car door. She had decided to investigate.

As she crossed the road, the white figure moved away from her. By the time she reached the gate, it had disappeared around a corner of the house.

"At least Mr. Spook wasn't carrying his own tombstone!" Penny observed to herself. "Mose exaggerated that part."

She waited, leaning against the gate post. Within three minutes a light went on in the upper part of the house. For a fleeting instant before the blind was pulled, she saw someone standing in front of an old-fashioned dresser.

"Mr. Ghost seemingly has turned in for the night," thought Penny. "But is it a he, she, or it?"

Soon the bedroom light was extinguished. Cold and tired, Penny decided that the mystery must remain unsolved. However, as she drove on, she kept thinking about what she had seen. Of one thing she now was certain. The estate was not deserted!

Without stopping at the Yacht Club grounds, Penny made certain that her stripped car and ice boat remained as she last had seen them. Driving on to Riverview, she left Salt's car at the _Star_ plant, then taxied home to tell Mrs. Weems of her failure at the cemetery.

"Don't feel badly about it," the housekeeper comforted. "Surely the woman who telephoned will make another attempt to reach you."

"I doubt it," Penny replied gloomily. "She'll know now that the police are watching for her."

"This entire affair is so bewildering," sighed Mrs. Weems. "How could your father have been kidnaped? If what we've learned is true, he left the scene of the accident of his own free will."

"I never was so baffled in my life," Penny returned, throwing herself on the davenport. "I used to think I was good at solving puzzles. Now I know I'm just plain dumb."

"Have you thought about employing a private detective?"

"It might be a good idea!" Penny agreed, encouraged. "I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

As she started wearily up the stairs to bed, Mrs. Weems called after her to say that Louise Sidell had telephoned earlier in the evening. Penny nodded absently, assuming that her chum had phoned to express sympathy. She did not think of the matter again until the next morning at breakfast. As she was leaving the table, Mrs. Weems came in to report that Louise once more was on the telephone.

"Penny, I can't tell you how shocked I was to learn about your father," her chum began breathlessly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm afraid not, Lou."

"What are you using for a car? You must need one badly."

"Salt Sommers let me have his last night. I'll get along."

"Penny, I know how you can buy tires!" Louise went on. "In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"How can I buy tires? Rubber is supposed to be scarce."

"When I was having my hair fixed at the beauty parlor yesterday I heard two women talking!" Louise declared excitedly. "It seems there's a garage where you can get them if you pull the right strings!"

"Oh! A Black Market place?"

"I suppose that's what you would call it."

"I don't want to get tires illegally," Penny said. "I'm not interested, Lou."

"You don't even care to know the name of the garage?"

"What good would it do?"

"None perhaps, but it might give you a surprise."

"A surprise?" Penny repeated. She glanced at the clock, impatient because the conversation was being prolonged. A great deal of important work awaited her.

"You don't want to know the name of the place?" Louise persisted.

"Yes, I do. On second thought, it might be well worth while to find out what I can about Black Market operations in tires."

The conviction had come suddenly to Penny that all the evidence contained in her father's lost portfolio must be gathered anew. No word had been received from Jerry Livingston. In the quest for information, she must depend upon her own efforts.

"It's going to give you a real shock to learn the name of the place," Louise went on.

"I'm shock proof by this time," answered Penny. "Let 'er fly."

But Louise was unwilling to divulge the information over the telephone.

"I don't dare tell you now," she replied. "Just sit tight for ten minutes and I'll deliver my bombshell in person."

CHAPTER 13 _A BLACK MARKET_

Ten minutes later Louise was at the front door with the Sidell family car. She tooted the horn until Penny put on her coat and went outside.

"Jump in and I'll take you to the place of mystery," Louise greeted her. "On second thought, you'd better drive. I hate icy roads."

Penny slid behind the steering wheel. "But where are we going?" she protested. "Honestly, Lou, I haven't much time--"

"Mattie Williams' garage is the place that sells the tires! Now, are you interested?"

"Am I? Why, we stopped there with Salt Sommers!"

"We did indeed. Remember the big truck?"

"Lou, you may have stumbled into something really important!"

"Glad you think so, chum. But you're not interested in Black Markets."

"I've changed my mind! I want to talk to Mattie Williams right away!"

Penny started the car. Driving with a mechanical, unthinking efficiency born of many years' practice, she questioned Louise as to the source of her information. The girls were deep in a discussion when they heard someone shout. Salt Sommers had hailed them from the curb.

"Why, hello," Penny greeted him, stopping the car with a jerk. "Any trouble at the _Star_?"

"Not from Schirr," grinned Salt. "I'm hot-footing it to the Ladies Club to mug some dames pouring tea! For the society page."

"Poor Salt!" smiled Penny, knowing how he hated trivial assignments.

"On your way to the office?" the photographer questioned.

Penny hesitated, then decided to confide in Salt. She repeated what Louise had told her about the Mattie Williams' garage.

"Well, can you beat that!" the photographer exclaimed. "I don't know Mattie and her partner well, but I always supposed they were honest. So they're dealing in stolen tires!"

"We don't know for sure," Penny said hastily. "Our information is mostly founded on rumor."

"And the tires may not be stolen ones," contributed Louise. "I only heard they can be bought there."

Penny added that she would not take time to run down the Black Market story save that her father's disappearance might have a connection with the tire-thief gang.

"I aim to learn the names of those men Dad intended to expose," she said earnestly.

Somewhat startled by the grim note of Penny's voice, Salt warned her that she might be venturing on dangerous ground.

"We all admire your courage," he said, "but you mustn't take foolish risks. Your father would turn thumbs down on that idea."

"It's because of Dad that I must investigate every angle of the tire-theft racket."

"Quite an ambitious assignment," Salt said dryly. "Now as soon as Jerry gets back from Canada--"

"We can't wait! Something has to be done right away!"

"I know how you feel," responded Salt, "but there's such a thing as being too courageous."

"I'm not courageous," Penny denied. "Last night at the cemetery I was scared half to death. And then when I saw the ghost--"

"What ghost?" interrupted Louise.

Penny had not intended to speak of what she had seen at the Harrison estate. The slip of tongue made it necessary to tell of the path by the gate, the retreating figure, and the mysterious light.

"That's funny," commented the photographer, regarding her with a peculiar expression. "Since I've been on duty at the observation tower I've never seen any activity at the estate."

"I don't believe in ghosts, but I saw one all that same!" Penny insisted. "Just watch some night and see for yourself!"

Annoyed by Salt's smile, she shifted gears and drove on down the street. Turning to Louise, she asked earnestly: "You believe I saw something wandering about the estate last night, don't you?"

"Well," Louise hesitated, unwilling to offend her chum. "You must have been quite upset after failing to meet that woman at the cemetery. Under the circumstances...."

"I was as calm as I am now," Penny cried indignantly. "I saw it, I tell you!"

"Of course you did, dear," Louise soothed. "Do please watch your driving more carefully, or I'll have to take over."

Penny suddenly relaxed. "Okay, have it your own way," she shrugged. "I wouldn't believe Mose Johnson, so why should you believe me? It's just one of those things."

For a long while they rode in silence. Few cars were on the road and there was little business activity at Kamm's Corner. Penny parked in front of the Mattie Williams' garage.

"What excuse will we have for questioning her?" Louise asked dubiously.

"I'm not going to make an excuse," said Penny. "I'll just come right out and ask her if she sells tires without a special order."

The girls entered the warm little office, stamping snow from their galoshes.

"Just a minute," called a voice which belonged to Mattie Williams.

The garage owner was busy with a customer. Soon however, she came in from the main part of the building, wiping her oily hands on a piece of waste.

"What can I do for you?" she inquired briskly.

"You remember us, don't you?" asked Penny, leading into the subject of tires as gradually as possible. "We're friends of Salt Sommers."

"Oh, sure!" the woman's face lighted. "You came in with him the night of the bad storm."

"My car had been stripped of its tires. Ever since, I've been wondering how to get new ones."

A slightly guarded expression came over Mattie Williams' face. She said nothing.

"I was told I might obtain some here," Penny plunged on.

"You can," said Mattie. "Provided you have an order from your Ration Board."

"Not without it?"

Mattie gazed at Penny with undisguised scorn. "What sort of a place do you think we run here?" she demanded. "Of course we don't sell tires without an order."

"But we were told--"

"Well, you were told wrong," snapped Mattie. "Sorry. I can't help you."

Picking up a wrench from the desk top, the woman left the office.

"I guess I didn't approach her the right way," remarked Penny sadly. "Either that, or our information was incorrect. Louise, are you sure--"

"Oh, I am!" her chum insisted. "The two women I overheard, distinctly said Mattie Williams' garage. Of course, they might have been wrong about it."

Before Penny and Louise could leave the office, a middle-aged man with glasses came in through the street door.

"Sam Burkholder here?" he demanded, warming himself by the stove.