Part 3

"I'll be late coming home tonight," she said apologetically. "I thought I might get dinner downtown and perhaps go to a show."

"Another hard day?" the housekeeper asked sympathetically.

"Much easier than yesterday," Penny said, making her voice sound cheerful. "Don't worry about me. I'll be home no later than nine."

Though she would not have confessed it even to herself, Penny was reluctant to meet her father at dinner time. He might not ask questions, but his all-knowing, all-seeing eyes would read her secrets. At a glance he could tell that newspaper work was not going well for her, and that she disliked it.

"I certainly won't give him an opportunity to even think, 'I told you so,'" she reflected. "Even if it kills me, I'll stick here, and I'll pretend to like it too!"

Because it was too early to dine, Penny walked aimlessly toward the river. She paused at a dock to watch two boys fishing, and then sauntered on toward the passenger wharves.

A young man in an unpressed suit, and shoes badly in need of a shine, leaned against one of the freight buildings. Seeing Penny, he pulled his hat low over his eyes, and became engrossed in lighting a cigarette.

She would have passed him by without a second glance, save that he deliberately turned his back to shield his face. The hunch of his shoulders struck her as strangely familiar.

Involuntarily, she exclaimed: "Ben! Ben Bartell!"

He turned then and she saw that she had not been mistaken. The young man indeed was a former reporter for the _Riverview Mirror_, a news magazine published weekly. Ben had not shaved that day, and he looked years older than when she last had seen him.

"Hello, Penny," he said uncomfortably.

"Ben, what has happened to you?" she asked. "Why were you trying to avoid me?"

Ben did not reply for a moment. Then he said quietly: "Why should I want to see any of my old friends now? Just look at me and you have your answer."

"Why, Ben! You were one of the best reporters the _Mirror_ ever had!"

"_Were_ is right," returned Ben with a grim smile. "Haven't worked there for six months now. The truth is, I'm down and out."

"Why, that's ridiculous, Ben! Nearly every paper in town needs a good man."

"They don't need me."

"Ben, you sound so bitter! What has happened to you?"

"It's a long story, sister, and not for your dainty little ears."

Penny now was deeply troubled, for she had known Ben well and liked him.

"Ben, you must tell me," she urged, taking his arm. "We're going into a restaurant, and while we have dinner together, you must explain why you left the _Mirror_."

CHAPTER 6 _BEN'S STORY_

Ben held back.

"Thanks," he said uncomfortably, "but I think I ought to be moving on."

"Have you had your dinner?" Penny asked.

"Not yet."

"Then do come with me, Ben. Or don't you want to tell me what happened at the _Mirror_?"

"It's not that, Penny. The truth is--well--"

"You haven't the price of a dinner?" Penny supplied. "Is that it, Ben?"

"I'm practically broke," he acknowledged ruefully. "Sounds screwy in a day and age like this, but I'm not strong enough for factory work. Was rejected from the Army on account of my health. Tomorrow I guess I'll take a desk job somewhere, but I've held off, not wanting to get stuck on it."

"You're a newspaper man, Ben. Reporting is all you've ever done, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I'm finished now. Can't get a job anywhere." The young man started to move away, but Penny caught his arm again.

"Ben, you _are_ having dinner with me," she insisted. "I have plenty of money, and this is my treat. I really want to talk to you."

"I can't let you pay for my dinner," Ben protested, though with less vigor.

"Silly! You can take me somewhere as soon as you get your job."

"Well, if you put it that way," Ben agreed, falling willingly into step. "There's a place here on the waterfront that serves good meals, but it's not stylish."

"All the better. Lead on, Ben."

He took her to a small, crowded little restaurant only a block away. In the front window, a revolving spit upon which were impaled several roasting chickens, captured all eyes. Ben's glands began to work as he watched the birds browning over the charcoal.

"Ben, how long has it been since you've had a real meal?" Penny asked, picking up the menu.

"Oh, a week. I've mostly kept going on pancakes. But it's my own funeral. I could have had jobs of a sort if I had been willing to take them."

Penny gave her order to the waitress, taking double what she really wanted so that her companion would not feel backward about placing a similar order. Then she said:

"Ben, you remarked awhile ago that you can't get a newspaper job anywhere."

"That's true. I'm blacklisted."

"Did you try my father's paper, the _Star_?"

"I did. I couldn't even get past his secretary."

"That's not like Dad," Penny said with troubled eyes. "Did you really do something dreadful?"

"It was Jason Cordell who put the bee on me."

"Jason Cordell?" Penny repeated thoughtfully. "He's the editor of the _Mirror_, and has an office in the building adjoining the _Star_."

"Right. Well, he fired me."

"Lots of reporters are discharged, Ben, but they aren't necessarily blacklisted."

Ben squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"You needn't tell me if you don't wish," Penny said kindly. "I don't mean to pry into your personal affairs. I only thought that I might be able to help you."

"I want to tell you, Penny. I really do. But I don't dare reveal some of the facts, because I haven't sufficient proof. I'll tell you this much. I stumbled into a story--a big one--and it discredited Jason Cordell."

"You didn't publish it?"

"Naturally not." Ben laughed shortly. "I doubt if any newspaper would touch it with a ten-foot pole. Cordell is supposed to be one of our substantial, respectable citizens."

"Actually?"

"He's as dishonorable as they come."

Knowing that Ben was bitter because of his discharge, Penny discredited some of the remarks, but she waited expectantly for him to continue. A waitress brought the dinner, and for awhile, as the reporter ate ravenously, he had little to say.

"You'll have to excuse me," he finally apologized. "I haven't tasted such fine food in a year! Now what is it you want to know, Penny? I'm in a mood to tell almost anything."

"What was this scandal you uncovered about Mr. Cordell?"

"That's the one thing I can't reveal, but it concerned the owner of the Conway Steel Plant. They're bitter enemies you know."

Penny had not known, and the information interested her greatly.

"Did you talk it over with Mr. Cordell?" she asked.

"That was the mistake I made." Ben slowly stirred his coffee. "Cordell didn't have much to say, but the next thing I knew, I was out of a job and on the street."

"Are you sure that was why he discharged you?"

"What else?"

Penny hesitated, not wishing to hurt Ben's feelings. There were several things she had heard about him--that he was undependable and that he drank heavily.

"Most of the things you've been told about me aren't true," Ben said quietly, reading her thoughts. "Jason Cordell started a lot of stories intended to discredit me. He told editors that I had walked off a job and left an important story uncovered. He pictured me as a drunkard and a trouble maker."

"I'll talk to my father," Penny promised. "As short as the _Star_ is of employes, I'm sure there must be a place for you."

"You're swell," Ben said feelingly. "But I'm not asking for charity. I'll get along."

Refusing to talk longer about himself, he told Penny of amusing happenings along the waterfront. After dessert had been finished, she slipped a bill into his hand, and they left the restaurant.

Outside, the streets were dark, for in this section of the city, lights were few and far between. Ben offered to escort Penny back to the _Star_ office or wherever she wished to go.

"This isn't too safe a part of the city for a girl," he declared. "Especially after night."

"All the same, to me the waterfront is the most fascinating part of Riverview," Penny declared. "You seem to know this part of town well, Ben."

"I should. I've lived here for the past six months."

"You have a room?"

"I'll show you where I live," Ben offered. "Wait until we reach the next corner."

They walked on along the river docks, passing warehouses and vessels tied up at the wharves. Twice they passed guards who gazed at them with intent scrutiny. However, Ben was recognized, and with a friendly salute, the men allowed him to pass unchallenged.

"The waterfront is strictly guarded now," the reporter told Penny. "Even so, plenty goes on here that shouldn't."

"Meaning?"

Ben did not answer for they had reached the corner. Beyond, on a vacant lot which Penny suspected might also be a dumping ground, stood three or four dilapidated shacks.

"See the third one," Ben indicated. "Well, that's my little mansion."

"Oh, Ben!"

"It's not bad inside. A little cold when the wind blows through the chinks, but otherwise, fairly comfortable."

"Ben, haven't you any friends or relatives?"

"Not here. I thought I had a few friends, but they dropped me like a hot potato when I ran into trouble."

"This is no life for you, Ben. I'll certainly talk to my father tomorrow."

Ben smiled and said nothing. From his silence, Penny gathered that he had no faith she would be able to do anything for him.

They walked on, and as they approached a small freighter tied up at the wharf, Ben pointed it out.

"That's the _Snark_," he informed her.

The name meant nothing to Penny. "Who owns her?" she inquired carelessly.

"I wish I knew, Penny. There's plenty goes on aboard that vessel, but it's strictly hush-hush. I have my suspicions that--"

Ben suddenly broke off, for several men had appeared on the deck of the _Snark_. The vessel was some distance away, and in the darkness only shadowy forms were visible.

Seizing Penny's arm, Ben pulled her flat against a warehouse.

Amazed by his action, she started to protest. Then she understood. Aboard the _Snark_ there was some sort of disturbance or disagreement. The men, although speaking in low, almost inaudible tones, were arguing. Penny caught only one phrase: "Heave him overboard!"

"Ben, what's happening there?" she whispered anxiously.

"Don't know!" he answered. "But nothing good."

"Where are the guards?"

"Probably at the far end of their beats."

Aboard the _Snark_, there was a brief scuffle, as someone was dragged across the deck to the rail.

"That'll teach you!" they heard one of the men mutter.

Then the helpless victim was raised and dropped over the rail. Shrieking in terror, he fell with a great splash into the inky waters. Frantically, he began to struggle.

"Those fiends!" Penny cried. "They deliberately threw the man overboard, and he can't swim!"

CHAPTER 7 _MAN OVERBOARD!_

Penny and Ben ran to the edge of the dock, peering into the dark, oily waters. On the deck of the _Snark_ there was a murmur of voices, then silence.

Casting a quick glance upward, Penny was angered to see that the men who had been standing there had vanished into a cabin or companionway. Obviously, they had no intention of trying to aid the unfortunate man.

"There he is!" Ben exclaimed, suddenly catching another glimpse of the bobbing head. "About done in too!"

Kicking off his shoes and stripping off his coat, the reporter dived from the dock. He struck the water with an awkward splash, but Penny was relieved to see that he really could swim well. He struck out for the drowning man, but before he could reach him, the fellow slipped quietly beneath the surface.

Close by were two barges lashed together, and the current would take a body in that direction. Ben jack-knifed and went down into the inky waters in a surface dive. Unable to find the man, he came up, filled his lungs in a noisy gulp, and went down again. He was under such a long time that Penny became frantic with anxiety.

She decided to turn in an alarm for the city rescue squad. But before she could act, Ben surfaced again, and this time she saw that he held the other man by the hair.

As Ben slowly towed the fellow toward the dock, Penny realized that she must find some way to get them both out of the river. She could expect no help from anyone aboard the _Snark_. Gazing upward again, she thought she saw a man watching her from the vessel's bow, but as her gaze focused upon him, he retreated into deeper shadow, beyond view.

No guards were anywhere near, and the entire waterfront seemed deserted. Penny's eyes fastened upon a rope which hung loosely over a dock post. It was long enough to serve her purpose, and finding it unattached, she hurled one end toward Ben.

He caught it on the second try and made a loop fast about the body of the man he towed. Penny then pulled them both to the dock.

"You can't haul us up," Ben instructed from below. "Just hold on, and I think I can get out of here by myself."

He swam off in the darkness and was lost to view. Penny clung desperately to the rope, knowing that if she relaxed for an instant, the man, already half drowned, would submerge for good. Her arms began to ache. It seemed to her she could not hold on another instant.

Then Ben, his clothes plastered to his thin body, came running across the planks.

Without a word he seized the rope, and together they raised the man to the dock. In the darkness Penny saw only that he was slender, and in civilian clothes.

Stretching him out on the dock boards, they prepared to give artificial resuscitation. But it was unnecessary. For at the first pressure on his back, the man rolled over and muttered: "Cut it out. I'm okay."

Then he lay still, exhausted, but breathing evenly.

"You were lucky to get him, Ben," Penny said as she knelt beside the stranger. "If the current had carried him beneath those barges, he never would have been taken out alive."

"I had to dive deep," Ben admitted. "Found him plastered right against the side of the first barge. Yeah, I was lucky, and so is he."

The man stirred again, and sat up. Penny tried to support him, but he moved away, revealing that he wanted no help.

"Who pushed you overboard?" Ben asked.

The man stared at him and did not answer.

Observing that Ben was shivering from cold, and that the stranger too was severely chilled, Penny proposed calling either the rescue squad or an ambulance.

"Not on your life," muttered the rescued man, trying to get up. "I'm okay, and I'm getting out of here."

With Ben's help, he managed to struggle to his feet, but they buckled under him when he tried to walk.

The man looked surprised.

"We'll have to call the rescue squad," Penny decided firmly.

"I have a better idea," Ben supplied. "We can take him to my shack."

Penny thought that the man should have hospital treatment. However, he sided with Ben, insisting he could walk to the nearby shack.

"I'm okay," he repeated again. "All I need is some dry clothes."

Supported on either side, the man managed to walk to the shack. Ben unlatched the door and hastily lighting an oil lamp, helped the fellow to the bed where he collapsed.

"Ben, I think we should have a doctor--" Penny began again, but Ben silenced her with a quick look.

Drawing her to the door he whispered: "Let him have his way. He's not badly off, and he has reason for not wanting anyone to know what happened. If we call the rescue squad or a doctor, he'll have to answer to a lot of questions."

"There are some things I'd like to know myself."

"We'll get the answers if we're patient. Now stay outside for a minute or two until I can get his clothes changed, and into dry ones myself."

Penny stepped outside the shack. A chill wind blew from the direction of the river, but with its freshness was blended the disagreeable odor of factory smoke, fish houses and dumpings of refuse.

"Poor Ben!" she thought. "He never should be living in such a place as this! No matter what he's done, he deserves another chance."

Exactly what she believed about the reporter, Penny could not have said. His courageous act had aroused her deep admiration. On the other hand, she was aware that his story regarding Jason Cordell might have been highly colored to cover his own shortcomings.

Within a few minutes Ben opened the door to let her in again. The stranger had been put to bed in a pair of the reporter's pajamas which were much too small for him. In the dim light from the oil lamp, she saw that he had a large, square-shaped face, with a tiny scar above his right eye. It was not a pleasant face. Gazing at him, Penny felt a tiny chill pass over her.

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.