Part 6

"It does look that way. Still, it's possible the officers might have registered at another hotel."

"Possible but hardly probable. Lou, I believe Professor Bettenridge is a crook. I wish we could witness that demonstration of his tomorrow night!"

"I'll never be able to go," Louise said regretfully. "I'm playing in a recital--worse luck."

"I might get Salt to ride over with me," Penny thought aloud. "Well, we'll see."

The following morning she took time from her work to seek the photographer. He was in the darkroom, but the door was open. As she stepped inside, he whirled around, his face startled.

"Oh, it's you!" he chuckled in relief.

"Why, Salt!" Penny teased. "You acted as if you thought I might be a holdup man. Why so jumpy?"

"Was I?" the photographer asked, his tone queer.

"You certainly were. Anything wrong?"

"This place was entered again last night," Salt said reluctantly. "I can't figure it out."

"Anything taken?"

"Not a thing so far as I can discover. That's the strange part of it. But the films were disturbed, as if someone had searched through them."

"How did the person get in?"

"Apparently through the skylight. It was ordered locked, but it got hot in here yesterday. One of the boys opened it up, and then forgot to snap the lock."

"Did you search the roof?"

"Yes, we found footprints leading to a hall window of the next building. That was as far as they could be traced."

"Do you suppose it could be anyone from the adjoining building, Salt?"

"Not necessarily. The person may have entered it from the street. We know he stepped out onto the roof from the hall window rather than from one of the office rooms."

Before returning to the newsroom, Penny told Salt about yesterday's adventure in the country.

"I sure would like a chance to go there with you tonight," he declared promptly. "Maybe we can get my camera back, even if those birds deny having seen it."

The morning passed slowly, and Penny found it difficult to keep her mind on her work. Elda, however, no longer bothered her. With more important problems to worry about, Penny was not the least bit wounded by the little slurring remarks the girl made.

At noon she lunched on a sandwich and chocolate at a corner drugstore close to the _Star_ building. With half an hour to spend, she suddenly was struck by an idea.

"Why don't I talk to Jason Cordell, the _Mirror_ editor, about Ben?" she thought. "Perhaps their difficulties are based on misunderstanding."

Crossing the street to the _Mirror_ building, she found Mr. Cordell's office on the third floor. There, a secretary asked her to wait a few minutes.

Apparently an argument was in progress within the inner room, for she heard angry voices. Then a door slammed. Presently, Penny was told that she might go in.

Mr. Cordell sat at his desk, a scowl on his face. He was busy writing and barely glanced up as she entered. Finally he looked straight at her, demanding: "Well?" in a tone which sapped Penny's courage.

She wished she might retreat, but it now was too late.

"I--I am Miss Parker," she stammered. "My father is publisher of the _Star_."

"Oh, yes, yes indeed," the editor now became more friendly, and Penny took heart.

"I came to talk to you about one of your former employes--Ben Bartell."

A mask-like expression came over Mr. Cordell's face. He waited for Penny to continue.

"You discharged Ben, I believe. He's had a very hard time ever since."

"Indeed? Is he a friend of yours?"

"In a way. I feel sorry for him and I want to find newspaper work for him."

"Then why doesn't your father give him a job on the _Star_?"

Penny was prepared for the question. "I think my father would if he were assured that Ben had done nothing so very dishonorable. That's why I came to you. Why was he discharged?"

"Unfortunately, I can't reply to that question. Nor can I assure you that Ben was discharged on a trivial offense. The opposite is true."

"But what did he do?"

Mr. Cordell arose. "I am sorry, I can't discuss it, Miss Parker. If you will excuse me for saying so, I think the matter really is not your concern. My advice would be to leave Ben Bartell entirely alone. He sent you here, I suppose?"

"Indeed, he didn't."

"Where is Ben now?"

"Living in a shack on the waterfront. Because you blacklisted him, he has been unable to get a newspaper job anywhere."

Mr. Cordell's smile was hard and triumphant. Penny knew then that she had made a grave error in thinking she might appeal to the man's sympathies. Obviously, he was highly pleased to learn of Ben's difficulties.

"I am sorry I can't help you," the editor said coldly. "Do drop in again sometime."

He opened the door for her, a pointed hint that she was to go.

As she stepped out into the outer waiting room, a man who evidently expected to see the editor, arose. He had entered the outer office only a few minutes before, and this was the first time that Penny had seen him. Upon recognizing him, she stopped short, for it was Webb.

"You can go in now, Mr. Nelson," the secretary told Webb.

Bestowing a sneering smile upon her, he entered the private office.

Then the door closed.

CHAPTER 14 _A NOTE FROM BEN_

After Webb had gone into Mr. Cordell's office, Penny debated her next action. Could Webb and Cordell be friends? Or was this merely a business call? In any case, the two men were obviously of such different type and personality that she failed to understand what basis there might be for a friendship.

Deciding she could accomplish nothing by waiting and questioning Mr. Cordell, she left the office. As she passed down the corridor, an open window at its far end, drew her attention.

Pausing for an instant, she glanced out upon the rooftop of the _Riverview Star_ building. The tin flooring, only a few feet below the level of the sill, easily could be reached by anyone climbing through the window.

Tempted to take a short cut to the office, Penny impulsively stepped through the opening. From the rooftop she could see the city spread out below in rigid pattern, and to the eastward, the winding river.

Crossing the dusty floor to the skylight above the _Star_ photography room, Penny peered curiously down. No one was visible below.

"I wonder if a person really could get through that skylight," she speculated. "It would be quite a feat, but I believe it could be done."

A star athlete in high school, Penny felt a challenge. Giving no thought to her clothes, she squeezed through the narrow opening and snagged her sweater. As she freed herself, she noticed a tiny bit of blue cloth that had impaled itself on the nail.

The cloth was not from Penny's garments, and looked as if it might have been torn from a man's wool suit. Freeing it from the nail, she slipped it into her pocket for later examination.

Now, with her feet dangling into space, she considered how she was to get down into the room below. No longer was it possible to swing from the opening to the top of a filing cabinet, for Salt had carefully moved the heavy case to the far side of the room.

Seizing the skylight chain, Penny swung downward. The tiny brass rings cut into her hands and half-way down, she was forced to let go, dropping to the floor with a loud thump.

From the inner photography room came a terrified scream. Elda Hunt, her face white with fear, appeared in the doorway.

"You!" she exclaimed, recovering from the shock of Penny's unexpected entry.

"Now take it easy, Elda," Penny advised, brushing dirt from her sweater. "I was only experimenting."

"Experimenting!"

"I wanted to see if it would be possible for a person to get into this room through the skylight. It is possible!"

"You don't say!" Elda commented sarcastically. "I'll bet you were the one who pulled that stunt in the first place!"

"How ridiculous!" Penny was irritated. Not wishing to discuss the matter, she turned and walked out of the photography room.

In the corridor she met Salt Sommers who stopped her to ask when they were to visit Professor Bettenridge in the country.

"Eight o'clock tonight, if you're willing to go," Penny said eagerly. "I very much want to see the professor demonstrate his ray machine for Mr. Johnson."

"And I want to find out what became of my camera," Salt added grimly. "Is it a date?"

Penny nodded.

"Then suppose we start right after dinner. Can you meet me here at seven o'clock?"

"Let's make it a little earlier," Penny suggested. "I have a hunch that by getting there before the start of the demonstration we may learn more."

"Okay," agreed Salt. "Make it six-thirty."

Having over-stayed her lunch hour, Penny quickly washed her grimy hands and returned to her desk. As she sat down at the typewriter, she noticed a sealed letter thrust behind the roller. Addressed to her, the writing was in a bold scrawl she did not recognize.

Curiously, she scanned the message. It was written on cheap tablet paper and had been signed with Ben Bartell's name.

"See me if you can," was all it said. "I have a little information about the _Snark_."

Tucking the note into her pocketbook, Penny began to plan how she could visit Ben that day. She would not be off until five o'clock, and she had promised to meet Salt at six-thirty. If she were to get any dinner and see Ben at the waterfront, it would mean fast stepping.

Only by an effort of will could Penny keep her mind on the work before her. There were rewrites to do, and an interesting feature. At four-thirty with two stories yet to be done, she became panicky that she could not finish on time. But by really digging in, she completed the stories exactly on the dot of five, and with a tired sigh of relief, dropped them into Editor DeWitt's wire copy basket.

"You're just like a trained race horse, Penny," he said jokingly. "But your work is okay. You're improving."

Penny brightened at the praise, for Editor DeWitt was not given to complimentary words as a rule. Hurriedly washing carbon paper stains from her hands, she caught a bus which took her within a block of Ben's shack.

Smoke curled from the chimney, and as she thumped on the sagging door, she detected the odor of cooking bacon.

"Come in, come in!" Ben greeted her heartily. "You're just in time to share my supper. You got my note?"

"Yes, I did, Ben. What's up?"

Without answering, the former reporter stepped aside for her to enter. The room was much cleaner than when Penny last had visited it. Ben looked better too. Although his clothes remained unpressed, his hair had been cut, and there was a brightness to his eyes which she instantly noted.

"You've found work?" she surmised.

"Odd jobs," Ben answered briefly. "After talking to you I made up my mind I'd better snap out of it. If I can't find newspaper work, I'll try something else."

"I was thinking--" Penny sat down in a rickety chair, "--couldn't you do free lance work? Write stories for newspapers out of town?"

"Without a typewriter? I put mine in hock months ago, and it finally was sold for charges."

"I have a typewriter at home, Ben. I'll lend it to you."

Ben's face brightened, but he hesitated. "I've sure been lost without a machine," he declared. "But I hate to take yours. You know what happened to my watch. This shack isn't safe. Anyone might come in here and steal it."

"It's only an old typewriter, Ben. I'm willing to take a chance. I'll see that you get the machine within a day or so."

The former reporter stepped to the stove to turn the bacon. He kept his face averted as he said: "Penny, you've been a real friend--the only one. That day when you met me--well, I didn't give a darn. I was only one step from walking off a dock."

"Don't say such things, Ben!" Penny warned. "You've had a run of hard luck, but it's changing now. Suppose you tell me what you learned about the _Snark_."

"Nothing too startling, so don't get your hopes up," Ben grinned.

He set out two cracked plates on the battered table, two cups for coffee, and then dished up the bacon and a few fried potatoes. It was a meagre supper, but not for the world would Penny have offended Ben by refusing to share it.

"Now tell me about the _Snark_," she urged again, as Ben poured the coffee.

"I've been watching the boat at night, Penny. Queer things go on there."

"We suspected that after seeing Webb pitched overboard."

"I've seen a lot of men come and go from that vessel," Ben resumed. "It's a cinch they couldn't all be employed on her, because the _Snark_ has been out of service for months."

"What do you make of it?"

"Oh, the _Snark_ is being used as a meeting place--that's obvious. Just for the fun of it, I sneaked aboard last night."

"What did you learn, Ben?"

"The men were having a confab in one of the cabins. I couldn't hear much, but enough to gather that they are afraid Webb will talk to the police."

"About what, Ben?"

"Didn't learn that part. I aim to keep tab on the place for a while."

Penny told of seeing Webb that afternoon and also of his association with Professor Bettenridge.

"A secret ray machine, my eye!" Ben exploded. "You may be sure it's a fake if Webb has anything to do with it! Penny, this is no business for you to be mixed up in. Webb is a dock rat and as surly an egg as I ever met. You ought to give him a wide berth."

"I'll certainly be careful," Penny promised, arising. "Sorry to leave you with the dishes, Ben, but I must run or I'll be late for another appointment."

She really hated to go, for she saw that her companionship had made the young man more cheerful. Ben walked with her through the waterfront district, and then reluctantly said goodbye.

Hastening along the shadowy street, Penny noticed the large electric sign on top of the Gables Hotel.

Impulsively, she stopped at the hotel.

"That Navy official Professor Bettenridge spoke of may have arrived," she thought. "Just to make certain, I'll inquire again."

CHAPTER 15 _THE DEMONSTRATION_

Penny was due to meet Salt Sommers in ten minutes, but if she were late, she knew he would not leave without her.

Entering the crowded hotel, she waited her turn at the desk and then inquired if any Navy officers had registered.

"Not to my knowledge," the clerk replied, consulting the register. "No, we've not had a Navy man in for at least a week."

"Any Army officers?"

"The last was a sergeant who checked out two weeks ago. Most of our guests rent on a monthly basis. We have only a few rooms for transient guests."

"Can you tell me if a Professor Bettenridge has called here in the last few days?"

"Not while I've been at the desk."

The information convinced Penny she had not misjudged the professor. She now was satisfied he never had arranged with Navy officers to inspect his ray machine. Instead, he had misinformed Mr. Johnson, no doubt hoping to impress him that others were interested in the invention.

Quickly leaving the hotel, Penny hastened on to the news office. As she passed near the loading platform, Salt hailed her from a car parked there.

"Here I am," he called.

Penny slid into the front seat beside him, apologizing for being late.

"That's okay," returned Salt, shifting into gear. "But we haven't much time unless we hurry. You know the way, don't you?"

"I do by daylight. And I think I can find the farmhouse, even if it should get dark before we reach there."

Salt was a fast and very skillful driver. He chose the less frequented streets and soon they were in the open. They made excellent time, reaching their destination just as it began to grow dark.

"How shall we explain to the professor?" Penny inquired dubiously as the photographer parked the car under an oak tree along the highway. "He may think it strange that I returned."

"Let him," said Salt, unconcerned. "I'm here to get my camera."

"Don't go at him too hard," Penny pleaded. "After all, there is a chance I was mistaken about the license number. In my excitement the night of the explosion, I may have remembered a wrong figure."

"That's so," Salt acknowledged gloomily. "Well, we'll see."

"Why not pretend we're here to get a feature story for the _Star_?" Penny suggested impulsively. "That way, I could ask him all the questions I like about the secret ray machine."

"Any way you want to do it," Salt agreed amiably.

He locked the car and they walked to the farmhouse. Learning that the professor and his wife were at the lake, they trudged down the lane.

"Wait!" Penny suddenly warned in a whisper.

Clutching Salt's arm, she drew him into the shadow of a tree. At first he could not understand the need for caution. Then as Penny pointed, he saw a hunched figure with a lighted lantern, walking along the lake shore away from the cabin where Professor Bettenridge's ray machine was kept.

"There goes Webb now!" Penny whispered. "He's evidently going to the shack where the mines are stored."

"What's he carrying?" Salt inquired.

Although too far away to see plainly, they thought that he had a small satchel tucked under his arm. As he drew closer they discerned that it was leather, and apparently used as a container for a long cylinder-shaped object.

Passing a short distance away, the man did not see Salt or Penny. They watched until they saw the red glow of his lantern vanish over a hillock.

"That's the foot-path to the shack where the mines are stored," Penny commented. "I wonder what's inside the satchel?"

"Shall we try to find out?"

"Let's talk to Professor Bettenridge first," Penny proposed, going down the lane.

The door of the cabin stood slightly ajar. Inside the lighted room were the professor, his wife, Mr. Johnson, and several other persons Penny had never seen before. However, she took them to be town residents who had heard of the test and were eager to see it.

"Well, professor," they heard Mr. Johnson say jovially. "We're all here, so why not go ahead? Show us what the machine will do."

"All in good time, all in good time," the professor rejoined. "You must give my assistant an opportunity to drop the mine into the lake. He will signal us by lantern when he is ready."

Penny tapped on the door. The professor whirled around, decidedly startled. Then, observing Salt and Penny, he abruptly came over to speak to them.

"Well?" he asked in a tone which was not friendly.

"We came to see the demonstration," Penny said brightly.

"Glad to have you," the professor replied, though without cordiality.

"We want to write a feature story about your machine too," Penny continued. "For the newspaper."

The request displeased the professor. Scowling, he said curtly:

"I am sorry, but there must be no publicity at this time--orders of the Navy, you know."

"The Navy is interested in buying your machine?" Penny asked, hoping to lead him on.

"The deal is concluded except for my signature," the professor said, darting a quick glance at Mr. Johnson. "I should have signed at once, but I promised Mr. Johnson first chance to buy the machine."

"I suppose the Navy men are in town now?" Penny inquired.

"In Riverview."

"At the Gables Hotel?" Penny pursued the subject.

The professor looked at her sharply, for the first time suspecting that she was inducing him to reveal far too much.

Without answering, he turned his back, and began to talk to Mr. Johnson about technical details of the machine.

"I am convinced it is a wonderful invention," the latter declared. "But before I invest $200,000, I must be absolutely certain that it will do everything you claim."

"You shall not be disappointed," reassured the professor. "Only be patient for a few minutes, and you will witness a demonstration that will convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Ignored by the professor and his wife, Penny and Salt did not enter the cabin. Instead, they walked a short distance away to discuss their next move.

"The demonstration won't start for a few minutes," the photographer said. "Suppose we ankle down to the lake and find out what Webb is doing."

Proceeding down the path which led around the lake shore, they soon sighted the man's glowing lantern. He had set it down on the ground while he trundled out one of the heavy mines from the shack. As they watched from a distance, he loaded it into a boat, picked up the lantern, and slowly rowed out into the lake.

"Apparently he's going to drop it overboard for the test," Salt said. "While he's out there, let's take a look in the shack."

He tried the door. It was locked.

"I don't know how it's done, but I'm sure those mines are doctored in some way," Penny declared. "Louise and I saw Webb working on one when we were here yesterday, but what he did I couldn't guess."

"We'll learn nothing here," Salt said. "Let's go back to the cabin and see how the professor pulls off the demonstration. Apparently he has Mr. Johnson two-thirds convinced already."

"Whatever you do, don't get into an argument with the professor about your camera until after the test," Penny pleaded as they started up the slope again. "I want to watch the demonstration. If you accuse him of deliberately keeping the camera, he may throw us out."

"Okay, I'll wait," Salt promised.

Reaching the cabin, the pair became instantly aware of a tenseness in the attitude of the professor and his wife. Although they did not tell the newcomers they were unwelcome, it was evident by their expressions that they distrusted Penny and Salt.

Professor Bettenridge stood behind his machine, explaining its many parts to the awed spectators. Penny could make nothing of the technical jargon.

"The demonstration will soon start," the professor declared, looking at his watch. "I will turn on the motors now, as they must heat for several minutes."

He turned several switches and the room was filled with a low humming sound. Two tiny lights buried deep in the complicated mechanism began to glow a cherry red. The professor bent low over the machine, frowning thoughtfully. He adjusted three of the concave mirrors, and switched on another motor.

Despite a dubious attitude, Penny found herself becoming deeply impressed. Was it possible, she wondered, that she had misjudged the professor and his machine? She dismissed the thought. The mine never would explode unless it had been tampered with--she was certain of that.

"Watch closely now," the professor directed. "At any moment my assistant will signal with his lantern that he has dropped the mine and is safely away from the area."

The professor's wife had gone to the doorway. Tensely she watched the lake. Minutes passed. Then from out on the water, there came a moving circle of red--the signal from Webb.

"Now!" exclaimed the professor's wife.

Everyone in the little cabin held his breath. Dramatically, Professor Bettenridge took a metal tuning fork and struck it sharply against the crystal ball in the center of his machine.

"It will take a moment for the sound to reach the lake," he said softly. "But only a moment. Watch closely."

All persons in the room crowded to the door and the windows. Suddenly a huge burst of flame appeared on the lake, fanning out on the surface of the water. A moment later came the dull boom of a terrific explosion.

CHAPTER 16 _SUSPICION_

Everyone who witnessed the spectacular demonstration was awed by the sight of the flames rising above the lake. As they died away, Professor Bettenridge, strutting a bit, walked back to his machine and covered it with the canvas hood.

"Now are you satisfied?" he inquired triumphantly. "Is there anyone here who doubts the remarkable possibilities of my invention?"

"It was a fine demonstration! Magnificent!" approved Mr. Johnson, fairly beside himself with excitement. "I am convinced of the machine's worth and if we can agree upon terms I will write you a check tonight."