Part 9

"Perhaps it would be best for you to go by yourself," the editor admitted. "Learn what you can from Davis, and make an appointment for him to see me."

Another matter weighed heavily on Penny's mind. In her encounter with Clyde Blake that morning, she had acted in a high-handed manner, and sooner or later her father must hear about the cheque episode.

"Dad, I have a confession to make," she began awkwardly. "When I reached the camp this morning I found that Mr. Blake had induced the board members to buy the property--"

"Never mind," Mr. Parker interrupted. "I've already heard the details of your disgraceful actions from Mrs. Van Cleve."

"I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself," Penny said contritely. "I tore up the cheque on the spur of the moment."

"It was a foolish, rather dramatic thing to do. However, I must acknowledge the result was highly pleasing to everyone save Clyde Blake."

"What does he have to say, Dad?"

"He claims that he acted in good faith for Benjamin Bowman. Likewise, that he had no suspicion the title was faulty."

"Naturally he would take such an attitude."

"I've asked Blake to produce Ben Bowman," Mr. Parker resumed. "Unless he can do so and prove that the property actually is owned by him, the deal is off."

"Do you think Blake will bring the man to Riverview?"

"I doubt it very much," the editor answered. "I suspect he'll bluff, and finally let the deal go by default. It will be an easy way out for him."

"Blake always seems to escape his misdeeds. I wish we could find Ben Bowman ourselves, and bring the two men together. That would be interesting!"

"Finding Ben Bowman would serve many useful purposes," Mr. Parker said grimly. "But now that I would actually welcome a communication from him, he no longer pesters me!"

Eagerly Penny awaited the hour appointed for her meeting with Clem Davis. Knowing that the man did not obtain enough to eat, she spent considerable time the next afternoon preparing a lunch basket of substantial food. Taking it with her, she waited at the camp site for nearly a half hour. Finally, just as she began to think that the man had failed her, he appeared.

"I've brought you some hot coffee," Penny said, taking the plug from a thermos bottle. "A little food too."

"Say, that's swell!" the man murmured gratefully. "My wife slips me a handout whenever she can, but lately the house has been watched so closely, she can't get away."

Seating himself at the picnic table, Clem Davis drained the cup of coffee in a few swallows, and greedily devoured a sandwich.

"Now what do you want to know?" he asked gruffly.

Mr. Parker had told Penny exactly what questions to ask. She began with the most important one.

"Mr. Davis, tell me, who is the head man of the Hoods?"

"I don't know myself," he answered promptly. "At the meetings, the Master always wore a robe and a black hood. None of the members ever were permitted to see his face."

"You have no idea who the man may be?"

Clem Davis shook his head as he bit into another sandwich. "I doubt there are more than one or two members of the order who know his identity. Hank Holloway might, or maybe Charley Phelps."

"Is Phelps a member?" Penny asked quickly.

"One of the chief ones. Most of the meetings are held at his place."

"You don't mean at the Hubell Tower?"

Penny's pulse had stepped up to a faster pace, for the information was of the greatest value. Furthermore, it thrilled her that her own theory regarding Charley Phelps was receiving support.

"Sure, the Hoods meet at the Tower about once a month," Clem Davis disclosed. "Usually they get together on the thirteenth, but sometimes they have extra sessions. When special meetings are held, a green light burns on the tower, or the clock strikes thirteen times just at midnight."

"I thought so!" Penny exclaimed, highly elated. "Tell me, why did you decide to break your connection with the Hoods?"

"I joined the organization before I knew what I was letting myself in for. When they made plans to burn the Preston barn, I wanted to quit. The Hoods threatened me, and to get even, planted evidence that made it look as if I had set the fire."

Penny was inclined to believe that Clem Davis had told a straight story for it coincided with her own theories. Always it had seemed to her that evidence pointing to his guilt had been entirely too plain. To corroborate her conclusions, she had brought from home the watch fob found at the Davis stable, hoping that he might identify it.

"That's not mine," he said promptly when she showed the article to him. "I never saw it before."

Penny opened the tiny case, displaying the child's picture. However, the man had no idea who the little boy might be.

"Mr. Davis," she said quietly, replacing the watch fob in her pocket. "I believe in your innocence, and I want to help you. I am sure I can, providing you are willing to cooperate."

"I've already told you about everything I know."

"You've given me splendid information," Penny praised. "What I want you to do is to talk with my father. He'll probably ask you to repeat your story to the Grand Jury."

"I'd be a fool to do that," Clem Davis responded. "I can't prove any of my statements. The Preston fire would be pinned on me, and the Hoods might try to harm my wife. Why, they ran off with a truck load of our melons the other night."

"I know. But unless someone has the courage to speak out against the Hoods they'll become bolder and do even more harm. Supposing you were promised absolute protection. Then would you go before the Grand Jury?"

"Nothing would give me more pleasure. But who can guarantee I'll not be made to pay?"

"I think my father can," Penny assured him. "Will you meet him here tomorrow night at this same hour?"

"Okay," the man agreed, getting up from the table. "You seem to be on the level."

"I'll bring more food tomorrow," Penny said as an extra inducement. "You must have had a hard time since you've been hiding out in the woods."

"Oh, it's not so bad once you get used to it," the man shrugged. "I've got a pretty good place to sleep now."

"Inside a building?" Penny asked curiously.

"An automobile," the man grinned. "Someone abandoned it in the swamp and I've taken possession."

"An old one, I suppose."

"Not so old," Clem Davis answered. "Funny thing, it's a 1941 Deluxe model with good upholstery. The only thing I can see wrong with it is that the front grill and fenders have been smashed."

"The car isn't by chance a gray one?"

"Yes, it is," the man admitted. "How did you guess?"

"I didn't guess," Penny returned soberly. "I have a suspicion that car is the one which killed two people about a year ago. Mr. Davis, you must take me to it at once!"

CHAPTER 21 _A BROKEN PROMISE_

"You want me to take you to the abandoned car now?" Clem Davis echoed in surprise. "It's located deep in the swamp, just off a side road."

"Would it require long to get there?" Penny asked thoughtfully.

"A half hour at least. With night coming on you wouldn't be able to see a thing."

"It is getting dark," Penny admitted regretfully. "Everything considered, I guess it would be better to wait until tomorrow. But in the meantime, I wish you would search the car carefully. Get the engine number--anything which might help to identify the owner."

"The engine number has been filed off," Clem answered. "I'll give the car a good going over though to see what I can learn. Thanks for the food."

Raising his hand in a semi salute, the man started into the woods.

"Don't forget to meet Dad and me tomorrow night," Penny called after him. "We'll be waiting here about this same time."

The interview with the fugitive had more than fulfilled Penny's expectations. Driving straight home, she made a full report of the talk to her father. Breathlessly, she revealed that the Hoods held monthly meetings at the Hubell Tower, and that both Hank Holloway and Charley Phelps were members of the order.

"You weren't able to learn the name of the head man?" Mr. Parker questioned.

"No, Clem didn't know it himself. He says the Master never shows himself to anyone, but always appears in mask."

Mr. Parker began to pace the floor, a habit of his when under mental stress. The information Penny had acquired was of utmost importance. He believed it to be authentic, but he dared not overlook the possibility that Clem Davis had deliberately lied.

"We must move cautiously on this story," he said aloud. "Should we make false accusations against innocent persons, the _Star_ would face disastrous lawsuits."

"You're not going to withhold the information from the public?" Penny demanded in disappointment.

"For the present, I must. The thing for us to do is to try to learn the identity of the head man. Any news published in the _Star_ would only serve as a tip-off to him."

"You're right, of course," Penny agreed after a moment of silence.

"Now that we have such a splendid start, it should be easy to gain additional information," the editor resumed. "You say the meetings usually are held on the thirteenth of the month?"

"That's what Clem Davis told me."

"Then we'll arrange to have the Tower watched on that night. In the meantime, I'll see Davis and learn what I can from him. Jerry is working on the County Cooperative angle of the story, and should have some interesting facts soon."

Penny knew that her father was adopting a wise policy, but she could not help feeling slightly disappointed. Always eager for action, she had hoped that Clem Davis' disclosures would lead to the immediate arrest of both Hank Holloway and Charley Phelps. However, she brightened at the thought that at least additional revelations might follow her father's meeting with the fugitive.

The following night, shortly after six-thirty, Penny and Mr. Parker presented themselves at the Orphans' Camp site. They had brought a basket of food, coffee, and a generous supply of cigarettes.

"What time did Davis promise to meet you?" Mr. Parker asked impatiently.

"He should be here now," Penny returned. "I can't imagine why he's late."

Another half hour elapsed, and still the fugitive did not appear. Mr. Parker paced restlessly beside the picnic table, becoming increasingly impatient.

"He's probably waiting until after dark," Penny declared optimistically.

Another hour elapsed. The shadows deepened and a chill wind blew from the river. Hungry mosquitoes kept Mr. Parker more than occupied as he sought to protect himself.

"Well, I've had enough of this!" he announced at last. "The man isn't coming."

"Oh, Dad, let's wait just a little longer," Penny coaxed. "I'm sure he meant to keep his promise."

"Perhaps he did, although I'm inclined to think otherwise. At any rate, I am going home!"

Penny had no choice but to follow her father to the car. She could not understand Clem Davis' failure to appear unless he had feared that he would be placed under arrest. While it was quite possible that the man might come to the picnic grounds the following night, she was afraid she would never see him again.

"I half expected this to happen," Mr. Parker remarked as he drove toward Riverview. "Unless we can get Davis to swear to his story, we haven't a scrap of real evidence against the Hoods."

"We may learn something on the night of the thirteenth," Penny said hopefully.

"Possibly, but I'm beginning to wonder if everything Davis told you may not have been for the purpose of deception."

"He seemed sincere. I can't believe he deliberately lied to me."

Submerged in gloom, Penny had little to say during the swift ride into Riverview. She could not blame her father for feeling annoyed, because the trip had cost him two hours of valuable time. Clem Davis' failure to appear undoubtedly might deprive the _Star_ of a spectacular scoop.

"Never mind," Mr. Parker said to comfort her. "It wasn't your fault. We'll find another way to get our information."

The car proceeded slowly through the downtown section of Riverview. Turning her head to read an electric sign, Penny's attention was drawn to a man in a gray suit who was walking close to the curb.

"Dad, stop the car!" she cried, seizing his arm. "There he is now!"

"Clem Davis?" Mr. Parker demanded, swerving the automobile toward a vacant space near the sidewalk.

"No! No! Ben Bowman! I'm sure it is he!"

Springing from the car, Penny glanced up the street. She had alighted just in time to see the man in gray enter a telegraph office.

"What nonsense is this?" Mr. Parker inquired impatiently. "Why do you think the fellow is Bowman?"

"I'm sure he's the same man I saw at Claymore. The one who tried to pass a forged cheque! Oh, please Dad, we can't let him get away!"

Switching off the car ignition, Mr. Parker stepped to the curb.

"If it should prove to be Ben Bowman, nothing would please me better than to nab him," he announced grimly. "But if you've made a mistake--"

"Come on," Penny urged, seizing his hand. "We can talk about it later."

Through the huge plate glass window of the telegraph office, the man in gray could be seen standing at one of the counters. His back was to the street and he appeared to be writing a message.

"I'm sure it's Ben Bowman," Penny said again. "Why not go inside and ask him if that's his name?"

"I shall. But I'm warning you again, if you've made one of your little mistakes--"

"Go ahead, faint heart!" Penny chuckled, giving him a tiny push. "I'll stay here by the door ready to stop him if he gets by you."

With no appearance of haste, Mr. Parker sauntered into the telegraph office. Deliberately taking a place at the counter close beside the man in gray, he pretended to write a message. Actually, he studied his companion, and attempted to read the lengthy telegram which the other had composed. Before he could do so, the man handed the paper to a girl clerk.

"Get this off right away," he instructed. "Send it collect."

The clerk examined the message, having difficulty in reading the writing.

"This night letter is to be sent to Anthony Parker?" she inquired.

"That's right," the man agreed.

Mr. Parker waited for no more. Touching the man on the arm, he said distinctly:

"I'll save you the trouble of sending that message. I am Anthony Parker."

The man whirled around, his face plainly showing consternation.

"You are Ben Bowman I assume," Mr. Parker said coolly. "I've long looked forward to meeting you."

"You've got me mixed up with someone else," the man mumbled, edging away. "My name's Clark Edgewater. See, I signed it to this telegram."

As proof of his contention, he pointed to the lengthy communication which lay on the counter. One glance satisfied Mr. Parker that it was another "crank" message.

"I don't care how you sign your name," he retorted. "You are Ben Bowman. We have a few matters to talk over."

The man gazed uncertainly at Mr. Parker. He started to speak, then changed his mind. Turning, he made a sudden break for the exit.

"Stop him!" Mr. Parker shouted. "Don't let him get away!"

Penny stood close to the door. As the man rushed toward her, she shot a bolt into place.

"Not quite so fast, Mr. Bowman," she said, smiling. "We really must have a chat with you."

CHAPTER 22 _THE MAN IN GRAY_

With the door locked, the man saw that he could not hope to escape. Accepting the situation, he regarded Mr. Parker and Penny with cold disdain.

"All right, my name is Ben Bowman," he acknowledged, shrugging. "So what?"

"You're the man who has been sending me collect messages for the past three months!" Mr. Parker accused.

"And what if I have? Is there any law against it? You run a lousy paper, and as a reader I have a right to complain!"

"But not at my expense. Another thing, I want to know what connection you've had with Clyde Blake."

"Never heard of him."

"Then you don't own property in this city?"

"Nor anywhere else. Now if you're through giving me the third degree, I'll move on."

"Not so fast," interposed Penny, refusing to unbar the door, "if I'm not mistaken you're the same man who is wanted at Claymore for forging a cheque."

"Really, this is too much!" Ben Bowman exclaimed angrily. "Unless you permit me to pass, I shall protest to the police."

"I see an officer just across the street," Mr. Parker declared. "Penny, will you call him over?"

"Just a minute," Ben Bowman interposed in an altered tone. "We can settle this ourselves. I'll admit I was hasty in sending those messages--just a way to let off steam, I guess. If you're willing to forget about it I'll repay you for every dollar you spent."

"I'm afraid I can't forget that easily," Mr. Parker retorted. "No, unless you're willing to come clean about your connection with Clyde Blake I'll have to call the police."

"What do you want to know about him?"

"Is he acting as your real estate agent?"

"Certainly not."

"You do know the man?"

"I've done a little work for him."

"Didn't he pay you to allow him to use your name on a deed?"

"He gave me twenty-five dollars to make out some papers for him. I only copied what he told me to write."

"That's all I want to know," Mr. Parker said grimly. "Penny, call the policeman!"

"See here," Bowman protested furiously, "you intimated that if I told what I knew about Blake you'd let me off. Why, you're as yellow as that paper you run!"

"I make no deals with men of your stamp!" Mr. Parker retorted.

As Penny unlocked the door, Ben Bowman made a break for freedom. However, the editor was entirely prepared. Seizing the man, he held him until Penny could summon the policeman. Still struggling, Bowman was loaded into a patrol wagon and taken to police headquarters.

"I guess that earns me a nice little one hundred dollars!" Penny remarked as she and her father went to their own car. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're entirely welcome," Mr. Parker grinned. "I never took greater pleasure in acknowledging a debt."

"What's your next move, Dad? Will you expose Clyde Blake in tomorrow's _Star_?"

"I'm tempted to do it, Penny. The evidence still is rather flimsy, but even if Ben Bowman denies his story, I think we can prove our charges."

"It's a pity you can't break the Hood yarn in the same edition," Penny said musingly. "What a front page that would make!"

"It certainly would be a good three pennies worth," Mr. Parker agreed. "Unfortunately, it will be many days before the Hoods are supposed to hold their meeting at the Tower."

"But why wait? We could call that gathering ourselves!"

"Just how?"

"Simple as pie. All we would need to do would be to have the clock strike thirteen instead of twelve." Penny glanced at her wrist watch and added persuasively: "We have several hours in which to work!"

"You're completely crazy!" accused Mr. Parker. "Just how would you arrange to have the clock strike thirteen?"

"I'll take care of that part, Dad. All I'll need is a hammer."

"To use on the caretaker, Charley Phelps, I suppose," Mr. Parker remarked ironically.

"Oh, no," Penny corrected, "I propose to turn all the strong-arm work over to you and your gang of reporters. Naturally, Phelps will have to be removed from the scene."

"What you propose is absolutely impossible," the editor declared. "Even so, I'll admit that I find your idea rather fascinating."

"This is no time for being conservative, Dad. Why, the Hoods must know you are out to break up their organization. Every day you wait lessens your chance of getting the story."

"I realize that only too well, Penny. I pinned quite a bit of hope on Clem Davis. His failure to appear puts everything in a different light."

"Why not test what he told us?" Penny argued. "It will be easy to learn if the striking of the clock is a signal to call the Hood meeting. If the men should come, we'll have them arrested, and run a big story tomorrow morning!"

"Coming from your lips it sounds so very simple," Mr. Parker smiled. "Has it occurred to you that if we fail, we'll probably breakfast at the police station?"

"Why worry about that?" grinned Penny. "You have influence."

Mr. Parker sat for several minutes lost in thought.

"You know, I've ALWAYS been lucky," Penny coaxed. "I feel a double dose of it coming on tonight!"

"I believe in hunches myself," Mr. Parker chuckled. "No doubt I'm making the biggest mistake of my life, but I'm going to try your wild scheme. Crazy as it is, it may work!"

"Then let's go!" laughed Penny.

At the _Star_ office, Mr. Parker hastily summoned a special staff of newspaper men, warning them to hold themselves in readiness to get out a special edition on short notice. From the group he chose Salt Sommers, Jerry Livingston, and two reporters known for their pugilistic prowess.

"Now this is the line up, boys," he revealed. "We're going to kidnap Charley Phelps from the Tower. It's risky business unless things break right for us, so if any of you want to drop out now, this is your chance."

"We're with you, chief!" declared Salt Sommers, tossing a pack of photographic supplies over his shoulder.

"Sure, what are we waiting for?" chimed in Jerry.

It was well after eleven o'clock by the time the over-loaded press car drew up not far from the Hubell Tower. Penny parked on a dark side street, and Jerry was sent to look over the situation. Soon he returned with his report.

"Charley Phelps is alone in the Tower," he assured the editor. "We shouldn't have any trouble handling him."

"Okay, then let's do the job," Mr. Parker returned. "Remember, if we muff it, we'll do our explaining to a judge."

Separating into groups so that they would not attract attention, Penny and the five men approached the Tower. A light glowed from within, and the caretaker could be seen moving about in the tiny living room.

Tying handkerchiefs over their faces, Salt and Jerry rapped on the back door. Charley Phelps opened it to find himself gazing into the blinding light of two flashlights.

"Say, what--" he began but did not finish.

Jerry and Salt had seized his arms. Before he could make another sound, they shoved a gag into his mouth, and dragging him into the Tower, closed the door. Working swiftly, they trussed his hands and feet and pushed him into a machinery room.

"Nice work, boys," Mr. Parker praised.

"Listen!" whispered Penny, who had followed the men into the Tower.

The clock had begun to strike the hour of midnight.

"Get up there quickly and do your stuff!" her father commanded. "You've not much time!"

Two steps at a time, Penny raced up the steep iron stairway which led to the belfry of the Tower. Anxiously, she counted the strokes as they pealed forth loud and clearly. Eight--nine--ten. The clock had never seemed to strike so fast before. Desperately she wondered if she could reach the belfry in time.

The stairway was dark, the footing uncertain. In her nervousness, Penny stumbled. Clutching the handrail, she clung to it a moment until she had recovered balance. But in that interval the clock had kept striking, and she was no longer sure of the count.

"It must be eleven," she thought, running up the remaining steps. "The next stroke will be the last."

Penny reached the great bell just as the clapper struck against the metal. The sound was deafening.

"Now!" she thought excitedly. "This is the moment, and I dare not fail!"

Balancing herself precariously, Penny raised a hammer high above her head. With all her strength she brought it down hard against the bell.

CHAPTER 23 _A TRAP SET_

To Penny's sensitive ears, the sound which resulted from the hammer blow, seemed weak and lacking in resonance. She sagged back against the iron railing, feeling that she had failed.

"That was swell!" a low voice said in her ear. "A perfect thirteenth stroke!"

Turning around, Penny saw that Jerry Livingston had followed her into the belfry.

"Did it really sound all right?" she inquired anxiously.