Part 6

Darkness was inking the sky as Penny drew up at the end of the road. Parking her car between scraggly box-elders, she walked swiftly along the river trail, soon approaching within view of the Parker cottage.

The fallen tree had been sawed into cord wood, the yard cleaned of sticks and debris, and only the damaged porch remained to remind one of the severe storm.

As Penny opened the screen door, Mrs. Weems came from the kitchen.

"Joe is asleep," she warned in a whisper. "Perhaps we should talk outside."

Penny nodded and followed the housekeeper to the porch swing.

"How is he doing?" she inquired.

"Oh, much better," replied Mrs. Weems. "The doctor was here an hour ago. Joe is out of danger but must remain in bed for at least another day."

"I was afraid when you telephoned that something had gone wrong here."

"No," confessed the housekeeper, "I was merely lonesome for news. Is everything going well at home?"

"Oh, yes, we're getting along fine."

"I hope you remembered to bring in the milk. And you didn't neglect the dusting?"

Penny smiled ruefully.

"I might have known you would let everything go," sighed Mrs. Weems. "No doubt it's my duty to remain here, but I feel I should be at home."

"Anchor Joe needs you, Mrs. Weems. Has he talked very much?"

"Not a great deal. He ate a hearty lunch and seems in no pain."

"Did you see his back, Mrs. Weems?"

"Yes, the cut was an ugly one. The doctor changed the dressing while he was here."

"I mean the tattoo," said Penny impatiently. "Didn't you notice it?"

"I saw that he had one, if that's what you mean."

"You didn't question him about it?"

"Certainly not, Penny. Why should I?"

"Don't you read the _Weekly Times_? Anchor Joe's tattoo is a dead ringer for the one John Munn had on his back. Joe's already admitted that he knows Munn. For all we know they may be bitter enemies. Perhaps it was Anchor Joe who pushed Munn off the bridge!"

"Penny, your ideas grow wilder each day," protested Mrs. Weems. "I hope you don't talk such nonsense to other people."

"All the same, Anchor Joe bears someone a grudge," insisted Penny. "He mentioned a person who had 'ratted.' Didn't you learn a single fact about him, Mrs. Weems?"

"His last name is Landa and he came to Riverview three weeks ago. He has no family."

"I think I'll question him myself when he awakens."

"No, I can't allow that," said Mrs. Weems sternly. "The doctor would never approve."

"I promise not to excite him."

"The answer is no! Now I wish you would help me by bringing in the washing. I must start supper."

Penny obediently took the basket and unpinned sheets and pillow cases from the line. She had just finished when she observed a tall, well-built young man with military stride, approaching through the trees. He tipped his hat politely.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am trying to find the Parker cottage."

"Your search is at an end," answered Penny. "You've come to the right place."

"Do you have a man working here named Joe Landa?"

"Why, yes, we have."

"Where may I find him, please?"

"Joe is confined to his bed," explained Penny. "Unless it is very important I am afraid we can't allow you to talk with him today."

"It is important," said the stranger. "I am Clark Moyer, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Penny's eyes opened wide. "A G-man?" she demanded.

"I am an investigator for the government," he replied, smiling.

"And you're after Anchor Joe?"

"I am here to question him."

"What has he done, Mr. Moyer?"

"I am not permitted to discuss a case to which I have been assigned," he returned, amused by her display of interest. "It's quite possible that Landa is not the man I seek. How long has he worked here?"

"Only a few days. He--he hasn't killed anyone, has he?"

"No," smiled the government man, "it's not that serious. The man I am after is short and wiry, sandy hair and blue eyes. He has a tattooed anchor on his right arm."

"And one on his back?" Penny asked eagerly.

"I wouldn't know about that. Does my description fit the man who has been working here?"

"Yes, it does! Almost exactly."

"Then I'd like to talk with him."

"Come into the cottage," invited Penny. "I'll call Mrs. Weems."

Summoned from the kitchen, the housekeeper listened to Mr. Moyer's request that he be permitted to see the injured man.

"If you are a government investigator I suppose it will be all right," she said reluctantly. "But the doctor's orders were that he was to be kept absolutely quiet."

"I'll only ask a question or two," promised Mr. Moyer.

"Is Joe wanted on a criminal charge?" the housekeeper asked.

"I was sent to check up on a man who calls himself Joe Landa. That's all I can tell you."

From the kitchen came the unmistakable odor of scorching potatoes. Mrs. Weems ran to jerk the pan from the stove.

"Penny, you see if Joe is awake yet," she called over her shoulder.

"I'll go with you," said Mr. Moyer quickly. "If I have made a mistake it may not be necessary to disturb the man."

"This way," directed Penny.

She led the government man down the hall to the rear bedroom. The door was closed. She twisted the knob and pushed, at first easily, and then with increasing force.

"It seems to be stuck," she said. "The recent rains must have caused the wood to swell."

"Let me try," offered Mr. Moyer.

He took Penny's place, and after testing the door, gave it a hard upward push. There was a loud crash as it suddenly swung open.

"Goodness! What was that?" exclaimed Penny.

"A barricade. Keep back."

To Penny's astonishment the government man drew his revolver before entering the room. Disregarding the order to remain behind, she followed him inside.

"I might have expected this!" he muttered.

Penny's gaze swept the room. A chair lay overturned on the floor. The bed, still bearing the imprint of a man's body, was empty.

"Why, where's Joe?" murmured Penny. "His clothing is gone, too!"

Mr. Moyer strode to the open window.

"You think he left that way?" Penny questioned. "He must have heard us talking!"

The government man nodded as he stepped through the opening to the ground.

"He heard us all right. There's no question now that he's the man I am after! And I'll get him, too!"

Briefly examining the ground beneath the window, Mr. Moyer turned and walked swiftly toward the river.

CHAPTER 15 _INFORMATION FROM TILLIE_

Penny lost no time in telling Mrs. Weems that Anchor Joe had disappeared.

"Well, of all things!" exclaimed the housekeeper as she saw the deserted bedroom. "He was here a half hour ago. I know because I came in while he was sleeping."

"He must have heard Mr. Moyer inquiring about him," declared Penny. "Obviously he ran away to avoid the interview."

"Then that means he's guilty."

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Weems. What do you suppose he did to have a government man after him?"

"He may have been a gangster."

"Anchor Joe?" asked Penny, smiling. "He hardly looked the type."

"In any event, we're fortunate to be rid of him."

"I wish we could have questioned him," Penny said gloomily. "Now I may never learn about that octopus tattoo."

"You and your tattoo!" scoffed Mrs. Weems, beginning to strip linen from the bed. "Anchor Joe certainly deceived me. He seemed such a pleasant sort and I was sorry for him."

"I still am," said Penny. "The poor fellow is in no condition to be wandering around. I rather hope Mr. Moyer overtakes him soon. Then at least he'll get the medical attention he requires."

While Mrs. Weems straightened the bedroom, she wandered to the river's edge. Only a few stars were pricking the sky, and it was impossible to see very far. There was no sign either of Mr. Moyer or the man he pursued.

Penny returned to the cottage to eat supper with Mrs. Weems.

"Now that Anchor Joe has gone, I may as well go home tonight," declared the housekeeper. "I can't leave, though, until I've cleaned the cottage and set it to rights."

"How much longer will it take?"

"Oh, an hour or two."

"While I am waiting I may walk over to Peter Fenestra's place," Penny remarked. "I shouldn't mind seeing Tillie Fellows again."

"You'll be cautious in crossing the river?"

"Of course," laughed Penny. "I won't be gone long."

She washed the dishes for Mrs. Weems and then set forth for the Fenestra farmhouse. Frogs croaked as she crossed the swaying bridge, and far upstream she heard the faint chug of a motorboat. Otherwise, the night was unusually still.

Emerging from among the trees, Penny saw a light glowing in the distance. Knowing that it came from the Fenestra house, she used it as a beacon to guide her.

Passing the barn, she climbed a fence and entered the yard. The house was dark save for a single light burning in the kitchen. She could see Tillie Fellows moving about.

Penny knocked on the side door. Through the window she observed Tillie freeze into a tense attitude of fear. To reassure the girl she called her name in a loud voice.

Immediately Tillie ran to open the door.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed in relief. "I was frightened."

To Penny's surprise Tillie wore a silk dress. Pocketbook, hat and gloves lay upon the kitchen table.

"I am afraid I've come at an awkward time," she apologized. "You were going somewhere?"

"I'm leaving here," Tillie answered grimly. She closed the door behind Penny.

"You mean for good? You've found another job?"

Tillie shook her head. "I've been discharged. He didn't give me a week's advance wages either."

"Oh, that's too bad," said Penny sympathetically. "But you'll find a better place. You said you didn't like it here anyway."

"I've hated it. Peter Fenestra is such a suspicious person. Why do you think he discharged me?"

"I can't guess, but I should like to know."

"He accused me of prying!"

"How unjust."

"Well, in a way, I was trying to learn about things I shouldn't," Tillie admitted honestly. "It was that storm cave."

"Did you get down into it?" Penny asked.

"No, but I tried. Old Peter was gone this afternoon and I decided to find out what he keeps hidden underground."

"The padlock wasn't locked?"

"Usually it is, but today he forgot. I got the door open. Just as I started down the steps he grabbed me by the shoulder. I was scared half to death."

"You mean Fenestra had hidden himself in the cave?" Penny questioned in astonishment.

"Yes, it was a trick to catch me prying. He said so himself, Penny. He only pretended to go away, then lay in wait."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No, he just told me to get out and never come back. It wouldn't surprise me if he leaves here himself soon."

"Why do you say that, Tillie?"

"Because he's afraid of his own shadow. But I don't blame him for being nervous. This house is being watched!"

As if fearing that unfriendly eyes were upon her at that very moment, Tillie went to the window and after peering into the yard, lowered the blind.

"Twice I've seen men hiding in the wheat field just back of this place," she confided. "The first time there was only one, but yesterday I saw three."

"Are you sure they were watching this house, Tillie?"

"Oh, yes, they were lying on the ground. For an hour they scarcely moved."

"Didn't you tell Fenestra?"

"I was afraid to do it, but I think he knew. All day he kept inside the house, and I saw him at the windows. He was as jumpy as a cat. Another thing--I saw him loading his revolver."

"He must fear for his life."

"I'm sure of it, Penny. Even if he's only going to the barn he carries the revolver with him."

A clock on the shelf above the stove struck eight times.

"Mercy!" exclaimed Tillie, "I must hurry or I'll never get away before Old Peter returns. Excuse me while I run upstairs for my suitcase."

"Where is Fenestra now?" Penny inquired before the girl could leave.

"In Riverview I suppose. He went away right after supper."

"Run along and get your suitcase," Penny advised. "I'll drive you into town."

"Oh, thanks," the girl answered gratefully. "It won't take me long."

After Tillie had gone, Penny walked to the window and rolled up the blind. Across the yard she could see the disfiguring mound of earth and cement. What secret did the storm cave guard? Why was it always kept padlocked?

Abruptly she went to the foot of the stairs and called:

"Oh, Tillie, I'm going outside for a minute. I'll come back."

"All right," agreed the girl. "Sorry to keep you waiting but I still have a few things to pick up."

Leaving by the side door, Penny paused on the porch for a moment. Carefully she glanced about the yard and surrounding fields. A thin quarter moon rising over the pine trees gave dim shape to the barn and silo. She could see no one, yet Tillie's revelation that strange men spied upon the house, made her attentive to danger.

Swiftly she crossed the lawn to the storm cave. As she had fully expected, the slanting door was padlocked.

"Oh, shoot!" she exclaimed impatiently. "I want to get down there!"

She jerked at the padlock several times, and then accepting the situation, turned toward the house. As she walked, Penny's eyes fastened absently upon a clump of lilac bushes some twenty yards from the cave. They were moving gently as if stirred by a wind. Yet there was no wind.

Penny did not pause, but every sense became alert. Her heart pounded. Distinctly she could see a man crawling on hands and knees behind the lilacs.

CHAPTER 16 _BEHIND THE LILACS_

Without disclosing by her actions that she had observed anything amiss, Penny walked steadily on toward the house. Her first thought had been that it was Peter Fenestra who spied upon her. However, as the figure straightened she knew she had been mistaken. The man was not Fenestra.

Before she could see his face, he moved to another clump of bushes, and then was enveloped by darkness.

Entering the house, Penny blew out the kerosene lamp and stood by the window, watching. She could not see the man. He had vanished completely.

"That proves that Tillie was correct," she thought. "This house _is_ being watched. I wonder why."

As she waited, Tillie came down the stairway, carrying her luggage. Observing that the kitchen was dark, she paused in alarm.

"It's all right," Penny called reassuringly. "I blew the light out so that I wouldn't be seen from outside."

"Is anyone there?" Tillie demanded, coming quickly to the window. Her pallid features were rigid with fear and her breathing quickened.

"He's gone now, I think."

"There was someone a moment ago?"

"Yes, a man, hiding behind the lilacs. I believe he must have been watching the house--or possibly the storm cellar!"

"Then you see I was right," Tillie declared. "Oh, this is a dreadful place, and I'll be glad to leave it."

"I almost wish you were staying," said Penny slowly. "You might be able to learn what's hidden in that cave."

"Not with Peter Fenestra so suspicious. Anyway, you couldn't hire me to remain even if he would allow it. I'd rather starve."

"You have no place to go, Tillie?"

"I'll find work. If not in Riverview then I can return to the country. Anything will be better than what I've had."

Penny groped in the dark for the lamp, relighting it.

"Tillie," she said, "how would you like to work at our place for a few days?"

"You don't mean it."

"I do if it can be arranged," Penny affirmed. "We have a housekeeper, but it occurred to me that she might take your place here."

"She'd be very foolish to give up a good job for this."

"It would only be temporary. I think I can induce her to make the change for a few days. The question is, can we get Peter Fenestra to accept her?"

"I doubt if he'll hire anyone now that I am leaving. Why do you want your housekeeper in such a place as this, Penny?"

"Only for one reason. To learn what's going on here. I confess you've made me very curious about the storm cave."

"Fenestra would watch her every minute, the same as he did me. It won't work."

"It will if Mrs. Weems can get the job," declared Penny confidently. "First of all, we must make Fenestra so uncomfortable he'll want someone to take care of the house. Is he a good cook?"

"Oh, wretched. And the trick of keeping a good fire going is simply beyond him. Why, if we turned the damper, it never would occur to him to change it."

"Thanks for the idea," laughed Penny. "Let's hide the breakfast supplies, too."

Tillie was quite certain that her friend did not know what she was doing, but she offered no objection to the plan. Before leaving the house they altered the stove damper, hid the coffee pot, and placed salt in the sugar bowl.

"If Old Peter doesn't get his coffee in the morning he'll simply rave," chuckled Tillie. "Missing it may be the one thing which will make him hire a new housekeeper."

The girls were watchful as they crossed the yard, but they observed no one lurking about the premises. Evidently the man who had hidden behind the lilacs had taken himself elsewhere.

Penny escorted Tillie to the parked automobile, leaving her there while she went to the cottage for Mrs. Weems. The housekeeper was ready and waiting by the time she arrived.

"Penny, I nearly gave you up," she sighed. "Why did it take so long?"

"I've been busy finding you a new position," chuckled Penny. "Starting tomorrow morning, you're to work for Peter Fenestra instead of us."

In the act of locking the cottage door, Mrs. Weems turned to face the girl.

"Penny," she said, "I am tired tonight and in no mood for your jokes."

"This isn't a joke, Mrs. Weems. I really do want you to change jobs with Tillie Fellows. You remember I told you about her."

Not giving the housekeeper an opportunity to speak, she rapidly outlined her plan.

"Early tomorrow morning I'll drive you to Fenestra's farm," she ended gleefully. "You're to knock on the door, and say you're looking for a job at very low wages. Fenestra will be so desperate he'll welcome you with open arms. Then as soon as he's off his guard you learn what is hidden in the storm cave."

"How lovely," said Mrs. Weems. "I've listened to your crazy schemes for years, Penny, but this one takes the prize!"

"You'll do it, won't you?"

"I certainly will not." The housekeeper spoke with biting emphasis.

"Oh, Mrs. Weems," Penny moaned. "You don't realize how much this means to me! If only you'll go there, I may be able to get a wonderful scoop for the _Weekly Times_."

"I wish you never had started that paper. I declare, ever since you took over the old _Press_ plant, you've done the wildest things."

"This isn't wild," Penny argued. "It's absolutely logical. I would try for the job myself only I know Fenestra wouldn't give it to me. Besides, I am kept busy at the plant."

"I refuse to play detective for you, Penny. That's final."

Completely downcast, Penny followed Mrs. Weems along the river trail. However, she had no intention of giving up so easily.

"Then if you won't," she remarked, "I must take Tillie to a charity home. She had intended to start working at our place."

"The girl may spend the night with us, if you like. We have an extra room."

"Tillie would never accept such a favor," insisted Penny. "More than anything else she wants a job. Mrs. Weems, please reconsider--"

"It's a crazy scheme!"

"No, it isn't," Penny refuted, and noting indications of weakening, launched into another lengthy argument.

Mrs. Weems drew a deep sigh. "I don't know why I allow you to twist me around your finger the way you do."

"You'll try for the job?"

"I suppose so. But what will your father say?"

"He'll call it clever journalism," chuckled Penny. "Don't you worry about Dad. Just leave everything to me."

During the ride to Riverview Mrs. Weems was further influenced by Tillie Fellows' account of Fenestra's peculiar actions. Gradually she began to share Penny's opinion that the man might have reason to fear for his life. However, she could not agree with the girls that anything of great value was hidden in the cave.

"Perhaps we're wrong," Penny conceded, "but you must go there with an open mind, Mrs. Weems. Observe everything you can and report to me. Particularly I want to learn what Fenestra knows about John Munn and the octopus tattoo."

"I shan't try very hard to get the job," threatened the housekeeper.

At seven the next morning Penny awakened Mrs. Weems from a sound slumber, reminding her that it was time to start for the Fenestra farm. Protesting that the idea seemed crazier than ever, the housekeeper snuggled down beneath the covers again.

"You promised you would go," reminded Penny brutally. "Please hurry, because I must get you established before I go to school."

By the time Mrs. Weems was dressed, breakfast and the car awaited her. She drank the bitterly strong coffee and, still protesting, allowed Penny to drive her within view of the Fenestra farm.

"Is that the place?" she inquired with distaste as the automobile halted.

"Yes, I don't dare go any closer for fear Fenestra will see me. You know the story you're to tell him."

"Which one? You've suggested so many that my mind is a-whirl."

"Then make it simple. Just say you're a widow, out of work, and that you're a wonderful housekeeper. I'll wait here. If you go inside I'll know you've been given the job."

"When will you come for me?"

"I'll try to see you tomorrow. But hold the fort until I arrive even if it's a week."

A bundle of clothing under her arm, Mrs. Weems trudged on down the road. Penny watched her with misgiving. The adventure was not to the housekeeper's liking, and it was doubtful that her application for work would be an enthusiastic one.

Turning the car in the road, she pulled to one side and waited. Mrs. Weems had reached the farmhouse. Following instructions, she knocked at the side entrance. In a moment or two the door was opened by Peter Fenestra.

Anxiously, Penny watched. The interview seemed to be taking a long while, but at least Fenestra had not closed the door in the housekeeper's face.

Then, to her delight, Mrs. Weems followed the man into the house.

"The job is hers!" she thought exultantly. "If she doesn't fail me, I may yet break an important story in my paper! I feel in my bones that Peter Fenestra's cave soon will yield its secret!"

CHAPTER 17 _THE ART OF TATTOO_

At school, during the afternoon assembly period, Penny received a note from Louise which read:

"The _Weekly Times_ is in urgent need of feature stories for our next issue. Any ideas?"

Penny scrawled a huge zero on the paper, decorated it with angel wings, and sent it down the aisle. An answer came immediately.

"You'll have to do something about it. All of our reporters are taking a vacation until after monthly exams. Can't you write some sort of story?"

Penny considered the problem as she studied her history lesson. Just as the dismissal bell rang an inspiration seized her.

"Lou, I do have an idea!" she declared, linking arms with her chum. "How about an interview with Ellis Saal?"

"Who is he?" inquired Louise, somewhat dubiously.

"A tattoo artist who has a little shop on Dorr Street. He takes passport pictures, too. I noticed the place weeks ago."

"What makes you think the story would be worth printing?"

"Tattooing is a fascinating subject."

"It is to you. I doubt if our readers share your enthusiasm."

"They will when they read my story," countered Penny.

Early the next morning she presented herself at Mr. Saal's place of business, a den-like crack in the wall, barely wide enough to accommodate a door.

Pausing, she stared at a sign which proclaimed that for a nominal sum Mr. Saal would tattoo or photograph all comers. In a glass frame were displayed many samples of tattooing--bleeding hearts, clasped hands, sailing ships, birds in flight and other artistic conceptions.