Part 8

She busied herself smoothing covers while Penny wandered about. The room had no rug. It was furnished with an old fashioned dresser, a wash stand and a bed with a high headboard.

Penny opened the closet door. The hangers were dangling together, without clothing. Everything had been packed into two suitcases which stood against the wall.

"I've already inspected the luggage," said Mrs. Weems as the girl bent to open one of the bags. "You'll find nothing except clothing. I tell you, Peter Fenestra is a very cautious man."

"I can believe it," agreed Penny. "This room is as bare of evidence as Mother Hubbard's cupboard."

"Just what do you hope to find?"

"Well, I don't know. What's this?" Penny picked up a sheet of notebook paper from the dresser.

"Don't get excited over that," laughed Mrs. Weems.

"It's only a grocery list which Fenestra made up. He doesn't trust anyone to spend his money for him."

"Is this Fenestra's writing?" Penny studied the paper with intense interest.

"Yes, it is."

"Mrs. Weems, I've seen this writing before!" Penny exclaimed. "I'm almost certain of it. There's a marked resemblance!"

"A resemblance to what, Penny?"

"Why, to a threatening note I received. I guess I never told you. Someone left a message on my desk at the newspaper office, warning me to give up my paper."

"And you think Peter Fenestra left it there?" inquired the housekeeper, smiling.

"This looks like the same writing."

"Probably you are mistaken, Penny. Why should he have any interest in your paper?"

"He came to the office one day, questioning me about a story I ran concerning John Munn. I shall keep this and compare it with the note."

Carefully folding the paper, Penny slipped it into her dress pocket. Mrs. Weems had finished making the bed and was ready to leave.

"I've learned everything I can for you," she said. "Now I hope you're willing to let me return home."

"Please stay another day," pleaded Penny. "I feel in my bones that we're about to make an important discovery."

"Those bones of yours!" complained the housekeeper. "Tell me, how is Tillie Fellows getting along?"

"Well, she tries hard, but I'll admit Dad doesn't like the arrangement."

"Then I must return. It's nonsense for me to stay here."

Penny was paying no attention to Mrs. Weems' words. She had picked up the waste paper basket and was examining the contents. There were a few advertising circulars, an unaddressed envelope and a crumpled ball of paper. The latter, Penny carefully smoothed.

"Mrs. Weems!" she exclaimed. "Look at this!"

The housekeeper hastened to her side. Curiously, she examined the paper. It bore no writing, only a crude drawing of an octopus.

"This must be the paper which Anchor Joe left on the doorstep only a few minutes ago!" cried Penny excitedly.

"You think it may have been intended as a warning to Peter Fenestra?" The housekeeper regarded the drawing rather dubiously.

"I'm sure of it, Mrs. Weems! Don't you see? The drawing is a copy of the tattoo which both Anchor Joe and John Munn had on their backs!"

"Yes, it does look the same as Joe's marking," conceded the housekeeper. "But what does it mean? Why was it sent to Fenestra?"

"I wish I knew."

"One thing is clear. That boatman your father hired is a downright scamp."

"He's wanted by the government. We know that. But Fenestra may be a rascal, too. Why should Anchor Joe threaten him unless he's done something he shouldn't?"

"Why indeed? This is a case for the police, not one for you or me," declared Mrs. Weems with finality. "I am ready to leave here whenever you are. I've decided not to bother giving Fenestra notice."

"You can't go now. You can't!" moaned Penny. "Stay until after Thursday, at least. I'm positive everything will be cleared up by then."

"Why Thursday?"

"Well, I have a little matter coming up on that day. Besides, I've sent off a letter which may help solve the mystery. Please, Mrs. Weems, do this one favor and I'll never ask another."

"Until next time, you mean. But to please you I'll stay until Friday. Not a day longer. However, I warn you, if I see Anchor Joe prowling about, I shall summon the sheriff."

"That's all right with me," grinned Penny. "I must skip now before Fenestra gets back from town. Just keep your eye on him and report to me if anything unusual happens."

CHAPTER 20 _PICNIC BY MOONLIGHT_

Penny had never found it necessary to explain fully to her father what had become of Mrs. Weems. She had mentioned rather carelessly that the housekeeper was helping out at the Fenestra home for a few days, and he had accepted the substitution of Tillie Fellows without too many questions.

At breakfast on Wednesday morning, the publisher waited until Tillie had gone to the kitchen, and then asked in an undertone:

"How much longer is this to continue? When is Mrs. Weems coming home?"

"Friday morning, Dad. Don't you like Tillie's cooking?"

"It's awful," he whispered. "These eggs taste as if they had been fried in lard."

"They were," chuckled Penny. "Tillie was brought up to be frugal. She never wastes butter."

The discussion was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of Tillie. Mr. Parker immediately switched to another subject, that of a barbecue picnic which he gave each summer to the _Star_ employes. Penny had forgotten that the outing was scheduled for that night at the cottage.

"I'm glad you reminded me, Dad," she said. "I'll be there with bells to eat my share of roast beef. Mind if I bring Old Horney?"

"Invite him if you like," replied Mr. Parker. "But no others. This is a newspaper picnic, not a bread line as you made it last year."

After school that afternoon Penny worked as usual at the _Times_ office. She was busy figuring advertising space when she glanced up and saw Fred Clousky standing in the doorway.

"Are--are you busy?" asked the boy diffidently.

"Yes, I am," said Penny with discouraging brevity.

"I don't want to bother you," Fred murmured, "but I was wondering--do you have a job for me around here? I'd like to work on a real paper. Being editor of _Chatter_ is okay but you don't get any practical experience."

"Oh, so you want a job?" inquired Penny. Inclined to give him a short answer, she thought better of it. "Everything considered," she said, "what you need, Fred, is to learn about different kinds of type. It's so easy to get name-plates and various headlines mixed!"

Fred kept his gaze on his shoes.

"I have just the job for you," resumed Penny. "You can sort and clean the type when it's broken out of the page forms. If you do that well, perhaps you can work up later on."

"When do I start?" Fred asked in a crushed voice.

Penny was surprised for she had expected him to decline such a dirty, menial job. In a far more friendly tone she directed him to seek Old Horney who would be found in the composing room.

"Fred isn't so bad after all," she thought after he had gone. "I'll give him an office job next week."

Penny returned to her work. In need of an extra sheet of paper, she tried to open the lower drawer of her desk. It was stuck fast. She tugged at it several times, finally pulling it out entirely. A folded newspaper clipping dropped to the floor.

Wondering what it might be, she picked it up. The torn sheet, yellow with age, bore the picture of a young man. The face was vaguely familiar although the name beneath it read, Matthew Jewel.

"Matthew Jewel," she whispered. "But it's Matthew Judson! Judson as a young man. He must have changed his name!"

The two column headline drew her attention.

MATTHEW JEWEL BEGINS TEN YEAR SENTENCE IN NEW YORK PRISON FOR MISAPPROPRIATION OF BANK FUNDS

The clipping, she noted, had been cut from a New York paper and was dated twenty years earlier. It reported Matthew Jewel's conviction, following an admission that he had stolen two thousand dollars belonging to the Berkley Savings Bank.

Penny studied the picture again. Not the slightest doubt entered her mind that the young man of the story and Matthew Judson were the same individual. Evidently the clipping had been saved by the former publisher, and in some manner had become lodged beneath the drawer.

"I'm sure no one in Riverview ever knew that Judson served a term in prison," she thought. "He came here years ago with his daughter, and to all appearances had led an upright life."

After perusing the item again, she returned it to the drawer which she carefully locked. She knew that the information was of utmost importance. Was it not possible that she had stumbled upon a motivation for Judson's strange behavior of the past year? Could not the data contained in the clipping have provided an unscrupulous person with a basis for blackmail?

"But why should Judson ruin his career rather than face exposure?" she reflected. "Other men have made mistakes in their youth and started over again. The truth might have humiliated him, but Riverview people would have taken a charitable attitude."

Deeply troubled, Penny gathered together her belongings and went in search of Old Horney. Finding him initiating Fred Clousky in his new duties, she discreetly invited him to attend the picnic.

"Thank you mightily," responded the pressman, "but I'm not dressed for it. These pants are so shiny you could use 'em for a mirror."

"Don't you worry about your clothes, Horney. Besides, it will be so dark no one will notice. Dad gave you a special invitation."

"Did he now?" The old pressman could not hide his pleasure. "Well, if you think he really wants me, maybe I'll go."

"You wash up while I get the car," Penny urged. "We're rather late."

Within ten minutes, Old Horney met her at the front entrance. His hair was combed, he wore a frayed coat, and had contrived to polish his shoes.

"Horney," Penny said abruptly as they drove toward the river, "did you ever hear that Matthew Judson had been in trouble before he gave up his paper?"

"You mean financial?" the pressman inquired.

"No, I meant of a personal nature. I've been thinking over your theory that Judson was blackmailed."

"Maybe I oughtn't to have said what I did. It was just my own idea."

"I'm inclined to believe there may be something to it, Horney. Now supposing that Judson had stolen money or had been in prison--"

"It couldn't have been that," interrupted the pressman. "Why, Judson was so honest he bent over backwards."

Penny was tempted to tell Horney about the clipping, but refrained from doing so. However, she was satisfied that employes of the _Morning Press_ had gained no inkling of Mr. Judson's prison record.

The picnic was well under way by the time Penny and the pressman arrived at the river cottage. A caterer had taken complete charge, and with his crew of helpers, prepared to serve nearly two hundred boisterous, hungry newspaper employes.

Always a favorite, Penny immediately was surrounded by a group of friends. Assured that Horney had found welcome with pressmen acquaintances, she entered wholeheartedly into the frivolity.

Jerry Livingston, frowning away all other young men, became her escort for the evening. After supper had been served, he guided her firmly away from the group.

"We don't want to hear any speeches," he said. "Let's go look at the moon."

"Can't we see it here?" countered Penny.

"A moon to be appreciated properly must be seen from a sandy beach," chuckled Jerry. "Preferably from a nice comfortable shoulder."

Breaking away, Penny raced ahead of him, along the beach to the suspension bridge. She was halfway across when he overtook her, rocking it so violently that she had to cling to him for support.

"Stop that, Jerry Livingston! You'll break the bridge!"

"Then don't try to run away from me. Will you let me show you the moon?"

"No, I know you, Jerry. You show it to all the girls."

"If I do, it's just as a rehearsal. You see, Penny, I've hoped that someday I might get a chance to show it to you."

"What a line you have," laughed Penny. "But I won't play. As a moon-shower your technique is terrible. Better practice some more."

Jerry chuckled and slipping his hand in hers, led her on across the bridge.

"If you won't look at the moon," he said, "then take a squint at Old Man River."

"I believe I prefer the moon after all," Penny returned, raising her eyes to the disc of light sailing serenely through the star-pricked sky. "It _is_ beautiful."

Her reverie was broken by Jerry's voice. His hand tightened on her own.

"Penny!" he exclaimed. "Look over there!"

Farther down the river in an open space, the forms of two struggling men were silhouetted in the moonlight.

"Oh, Jerry," Penny cried, "they're fighting!"

"And to the death," added Jerry grimly. "Come on, before it's too late!"

CHAPTER 21 _ELLIS SAAL'S CUSTOMER_

Penny followed the reporter, quickly overtaking him. Their pounding footsteps were heard by the two men who abruptly ceased their desperate struggles. Observing the pair, they turned and fled, one toward the river, the other toward the road.

"Well, we broke that up in a hurry!" exclaimed Jerry. "Wonder what made them run?"

"They must have been afraid we would recognize them," answered Penny. "Didn't you think that one man looked like Peter Fenestra?"

"I never have seen him to my knowledge. He was the fellow who ran along the river?"

"No, the other. Fenestra's farmhouse is across the fields." Penny pointed toward a light shining dimly from a window.

"They've both disappeared now," Jerry commented, moving to the river bank. "Wonder how the row started anyway?"

"Fenestra has been threatened," revealed Penny. "Yesterday Anchor Joe left a drawing of an octopus on his doorstep."

"What was the idea?"

"It must have been intended as a warning of some sort. Anchor Joe, and other men, too, keep watch of the house."

"How did you learn that, Penny?"

"I've made observations. Besides, Tillie Fellows, who worked there, told me what she had seen. Fenestra is afraid for his life."

"Maybe it was Anchor Joe who attacked him tonight."

"It may have been. I wish we could have seen those men at close range."

Penny walked on to the clearing where the pair had fought. Grass had been beaten down over a large area, indicating that the struggle had not been a brief one. A shiny object gleamed in the moonlight. Penny picked it up, then called softly to Jerry who had remained by the river bank.

"What is it?" he asked, coming quickly to her side.

"I've found a key, Jerry! It was lying here on the ground."

"One of the men must have lost it from his pocket."

"This may have been what they were fighting over, Jerry!"

"What makes you think that?"

"Doesn't the key look as if it belonged to a padlock?"

"Yes, it does, Penny."

"Then I am convinced this key will fit the lock on Peter Fenestra's storm cellar! His attacker was trying to get it away from him!"

"Just a minute," remonstrated Jerry. "You're traveling too fast for me. Explain the storm cellar part."

"You'll promise not to use anything I tell you for the _Star_?"

"That's fair enough."

Satisfied that Jerry would keep his promise, Penny told him everything she had learned at the Fenestra farm. The reporter asked many questions about the storm cave.

"So you believe this key may unlock the door?" he mused.

"I'd like to try it, at least."

"Now?"

"There never will be a better time. Mrs. Weems thinks that Fenestra is getting ready to leave Riverview."

Jerry hesitated only briefly. "All right, I'm with you," he said. "Lead the way."

They were leaving the river when both were startled to hear the suspension bridge creak beneath human weight. As they paused, listening, a familiar voice called:

"Jerry! Hey, Jerry!"

"Here!" responded the reporter.

A figure emerged from the trees, and they recognized Salt Sommers, the _Star_ photographer.

"Say, I've been lookin' everywhere for you," he complained. "You're wanted back in Riverview."

"What is this, a gag?" Jerry asked suspiciously.

"It's no gag. The Fulton Powder Company just blew up. Joe, and Gus, and Philips are already on their way. DeWitt sent me to get you."

"The Fulton Powder Plant!" Jerry exclaimed, falling into step with Salt. "That's a big story!"

"It sure is, and we're late! Get a move on, brother."

Jerry glanced toward Penny, remembering that she too had a "story" to be covered.

"We'll go to Fenestra's place tomorrow," he promised hurriedly.

Knowing that Penny might try to investigate the cave alone, he hooked his arm through hers, pulling her along.

"Back you go to camp," he said. "This is no place for a little girl at night."

Penny's protests went unheeded. Jerry and Salt marched her between them to the cottage. Unceremoniously turning her over to her father, they leaped into a press car, and were gone.

Hours later the picnic came to an end. Riding home with her father after taking Horney to the _Times_ building, Penny was startled to observe a light in an upstairs window of the Parker house.

"Why, that's in Mrs. Weems' room!" she exclaimed. "She can't be home!"

Penny was mistaken. Upon hastening upstairs to investigate, she was met at the bedroom door by the housekeeper.

"Why, Mrs. Weems! I thought you intended to stay on the farm until tomorrow!"

"I decided a few hours would make no difference. Penny, the place was unbearable."

"How did you get home?"

"By taxicab."

"Oh, I wish you had stayed one day longer," sighed Penny. "Did you learn anything since I saw you last?"

"Nothing of value. Fenestra came home a short time before I left. He was in a dreadful temper."

"Had he been in a fight?" Penny asked quickly.

"There was a black and blue mark across his cheek."

"Then I was right!" exclaimed Penny triumphantly. "I wish I knew for certain who attacked him."

Questioned by Mrs. Weems, she described the scene witnessed at the river, and proudly displayed the key.

"Why, it does resemble one I've seen Fenestra use," declared the housekeeper.

"Then it must unlock the cave! Tomorrow I'll go there and find out!"

"You'll do no such thing," replied Mrs. Weems firmly. "That is, not without your father's permission."

"But you know Dad won't be in favor of it," groaned Penny. "I simply must go there and get a scoop for the _Weekly_."

"No, Penny, you need to be protected from your own recklessness. Your father must be consulted before you visit the farm again."

"Either he'll say I can't go, or if he thinks there's anything to the story, he'll turn it over to a _Star_ reporter. Whichever he does, I lose."

"Penny, I am in no mood to listen to your pleadings," Mrs. Weems said wearily. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go to bed."

Grumbling at the decision, Penny went to her own room. She did not feel equal to a spirited discussion with her father that night.

"Here, I'm on the verge of solving a great mystery," she grieved. "Perhaps the most stupendous of my life! And now I'm told I must stay away from Fenestra's farm. It's enough to turn my hair gray."

Penny overslept the next morning, barely awakening in time to reach school by nine o'clock. A surprise oral history quiz caught her completely unprepared. She missed three questions in succession, and was told that she must remain after school for a special study session.

Released at four-thirty, Penny hastened to the _Star_ office. Neither her father nor Jerry were there, nor could anyone tell her when they would return. Discouraged, she sought Louise who as usual was working at the _Times_ plant.

"Such luck as I am having," Penny complained. "Mrs. Weems says I can't go to Fenestra's farm without Dad's permission, and he's hiding from me."

"I wish you would forget that storm cave and the octopus tattoo," said Louise unsympathetically. "Maybe then we could get out another issue of this old paper."

Penny gazed at her rather queerly. "You're sick of it, aren't you?" she asked.

"No," Louise denied, "it's been fun, and we've learned a lot. But there's so much work. It never ends."

"It will soon," replied Penny quietly. "Our advertisers are dropping off one by one. Sales are falling, too."

"We always can quit," said Louise cheerfully.

"No, we can't," Penny's mouth drew into a tight line. "Fred Clousky would taunt me to my dying day. I'll never close the plant except in a blaze of journalistic glory!"

"But you just said we're failing--"

"What the _Weekly_ needs and must have is a tremendous story! Somehow I'm going to get it!"

"You're nothing if not persistent," said Louise admiringly. "Oh, before I forget it, Old Horney has been up here several times inquiring for you."

"More bad news I suppose."

"He didn't say why he wished to talk with you. I thought he seemed rather disturbed, though."

"I'll see what he wants."

Penny sought Horney in the composing department and pressroom, and even ventured into the basement. The old man was not to be found. Concluding that he had left the building, she gave up the search.

She helped Louise read proof until six o'clock, and then telephoned home to inquire if her father were there. Learning from Mrs. Weems that he did not expect to come until later, she decided to remain downtown for her own dinner.

"Why don't you stay with me, Lou?" she invited. "Afterwards, I'll take you on a little adventure."

"Not to Fenestra's?" her chum demanded suspiciously.

"Unfortunately, no. I shall do a bit of spade work by watching Ellis Saal's shop. This is Thursday, you know."

"It will be a long, tedious wait."

"I'll consider it well worth the time if I learn the identity of Saal's customer. You don't care to come?"

"On the contrary, I do. I'll telephone Mother."

The girls dined at a cafe not far from the _Weekly Times_ and soon thereafter stationed themselves a half block from Ellis Saal's shop. An hour elapsed. Several times they became hopeful as persons paused to gaze at the exhibits in the show window, but no one entered. A cold wind made their vigil increasingly uncomfortable.

"If we don't get action in another fifteen minutes I am going home," chattered Louise.

A clock struck eight-thirty. Five minutes later Penny observed a familiar figure coming briskly down the street. She touched her chum's arm.

"It's Peter Fenestra," Louise murmured. "You don't think he's the one?"

"We'll soon see."

Fenestra was too far away to notice the girls. As they watched, he walked to the doorway of Ellis Saal's shop. Quickly he glanced about as if to ascertain that the street was deserted. Then he slipped into the shop, closing the door behind him.

CHAPTER 22 _GHOSTS OF THE PAST_

"Peter Fenestra," murmured Louise. "Can there be any doubt that he is the customer Ellis Saal meant?"

"Not in my opinion," rejoined Penny.

"Isn't it possible that he went into the shop to have a photograph taken, or for some other reason?"

"Possible but not probable. No, Lou, we should have guessed long ago that Fenestra is an ex-sailor. It's all becoming clear now."

"Then I wish you would explain to me."

"Don't you see? Anchor Joe, John Munn, Fenestra, and perhaps a fourth man must have been good friends at one time. They had their tattoos with that phrase, _All for one, one for all_, pricked on their backs. Then Fenestra must have done something which made the others angry. They followed him here to get even with him."

"What makes you think that?" Louise asked dubiously.

"Anchor Joe gave us a good broad hint. Then we know that he and at least one other man have kept watch of the Fenestra farm."

"What can the man have done to offend them?"

"I can't guess that part," admitted Penny. "Another thing, why should Fenestra decide to have his octopus tattoo removed?"

"And who pushed John Munn off the bridge?" Louise added. "We're as much in the dark as ever."

"Not quite," amended Penny. "I feel that if only we could get into that storm cave, we might learn the answer to some of our questions."