“Down this path, you mean?”
“I couldn’t say as to that, but he started this way. I know because I saw him myself.”
“Atherwald didn’t come here,” the gardener said with finality. “I’ve been working around the lily pond all afternoon and would have seen him.”
Penny’s fingers closed tightly about the white gold ring which she kept shielded from the man’s gaze. In her opinion the trinket offered almost conclusive proof that the bridegroom had visited the locality. Because she could not trust the gardener she kept her thoughts strictly to herself.
The man stared down at his feet, obviously disturbed by the information Penny had given him.
“Do you suppose harm could have befallen Mr. Atherwald?” she asked after a moment.
“Harm?” he demanded irritably. “That’s sheer nonsense. The fellow probably skipped out. He ought to be tarred and feathered!”
“And you would enjoy doing it?” Penny interposed slyly.
The gardener glared at her, making no attempt to hide his dislike.
“Such treatment would be too good for anyone who hurt Miss Sylvia. Now will you get out of here? I have my orders and I mean to enforce them.”
“Oh, all right,” replied Penny. “I was going anyway.”
This was not strictly true, for had the gardener not been there she would have made a more thorough investigation of the locality near the lily pool. But now she had no hope of learning more, and so turned away.
Emerging from among the trees, she glanced toward the rose garden. Nearly all of the wedding guests had departed. Penny considered whether or not she should speak to Mrs. Kippenberg about finding the ring. Deciding against it, she joined a group of people at the boat dock and was ferried across the river.
Salt awaited her at the drawbridge.
“I just about gave you up,” he complained. “It’s time for us to get back to the office or our news won’t be news. The wedding is definitely off?”
“Yes, Atherwald can’t be found.”
“We’ll stop at a drug store and telephone,” Salt said, pulling her toward the car. “Learn anything more after I left?”
“Well, I found a wedding ring and was nearly chewed up by an alligator,” laughed Penny. “It seemed rather interesting at the time.”
The photographer gave her a queer look as he started the automobile.
“Imagination and journalism never mix,” he said.
“Does this look like imagination?” Penny countered, showing him the plain band ring.
“Where did you find it?”
“Beside a lily pond in the forbidden part of the estate. I feel certain it must have been dropped by Grant Atherwald.”
“Thrown away?”
“I don’t know exactly what to think,” Penny replied soberly.
Salt steered the car into the main road which led back to Corbin. Then he inquired: “Did you notice any signs of a struggle? Grass trampled? Footprints?”
“I didn’t have a chance to do any investigating. That bossy old gardener came and drove me away.”
“What were you saying about alligators?”
“Salt, I saw one swimming around in the lily pool,”Penny told him earnestly. “It was an ugly brute, at least twelve feet long.”
“How long?”
“Well, eight anyway.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not,” Penny said indignantly.
“Maybe it was only a big log lying in the water.”
Penny gave an injured sniff. “Have it your own way. But it wasn’t a log. I guess I can tell an alligator when I see one.”
“If you’re actually right,” Salt said unmoved, “I’d like to have snapped a picture of it. You know, this story might develop into something big.”
“I have a feeling it will, Salt.”
“If Atherwald really has disappeared it should create a sensation!”
“And if the poor fellow had the misfortune to fall or be pushed into the lily pool Dad wouldn’t have headlines large enough to carry it!”
“Say, get a grip on yourself,” Salt advised. “The Riverview Star prints fact, not fancy.”
“That’s because so many of Dad’s reporters are stodgy old fellows,” laughed Penny. “But I’ll admit it isn’t very likely Grant Atherwald was devoured by the alligator.”
The car had reached Corbin. Salt drew up in front of a drug store.
“Run in and telephone DeWitt,” he said, opening the door for her. “And remember, stick to facts.”
Penny was a little frightened as she entered the telephone booth and placed a long distance call to the Riverview Star. She never failed to feel nervous when she talked with DeWitt, the city editor, for he was not a very pleasant individual.
She jumped as the receiver was taken down and a voice barked: “City desk.”
“This is Penny Parker over at Corbin,” she began weakly.
“Can’t hear you,” snapped DeWitt. “Talk up.”
Penny repeated her name and DeWitt’s voice lost some of its edge. Gathering courage, she started to tell him what she had learned at the Kippenberg estate.
“Hold it,” interrupted DeWitt. “I’ll switch you over to a rewrite man.”
The connection was made and Penny began a second time. Now and then the rewrite man broke into the narrative to ask a question.
“All right, I think I have it all,” he said finally and hung up.
Penny went back to the car looking as crestfallen as she felt.
“I don’t know what they thought of the story,” she told Salt. “DeWitt certainly didn’t waste any words of praise.”
“He never does,” chuckled the photographer. “You’re lucky if you don’t get fired.”
“That’s one consolation,” returned Penny, settling herself for the long ride home. “He can’t fire me. Being the editor’s daughter has its advantages.”
The regular night edition of the Riverview Star was on the street by the time they reached the city. Salt signaled a newsboy and bought a paper while the car waited for a traffic light. He tossed it over to Penny.
“Here it is! My story!” she cried, and then her face fell.
“What’s the matter?” asked Salt. “Did they garble it all up?”
“They’ve cut it down to three inches! And not a word about the alligator or the lost wedding ring! I could cry! Why, I told that rewrite man enough to fill at least a column!”
“Well, anyway you made the front page,” the photographer consoled. “They may build the story up in the next edition after they get my pictures.”
Penny said nothing, remaining in deep gloom during the remainder of the ride to the Star office. Salt let her out at the front door. She debated for a moment whether or not to go on home, but finally entered the building.
DeWitt was busy at his desk as she walked stiffly past. She hoped that he would notice how she ignored him, but he did not glance up from the copy before him.
Penny opened the door of her father’s private office and stopped short.
“Why, Dad?” she cried. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home in bed.”
“I finally persuaded the doctor to let me out,” Anthony Parker replied, swinging around in his swivel chair. “How did you get along with your assignment?”
“I thought I did very well,” Penny said aloofly. “But from now on I’ll not telephone anything in. I’ll write the story myself.”
“Now don’t blame DeWitt or the rewrite man,” said Mr. Parker, smiling. “A paper has to be careful in what it publishes, especially about a wedding. Alligators are a bit too—shall we say sensational?”
“You made a similar remark about witch dolls,” Penny reminded him.
“I did eat my words that time,” Mr. Parker admitted,“but this is different. If we build up a big story about Grant Atherwald’s disappearance, and then tomorrow he shows up at his own home, we’ll appear pretty ridiculous.”
“I guess you’
re right,” Penny said, turning away. “Well, I’m happy to see you back in the office again.”
Mr. Parker watched her speculatively. When she reached the door he inquired: “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What, Dad?”
“Today is Thursday.” The editor took a sealed envelope from the desk drawer. “This is the first time you have failed to collect your allowance in over a year.”
“I must be slipping.” Penny grinned as she pocketed the envelope.
“Why don’t you open it?”
“What’s the use?” Penny asked gloomily. “It’s always the same. Anyway, I borrowed two dollars last week so this doesn’t really belong to me.”
“You might be pleasantly surprised.”
Penny stared at her father with disbelief. “Dad! You don’t mean you’ve given me a raise!”
Eagerly, she ripped open the envelope. Three crisp dollar bills fluttered into her hand. With a shriek of delight, Penny flung her arms about her father’s neck.
“I always try to reward a good reporter,” he chuckled. “Now take yourself off because my work is stacked a mile high.”
Penny tripped gaily toward the door but it opened before she could cross the room. An office boy came in with a message for Mr. Parker.
“Man to see you named Atherwald,” he announced.
The name produced an electrifying effect upon both Penny and her father.
“Atherwald!” Mr. Parker exclaimed. “Then he hasn’t disappeared after all! Show him in.”
“And I’m staying right here,” Penny declared, easing herself into the nearest chair. “I have a hunch that this interview may concern me.”
CHAPTER 8
PARENTAL PROTEST
In a few minutes the office boy returned, followed by a distinguished, middle-aged man who carried a cane. Penny gave him an astonished glance for she had expected to see Grant Atherwald. It had not occurred to her that there might be two persons with the same surname.
“Mr. Atherwald?” inquired her father, waving the visitor into a chair.
“James Atherwald.”
The man spoke shortly and did not sit down. Instead he spread out a copy of the night edition of the Star and pointed to the story which Penny had covered. She quaked inwardly, wondering what error of hers was to be exposed.
“Do you see this?” Mr. Atherwald demanded.
“What about it?” inquired the editor pleasantly.
“You are holding my family up to ridicule by printing such a story! Grant Atherwald is my son!”
“Is the story incorrect?”
“Yes, you imply that my son deliberately jilted Sylvia Kippenberg!”
“And actually he didn’t?” Mr. Parker inquired evenly.
“Certainly not. My son is a man of honor and had a very deep regard for Sylvia. Under no circumstance would he have jilted her.”
“Still, the wedding did not take place.”
“That is true,” Mr. Atherwald admitted.
“Perhaps you can explain why it was postponed?”
“I don’t know what happened to Grant,” Mr. Atherwald said reluctantly. “He left our home in ample time for the ceremony, and I might add, was in excellent spirits. I believe he must have been the victim of a stupid, practical joke.”
“Well, that suggests a new angle,” Mr. Parker remarked thoughtfully. “Did your son have friends who might be apt to play such a joke on him?”
“No one of my acquaintance,” Mr. Atherwald answered unwillingly. “Of course, he had many young friends who were not in my circle.”
Penny had listened quietly to the conversation. She now arose and came over to the desk. From her pocket she took the white gold wedding ring.
“Mr. Atherwald,” she said, “I wonder if you could identify this.”
The man studied the trinket for a moment.
“It looks very much like a ring which Grant purchased for Sylvia,” he declared. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it lying on the ground at the Kippenberg estate,” Penny replied vaguely. She had no intention of divulging the exact locality where she had picked up the ring.
“You see,” said Mr. Parker, “we have supporting facts in our possession which were not published. All in all, I think the story was handled discreetly, with due regard for the feelings of those involved.”
“Then you refuse to retract the story?”
“I should like to oblige you, Mr. Atherwald, but you realize such a story as this is of great interest to our readers.”
“You care only for sensationalism!”
“On the contrary, we try to avoid it,” Mr. Parker corrected. “In this particular case, we deliberately played the story down. If it develops that your son actually has disappeared—”
“I tell you it was only a practical joke,” Mr. Atherwald interrupted. “No doubt my son is at home by this time. The wedding has merely been postponed.”
“You are entitled to your opinion,” said Mr. Parker. “And I sincerely hope that you are right.”
“At least do not use that picture which your photographer took of Mrs. Kippenberg. I’ll pay you for it.”
Mr. Parker smiled and shook his head.
“I might have expected such an attitude!” Mr. Atherwald exclaimed angrily. “Good afternoon.”
He left the office, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, you’ve lost another subscriber, Dad,” said Penny flippantly.
“He’s not the first,” returned her father.
“I intended to give Mr. Atherwald the wedding ring, but he went off in too big a hurry. Should I go after him?”
“No, don’t bother, Penny. You might take it around to the picture room and have it photographed. We may use it as Exhibit A if the story develops into anything.”
“How about the alligator?” Penny asked. “Would you like to have me bring that to the office, too?”
“Move out of here and let me work,” her father retorted.
Penny went to the photographic department and made her requirements known.
“I’ll wait for the ring,” she announced. “You don’t catch me trusting you boys with any jewelry.”
While the picture was being taken Salt came by with several damp prints in his hand.
“Take a look at this one, Penny,” he said proudly. “Mrs. Kippenberg wielding a wicked plate. Will she burn up when she sees it on the picture page?”
“She will, indeed,” agreed Penny. “Nice going.”
When the ring had been returned to her she slipped it into her pocket and left the newspaper office. Her next stop was at a corner hamburger shop where she fortified herself with two large sandwiches.
“That ought to hold me until the dinner bell rings,” she thought. “And now to pay my honest debts.”
A trolley ride and a short walk brought Penny to the home of her chum, Louise Sidell. As she came within sight of the front porch she saw her friend sitting on the steps, reading a movie magazine. Louise threw it aside and sprang to her feet.
“Oh, Penny, I’m glad you came over. I telephoned your house and Mrs. Weems said you had gone away somewhere.”
“Official business for Dad,” Penny laughed. She dropped two dollars into Louise’s hand. “Here’s what I owe you. But don’t go spend it because I may need to borrow it back in a couple of days.”
“Is Leaping Lena running up huge garage bills again?” Louise inquired sympathetically.
Penny’s second-hand car was a joke to everyone save herself. She was a familiar figure at nearly every garage in Riverview, for the vehicle had a disconcerting way of breaking down.
“I had to buy new spark plugs this time,” sighed Penny. “But then, I should get along better from now on. Dad raised my allowance.”
“Doesn’t that call for a celebration? Rini’s have a special on today. A double chocolate sundae with pineapple and nuts, cherry and—”
“Oh, no, you don’t! I’m saving my dollar for the
essentials of life. I may need it for gasoline if I decide to drive over to Corbin again.”
“Again?” Louise asked alertly.
“I was over there today, covering the Kippenberg wedding,” Penny explained. “Only it turned out there was no ceremony. Grant Atherwald jilted his bride, or was spirited away by persons unknown. He was last seen near a lily pool in an isolated part of the estate. I picked up a wedding ring lying on the ground close by. And then as a climax Mrs. Kippenberg hurled a plate at Salt.”
“Penny Parker, what are you saying?” Louise demanded. “It sounds like one of those two-reel thrillers they show over at the Rialto.”
“Here is the evidence,” Penny said, showing her the white gold ring.
“It’s amazing how you get into so much adventure,”Louise replied enviously as she studied the trinket. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”
The invitation was very much to Penny’s liking. Perching herself on the highest porch step she recounted her visit to the Kippenberg estate, painting an especially romantic picture of the castle dwelling, the moat, and the drawbridge.
“Oh, I’d love to visit the place,” Louise declared. “You have all the luck.”
“I’ll take you with me if I ever get to go again,” promised Penny. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with this careless farewell, she sprang to her feet, and hastened on home.
The next morning while Mrs. Weems was preparing breakfast, Penny ran down to the corner to buy the first edition of the Star. As she spread it open a small headline accosted her eye.
“NO TRACE OF MISSING BRIDEGROOM.”
Penny read swiftly, learning that Grant Atherwald had not been seen since his strange disappearance from the Kippenberg estate. Members of the family refused to discuss the affair and had made no report to the police.
“This story is developing into something big after all,” she thought with quickening pulse. “Now if Dad will only let me work on it!”
At home she gave the newspaper to her father, remarking rather pointedly: “You see, your expert reporters haven’t learned very much more than I brought in yesterday. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to send me out there again today?”
“Oh, I doubt if you could get into the estate, Penny.”
“Salt and I managed yesterday.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 5