The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

  Mrs. Downey shook her head. “I’ve been fighting with my back to the wall this past season. I don’t see how I possibly can make it another year. That is why I wanted you and your father to visit here before I gave up the place.”

  “Dad might have helped you,” Penny said regretfully. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to come.”

  At one o’clock Mrs. Downey served a plain but substantial meal to fourteen guests who tramped in out of the snow. They called loudly for second and third helpings which were cheerfully given.

  After luncheon Penny sat for a time about the crackling log fire and then she went to her room and changed into her skiing clothes.

  “The nursery slopes are at the rear of the lodge,”Mrs. Downey told her as she went out through the kitchen. “But you’re much too experienced for them.”

  “I haven’t been on skis for nearly two years.”

  “It will come back to you quickly.”

  “I thought I might taxi down and look over the Fergus hotel.”

  “The trail is well marked. Just be careful as you get about half way down. There is a sharp turn and if you miss it you may find yourself wrapped around an evergreen.”

  Penny went outside, and buckling on her skis, glided to the top of a long slope which fell rather sharply through lanes of pine trees to the wide valley below. As she was studying the course, reflecting that the crusted snow would be very fast, Francine came out of the lodge and stood watching her.

  “What’s the matter, Penny?” she called. “Can’t you get up your nerve?”

  Penny dug in her poles and pushed off. Crouching low, skis running parallel, she tore down the track. Pine trees crowded past on either side in a greenish blur. The wind whistled in her ears. She jabbed her poles into the snow to check her speed.

  After the first steep stretch, the course flattened out slightly. From a cautious left traverse, a lifted stem turn gave her time to concentrate her full attention on the route ahead. She swerved to avoid a boulder which would have broken her ski had she crashed into it, and rode out a series of long, undulating hollows.

  Gathering speed again, Penny made her decisions with lightning rapidity. There was no time to think. Confronted with a choice of turns, she chose the right hand trail, slashing through in a beautiful christiana. Too late, she realized her error.

  Directly ahead loomed a barbed wire fence. There was no opportunity to turn aside. Penny knew that she must jump or take a disastrous fall.

  Swinging her poles forward, she let them drop in the snow close to her ski tips. Crouching low she sprang upward with all her strength. The sticks gave her leverage so that she could lift her skis clear of the snow. Momentum carried her forward over the fence.

  Penny felt the jar of the runners as they slapped on the snow. Then she lost her balance and tumbled head over heels.

  Untangling herself, she sat up and gazed back at the barbed wire fence.

  “I wish all my friends at Riverview could have seen that jump!” she thought proudly. “It was a beauty even if I did land wrong side up.”

  A large painted sign which had been fastened to the fence, drew her attention. It read: “Skiers Keep Out.”

  “I wonder if that means me?” remarked Penny aloud.

  “Yes, it means you!” said an angry voice behind her.

  Penny rolled over in the snow, waving her skis in the air. She drew in her breath sharply. An old man with a dark beard had stepped from the shadow of the pine trees, a gun grasped in his gnarled hands!

  CHAPTER 6

  PENNY TRESPASSES

  “Can’t you understand signs?” the old man demanded, advancing with cat-like tread from the fringe of pine trees.

  “Not when I’m traveling down a mountain side at two hundred miles an hour!” Penny replied. “Please, would you mind pointing that cannon in some other direction? It might go off.”

  The old man lowered the shotgun, but the grim lines of his wrinkled, leathery face did not relax.

  “Get up!” he commanded, prodding her with the toe of his heavy boot. “Get out of here! I won’t have you or any other skier on my property.”

  “Then allow me to make a suggestion,” remarked Penny pleasantly. “Put up another strand of barbed wire and you’ll have them all in the hospital!”

  She sat up, gingerly felt of her left ankle and then began to brush snow from her jacket. “Did you see me make the jump?” she asked. “I took it just like a reindeer. Or do I mean a gazelle?”

  “You made a very awkward jump!” he retorted. “I could have done better myself.”

  Penny glanced up with genuine interest. “Oh, do you ski?”

  By this time she no longer was afraid of the old man, if indeed she had ever been.

  “No, I don’t ski!” he answered impatiently. “Now hurry up! Get those skis off and start moving! I’ll not wait all day.”

  Penny began to unstrap the long hickory runners, but with no undue show of haste. She glanced curiously about the snowy field. An old shed stood not far away. Beside it towered a great stack of wood which reached nearly as high as the roof. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of a weather-stained log cabin with smoke curling lazily from the brick chimney.

  As Penny was regarding it, she saw a flash of color at one of the windows. A girl who might have been her own age had her face pressed against the pane. Seeing Penny’s gaze upon her, she began to make motions which could not be understood.

  The old man also turned his head to look toward the cabin. Immediately, the girl disappeared from the window.

  “Is that where you live?” inquired Penny.

  Instead of answering, the old man seized her by the hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “Go!” he commanded. “And don’t let me catch you here again!”

  Penny shouldered her skis and moved toward the fence.

  “So sorry to have damaged your nice snow,” she apologized. “I’ll try not to trespass again.”

  Crawling under the barbed wire fence, Penny retraced her way up the slope to the point on the trail where she had taken the wrong turn. There she hesitated and finally decided to walk on to the Fergus hotel.

  “I wonder who that girl was at the window?” Penny reflected as she trudged along. “She looked too young to be Old Whisker’s daughter. And what was she trying to tell me?”

  The problem was too deep for her to solve. But she made up her mind she would ask Mrs. Downey the name of the queer old man as soon as she returned to the lodge.

  Reaching the Fergus hotel, Penny parked her skis upright in a snowbank near the front door, and went inside. She found herself in a long lobby at the end of which was a great stone fireplace with a half burned log on the hearth. Bellboys in green uniforms and brass buttons darted to and fro. A general stir of activity pervaded the place.

  As Penny was gazing about, she saw Maxine Miller leave an elevator and come slowly across the lobby. The actress would not have seen her had she not spoken.

  “How do you do, Miss Miller. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Oh, Miss Parker!” The actress’ face was the picture of despair. “I’ve had the most wretched misfortune!”

  “Why, what has happened?” inquired Penny, although she thought she knew the answer to her question.

  “I’ve just seen Mr. Balantine.” Miss Miller sagged into the depths of a luxuriously upholstered davenport and leaned her head back against the cushion.

  “Your interview didn’t turn out as you expected?”

  “He wouldn’t give me the part. Hateful old goat! He even refused to allow me to demonstrate how well I could read the lines! And he said some very insulting things to me.”

  “That is too bad,” returned Penny sympathetically. “What will you do now? Go back home?”

  “I don’t know,” the woman replied in despair. “I would stay if I thought I could change Mr. Balantine’s opinion. Do you think I could?”


  “I shouldn’t advise it myself. Of course, I don’t know anything about Mr. Balantine.”

  “He’s very temperamental. Perhaps if I kept bothering him he would finally give me a chance.”

  “Well, it might be worth trying,” Penny said doubtfully. “But I think if I were you I would return home.”

  “All of my friends will laugh at me. They thought it was foolish to come out here as it was. I can’t go back. I am inclined to move down to this hotel so I’ll be able to keep in touch with Mr. Balantine with less difficulty.”

  “It’s a very nice looking hotel,” commented Penny. “Expensive, I’ve been told.”

  “In the show business one must keep up appearances at all cost,” replied Miss Miller. “I believe I’ll inquire about the rates.”

  While Penny waited, the actress crossed over to the desk and talked with a clerk. In a small office close by, Ralph Fergus and Harvey Maxwell could be seen in consultation. They were poring over a ledger, apparently checking business accounts.

  Miss Miller returned in a moment. “I’ve taken a room,” she announced. “I can’t afford it, but I am doing it anyway.”

  “Will you be able to manage?”

  “Oh, I’ll run up a bill and then let them try to collect!”

  Penny gazed at the actress with frank amazement.

  “You surely don’t mean you would deliberately defraud the hotel?”

  “Not so loud or the clerk will hear you,” Miss Miller warned. “And don’t use such an ugly word. If I land the part with Mr. Balantine, of course I’ll pay. If not—the worst they can do is to throw me out.”

  Penny said no more but her opinion of Miss Miller had descended several notches.

  “What are you doing here?” the actress inquired, quickly changing the subject.

  “Oh, I just came down to look over the hotel. It’s very swanky, but I like Mrs. Downey’s place better.”

  Miss Miller turned to leave. “I am going back there now to check out,” she declared. “Would you like to walk along?”

  “No, thank you, I’ll just stay here and rest for a few minutes.”

  Penny had no real purpose in coming to the Fergus hotel. She merely had been curious to see what it was like. Even a casual inspection made it clear that Mrs. Downey’s modest little lodge never could compete with such a luxurious establishment.

  She studied the faces of the persons in the lobby. There seemed to be a strange assortment of people, including a large number of men and women who certainly had never been drawn to Pine Top by the skiing. Penny thought whimsically that it would be interesting to see some of the fat, pampered-looking ones take a tumble on the slippery slopes.

  “But what is the attraction of this place, if not the skiing?” she puzzled. “There is no other form of entertainment.”

  Presently, a well-fed lady in rustling black silk, her hand heavy with diamond rings, paused beside Penny.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said, “can you tell me how to find the Green Room?”

  “No, I can’t,” replied Penny. “I would need a map to get around in this hotel. You might ask at the desk.”

  The woman fluttered over to the clerk and asked the same question.

  “You have your card, Madam?” he inquired in a low tone.

  “Oh, yes, to be sure. The manager presented it to me this morning.”

  “Take the elevator to the second floor wing,” the man instructed. “Room 22. Show your card to the doorman and you will be admitted.”

  Penny waited until after the woman had gone away. Then she arose and sauntered across the lobby. She picked up a handful of hotel literature but there was no mention of any Green Room. Pausing by the elevator, she waited until the cage was deserted of passengers before speaking to the attendant, a red headed boy of about seventeen.

  “Where is the Green Room, please?”

  “Second floor, Miss.”

  “And what is it? A dining room?”

  The attendant shot her a peculiar glance and gave an answer which was equally strange.

  “It’s not a dining room. I can’t tell you what it is.”

  “A cocktail room perhaps?”

  “Listen, I told you I don’t know,” the boy answered.

  “You work here, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do,” he said with emphasis. “And I aim to keep my job for awhile. If you want to know anything about the Green Room ask at the desk!”

  CHAPTER 7

  THE GREEN DOOR

  Before Penny could ask another question, the signal board flashed a summons, and the attendant slammed shut the door of the elevator. He shot the cage up to the fifth floor and did not return.

  Hesitating a moment, Penny wandered over to the desk.

  “How does one go about obtaining a card for the Green Room?” she inquired casually.

  “You’re not a guest here?” questioned the clerk.

  “No.”

  “You’ll have to talk with the manager. Oh, Mr. Fergus!”

  Penny had not meant to have the matter go so far, but there was no retreating. The hotel manager came out of his office, and recognizing her, smiled ingratiatingly.

  “Ah, good afternoon, Miss—” He groped for her name but Penny did not supply it. “So you decided to pay us a visit after all.”

  “This young lady asked about the Green Room,” said the clerk significantly.

  Mr. Fergus bestowed a shrewd, appraising look upon Penny.

  “Oh, yes,” he said to give himself more time, “Oh, yes, I see. What was it you wished to know?”

  “How does one obtain a card of admission?”

  “It is very simple. That is, if you have the proper recommendations and bank credit.”

  “Recommendations?” Penny asked blankly. “Just what is the Green Room anyway?”

  Ralph Fergus and the clerk exchanged a quick glance which was not lost upon the girl.

  “I see you are not familiar with the little service which is offered hotel guests,” Mr. Fergus said suavely. “I shall be most happy to explain it to you at some later time when I am not quite so busy.”

  He bowed and went hurriedly back into the office.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have inquired about the Green Room,” Penny observed aloud. “There seems to be a deep mystery connected with it.”

  “No mystery,” corrected the clerk. “If you will leave your name and address I am sure everything can be arranged within a few days.”

  “Thank you, I don’t believe I’ll bother.”

  Penny turned and nearly ran into Francine Sellberg. Too late, she realized that the girl reporter probably had been standing by the desk for some time, listening to her conversation.

  “Hello, Francine,” she said carelessly.

  The girl returned a haughty stare. “I don’t believe I know you, Miss,” she said, and walked on across the lobby.

  Penny was rather stunned by the unexpected snub. She took a step as if to follow Francine and demand an explanation, but her sense of humor came to her rescue.

  “Who cares?” she asked herself with a shrug. “If she doesn’t care to know me, it’s perfectly all right. I can manage to bear up.”

  After Francine had left the hotel, Penny made up her mind that she would try to learn a little more about the Green Room. Her interest was steadily mounting and she could not imagine what “service” might be offered guests in this particular part of the hotel.

  Choosing a moment when no one appeared to be watching, Penny mounted the stairway to the second floor. She followed a long corridor to its end but did not locate Room 22. Returning to the elevator, she started in the opposite direction. The numbers ended at 20.

  While Penny was trying to figure it out, a group of four men and women came down the hall. They were well dressed individuals but their manner did not stamp them as persons of good breeding. One of the women who carried a jeweled handbag was talking in a loud, excited tone:

  “Oh, Herbert, wait
until you see it! I shall weep my eyes out if you don’t agree to buy it for me at once. And the price! Ridiculously cheap! We’ll never run into bargains like these in New York.”

  “We’ll see, Sally,” replied the man. “I’m not satisfied yet that this isn’t a flim-flam game.”

  He opened a door which bore no number, and stood aside for the others to pass ahead of him. Penny caught a glimpse of a long, empty hallway.

  “That must be the way to Room 22,” she thought.

  She waited until the men and women had gone ahead, and then cautiously opened the door which had closed behind them. No one questioned her as she moved noiselessly down the corridor. At its very end loomed a green painted door, its top edge gracefully circular. Beside it at a small table sat a man who evidently was stationed there as a guard.

  Penny walked slowly, watching the men and women ahead. They paused at the table and showed slips of cardboards. The guard then opened the green door and allowed them to pass through.

  It looked so very easy that Penny decided to try her luck. She drew closer.

  “Your card please,” requested the doorman.

  “I am afraid I haven’t mine with me,” said Penny, flashing her most beguiling smile.

  The smile was entirely lost upon the man. “Then I can’t let you in,” he said.

  “Not even if I have lost my card?”

  “Orders,” he answered briefly. “You’ll have no trouble getting another.”

  Penny started to turn away, and then asked with attempted carelessness:

  “What’s going on in there anyway? Are they selling something?”

  “I really couldn’t tell you,” he responded.

  “Everyone in this hotel seems to be blind, deaf and dumb,” Penny muttered to herself as she retraced her way to the main hall. “And definitely, for a purpose. I wonder if maybe I haven’t stumbled into something?”

  She still had not the faintest idea what might lie beyond the Green Door, but the very name had an intriguing sound. It suggested mystery. It suggested, too, that Ralph Fergus and his financial backer, Harvey Maxwell, might have developed some special money-making scheme which would not bear exposure.