At the end of the hall she saw the figure of a man. He fled before she could speak or make an outcry. Penny heard the outside door slam shut. She hurried to a window and was in time to see someone running swiftly toward the woods.
“Dad!” she screamed excitedly. “Wake up! Wake up!” And to emphasize her words, Penny ran to her father’s bedroom and pounded on the door with her clenched fist.
CHAPTER XI
Aid from Michael
“What’s the matter, Penny?” cried Mr. Nichols as he opened the door of his room. “Are you having nightmares?”
“Dad, someone broke into the cottage!” she told him tensely. “When I stepped out into the hall he ran away. I saw him disappear into the woods.”
By this time the detective was thoroughly awake.
“Are you sure, Penny?”
“Of course I am! I didn’t imagine it this time and it wasn’t someone after a drink either!”
“Let me get dressed,” said her father. “Then I’ll look around.”
Penny ran back to her own room. She was amazed that Mrs. Masterbrook and Michael had not been aroused. In the next room she could hear the housekeeper snoring contentedly. There seemed no reason to awaken her.
Penny quickly dressed and was ready first.
“We’ll take a look around the place,” Mr. Nichols said, “but it’s probably too late to catch the prowler.”
“Yes, he’ll be a long way from here by this time,” Penny agreed.
Armed with a flashlight, they slipped outside and after making a tour of the house walked as far as the edge of the timber. They found no one.
“It’s no use going on,” the detective declared. “We’d never catch the fellow now. He may have been a tramp who noticed that our door was unlocked.”
“I wonder if Michael Haymond is in his room?” Penny asked abruptly.
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“It seems odd he didn’t awaken with me screaming all over the place.”
“Mrs. Masterbrook slept through it,” Mr. Nichols replied.
“Just the same I’m curious to know if Michael is in his room. Dad, why don’t you—”
“Penny, I’ll not do it,” the detective interrupted. “I like that young man and I’m not going to barge into his room in the middle of the night and ask him a lot of stupid questions.”
“All right,” Penny returned with a sigh. “But how easy it would be just to peep in the door and see if he’s there.”
“I’ll not do that either,” replied Mr. Nichols. “You may have been mistaken about the prowler. You’ve taken such an imaginative turn this summer.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Penny drawled. She added mischievously: “Let me know when you’ve found the owner of the toy lantern.”
“There’s good common sense behind my theory,” said Mr. Nichols seriously. “Inspector Harris seems to think I’m on the wrong track but I have a hunch—”
“In that case you should be generous with your daughter,” Penny laughed. “She has a hunch too.”
“We’ll call a truce,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “You’re free to trace down all the mystery you can find at Kendon providing that you don’t ask me to discharge Michael.”
“Seriously, Dad, I think something is going on here that would bear investigation,” Penny said soberly. “I’d like to delve into it but I need a sympathetic helper.”
“I’m sorry, Penny, but I haven’t time to play around.”
“I didn’t mean you at all, Dad,” Penny laughed. “I was thinking about Susan Altman. Would you mind if I invited her down here for a few days?”
“Go ahead if you like. She’ll be company for you while I’m working on the Kirmenbach case.”
“I’ll send a letter right away,” Penny declared eagerly.
The next morning after writing to her friend she walked down to the village to post the letter. Dropping in at the grocery store for a loaf of bread she deliberately drew the genial owner into conversation, seeking information regarding Herman Crocker.
“I feel rather sorry for him,” she remarked. “I’m sure that he hasn’t enough money to feed himself and his grandson properly.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” replied the storekeeper with a quick laugh. “Old Herman has more money than anyone in this town. He inherited plenty when his sister Jennie died in the East. Herman was her only heir, and when he dies the money probably will go to his grandson, Perry.”
“Doesn’t Mr. Crocker have any other living relatives?” Penny questioned. She was thinking of Walter Crocker.
“Not to my knowledge,” answered the storekeeper. “The Crocker family has just about died out.”
Penny paid for the bread and walked slowly back toward the cottage. She glanced curiously at the Crocker homestead as she passed it, but as usual the blinds were drawn and the place seemed deserted.
“How unhappy Perry must be there,” she thought. “He should go to school and have playmates his own age. I can’t see why someone doesn’t take an interest in his welfare.”
During the next two days Penny found time heavy upon her hands. Mr. Nichols frequently was absent from the cottage and Mrs. Masterbrook and Michael proved very poor company. The housekeeper talked entirely too much about nothing while Michael scarcely spoke a word unless Penny asked him a direct question.
On the afternoon of the second day, for want of another occupation, Penny wandered up to the attic to look around once more.
“If I really mean to learn anything about Herman Crocker I’ll have to examine those letters,” she reflected. “I don’t know whether to do it or not.”
Penny opened the trunk and noticed that the layer of clothing had been disturbed. She did not remember having left the garments so carelessly. She refolded the clothes and then felt down in the bottom of the trunk for the packet of letters. It did not seem to be there.
Not until Penny had removed all the clothing piece by piece could she realize that the letters were gone. The only papers remaining in the trunk were old receipts for bills paid. Many of them were stamped tax statements.
“Someone has taken the letters,” she told herself. “How foolish I was not to examine them when I had a chance.”
Penny could only speculate upon what had become of the missing packet. She did not believe that Herman Crocker had taken the letters, for to her knowledge he had not returned to the cottage since his first visit. It was possible that the night prowler had opened the trunk, but a more likely supposition seemed to be that Mrs. Masterbrook had decided to get more “inside information.”
“That woman is a natural born snooper,” the girl thought. “She knew that Herman Crocker was up here in the attic too, so it’s quite possible she took the letters after he went away.”
Although she was disappointed, Penny did not believe that the missing letters had contained anything of vital significance. It was logical to assume that had they served as damaging evidence against Herman Crocker, the man would have destroyed them upon his visit to the attic.
As Penny was reflecting upon the problem, the stairway door opened and Mrs. Masterbrook called her name.
“There’s someone here to see you!” the housekeeper reported.
Penny was annoyed at having been caught in the attic. She had not known that Mrs. Masterbrook was anywhere about the premises. It was just another proof that nothing seemed to escape the vigilant eye of the woman.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Penny said.
She closed the lid of the trunk, wiped her dusty hands and went quickly down the stairs. Reaching the front door, she gave a cry of amazed delight.
“Susan Altman!”
“I thought you’d be surprised,” laughed the other girl, as Penny gave her a welcome hug. “When your letter arrived I didn’t stop to debate. I just jumped on the train and came.”
“I’m tickled pink!” Penny declared. “When you didn’t write, I had started to believe you weren’t coming. But why did you walk fr
om town? Why didn’t you telephone?”
“I didn’t know you had one.”
“Oh, yes, we have all the modern conveniences,” laughed Penny. “You must be dead tired. Come on in.”
“I’m not a bit tired,” Susan insisted, “but I’d like to wash a few of the cinders out of my eyes. Such a dirty old train.”
“Let me take your suitcase,” cried Penny.
The girls went inside and while Susan freshened herself from the journey, they talked as fast as they could.
“What’s all this mystery you wrote me about?” Susan asked in an undertone. “Who is Mrs. Masterbrook, and where is that old house you mentioned?”
“You’ll hear all about it,” Penny promised eagerly. “But let’s wait until we’re away from the cottage.”
“Even the walls have ears?” laughed Susan.
“No, but our housekeeper has,” Penny replied.
The girls soon left the cottage, walking down by the ravine where they would be alone. Penny told her chum everything that had happened since she and her father had arrived at Kendon. Susan did not feel that her friend had placed an imaginative interpretation upon any of the events.
“I’m glad you’re in sympathy with me,” Penny laughed. “I’m hoping that together we may be able to help little Perry Crocker. And incidentally, we might stumble into a mystery which would rival Dad’s toy lantern case.”
“You know I want to help,” said Susan eagerly. “But I’m an awful dub. I never have any ideas.”
“I’m a little short of them myself just now,” Penny admitted. “But first we’ll go down to the Crocker place. I’m anxious for you to meet the main characters of our melodrama.”
“I think I noticed the house on the way up the hill,” Susan replied. “Is it that ancient, vine-covered mansion?”
“Yes, Mrs. Masterbrook told me Old Herman moved in there after his sister died. He used to live in this cottage.”
“And where is this young man named Michael Haymond?”
“I don’t know what became of him,” Penny admitted. “He should be somewhere around.”
“Is he good looking?”
“You would ask that,” teased Penny. “No, Michael isn’t handsome, but he’s nice.”
“You said in your letter that you thought he might be a crook—”
“Well, he acted mysteriously at first,” Penny said defensively. “But after you get to know him, he seems like anyone else, only he’s very reserved.”
“Perhaps Mr. Crocker will turn out that way.”
“I don’t think so,” Penny smiled. “He’s really an eccentric character. Do you mind walking down Knob Hill?”
“Not at all. I need a little exercise.”
The distance between the cottage and Mr. Crocker’s house was only a quarter of a mile. Penny intended to use as a pretext for calling upon the old man that she wished to buy more eggs. However, as the girls drew near the mansion they saw Mr. Crocker’s car coming down the lane.
“There goes Herman now!” Penny exclaimed. “And Perry is with him.”
The car reached the end of the lane and turned down the main road toward Kendon.
“Well, it looks as if I’ll not get to meet the old gentleman after all,” commented Susan.
“No, but this will be a good time to see the house at close range. With Mr. Crocker away, we can look around as much as we please.”
As the girls walked on up the lane Penny told Susan about the automobile which she had seen parked in Mr. Crocker’s barn.
“What do you think became of the owner?” asked Susan. “You’re not intimating that Walter Crocker never went back to the city?”
“I’ve asked myself that question a great many times. I know that Mr. Crocker’s nephew came here to claim an inheritance, yet the people of Kendon are under the impression that Old Herman has no living relatives except Perry.”
“You’re making a very serious accusation against Mr. Crocker.”
“Oh, I’m not saying that he had anything to do with his nephew’s disappearance,” Penny said quickly. “I’m just speculating about it. For that matter, I’d not tell anyone else my thoughts.”
“It wouldn’t be wise—” Susan began.
Her words ended in a gasp of alarm for at that moment Mr. Crocker’s hound came around the corner of the house. Both girls stopped short.
“Rudy is vicious!” Penny warned. “And he’s been left unchained.”
“Let’s get away from here.”
The girls turned and started hurriedly back down the lane, but the hound had made up his mind that they were intruders. With a low growl he leaped toward them.
“Run!” cried Susan in terror.
Instead of fleeing, Penny stooped to snatch up a stick. Rudy sprang at her, and the force of his powerful body knocked her to the ground. Susan screamed in terror.
Help was closer at hand than either of the girls suspected. A man had been crouching behind the hedge. As Penny struggled to regain her feet, he came running toward her. It was Michael Haymond.
CHAPTER XII
The Matron’s Story
“Stay where you are!” commanded the young man sternly.
He seized the stick from Penny’s hand and used it to beat off the dog. Rudy showed very little fight. When he felt the sting of the switch he ran off whining toward the barn.
Penny picked herself up and dusted off her linen dress.
“Thank you, Michael,” she said soberly.
“It wasn’t anything,” the young man replied. “The dog is mostly bluff.”
“He bluffs too realistically to suit me,” Penny returned ruefully.
“You’re not hurt?”
“No, the dog knocked me over but his teeth missed me. I’m glad you happened to be here at the right time, Michael.”
“So am I.”
The young man glanced quickly at Penny and then looked away. He seemed to realize that she was expecting him to offer an explanation for his presence at the Crocker place.
The thought had occurred to Penny, but in view of the service which Michael had rendered, she decided not to question him. Instead she graciously introduced the young man to Susan.
“Since Mr. Crocker isn’t at home we may as well be walking back to the cottage,” Penny remarked after the three had chatted for a moment. “Rudy may muster his courage and take after me again.”
“I’ll go along with you,” said Michael falling into step with the girls. “I came to see Herman Crocker too.”
Neither Penny nor Susan offered any comment. They were quite sure that the young man had been crouching behind the hedge. They believed that he had observed Mr. Crocker drive away, and they thought that probably he had been watching their own movements.
During the walk back to the cottage, the girls chatted pleasantly with Michael. Susan, unaware that the young man had been uncommunicative regarding his past history, began to ask him casual questions about his home town.
“You were born in the west, Penny tells me,” she commented.
“That’s right,” the young man agreed uneasily.
“I’d never have suspected it,” Susan went on. “You don’t talk like a westerner. Did you live on a ranch?”
Michael shook his head. He hesitated and then said in a low tone:
“I spent most of my early life in an orphan’s home. It was a place called Glenhaven.”
“Why, there’s a Home in this state by that name!” cried Penny.
“Well, that’s certainly odd,” replied Michael, avoiding her gaze. “But I suppose Glenhaven is a common name.”
“Tell us more about yourself,” urged Susan.
“There’s nothing to tell. I don’t know very much about my parents. I was just turned over to the Home until I was eighteen years of age. I worked hard there but I was well treated. Then I left and got a job in a factory, but times turned hard and I was laid off. That about brings me up to date.”
Penny thought: “But it do
esn’t explain why you came to Kendon to see Herman Crocker.” However, her serene countenance gave no hint that she doubted any of Michael’s story.
Alone in Penny’s bedroom, the girls discussed the young man.
“I like him a great deal,” said Susan.
“And so do I,” Penny agreed, “but that doesn’t alter facts. I feel certain he’s not telling us a straightforward story. He may have been born in the west but I believe he’s spent a great deal of his life right herein this state.”
“What makes you think so, Penny?”
“Because in talking with him I’ve noticed that he’s always well versed in local history and state politics. And another thing—I doubt that Glenhaven is a common name for an orphan’s home.”
“He did act embarrassed about that.”
“Do you want to know what I think?” asked Penny earnestly. “I suspect Michael Haymond spent most of his life in the Glenhaven Home which is in this state—not out west.”
“But why should he try to hide the fact?”
“I couldn’t guess. It’s remotely possible he’s been mixed up in trouble, but Michael seems like a decent sort.”
“If we were really prying we could write to the Glenhaven officials,” Susan said slowly.
“I don’t consider it prying to try to find out more about the man,” returned Penny. “A good detective always investigates every angle of a case. I could send a letter off tonight only it will take so long to get a reply.”
“A week at best, I’d judge.”
“Glenhaven isn’t far from here!” Penny cried. “Let’s drive over there tomorrow. I think Dad would let me have the car if he doesn’t need it himself.”
“Why, I’d enjoy the trip,” Susan declared promptly.
“We could start early and take our lunch,” Penny planned enthusiastically.
When Mr. Nichols came home she asked him if they might use the car the following day. The detective readily agreed. He was delighted that Susan had arrived to visit Penny for he felt that the girls would have an enjoyable time together.
“Any news about your toy lantern?” Penny asked her father teasingly.
“None worth mentioning,” the detective replied. “I’m getting a little discouraged.”
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