CHAPTER 7 _PETER FENESTRA_
As the foreman turned off the rotarypress, the loud throb of machinerydied away and the flowing web of paper became motionless.
"How could the mistake have been made?" Penny murmured disconsolately. "Iknow that originally the name-plate was set up right."
"You should have taken page proofs and checked the mat," said theforeman.
"But I did! At least I took page proofs. I'll admit I was careless aboutthe mats."
"Well, it looks as if someone played a joke on you," replied the foreman.
Penny's face hardened. "I can guess who did it! Fred Clousky! Louise toldme he spent a long while in the composing room one afternoon while I wasaway. He must have changed the type just to make me look ridiculous."
"Well, it's done anyway," said the foreman with a shrug. "What will youdo about the run?"
"I'll never let it go through this way. I'd rather die."
The foreman reminded Penny that with paid advertisements she would becompelled to print an issue. She knew that it would not be possible tomake a change in the starter plate. The entire page must be recast.
"I don't suppose the type can be matched in this plant," she saidgloomily.
"We may have some like it," replied the foreman. "I'll see."
Soon he returned to report that type was available and that the workcould be done by the stereotypers. However, the men would expect overtimepay.
"I'll give them anything they want," said Penny recklessly. "Anything."
After a trying wait the new plate was made ready and locked on thecylinder. Once more the great press thundered. Again papers began to pourfrom the machine, every fiftieth one slightly out of line.
"What do you want done with 'em?" inquired the foreman.
"Have the papers carried to the mailing room and stacked by the door,"she instructed. "I'll be around in the morning to arrange fordeliveries."
Monday's first issue of the _Star_ was hot off the press when Pennystationed herself beside the veritable mountain of papers. The room was abedlam, with newsboys shouting noisily for their wares. As they passedher on their way to the street, she waylaid them one by one.
"Here you are, boys," she said with an expansive smile. "Two dozen paperseach. Sell them for a nickel and keep half of it for yourself. Turn inthe money at the _Weekly Times_ office."
"Two and a half cents!" exclaimed one of the boys. "Gee, that's more thanwe get for selling the _Star_!"
"Generosity is my motto," laughed Penny. "Just push those papers for allyou're worth."
Leaving the _Star_ plant, she went directly to the _Weekly Times_building. Permission had been granted to absent herself from school, andshe planned to be busy throughout the day, checking on paper sales.
As Penny unlocked the front door, she noticed that a faint odor oftobacco lingered in the air. A perplexed frown knitted her brow.
"That's funny," she thought. "None of the boys are allowed to smoke here.I wonder if someone disobeyed rules, or if there's really a prowler inthe building?"
Too busy to search the plant again, Penny gave the matter scantconsideration. Tossing a package of lunch on the counter, she preparedfor a hard day's work.
Now and then, to rest her mind from columns of figures, she wandered tothe window. Down the street, newsboys called their wares and it pleasedher that they shouted the _Weekly Times_ as frequently as they did the_Star_.
By ten o'clock the boys began to straggle in with their money. Only a fewhad failed to sell all of their papers, and not one neglected to make areport. Penny's final check-up disclosed that six thousand eight hundredand twenty-nine Weeklies had been sold.
"I can't expect to do that well after the novelty wears off," shethought. "But one thing is assured. My _Weekly_ isn't going to be_weakly_!"
With a large sum of money in her possession, Penny decided to take nochance of losing it. After making a careful count, she poured the coinsinto a bag which she transported by car to the bank.
It was lunch-time when she returned to the plant. She went to the counterfor the package of sandwiches. To her surprise it had disappeared.
"Now who took my food?" she muttered.
Penny was annoyed. She did not believe that one of the newsboys hadpicked up the package. Accumulative evidence pointed to a likelihood thatsomeone was hiding in the building. The moving light, tobacco smoke,unexplained footsteps, suggested that a tramp might be using the emptyplant as a comfortable shelter.
"But how can he get in?" she asked herself. "Doors and windows are keptlocked."
As Penny considered whether or not to report the matter to police, thefront door opened. A man of early middle age, well dressed, but with asharp, weather-beaten face and a mis-shapen nose, entered.
"This the office of the _Weekly Times_?" he demanded grumpily.
"Yes," said Penny. "Is there anything--"
"I want to see the editor."
"You're looking at her now."
"You! A girl!"
Penny smiled and waited. The stranger hesitated and then took the _WeeklyTimes_ from his overcoat pocket. With his forefinger he jabbed at a storyon the front page--Penny's account of the tattooed man who had beenpushed from the bridge.
"You know who wrote this?" he questioned.
"I did."
Again Penny's words surprised the man although he tried not to discloseit.
"That's a right interesting yarn," he said after a long pause.
"I'm glad you like it." Penny stared at the man with interest, wonderingwhy he had come and what he wanted.
"I was kind of curious to know where you got your information."
"Why, I saw it happen, Mr--I don't believe you told me your name."
"Fenestra. Peter Fenestra."
"I was driving near the bridge at the time the man was pushed into thewater," Penny resumed.
"You didn't see the one who did it?"
"Not clearly. May I ask why you are so interested in the story?"
"I thought maybe I knew that man, Munn. What became of him?"
"I can't tell you that. He was rescued by a tugboat captain. Everything Iknow about the affair is in the story."
"Well, thank you kindly," Mr. Fenestra said, tipping his hat.
Penny watched him leave the office and walk to his car. She had neverseen the man before to her knowledge. Although she should have feltflattered by his visit, it left her with a vague, unexplainable sensationof distrust.
"There's something queer about the way he came here," she reflected."Perhaps he knows more than he pretended."
Penny soon dismissed the matter from her mind, turning her thoughts tothe problem of the missing lunch. Resolutely she made a tour of thebuilding, venturing everywhere save into the basement. As she had halfexpected, she found no one. However, returning once more to her work, sheoccasionally caught herself listening for footsteps.
At three-thirty Louise came from school with other members of the _Times_staff. She and Penny retired to the latter's private office there todiscuss plans for the next week's paper.
"Lou," said Penny abruptly, "did you ever hear of a man named PeterFenestra?"
"Why, yes, I have."
"He was here today to ask me about the octopus tattoo story. What can youtell me?"
"Not very much, Penny. He lives on a farm two miles from the south edgeof Riverview. A place called The Willows."
"Oh, is he a farmer?" Penny was surprised. "I never would have guessedthat."
"He isn't one. He merely lives there. According to the report, he hasprospered by leaps and bounds."
"How does he make his money?"
"No one seems to know. When Fenestra came here a year or so ago he didn'tappear to have anything. Lately he bought a fine car, and he spends moneyrather lavishly."
"He inquired about John Munn," Penny remarked. "Somehow I had a feelingthat he was trying to pump information
from me for a particular reason."
"Those who know Fenestra say he's a sly old fox."
"That's the way he impressed me, Lou. Perhaps I flatter myself, but Ibelieve my tattoo story may cause quite a stir in Riverview."
"Was Fenestra annoyed by it?"
"I think so, Lou, although he tried to cover his feelings. He may or maynot be a friend of John Munn, but he certainly was anxious to learn whatbecame of him."
"You didn't ask him any questions?"
"No, his visit took me by surprise. But I've been thinking, Lou. I verymuch want a follow up story on John Munn for next week's paper. Supposewe run out to Fenestra's farm tomorrow."
"What purpose would there be in that?"
"Fenestra may be able to tell us interesting facts which will throw lighton the mystery. He may understand the significance of the octopustattoo."
"You're rather hopeful, I think."
"But you'll go with me?"
"Yes," promised Louise. "I've always had a curiosity to see The Willows.Besides, I need a vacation from my strenuous duties as editor."
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