CHAPTER 12 _OLD HORNEY_
Penny made no reply to Pauletta and the silence became unbearable.
"Won't you stay for a few minutes?" Mr. Judson invited. "Pauletta, whynot show Miss Parker our rose garden?"
"It's rather dark," his daughter replied. "Anyway, she wouldn't care tosee it."
"Indeed, I should," contradicted Penny. Deliberately she switched off thecar ignition.
Pauletta glared at her, but dared make no protest in her father'spresence. With a shrug she led Penny along a gravel path to the rear ofthe house. Mr. Judson remained behind.
As soon as they were beyond hearing, Penny said quietly:
"Need we pretend? I am sure you recall that we met aboard the_Goodtime_."
"Yes, I remember now," admitted Pauletta coldly. "You were with anothergirl."
"And you were accompanied by a young man."
"A friend of mine."
"This may be something of a shock," said Penny, "but my chum and I sawyou drop a bundle containing a wig into the river."
"Oh!"
"The bundle caught fast and I fished it out."
"You have no proof it was mine! You--you won't tell Father?"
"Not if you can offer a good reason why I shouldn't."
"There are any number of them. You mustn't tell my father! That's why Ipretended not to know you."
"I certainly wish you would explain. Tillie Fellows was robbed thatnight."
"Who is Tillie Fellows?"
"One of the excursionists. Her pocketbook was taken shortly before theboat docked."
"You can't believe I had anything to do with it!"
"I don't wish to think so, but your actions were very strange."
"I can explain everything," Pauletta said hurriedly. "My reason forwearing a disguise was a simple one. I didn't care to have anyone on theboat recognize me."
"Why, may I ask?"
Before Pauletta could answer, Mr. Judson came around the corner of thehouse.
"Please say nothing about it to Father," the young woman pleaded in awhisper. "I'll explain everything later."
Penny nodded, and for Mr. Judson's benefit, offered a few remarks aboutthe roses.
"We once had a beautiful garden," commented Pauletta. "Now it's in ruin,the same as the yard. Father doesn't look after the place as he should."
"The grounds are large," replied Mr. Judson mildly.
"You shouldn't try to do the work yourself," Pauletta protested. "It wasfoolish of you to let the gardener go."
Penny felt increasingly ill at ease. As they wandered about the grounds,Pauletta kept making disparaging remarks, thoughtless comments whichwounded her father. However, he offered no rebuttal, nor did he reprovehis daughter.
"I really must be going," said Penny at last. "It's getting very dark."
Mr. Judson walked with her to the car, closing the gate after she haddriven from the grounds. He stood there a moment, the wind rumpling hisgray hair. Then he raised his hand in friendly salute and turned towardthe house.
"Poor Mr. Judson," she thought. "So discouraged and yet so gallant! Howcan Pauletta be completely blind to his suffering? Doesn't she realize?"
Penny did not regret having kept the young woman's secret, for she feltthat the revelation of their meeting would only add to Mr. Judson'stroubles. Pauletta represented his entire life, and if it developed thatshe had acted unbecomingly, the shock might be a severe one.
"I can't believe that Pauletta would steal," she told herself. "She musthave had another reason for wearing the disguise."
Penny was satisfied that if Mr. Judson had not interrupted, the youngwoman would have explained her puzzling actions. Therefore, she waswilling to give her the benefit of the doubt. She made up her mind thatshe would return as soon as she could to talk privately with Pauletta.
The Parker house was dark and deserted when Penny let herself in with akey. Her father had not expected her home so early and, disliking anempty house, had remained away. There was no telling where he had gone.
After preparing a belated dinner for herself, Penny spent an hour withher studies. However, her mind kept reverting to the events of the day. Agreat deal had happened. Her meeting with Peter Fenestra had beeninteresting. Anchor Joe's mishap worried her, and she remained disturbedby the threatening message left on her desk.
"Could it have been written by a prowler in the building?" she mused."Ever since we started the paper I've felt that someone was hiding there.It may be a scheme to get me away."
Before dropping off to sleep Penny made up her mind that the followingnight she would set a trap for the intruder. Taking Louise into herconfidence, she made careful plans. Preparing a tasty lunch, the girlswrapped and laid it conspicuously on the counter of the downstairsadvertising room.
"Now the stage is set," declared Penny. "Louise, you go upstairs to myoffice and tap on the typewriter. I'll hide here and see what happens."
After Louise had gone, Penny secreted herself in a storage closet not farfrom the counter. By leaving the door open she could see fairly well inthe dark room for street lights cast a reflection through the plate glasswindows.
The minutes stretched into a half hour. Louise's typewriting, at firstvery energetic, began to slacken in speed. Penny moved restlessly in thecramped quarters. She had not imagined that waiting could be so tedious.
An hour elapsed. Far down the street a clock struck ten times.
With a weary sigh Penny arose from the floor. Inactivity bored her, andshe no longer could sit quietly and wait.
As she started from her hiding place, intending to call Louise, a dooropened at the west end of the room. Instantly Penny froze against thewall, waiting.
A flashlight beam played across the floor, missing her by a scant twofeet.
Penny, her heart beating at a furious rate, remained motionless. Shecould see the squat, shadowy figure of a man moving toward her. Boardssqueaked beneath his weight.
Midway across the room, the man paused, evidently listening to the steadyclatter of Louise's typewriter. Satisfied, he went to the window where hestood for several minutes watching street traffic.
As he turned again, the beam of his flashlight swept across the frontcounter, focusing upon the package of food. The man gave a lowexclamation of pleasure. With the swiftness of a cat he darted to it andtore off the paper wrapping.
Penny waited until he was eating greedily. Then stealing along the wall,she groped for the electric light switch. As she pressed it, the room wasbrilliantly illuminated. At the same instant, the girl gave a shrillwhistle, a signal to Louise that the culprit had been trapped.
The man at the counter whirled around, facing Penny with startled dismay.He was a gaunt, unshaven fellow in his late fifties with shaggy hair, andsoiled, unpressed clothing.
Before he could retreat, Louise came down the stairway, blocking theexit.
"What are you doing here?" Penny questioned him. "Why did you steal mylunch?"
The man's lips moved nervously but no sound issued from them.
"Shall I call the police?" prodded Penny. She gave him a severe glance.
"No, don't do that," the man pleaded, finding his voice. "Don't call thepolice. I'll go. I won't bother you any more."
"Why have you been hiding in the building?"
"Because I have no other place to sleep, Miss. The cops chase you off thepark benches."
Penny was surprised by the man's speech which belied his disreputablegarments. His tone was well modulated, his manner respectful.
"You've been living in this building a long while?" she asked curiously.
"Maybe six months. I sleep down in the furnace room. I didn't do anyharm."
"You're hungry, aren't you?" Penny inquired, less severely.
"Yes, I am, Miss. Lately I haven't been eating any too often."
"You may finish the lunch," said Penny. "And there's a thermos bottle ofcoffee un
der the counter."
"Thank you, Miss, thank you. I surely am obliged."
With a hand which trembled, the man poured himself a cup of the steamingbeverage.
"You haven't told me your name," said Penny after a moment.
"Folks just call me Horney. Old Horney."
"What is your real name?"
"Mark Horning," the man answered reluctantly.
"I'm curious to learn how you've been getting in and out of thebuilding."
"With a key." Old Horney devoured the last bite of sandwich, and pouredhimself a second cup of coffee.
"A skeleton key, you mean?" Penny asked in surprise.
"No, Miss. I have my own key. In the old days I used to work here."
"You're a former _Press_ employee?"
"Sure, I know it's hard to believe," Old Horney replied, "but when afellow's out of a job and money, it doesn't take long to go to seed. Ilost my place when Judson closed down."
"And you've been unable to find other work?"
"In the past nine months I've worked exactly six days. No one hires anold fellow any more. If I could have kept on with Judson three more yearsI'd have been due for my pension."
"What work did you do on the paper?" asked Penny with growing interest.
"I was a pressman."
Penny shot Louise a glance which was almost triumphant. Her voice whenshe spoke held an undertone of excitement.
"Horney," she said, "it's barely possible I may be able to find some sortof work for you later on. Do you mind writing your name on this paper?"
The old man took the sheet she handed him, without hesitation scrawlinghis name, _Mark Horning_.
Penny studied the writing a moment. To her relief it bore not theslightest resemblance to the warning message left on her desk theprevious night.
"Horney," she questioned, "did you ever try to frighten me away from thisbuilding?"
"Oh, no, Miss," he replied. "Once I tiptoed up to your office. When I sawyou were working there, I slipped down to the basement again."
"Did you ever place a note on my desk?"
"I never did."
Penny was satisfied that Horney had told the truth. Yet if he were notthe culprit she was unable to guess who had warned her to abandon theplant.
"Horney, I've decided that we need a watchman around this place," shesaid abruptly. "If you want the job, it's yours."
"You're not turning me out?"
"No, you may stay. I can't promise much of a salary, but at least you'llhave a place to sleep and enough food."
"You're mighty kind," Horney mumbled gratefully. "Mighty kind." Hehesitated and then added: "I promise you won't be sorry you did it, Miss.Maybe you'll find I can be of some real use around this plant. I'm atyour service and what's more, I'm for you one hundred per cent."
The Secret Pact Page 13