Ghost Beyond the Gate Part 38

Meeting's at seven."

Penny glanced at her wrist watch.

"It's after six now!" she exclaimed in dismay. "Dad, if we are to get there in time, we've got to step!"

"Right you are," he agreed.

Before leaving the garage, Mr. Parker telephoned Central Police Station.

Without mentioning Sam's name, he revealed a little of what he had learned and requested an immediate investigation of the Johnson Warehouse. Then, intending to meet officers there, he and Penny taxied along the winding river road.

Although not yet seven o'clock, it was darkening fast. The driver switched on headlights, illuminating a long stretch of icy pavement.

"Can't you go faster?" Mr. Parker urged impatiently.

"Don't dare, sir," replied the driver.

Even as he spoke, a crossroads traffic light flashed red. Though the driver applied the foot brake with quick stabs, the car went into a disastrous skid. Out of control, it slid crosswise in the narrow road.

The front wheels rolled into a deep, slippery ditch.

"Just our luck!" muttered Mr. Parker.

Several times the driver tried to back the car from the ditch. Failing, he and Mr. Parker pushed while Penny handled the steering wheel. The tires kept spinning and would not grip the ice.

"No use," the publisher acknowledged at last. "We're only wasting time.

We need a tow car."

"The nearest house or filling station is at least a mile up the road,"

volunteered Penny. "I'm afraid we're stalled here until the police car comes along."

They climbed into the taxi and waited. No vehicle of any description came by. With increasing impatience, Mr. Parker looked at his watch.

"It's nearly seven o'clock now!" he exclaimed. "Either the police are waiting farther down the road, or they've taken a different route!"

"What are we going to do?" Penny asked helplessly. "If we sit here much longer we'll miss catching those men at their meeting."

"I don't see what we can do. Maybe our best bet is to walk to the nearest filling station."

Penny suddenly was struck with an idea. "The Riverview Yacht Club is closer!" she cried.

"True, but it's closed for the winter."

"My iceboat is still there," said Penny. "If you're not afraid to ride with me, I could get you to Johnson's Warehouse in nothing flat."

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Mr. Parker.

Leaving the cab driver behind, Penny and her father ran most of the way to the club. The _Icicle_, covered with snow, runners frozen to the ice, remained where it had been abandoned.

"The sail's here too!" Penny declared, burrowing in a box hidden deep in the c.o.c.kpit. "In this wind, we'll go places!"

"Are you sure you can handle the boat?" Mr. Parker asked anxiously. He had never ridden in the _Icicle_ and from his daughter's vivid descriptions, had no great desire to do so.

"I know I can start it going," Penny replied with a quick laugh. "I'll worry about stopping it when the time comes!"

They cleared the little boat of snow and pushed it out on the smooth ice of the river. Penny made certain that all the ropes were free running.

"Now you get in, Dad," she advised as she hoisted the flapping sail. "I want to be sure where you are when the fireworks begin."

The wind filled the big sail like a balloon. Nothing happened. The iceboat did not move an inch.

"Why don't we go?" growled Mr. Parker. "Runners dull?"

Penny gave the boat a hard push.

"Want me to help?" offered her father.

"No, thanks," puffed Penny. "When this baby makes up its mind, it will go so fast you'd be left behind."

Once more she pushed. The sail filled again and the runners stirred.

"It's moving!" shouted Penny.

The _Icicle_ was pulling away from her. She clung fast, trying to scramble aboard. Her feet went out from under her and she was dragged over the ice.

"Hang on!" shouted Mr. Parker. "I can't sail this thing alone!"

Penny clung desperately. Away flew a mitten. Her scarf flapped in her face. With a supreme effort, she pulled herself aboard, and took command of the tiller.

"Are you hurt?" Mr. Parker shouted anxiously in her ear.

Penny shook her head and laughed. "Getting started always is quite a trick," she replied. "Sit tight! We have a stiff breeze tonight."

Penny and her father wore no protective goggles. The sharp wind stung their eyes even though they kept their heads low.

"How'll we know when we get to the warehouse?" Mr. Parker shouted. "I can't see anything!"

"Just trust me," laughed Penny. "All I worry about is stopping this bronco when we get there!"

The boat was moving with the speed of an express train. Penny made her decisions with lightning-like rapidity, twice steering to avoid open stretches of water. She was worried, but had no intention of letting her father know.

The boat raced on. Then far ahead loomed the dark outline of a building.

"That's the warehouse!" shouted Mr. Parker. "Don't go past it!"

Penny gradually slowed the _Icicle_. Approaching sh.o.r.e, she slacked the main sheet and shot up into the wind. By using her overshoes for brakes, she finally brought the boat to a standstill not far from the warehouse.

"Well done, skipper," praised Mr. Parker.

Scrambling from the boat, they glanced anxiously about. A dim light shone from inside the warehouse. Not far from its side entrance stood a truck.

There were no other vehicles, no sign of the expected police car.