Ghost Beyond the Gate Part 5

Penny and Louise loitered about the office, reading the evening newspaper. After a little delay, Mattie Williams appeared.

"Can you give me my bill?" Salt requested. "We're in a hurry to get to Riverview."

"I thought Sam was looking after you," Mattie replied, making out the slip.

The bill settled, Salt backed the car from the garage. Penny noticed that Hank Biglow's truck no longer stood in front of the cafe. The police car also had gone. She would have thought no more of it, had not Louise at that moment exclaimed:

"Penny, that truck is parked at the rear of the garage now! And they're unloading the boxes!"

Penny twisted around to see for herself. It was true that the big truck had been backed up close to the rear entrance of the garage. Through the blinding snow, she could just see Hank Biglow and Sam Burkholder carrying one of the boxes into the building.

"Well, that's funny!" she exclaimed. "Those crates can't contain defense machinery or materials. Otherwise Hank wouldn't be delivering them here."

"What crates?" inquired Salt, s.h.i.+fting gears.

Penny told him what had transpired in the cafe, and revealed that she and Louise had been rebuked by the policeman. Salt, occupied with driving, did not consider the incident in any way significant.

"Oh, you know how some cops are," he commented carelessly.

The car went into a wild skid and Salt thereafter devoted his attention strictly to driving.

Without further mishap, the party arrived safely at Riverview. Louise alighted at her own home, and then Salt took Penny to the Parker residence.

"Won't you come in for a cup of chocolate?" she invited.

"Thanks, not tonight," Salt replied. "I'm dead tired. Think I'll hit the hay early."

Only one light burned in the living-room as Penny stomped in out of the cold. Mrs. Weems, the plump housekeeper who had served the Parkers for many years, sat beside the hearth, sewing.

"I'm glad you're home at last!" she exclaimed, getting up quickly.

"You've no idea how worried I've been."

"But Louise and I telephoned."

"I couldn't hear you very well. I barely was able to make out that something had happened to your car."

"A major catastrophe, Mrs. Weems. Every tire was stolen!"

While the housekeeper bombarded her with questions, Penny stripped off overshoes and heavy outer clothing. Pools of water began to form on the rug.

"Take everything out to the kitchen," Mrs. Weems said hastily. "Have you had your supper?"

"Not even a nibble. And I'm starving!"

As Mrs. Weems began to prepare a hot meal, Penny perched herself on the kitchen table, alternately talking, and chewing on a sugared bun.

"If you ever were lost in an Arctic blizzard you have a good picture of what Louise and I endured," she narrated grandly. "Oh, it was awful!"

"Losing five practically new tires is a mere detail in comparison?"

"It's nothing less than a tragedy! I was thinking--maybe you ought to break the sad news to Dad."

"Indeed not. You'll have to tell him yourself. However, he's attending a meeting and won't be home until eleven."

"That's much too late for me," Penny said quickly. "I'll see him in the morning. And I do hope you cooperate by giving him a dandy breakfast."

"Just see to it that you don't oversleep," suggested the housekeeper dryly.

Penny consumed an enormous supper and then slipped off to bed. She did not hear her father come home a few hours later. In the morning when Mrs.

Weems called her, it seemed advisable to take a long time in dressing.

Her father had gone by the time she strolled downstairs.

"Did you tell Dad?" she asked the housekeeper hopefully.

"You knew I would," chided Mrs. Weems. "Your father expects to see you at his office at nine o'clock."

"How'd he take the blow?"

"Naturally one couldn't expect him to be pleased."

With a deep sigh, Penny sat down to breakfast. Worry over the coming interview did not interfere with her usual excellent appet.i.te. She had orange juice, two slices of toast, four pancakes, and then, somewhat concerned lest she lose her slim figure, debated whether to ask for another helping.

"The batter's all gone," Mrs. Weems settled the matter. "Do stop dawdling and get on to the office. Your father shouldn't be kept waiting."

With anything but enthusiasm, Penny took herself to the plant of the Riverview _Star_. Pa.s.sing through the busy newsroom where reporters pounded at their typewriters, she entered her father's private office.

"h.e.l.lo, Dad," she greeted him with forced cheerfulness. "Mrs. Weems said you wanted to see me."

"So you lost five tires last night?" the editor barked. Mr. Parker was a lean, keen-eyed man of early middle age, known throughout the state as a fearless newspaper man. At the moment, Penny decided that "fearful" would prove a more descriptive term.

"Well, Dad, it was this way--" she began meekly.

"Never mind a long-winded explanation," he interrupted, smiling. "It wasn't your fault--the car was stripped."

Penny wondered if she had heard correctly.

"Your tires weren't the only ones stolen yesterday," Mr. Parker resumed.

"A half dozen other thefts were reported. In fact, I've known for several weeks that a professional gang of tire thieves has been operating in Riverview."

"Oh, Dad, you're a peach!" Penny cried, making a dive for him. "I'm going to give you a great big kiss!"

"You are not," Mr. Parker grinned, pus.h.i.+ng her away. "Try to remember, this is an office."

Penny resigned herself to a chair. Questioned by her father, she gave a straightforward account of how the car had been stripped at the Yacht Club grounds.

"The tire gang is getting bolder every day!" Mr. Parker exclaimed wrathfully. "But we'll soon put a stop to their little game!"

"How, Dad?"