The Clock Strikes Thirteen Part 35

Separating into groups so that they would not attract attention, Penny and the five men approached the Tower. A light glowed from within, and the caretaker could be seen moving about in the tiny living room.

Tying handkerchiefs over their faces, Salt and Jerry rapped on the back door. Charley Phelps opened it to find himself gazing into the blinding light of two flashlights.

"Say, what--" he began but did not finish.

Jerry and Salt had seized his arms. Before he could make another sound, they shoved a gag into his mouth, and dragging him into the Tower, closed the door. Working swiftly, they trussed his hands and feet and pushed him into a machinery room.

"Nice work, boys," Mr. Parker praised.

"Listen!" whispered Penny, who had followed the men into the Tower.

The clock had begun to strike the hour of midnight.

"Get up there quickly and do your stuff!" her father commanded. "You've not much time!"

Two steps at a time, Penny raced up the steep iron stairway which led to the belfry of the Tower. Anxiously, she counted the strokes as they pealed forth loud and clearly. Eight--nine--ten. The clock had never seemed to strike so fast before. Desperately she wondered if she could reach the belfry in time.

The stairway was dark, the footing uncertain. In her nervousness, Penny stumbled. Clutching the handrail, she clung to it a moment until she had recovered balance. But in that interval the clock had kept striking, and she was no longer sure of the count.

"It must be eleven," she thought, running up the remaining steps. "The next stroke will be the last."

Penny reached the great bell just as the clapper struck against the metal. The sound was deafening.

"Now!" she thought excitedly. "This is the moment, and I dare not fail!"

Balancing herself precariously, Penny raised a hammer high above her head. With all her strength she brought it down hard against the bell.

CHAPTER 23 _A TRAP SET_

To Penny's sensitive ears, the sound which resulted from the hammer blow, seemed weak and lacking in resonance. She sagged back against the iron railing, feeling that she had failed.

"That was swell!" a low voice said in her ear. "A perfect thirteenth stroke!"

Turning around, Penny saw that Jerry Livingston had followed her into the belfry.

"Did it really sound all right?" she inquired anxiously.

"It was good enough to fool anyone. But the question is, will it bring the Hoods here?"

In the room far below, Mr. Parker had lowered the blinds of the circular windows. Making certain that Charley Phelps was securely bound and gagged so that he could make no sound, he opened the front door a tiny crack and left it that way.

"How about the lights?" Salt Sommers asked.

"Leave them on. Shove that sound apparatus under the daybed. Now I guess everything's set. Upstairs, everyone."

Mr. Parker, Salt, and the two reporters, joined Penny and Jerry on the iron stairway.

"We may have a long vigil," the editor warned. "In fact, this whole scheme is likely to turn out a bust."

Few words were spoken during the next twenty minutes. Penny stirred restlessly, and finally went to join Jerry who was maintaining a watch from the belfry.

"See anyone?" she whispered, scanning the street below.

"No sign of anyone yet."

At intervals automobiles whizzed past the tower, and presently one drew up not far from the building. Immediately, Jerry and Penny focused their attention upon it. The headlights were turned to parking, then a man alighted and came toward the Hubell Tower.

"Who is he?" Jerry whispered. "Can you tell?"

"I'm not sure," Penny said uncertainly. "It may be Hank Holloway."

As the man stepped into the light, they both saw that her identification had been correct. The man rapped on the door several times. Receiving no answer, he finally entered.

"Charley!" those on the iron stairway heard him call. "Where are you?"

The brilliantly lighted living room combined with the absence of the caretaker, seemed to mystify the newcomer. Muttering to himself, he moved restlessly about for a few minutes. Finally seating himself, he picked up a newspaper and began to read.

From their post in the belfry, Penny and Jerry soon observed two other men approaching the tower. One they recognized as a workman who had sorted melons at the Davis farm, but his companion was unknown to them.

Without rapping, they too entered the building.

"Where's Charley?" inquired one of the men.

"That's what I was wondering," Hank Holloway replied, tossing aside his paper. "For that matter, I can't figure out why this special meeting was called. Something important must have come up."

Within ten minutes, three other men had arrived. Jerry was able to identify two of them by name, but he dared not risk whispering the information to Mr. Parker who crouched on the stairway.

"There's something mighty queer about this meeting," Hank Holloway growled. "Where is the Master? And what's become of Charley?"

From the machinery room in which the caretaker had been imprisoned came a slight thumping sound.

"What was that?" Hank demanded suspiciously.

"I didn't hear anything," answered one of the other men. "Maybe it was someone at the door."

Hank tramped across the room to peer out into the night. As the door swung back, a dark figure moved swiftly along the hedge, crouching low.

"Who's there?" Hank called sharply.

"Quiet, you fool!" was the harsh response.

A man wearing a dark robe and a black hood which completely hid his face, brushed past Holloway, and entered the Tower living room.

"Close the door!" he ordered.

Holloway hastened to obey. An expectant and rather tense silence had fallen upon the men gathered in the room.