Chapter I: Part 1

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Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Brenda Lewis and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

Ghost
Beyond the Gate

_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT

_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS

_Illustrated_

CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK

_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES

_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_

TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT

COPYRIGHT, 1943, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.

Ghost Beyond the Gate

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

_CONTENTS_

CHAPTER PAGE
1 LOST ON A HILLTOP 1
2 AT THE LISTENING POST 11
3 AN UNPLEASANT DRIVER 20
4 STOLEN TIRES 26
5 AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW 35
6 FRONT PAGE NEWS 43
7 QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS 52
8 A FEW CHANGES 58
9 AN OPEN SAFE 68
10 TALE OF A GHOST 75
11 BY A CEMETERY WALL 85
12 FLIGHT 91
13 A BLACK MARKET 100
14 A FAMILIAR FIGURE 107
15 GHOST IN THE GARDEN 117
16 A DOOR IN A BOX 125
17 ADVENTURE BY MOONLIGHT 134
18 THROUGH THE CELLAR WINDOW 142
19 A BAFFLING SEARCH 151
20 ACCUSATIONS 157
21 MRS. BOTTS' REVELATION 166
22 A PARK BENCH 173
23 FORGOTTEN EVENTS 180
24 TRICKERY 190
25 FINAL EDITION 203

CHAPTER
1
_LOST ON A HILLTOP_

The little iceboat, with two laughing, shouting girls clinging to it, sped over the frozen surface of Big Bear River.

"Penny, we're going too fast!" screamed Louise Sidell, ducking to protect her face from the biting wind.

"Only about forty an hour!" shrieked her companion gleefully.

At the tiller of the _Icicle_, Penelope Parker, in fur-lined parka, sheepskin coat and goggles, looked for all the world like a jolly Eskimo. Always delighting in a new sport, she had built the iceboat herself--spars from a wood lot, the sail from an old tent.

"Slow down, Penny!" pleaded her chum.

"Can't," shouted Penny cheerfully. "Oh, we're going into a hike!"

As one runner raised off the ice, the boat tilted far over on its side. Louise shrieked with terror, and held tight to prevent being thrown out. Penny, hard pressed, sought to avert disaster by a snappy starting of the main sheet.

For a space the boat rushed on, runners roaring. Then as a sudden puff of wind struck the sail, the steering runner leaped off the ice. Instantly the _Icicle_ went into a spin from which Penny could not straighten it.

"We're going over!" screamed Louise, scrambling to free her feet.

The next moment the boat capsized. Both girls went sliding on their backs across the ice. Penny landed in a snowdrift at the river bank, her parka awry, goggles hanging on one ear.

"Are you hurt, Lou?" she called, jumping to her feet.

Louise sprawled on the ice some distance away. Slowly she pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed the back of her head.

"Maybe this is your idea of fun!" she complained. "As for me, give me bronco busting! It would be a mild sport in comparison."

Penny chuckled, dusting snow from her clothing. "Why, this is fun, Lou. We have to expect these little upsets while we're learning."

The sail of the overturned iceboat was billowing like a parachute. Slipping and sliding, Penny ran to pull it in.

"Take the old thing down!" urged Louise, hobbling after her. "I've had enough ice-boating for this afternoon!"

"Oh, just one more turn down the river and back," coaxed Penny.

"No! We're close to the club house now. If we sail off again, there's no telling where we'll land. Anyway, it's late and it's starting to snow."

Penny reluctantly acknowledged that Louise spoke pearls of wisdom. Large, damp snowflakes were drifting down, dotting her red mittens. The wind steadily was stiffening, and cold penetrated her sheepskin coat.

"It will be dark within an hour," added Louise. Uneasily she scanned the leaden sky. "We've been out here all afternoon."

"Guess it is time to go home," admitted Penny. "Oh, well, it won't take us long to get the _Icicle_ loaded onto the car trailer. Lucky we upset so close to the club house."

Setting to work with a will, the girls took down the flapping sail. After much tugging and pushing, they righted the boat and pulled it toward the Riverview Yacht Club. Closed for the winter, the building looked cold and forlorn. Penny, however, had left her car in the snowy parking lot, which was convenient to the river.

"Wish we could get warm somewhere," Louise said, shivering. "It must be ten below zero."

Pulling the _Icicle_ behind them, the girls climbed the slippery river bank. Snow now swirled in clouds, half-curtaining the club house.

"I'll get the car and drive it down here," Penny offered, starting toward the parking lot. "No use dragging the boat any farther."

Abandoning the _Icicle_, Louise went with her chum. A dozen steps took the girls to a wind-swept corner of the deserted building. Rounding it, they both stopped short, staring.

On the snow-banked parking lot where the car had been left, there now stood only one vehicle, an unpainted, two-wheel trailer.

"Great fishes!" exclaimed Penny. "Where's the coupe?"

"Maybe you forgot to set the brake and it rolled into a ditch!"

"In that case, the trailer would have gone with it." Her face grim, Penny ran on toward the parking lot.

Reaching the trailer, the girls saw by tire tracks in the snow that the car had been detached and driven away.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Penny wailed, pounding her mittens together. "The coupe's been stolen!"

"What's that across the road?" Louise demanded. "It looks like an automobile to me. In the ditch, too!"

Taking new hope, Penny went to investigate the little ravine. Through a screen of bare tree branches and bushes, she glimpsed a blur of metal.

"It's the car!" she cried jubilantly. "But how did it get across the road?"

Penny's elation quickly died. Drawing nearer, she was dismayed to see that the coupe appeared to be lying on its stomach in the ditch. Four wheels and a spare had been removed.

"Stripped of every tire!" she exclaimed. "The thief ran the car out here on the road so we couldn't see him at work from the river!"

"What are we going to do?" Louise asked weakly. "We're miles from Riverview. No houses close by. We're half frozen and night is coming on."

Penny, her face very long, had no answer. She measured the gasoline tank with a stick. All of the fuel had been siphoned. She lifted the hood, expecting to find vital parts of the engine missing. However, everything appeared to be in place.

Seeking protection from the penetrating wind, the girls climbed into the car to discuss their situation.

"Can't we just wait here until someone comes along and gives us a lift to town?" suggested Louise.

"Yes, but we're on a side road and few cars travel this way during winter."

"Then why not go somewhere and telephone?"

"The nearest stores are at Kamm's corner, about two miles away."

Louise gazed thoughtfully at the soft snow which was banking deeper on the windshield of the car.

"Two miles in this, facing the wind, will be a hard hike. Think we ought to try it, Penny?"

"I'm sure I don't want to. And we needn't either! Do you remember Salt Sommers?"

"The photographer who works on your father's newspaper?"

"Yes, he spends his spare time as an airplane spotter. His station is over in the hills not more than a half mile from here! Why not tramp over there and ask him to telephone our folks?"

"Are you sure you know the way?"

"I was there once last summer," Penny said confidently. "One follows a side road through the woods. I'm sure I can find it."

"All right," Louise consented, sliding from behind the steering wheel. "If we're going, let's move right along."

Stiff with cold, the girls trudged past the club house and on down the road. Snow was falling faster and faster. Several times they paused to wipe their frosted goggles.

"This promises to be a man-sized blizzard," Louise observed uneasily. "It's getting dark early, too."

Penny nodded, her thoughts on what she would say to her father when she reached home. The car had been fully insured, but even so it would not be easy to replace five stolen tires. Ruefully she reflected that Mrs. Weems, the kindly housekeeper who had looked after her since her mother's death, had not favored the river trip.

"Oh, don't take it so hard," Louise tried to cheer her. "Maybe the thief will be caught."

"Not a chance of it," Penny responded gloomily.

A hundred yards farther on the girls came to another side road which wound upward through the wooded hills. Already there was an ominous dusk settling over the valley. Penny paused to take bearings.

"I think this is the way," she said doubtfully.

"You think!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure," Penny amended. "Salt's station is up there on top of one of those hills. If this snow would stop we should be able to see the tower from here."

Slightly reassured, Louise followed her chum across a wooden bridge and up a narrow, winding road. On either side of the frozen ditches, tall frosted evergreens provided friendly protection from the stabbing, icy wind. Nevertheless, walking was not easy for the roadbed bore a shell of treacherous ice.

Confident that they soon would come to the airplane listening post, the girls trudged on. Penny, anxious to make the most of the remaining daylight, set a stiff pace.

"Shouldn't we be coming to the station?" Louise presently asked. "Surely we've gone more than a half mile."

"The post is a little ways off from the road," Penny confessed, peering anxiously at the unbroken line of evergreens. "We should be able to see it."

"In this blinding snow? Why, we may have passed the station without knowing it."

"Well, I don't think so."

"You're not one bit sure, Penny Parker!" Louise accused. "We were crazy to start off without being certain of the post's location."

"We always can go back to the car."

"I'm nearly frozen now," Louise complained, slapping her mittens together. "There's no feeling in one of my hands."

Penny paused to wipe the moisture from her goggles. From far down the road came the sound of a laboring motor. She listened hopefully.

"A car, Lou!" she cried. "Everything will be all right now! We'll hail it and ask the driver for a lift."

Greatly encouraged, the girls waited for the approaching vehicle. They could hear it climbing a steep knoll, then descending. From the sound of the engine they decided that it must be a truck and that it might round the curve at a fast speed.

Worried lest the driver fail to see them, the girls stepped out into the middle of the road. As the truck swerved around the bend, they shouted and waved their arms.

The startled driver slammed on brakes, causing the big black truck to slide like a sled. Penny and Louise leaped aside, barely avoiding being struck.

As they watched anxiously, the driver recovered control of the machine. He straightened out and brought the truck to a standstill farther up the road.

Penny seized her chum's hand. "Come on, Lou! He's going to give us a ride!"

Before they could reach the truck, the driver lowered the cab window. Thrusting his head through the opening he bellowed angrily:

"What you tryin' to do? Wreck my truck?"

Giving the girls no opportunity to reply, he closed the cab window.

Penny saw that the man was intending to drive on. "Wait!" she called frantically. "Please give us a ride! We're lost and half frozen!"

The man heard for he flashed an ugly smile. Shifting gears, he drove away.

"Of all the shabby tricks, that's the worst!" Penny said furiously. "It wasn't our fault his old truck skidded."

"But it is our fault we're lost on this road," Louise added. "How are we ever to find the listening post?"

Penny leaned against the leeward side of a giant pine. Already it was so dark that she could see only a few feet down the road. There were no houses, no lights, nothing to guide her.

"Penny, are we really lost?" Louise demanded, suddenly afraid.

"We really, truly are," her chum answered in a quavering voice. "The post must be somewhere near here, but we'll never find it. All we can do is try to get back to the car."

CHAPTER
2
_AT THE LISTENING POST_

Penny's courage did not long forsake her. She had suggested to Louise that they return to the stripped car, but she knew that would not solve their problem. Staring up the dark road, she remarked that they must be close to the summit of the hill.

"Then why not keep on?" urged Louise. "We set out to find the listening post, so let's do it!"

They trudged on up the winding road. At intervals, in an attempt to restore circulation to numbed feet, they ran a few steps. Snow fell steadily, whipping and stinging their faces.

Gasping, half-winded, they kept doggedly on. Finally they struggled into a clearing at the top of the hill. Penny wiped her eyes and gazed down through a gap in the white-coated evergreens. A quarter of the way down the slope on the other side appeared a glowing dot of light.

"I'm afraid it's only a cabin," she said dubiously. "It can't be the airplane listening post."

"Let's go there anyway," advised Louise. "We can warm ourselves and ask how to get back to civilization."

They pushed on, still following the road. Downhill walking was much easier and at intervals they were encouraged by a glimpse of the light.

Then, rounding a bend of the road, the girls came to an artistic, newly constructed iron fence, banked heavily with snow. The fence led to a high gate, and behind the gate loomed a dark, sprawling house with double chimneys.

"The place is deserted!" Louise observed in disappointment. "What became of the light we've been following?"

"It must be farther on. This house looks as if it had been closed for the winter."

Penny went to the gate and rattled a heavy chain which held it in place. Peering through the palings, she could see an unshoveled driveway which curved gracefully to a pillared porch. The spacious grounds were dotted with evergreens and shrubs, so layered with snow that they resembled scraggly ghosts.

"Wonder who owns this place?" speculated Louise.

"Don't know," Penny answered, turning away. "In fact, I don't recall ever having seen it before."

Her words carried special significance to Louise.

"If you've never seen this house before, then we're on a strange road! Penny, we never will find the listening post!"

"I'm beginning to suspect it myself," Penny admitted grimly. "But we must keep plodding on. That light can't be far ahead."

Turning their backs upon the gloomy estate, they again braved the penetrating wind. Soon Louise lost her footing and fell. She remained in a dispirited little heap until Penny pulled her off the ice.

"Let's keep going, Lou," she urged. "It won't be long now."

Louise allowed Penny to pull her along. They rounded a curve in the road, and there, miraculously, the lighted cabin rose before them.

"At last!" exulted Louise. "The Promised Land!"

Staggering up a shoveled path, they pounded on the cabin door. An old man, who held a kerosene lamp, responded promptly.

"Come in, come in!" he invited heartily. "Why, you look half frozen."

"Looks aren't deceitful either," Penny laughed shakily.

As the girls went into the warm room a little whirlpool of wind and snow danced ahead of them. Quickly the old man closed the door. He made places for Penny and Louise at the stove and tossed in a heavy stick of wood.

"Bad night to be out," he commented cheerfully.

Penny agreed that it was. "We're lost," she volunteered, stripping off her wet mittens. "At least we can't find the airplane listening post."

"Why, it's just a piece farther on," the old man replied. "The tower's right hard to see in this storm."

While they thawed out, the girls explained that they had been forced to abandon their car at the Riverview Yacht Club. The old man, whose name was Henry Hammill, listened with deep sympathy to their tale of woe.

"I'll hitch up my horses and take you to Riverview in the sled," he offered. "That is, unless you'd rather stop at the listening tower."

"It would save you a long trip," Penny returned politely. "If Salt Sommers is on duty, I'm sure he'll take us to our homes."

In the end it was decided that Old Henry should drive the girls as far as the post. Then, if arrangements could not be made with the photographer, he would keep on to Riverview.

Warm at last, Penny and Louise declared that they were ready to start. Old Henry brought the sled to the door and the team soon was racing down the icy road. Above the jingle of bells arose occasional squeals of laughter, for the young passengers enjoyed every minute of the unexpected ride.

Presently Old Henry pulled up at the side of the road.

"There's the tower," he said, pointing to a two-story wooden observatory rising above the evergreens. "I'll wait until you find out if your friend's here."

The girls thanked the old man for his kindly help and scrambled from the sled. They were sure their troubles were over, for they could see Salt Sommers seated at a table in the lighted tower.

A flight of steps led to a narrow catwalk which ran around three sides of the glass-enclosed house. Before Penny and Louise could hammer on the door Salt opened it.

"Well, see what the storm blew in!" the young man exclaimed. "I didn't expect you girls to pop in on a night like this."

"Salt, how soon will you be driving to Riverview?" Penny asked breathlessly.

"About twenty minutes. As soon as my relief shows up."

"May we ride with you?"

"Why, sure."

Penny called down from the catwalk to tell Old Henry he need not wait. With a friendly wave of his hand, the cabin owner drove away. The girls then followed Salt into the drafty tower room.

Curiously they gazed at their surroundings. In the center of the room stood a small coal stove. Above it a tacked sign admonished: "Keep this fire going!" There was a table, two chairs and a telephone. Also a round clock which indicated seven-forty.

Before Penny and Louise could explain why they had come, Salt held up a warning finger.

"Listen!" he exclaimed. "Wasn't that a plane?"

He ran out on the catwalk, letting in an icy blast of wind. In a moment he came back, grinning sheepishly.

"A passenger airplane is due through here about this time. Sometimes I listen for it so hard I imagine the sound of the engine."

"The job must get tiresome at times," Penny ventured, making herself comfortable by the glowing stove.

"Oh, it does, but I'm glad to serve my trick. What brings you girls here on such a wild night?"

The story was quickly told. Nevertheless, by the time Penny had telephoned to Mrs. Weems, it was after eight o'clock. Footsteps pounded on the stairway. An elderly man, his hat and overcoat encrusted with snow, swept into the room.

"My relief," said Salt, presenting Nate Adams to the girls. "I'm free to shove off now."

"Hope you can start your car," commented the newcomer. "It's mighty cold, and the temperature is still dropping."

Salt's battered coupe was parked not far from the tower. Snow blanketed the windshield. He wiped it away and after several attempts started the engine.

"Think I'd better stop at the first garage and have more alcohol put in the radiator. No use in taking a chance."

Salt followed the same road over which the girls had trudged an hour earlier. In passing the estate not far from Old Henry's cabin, Penny peered with renewed interest at the big house. In the blinding snow storm she could not be sure, but she thought a light gleamed from an upstairs window.

"Salt," she inquired, "who lives in that place?"

"Can't tell you," he replied, without turning his head.

"Does anyone live there now?"

"Haven't seen anyone since I took over as observer at the tower. Nate Adams tells me the estate has a private air field. No planes have taken off or landed while I've been on duty."

"I thought I saw a light just now in an upstairs window."

"Probably a reflection from the car headlights," Salt answered carelessly.

The car passed Old Henry's cabin and crept on until it came to a crossroad. Several buildings were clustered on either side of the main highway.

"Guess I'll stop at Mattie's garage," Salt said.

As he pulled up on a gravel runway, a masculine looking woman came to the door of the car. She was in her mid-thirties and wore a man's coat much too large for her. The girls guessed, and correctly, that she was Mattie Williams, owner of the garage and filling station.

"How many will you have?" she asked Salt, briskly clearing the windshield of snow.

The photographer replied that he did not require gasoline, but wanted at least a quart of alcohol.

"Drive into the garage," the woman instructed, opening a pair of double doors. "I'll have Sam take care of it."

As the car rolled into the building, Mattie shouted loudly to a stoop-shouldered man who was busy in the rear office: "Hey, Sam! Look after this customer, will you?"

Sam Burkholder slouched over to the car and began to unscrew the radiator cap. Penny and Louise assumed that the man must be Mattie's husband, but a remark to that effect was corrected by Salt.

"Sam is Mattie's partner," he explained in an undertone. "It's hard to tell which one of them is boss of the place."

Losing interest in the pair, Penny and Louise climbed out of the coupe. They had noticed a cafe next door and thought they might go there for a cup of hot coffee.

"Go ahead," Salt encouraged. "I'll stay here until this job is finished, and join you."

As the girls let themselves out the garage door, a truck pulled up in front of the cafe. They would have given it no more than a casual glance had not the driver alighted. He was a short, ruddy-faced man with a missing front tooth which made his facial expression rather grotesque. Without glancing at the girls, he entered the restaurant.

"That man!" exclaimed Louise. "Haven't we seen him somewhere?"

"We have indeed," agreed Penny grimly. "He's the same driver who refused us a ride. Let's march in there and give him a piece of our minds!"

CHAPTER
3
_AN UNPLEASANT DRIVER_

From outside the lighted cafe, the girls could see the truck driver slouched at one of the counter stools.

"I'm willing to go inside," said Louise, "but why start a fuss? After all, I suppose he had a right to refuse us a ride."

"We might have frozen to death!"

"Well, he probably didn't realize we were lost."

"I wish I had your charitable disposition," Penny said with a sniff. "He heard me shout, and he drove away just to be mean."

"Anyway, let's forget it."

Louise took Penny's elbow, steering her toward the cafe. The girls had been friends since grade school days. They made an excellent pair, for Louise exerted a subduing effect upon her impulsive chum.

The only daughter of Anthony Parker, publisher of the _Star_, Penny had a talent for innocently getting into trouble. Inactivity bored her. When nothing more exciting offered, she frequently tried her hand at writing stories for her father's newspaper. Such truly important yarns as _The Vanishing Houseboat_, _The Wishing Well_, _Behind the Green Door_, and _The Clock Strikes Thirteen_ had rolled from her typewriter. Penny thoroughly enjoyed reportorial work, but best of all she loved to take an active part in the adventures she recounted.

"Now remember," Louise warned her, "not a word to that truck driver. We'll just snub him."

"Oh, all right. I'll try to behave myself."

Grinning, Penny allowed herself to be guided toward the restaurant. Near the doorway they came to the parked truck, and noticed that it was loaded with large wooden boxes.

"War equipment," commented Penny.

"How do you know?"

"Why, the boxes are unmarked except by numerals. Haven't you noticed, Lou, that's the way machines and materials are transported to and from factories. It's done so no one can tell what's inside."

Penny opened the door and they went into the warm, smoky cafe. As they seated themselves at a table the driver glanced toward them, but seemingly without recognition.

"How about a date tonight, Baby?" he asked the waitress.

Without replying, the girl slapped a menu card on the counter in front of him.

"High toned, ain't you?" he chuckled.

"What will it be?" the waitress demanded impatiently.

"How about a nice smile, Baby?"

Turning away, the waitress started to serve another customer.

"Gimme a cup o' coffee and two sinkers," the driver hurled after her. "And make it snappy too! I'm in a hurry."

Once the coffee and doughnuts had been set before him, the man was in no haste to consume them. He read a newspaper and fed a dollar and a half into a pin-ball machine.

Penny and Louise ordered coffee. Knowing that Salt might be waiting for them, they swallowed the brew scalding hot and arose to leave.

At the cashier's desk Penny paid the bill. Upon impulse she quietly asked the man behind the cash register if he knew the driver.

"Fellow by the name of Hank Biglow," he answered.

Before Penny could ask another question, a police patrol car screeched to a standstill just outside the restaurant. The cafe owner turned to stare as did the driver.

"What are those cops comin' here for?" Hank Biglow demanded.

"How should I know?" retorted the cafe owner. "Maybe they want to ask you a few questions about that cargo you carry!"

"What do you mean by that crack?" the driver asked harshly.

As the cashier shrugged and did not reply, Hank allowed the matter to pass. Although he remained at the counter, he kept watching the police car through the window.

The brief interchange between cafe owner and driver had interested Penny. To delay her departure, she bought a candy bar and began to unwrap it.

Only one policeman had alighted from the car. Tramping into the cafe, he pounded his hands together and sought the warmth of a radiator.

"Mind if I have a little of your heat?" he asked the cafe owner.

"Help yourself."

Penny had been watching Hank Biglow. A moment before the man had sat tense and nervous at the counter. Now he seemed completely relaxed and at ease as he sipped his coffee.

"Hello, Hank," the policeman greeted him. "Didn't see you at first. How's the trucking business?"

"Okay," the trucker growled. "Workin' me night and day."

The casual conversation disappointed Penny. Her first thought had been that Hank Biglow feared a police investigation. Seemingly, she had indulged in wishful thinking.

Having no further reason for remaining in the cafe, the girls stepped out into the storm.

"A pity that policeman wasn't looking for Hank Biglow," Penny muttered.

"I thought for a minute he was," responded Louise, stooping to fasten the buckle of her heavy overshoe. "At least Hank acted peculiar."

"You heard what the cashier said to him?"

"About the cargo he carried?"

"Yes," nodded Penny, "what do you suppose he meant?"

"Don't you think it was intended as a joke?"

"It didn't seem that way to me, Lou. Hank took offense at the remark. He was as nervous as a cat, too."

Penny stared curiously at the big truck which was parked not far from the police car.

"I wonder what can be in those big boxes, Lou?"

"A few minutes ago you said they contained tools or defense plant products."

"That was only my guess. I assumed it from the lack of marking on the boxes."

Penny paused beside the big truck. Pressing her face close to an opening between the slats, she counted ten large crates, all the same size and shape.

"Lou, maybe this isn't defense plant merchandise," she speculated. "Maybe it's some sort of contraband...."

Penny's words trailed off. Someone had touched her on the shoulder.

Whirling around, she faced the same policeman who a moment before had entered the cafe.

"What do you think you're doing?" he inquired.

"Why, just looking," stammered Penny. "We were wondering what's inside these boxes."

"Machinery," replied the policeman. "Now skidoo! Behave yourselves or I'll have to speak to your parents."

CHAPTER
4
_STOLEN TIRES_

"We're very sorry," Louise apologized to the policeman. "We didn't suppose it would do any harm to look at the outside of the boxes."

"Run along, run along," the officer said impatiently.

Penny was tempted to make a rather pointed remark, but Louise pulled her away.

"Never argue with a policeman," she whispered. "You always lose."

"We weren't doing any harm," Penny scowled. "What does he think we are, a couple of female spies?"

Entering the garage, the girls saw that the car had been serviced. Salt could be seen inside the little glass-enclosed office.

"I'm waiting for Sam Burkholder," he explained as they joined him. "He took care of the radiator and then disappeared."

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, shifting 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 appetite. 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_. Passing through the busy newsroom where reporters pounded at their typewriters, she entered her father's private office.

"Hello, 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, pushing 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?"

Mr. Parker hesitated and then said: "I can trust you, can't I, Penny?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll tell you this in confidence. For weeks Jerry Livingston, our star reporter, has been working on the case. He's rounded up a lot of evidence against the outfit."

"Then we have a chance to get those tires back!"

"I'm not thinking about that," Mr. Parker said impatiently. "Jerry's gathered enough evidence to smash the entire gang. It will be as big a story as the _Star_ ever published."

"When are you breaking it, Dad?"

"Perhaps tomorrow. Depends on the state prosecutor."

"John Gilmore? What does he have to do with it?"

"This story is loaded with dynamite, Penny. If we spread it over our front page before police have a chance to act, the guilty parties are apt to make a getaway."

"That's so," nodded Penny.

"There's another reason I want to consult the Prosecutor before I use the story," Mr. Parker resumed. "Some of the men involved--"

A tap sounded on the door. Without completing what he had started to say, the editor called, "Come in."

Jerry Livingston entered the office. He was a good-looking young man, alert and clean-cut. Smiling at Penny, he slapped a folded paper on Mr. Parker's desk.

"Here's my story on the tire thefts, Chief," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, this winds up the case."

"You've done fine work, Jerry," Mr. Parker praised. "Thanks to your work, we ought to clean out the gang."

"I hope so, Chief. Guess you have all the proofs needed to back up the story."

"All the evidence is locked in my safe. I have an appointment scheduled with the Prosecutor. If he Okays the story, we'll publish it tomorrow. By the way, Jerry, what are your plans?"

"Well, I have a couple of weeks before I go into the Army Air Corps."

"Then treat yourself to a vacation, starting right now," said Mr. Parker. "Can you use it?"

"Can I?" grinned Jerry. "Know what I'll do? I'll hop the noon train and head for the Canadian wilds on a hunting trip."

Mr. Parker wrote out a check which he presented to the young man.

"We'll be sorry to lose you, Jerry," he said regretfully. "But remember, a job always will be waiting when you return."

The reporter shook hands with Mr. Parker and Penny, then left the office.

"We'll miss Jerry around here," the editor remarked.

Penny nodded. She and Jerry had shared many an adventure together, and he was one of her truest friends. The office would not seem the same without him.

"My appointment with the Prosecutor is at ten-thirty," said Mr. Parker briskly. "I'll gather my papers and be on my way."

The editor placed Jerry's signed story in a leather portfolio. Next he went to the safe and fumbled with the dial.

"Want me to open it for you?" Penny asked, after he had tried several times.

Without waiting for a reply, she stooped down, twisted the dial a few times, and opened the heavy door.

"Young lady, how did you learn the combination?" Mr. Parker demanded in chagrin.

"Oh, the numbers are written on the under side of your desk," Penny grinned. "Not a very good place either! You must trust your office help."

"Fortunately my reporters aren't quite as observing as a certain daughter," Mr. Parker retorted grimly.

The editor removed a fat brown envelope from one of the drawers of the safe. Glancing at the papers it contained, he added them to the contents of the portfolio. He then locked the safe.

"How about letting me see that story?" Penny asked.

Mr. Parker smiled but shook his head. "Only two persons know the facts of the case--Jerry and myself."

"Let's make it a trio."

"It will be after I've talked to the Prosecutor. I've got to step right along, too, or I'll be late."

"But Dad--"

"You'll read the story in tomorrow's _Star_--I hope," her father laughed. Picking up the portfolio, he started for the door. "Just contain your impatience until I get back. And please keep those slippery little fingers away from my safe!"

CHAPTER
5
_AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW_

After her father had gone, Penny remained in the private office. Eager to be off, Mr. Parker had neglected to make any arrangements concerning the stripped car at the Riverview Yacht Club.

"Oh, bother!" she thought impatiently. "Now I must wait here until he comes back to learn what I'm to do. The car should be hauled home."

Penny wrote a letter on the typewriter. As she searched for a stamp, the door swung open. A slightly bald, angular man with hard brown eyes, paused on the threshold. The man was Harley Schirr, an assistant editor, next in authority to Mr. DeWitt. Of the entire _Star_ staff, he was the only person Penny actively disliked.

"Oh, good morning, Miss Parker," he said with elaborate courtesy. "Your father isn't here?"

"No, he went away a few minutes ago."

"And you are taking care of the office in his absence?" Mr. Schirr smiled. Even so, to Penny's sensitive ears, the words had an insolent ring.

"I'm merely waiting for him to return," she answered briefly. "I came to find out what to do about the car."

"Oh, yes, I heard that all of your tires were stolen last night." Mr. Schirr's lips twitched. "Too bad."

"I may get them back again. Dad says--" Penny checked herself, remembering that the information given her by her father was to be kept secret.

"Yes?" encouraged the assistant editor.

"Perhaps police will catch the thieves," she completed.

"I shouldn't count on it if I were you, Miss Parker. Black Markets have flourished in this city for months. Nothing's been done to stop it."

"Just what do you mean by a Black Market, Mr. Schirr?"

"Illegal trading in various scarce commodities. Tires either stolen or hijacked, are sold by the crooks to so-called honest dealers who serve the public. It's now a big-time business."

"What does Dad think about it?"

"Well, now, I really couldn't tell you. Your father doesn't discuss his editorial policy with me. If he did, I'd warn him to lay off all those tire-theft stories."

Penny gazed quickly at the assistant editor, wondering how much he knew of her father's plan.

"Dad usually prints all the news," she said. "Why should he soft-pedal the tire stories?"

"For his health's sake."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Schirr."

The assistant editor had closed the door behind him. Warming to his subject, he replied: "The men who have muscled into the tire theft racket are ugly lads without scruples. If your father stupidly insists upon trying to smash the outfit, he may not wake up some morning."

The suggestion that her father might ruthlessly be done away with shocked Penny. And a canny corner of her mind demanded to know how Mr. Schirr could be so well informed. She was quite certain her father had not taken him into his confidence.

"Dad is no coward," she said proudly.

"Oh, no one ever questioned his bravery, Miss Parker. Your father is courageous to the point of rashness. But if he prints an expose story about the tire theft gang, it's apt to prove the most foolish act of his life."

"How do you know he intends to do such a thing?"

The question, sharply put, surprised Mr. Schirr.

"Oh, I don't," he denied hastily. "I merely heard the rumor around the office."

Penny made no reply. As the silence became noticeable, the assistant editor murmured that he would return to see Mr. Parker later and left the office.

Penny glared at the man's retreating back. Even more intensely than before, she disliked Harley Schirr.

"The old sneak cat!" she thought. "I'll bet a cent he's been listening at the door or prying in Dad's papers! I'm sure no rumors have been circulating around the office."

The telephone rang. Automatically Penny took down the receiver.

"Mr. Parker?" inquired a masculine voice.

"He's not here now. This is his daughter speaking. May I take a message?"

"No message," said the purring voice. "Mr. Parker may hear from me later."

"Who is this, please?" asked Penny quickly.

There was no answer, only the click of a receiver being hung on its hook.

The incident, although trifling, annoyed Penny. Getting up from the desk, she walked to the window. Mr. Schirr's intimation had alarmed her, and now the telephone call added to her uneasiness.

"Probably the man who telephoned is well known to Dad," she tried to assure herself. "I'm just imagining that his voice sounded sinister."

Feeling the need of an occupation, Penny wandered out into the editorial room. She chatted with the society editor and for a time watched the world news reports coming in on the noisy teletype machines.

"Need a job?" inquired Editor DeWitt at the slot of the circular copy desk. "How about writing a few headlines for me?"

"No, thanks," Penny declined. "I'm just waiting for Dad. He should be back any minute now."

It was eleven-forty by the office clock. Never had time seemed to pass so slowly. As Penny debated whether or not to wait any longer, there was a sudden stir in the room. Glancing toward the outside door, she saw that Jerry Livingston, suitcase in hand, had entered.

Immediately reporters and editors left their desks to shake his hand.

"Jerry, you're the best reporter this paper ever had," Mr. DeWitt told him warmly. "We surely hate to see you go."

"Oh, I'll be back," the reporter answered. "You can bet on that!"

Penny crossed the room to say goodbye. Jerry surprisingly tucked her arm through his.

"Come along and see me off on the train," he invited, pulling her along. "Not doing anything special, are you?"

"Just waiting for Dad."

"Then come on," Jerry grinned. "I've got a lot to say to you."

However, once in the taxi, speeding toward the railroad station, the reporter scarcely spoke. He reached out and captured her hand.

"I'm going to miss you, little twirp," he sighed. "No telling when I'll get back to the _Star_. Maybe--"

"Now don't try to work on my sympathies," laughed Penny, though a lump came in her throat. "Oh, Jerry--"

"At your command. Just break down and confess how desolate you'll be without me."

The railroad station was close by and Penny had only a moment to talk.

"Riverview will be a blank without you," she admitted. "But it's that tire-theft story I want to ask you about. Did you ever tell anyone that Dad is planning to expose the gang?"

"Of course not!"

"I knew you wouldn't give out any information," Penny said in relief. "But somehow Harley Schirr has learned about it."

"Schirr! That egg? How could he have found out?"

"I'd like to know myself. He hinted that something dreadful might happen to Dad if the story is printed."

Jerry patted Penny's hand. "Don't give it a thought, kid," he said. "Schirr does a lot of wild talking. Probably whatever he said to you was pure bluff. He doesn't know a thing."

The arrival of the cab at the station put an end to the conversation. Jerry paid the driver and hustled Penny inside. He barely had time to purchase a ticket before the train was called.

"Well, goodbye," Jerry said, squeezing her hand.

"Have a good time in Canada," Penny replied. "And bring me a nice bear rug!"

"Sure, I'll catch him with my bare hands," Jerry rejoined, making a feeble attempt at a joke.

The train began to move. The reporter swung himself aboard the last Pullman. As he waved from the steps, Penny realized that she had forgotten to ask for his Canadian address.

Soon the train was only a blur down the frosty tracks. Penny climbed a steep ramp to the street. She felt lonesome, and for some reason, discouraged.

"First I lose my car wheels, and now it's Jerry," she reflected sadly. "What a week!"

Penny scarcely knew whether to go home or to the _Star_ office. As she debated the matter, her ears were assaulted by the shrill scream of a siren.

"A fire," thought Penny.

An ambulance rushed past. It raced to the end of the short street and pulled up.

"Probably an accident," amended Penny.

Curious to learn what had happened, she began to run. At the end of the street a large crowd had gathered. A car with a smashed fender and damaged front grillwork, had piled against a street lamp.

"What happened?" Penny asked a man who stood beside her.

"Two cars in a smash-up," he answered. "Didn't see the accident myself."

"But what became of the other automobile?" asked Penny.

She pushed through the gathering crowd to the curb. Broken glass was scattered over the pavement. Ambulance men were searching the wreckage of the car which had struck the lamp post. The other automobile, apparently, had driven away.

Suddenly, Penny's gaze riveted on the rear license plate of the smashed car. In horror she read the number--P-619-10.

"Dad's car!" she whispered. "He's been hurt!"

CHAPTER
6
_FRONT PAGE NEWS_

Never in her life had Penny been more frightened. Breaking away from the group of people at the curb, she ran to the parked ambulance. A glance into the interior assured her that Mr. Parker had not been placed inside on a stretcher.

"Where is he?" she asked wildly. "Where's my father?"

A white-garbed ambulance attendant turned to stare at her.

"That's my father's car!" Penny cried, pointing to the battered sedan. "Tell me, was he badly hurt?"

The attendant tried to be kind. "We don't know, Miss. Someone put in a call for us. Said we were to pick up an injured man. Evidently he was taken to a hospital before we could get here."

"That's what happened," contributed a small boy who stood close by. "A woman drove by in an auto. She offered to take the man to the hospital and he went with her."

"A tall, lean man in a gray suit?" Penny asked quickly.

"Yes. He had a leather case in his hand."

"Then it was my father!" Penny cried. "How badly was he hurt?"

"Oh, he could walk all right," the boy replied. "He seemed kinda dazed though."

Greatly relieved to learn that her father had escaped serious injury, Penny sought more information. The boy who had witnessed the accident, told her that the car which had caused the smash-up, was a blue sedan.

"Two men were in it," he revealed. "They started to go around your father's car and crowded him toward the curb. Next thing I saw, he'd plowed into the lamp post."

"The other car didn't stop?"

"I'll say it didn't! You should have seen 'em go!"

"Didn't you notice the license number?" Penny asked hopefully.

The boy shook his head.

Having learned all she could from him, Penny questioned other persons. Only one woman in the crowd was able to provide additional information. Her eye-witness account differed slightly from the boy's, but she confirmed that a middle-aged woman in a black coupe had taken the accident victim to a hospital.

"Which hospital?" asked Penny.

The woman could not tell her. She did say, however, that the accident victim seemingly had suffered only minor scratches.

A police car drove up. Penny, frantic to find her father, did not wish to be delayed by questions. Without revealing who she was to members of the investigation squad, she hailed a taxi. Mercy Hospital was only a few blocks away. It seemed reasonable that her father would be taken there for treatment.

A few minutes later, standing anxiously at the information desk of that institution, she learned that Mr. Parker had not been admitted as a patient. The nurse in charge, noting the girl's agitation, kindly offered to telephone other hospitals. After six calls, she reported that she was unable to trace the accident victim.

"Are you sure that your father sought hospital treatment?" she asked Penny.

"Perhaps not. Dad wasn't badly hurt according to witnesses. He may have gone elsewhere."

Thanking the nurse for her help, Penny taxied swiftly home. Mrs. Weems, in an old coat and a turban, was pouring salt on the icy sidewalk in front of the house. From the look on her face it was evident she had not heard the news.

"Mrs. Weems, Dad's been hurt!" Penny cried, leaping from the cab. "In an auto accident!"

"My land!" the housekeeper gasped and allowed the bag of salt to fall from her gloved hand. "How bad is it?"

"I think he was more stunned than anything else. But I've not been able to learn where he was taken. He didn't telephone here?"

"Not unless it was since I've been outdoors."

Picking up the bag of salt, Mrs. Weems followed Penny into the house. Without removing coat or hat, the girl dialed the _Star_ office. Editor DeWitt answered.

"Has Dad arrived there?" Penny asked abruptly.

"No, he hasn't returned. Anything wrong?"

Tersely Penny revealed what had occurred. The news shocked the editor for he bore Mr. Parker a genuine affection.

"Now don't you worry," he tried to cheer her. "Your father can't be badly hurt or he never would have walked away from that accident. Just sit tight and our reporters will locate him for you."

During the next hour Penny and Mrs. Weems remained near the telephone. Each moment they waited, their anxiety increased. Mr. DeWitt did not phone. There was no word from the police station. They refused to believe that Mr. Parker had been seriously injured, yet it seemed strange he could not be found.

"It's not like him to allow anyone to worry," declared the housekeeper. "I simply can't understand why he doesn't call to relieve our minds."

Just then the telephone bell jingled. Penny snatched the receiver from its hook.