Chapter IV: Part 4

A figure had appeared in the garden beyond the gate. But the one who walked alone was not a ghost. Plainly he was garbed in street clothes rather than white. Over his suit he wore a heavy overcoat. A snap-brimmed hat was pulled low on his forehead.

Penny could not see the man's face, but the silhouette seemed strangely familiar.

"That looks like Dad!" she whispered, clutching Louise's hand. "It is he! I'm sure!"

"Oh, it can't be--"

Penny paid no heed to her chum's protest. Breaking away, she ran toward the gate.

The man in the garden became suddenly alert. As he heard the approaching footsteps he gazed toward the road. Upon seeing Penny he started to retreat.

"Wait!" she called frantically. "Don't you know me, Dad? It's Penny!"

The words seemed to convey nothing to the man. He shook his head in a baffled sort of way, and walked swiftly toward the house.

Penny ran on to the gate. It was locked, but she vaulted over, landing in a heap on the other side. By the time she had picked herself up, the man had vanished into the house.

"Are you hurt?" Louise cried, hurrying to the gate.

Penny brushed snow from her coat and did not answer.

"That man couldn't have been your father," Louise said kindly. "Do come back, Penny."

"But it was Dad! I'm sure of it!"

"You called to him," Louise argued. "If it had been Mr. Parker he couldn't have failed to recognize your voice."

"It was Dad," Penny insisted stubbornly. "He's being held a prisoner here!"

"But that's ridiculous! Whoever that man is, he could escape from the grounds just as easily as you climbed the gate."

Penny did not wish to believe, yet she knew her chum was right.

"Anyway, I'm going to talk to him," she declared. "Now that I am inside the grounds, I'll ring the doorbell."

Leaving Louise and Joe on the other side of the fence, Penny went boldly to the front door. She knocked several times and rang the bell. There was no response.

"Why doesn't someone answer?" she thought impatiently.

At the rear of the house a door slammed. Suddenly Louise called from the gate: "Penny! A woman is leaving the estate by the back way!"

Penny darted to the corner of the house. The same woman she had met earlier that day had let herself out the rear gate. Holding the skirts of her long black coat, she fairly ran across the snowy fields.

"Shall I nab her?" called Joe, eager for action.

Penny's reply was surprisingly calm.

"No, let her go," she decided. "While that woman is away, I'll get into the house. I think Dad is in there alone, and I'm going to find him!"

CHAPTER
18
_THROUGH THE CELLAR WINDOW_

Penny returned to the front porch and rang the doorbell many times. No one came to admit her. She tested the door, finding it locked. Windows above the porch level could not be raised.

"I'll try the back door," she said, refusing to accept defeat.

Louise and Joe followed her to the rear of the dwelling, but remained on the outside of the fence.

As Penny had feared, the back door also was locked. She tested eight windows. Finally she found one which opened into the cellar. To her delight the sash swung inward as she pushed on it.

"Here I go!" she called to Louise. "You and Joe stay where you are and keep watch."

Penny crawled through the narrow opening and swung herself down to the cellar floor. She landed with a thud beside a laundry tub. The room was dark. Groping her way toward a stairway, she tripped over a box and made a fearful clatter.

"I've certainly advertised my arrival!" she thought ruefully.

At the top of the stairway Penny found a light switch and boldly turned it on. The kitchen door was not locked. She opened it and stepped out into another semi-dark room.

A doorbell at the front of the house began to ring. Penny was dumbfounded. Then she became annoyed, thinking that Louise and the cab driver were trying to get in.

Groping her way through the house, she unlocked the door and flung it open.

"For Pity Sakes!" she exclaimed, and then her voice trailed off.

A uniformed messenger boy stood on the porch.

"Mrs. Botts live here?" he asked, taking a telegram from his jacket pocket.

Penny did not know what to answer. Thinking quickly, she replied: "This is the Deming estate."

The messenger boy turned the beam of his flashlight on the telegram. "Mrs. Lennie Botts, Stop 4, Care of G. A. Deming," he read aloud. "This is the place all right."

"But Mrs. Botts isn't at home now."

"I've had a lot of trouble getting here," the boy complained. "Even had to climb over the gate. How about signing for the telegram?"

"Oh, all right," agreed Penny, accepting the pencil. "I don't know why I didn't think of that idea myself!"

In return for the telegram she gave the boy a small tip. The moment he had gone, she closed the front door and switched on a table lamp.

Penny found herself in a luxuriously furnished living room. The rug underfoot was Chinese, the furniture solid mahogany, hand carved. However, she had no interest in her surroundings. Rather tensely, she examined the telegram. Dared she open it?

"What's ten years or so of jail in my young life?" she cajoled herself. "I'm willing to spend it in Sing Sing if only I can find Dad!"

Penny ripped open the envelope. The message, addressed to Mrs. Lennie Botts was terse and none too revealing:

"HAVE CHANGED PLANS. WILL RETURN THE TWENTY-SEVENTH BY PLANE. PLEASE HAVE EVERYTHING IN READINESS."

The telegram was signed by the owner of the estate, G. A. Deming.

"Today is the twenty-seventh of the month," thought Penny. "This message must have been several hours delayed."

The telegram had provided little information. Evidently the woman who had refused to tell her name was Mrs. Lennie Botts. Regretting that she had opened the message, Penny tossed it carelessly on the table.

Footsteps sounded on the floor directly above. Penny had taken no pains to be quiet. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened as she heard someone pad to the head of the stairway. A muffled voice called: "Who's there?"

Penny's heart leaped for she was sure she recognized the tones. Fairly trembling with excitement, she darted to the foot of the circular staircase. On the top landing in the heavy shadows stood a man whose face she could not see.

"Dad!" she cried. "I'm Penny."

"Penny?" the man demanded impatiently as if the name meant nothing to him. "Where is Mrs. Botts?"

"Why, she went away."

"And how did you get into the house?"

"Through a cellar window."

"I thought so! Young lady, I don't know what you're doing here in Mrs. Bott's absence. Unless you leave at once I'll summon the police."

Penny was not to be discouraged so easily. She started slowly up the stairway.

"Stand where you are!" the man ordered sharply. "I've been sick, but I'm still a match for any house-breaker. I have a revolver--"

So dark was the stairway that Penny could not know whether or not the man was bluffing. His voice, startlingly similar to her father's, sounded grim and determined. Knowing that a stranger would have good reason to treat her as a burglar, she was afraid to venture further.

"Dad--" she began.

"Don't keep calling me Dad!" he snapped.

"Who are you?" asked Penny, completely baffled.

"Who am I?" the man repeated. "Why, I'm Lester Jones, a salesman. I room here."

The answer dumbfounded Penny. "Then you're not being held a prisoner by Mrs. Botts?" she faltered.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Botts has been very kind to me. Especially since I've been sick."

Penny's perplexity increased. "But I've seen you wandering in the garden at night," she murmured. "Why do you do it?"

"Because--oh, hang it! Do I have to explain everything to you? My head's aching again. Unless you go away and stop bothering me, I'll call the police."

Penny was completely crushed. She had been so sure that the man was her father! Seemingly she had made a very stupid mistake.

"I'll go," she said quietly.

Retreating down the stairway, she left the opened telegram on the living-room table and switched off the light. Then unlocking the kitchen door, she rejoined Louise and Joe.

"I guess you didn't have any luck," her chum commented, observing her downcast face.

Penny ruefully admitted that the man who had been seen in the garden was Lester Jones.

"I knew he wasn't your father," Louise replied. "You wouldn't listen to reason--"

"All the same, his voice was similar," Penny cut in. "Why, the man even used one of Dad's pet expressions."

"What was it?" Louise inquired curiously.

"'Oh, hang it!' That's the expression Dad uses when he's irritated."

Louise helped her chum over the back fence and guided her toward the parked taxi. Midway there Penny paused to stare up at the dark windows of the second floor.

"Lou!" she exclaimed. "That man must have been Dad even if he didn't know me!"

"Oh, Penny, don't start that all over again," Louise pleaded. "You're only torturing yourself."

"I'm going back!"

"No, we can't let you, Penny."

Louise held her chum's arm firmly. Joe opened the door of the taxi and they pushed her in. Penny protested for a moment, then submitted.

"All right, but we're going straight to the police station!" she announced. "I'll not be satisfied until that man positively is identified as Lester Jones."

A few minutes later, at the police station, Detective Fuller heard the entire story. It was the first he had learned about Mrs. Botts, for Penny's earlier message had not been delivered by Policeman Burns.

"For that matter, I've not seen Burns today," the detective explained. "I'll go to the estate at once and question the woman."

Again Penny and Louise taxied to the estate, this time trailed by a police car. Detective Fuller broke the padlock on the gate and led the party to the front door.

A light now burned in the living room. To Penny's astonishment, the door was opened by Mrs. Botts.

"Good evening," she greeted the visitors pleasantly.

Detective Fuller flashed his badge. "We want to ask you a few questions," he said. "May we come in?"

With obvious reluctance the woman stepped aside, allowing the party to enter the living room. Penny's gaze roved to the center table. The telegram which she had opened no longer was there.

Mrs. Botts did not offer chairs to the callers. Glaring at Penny with undisguised dislike, she said coldly: "I suppose I am indebted to you for this visit. What is it you want?"

"I understand you have a roomer here," began Detective Fuller.

"A roomer?" Mrs. Botts echoed blankly.

"Yes, a man by the name of Lester Jones."

"Ridiculous! You don't seem to realize that this is the Deming estate."

"Are you an employee here?"

"I am the housekeeper. During Mr. Deming's absence I look after the property. I assure you no one but myself lives in the house at present."

"No roomer ever has stayed here?"

Mrs. Botts drew herself up proudly. "Would Mr. Deming be likely to annoy himself with roomers? He has a very substantial fortune."

"You might try to pick up a few dollars yourself."

"Mr. Deming would not hear of such a thing! He pays me well."

Detective Fuller asked additional questions, trying to learn whether or not the woman was the one who had fled from the cemetery. Mrs. Botts frankly admitted that she had taken Mr. Parker to the hospital, but she denied ever trying to collect a ransom.

"What you say now doesn't agree with your original story," Penny protested. "You admitted to me--"

"I admitted nothing," Mrs. Botts broke in indignantly. "I have no secrets to hide!"

"But I'm sure Mr. Jones is living in this house," Penny said stubbornly. "He's upstairs."

"Indeed?" mocked Mrs. Botts. "Perhaps you'd like to search the house."

"Yes, we would," said Detective Fuller.

Mrs. Botts remained undisturbed. Bestowing upon Penny a look of deep contempt, she motioned toward the stairway.

"Very well, search the house," she invited with cool assurance. "I've told you the truth. You'll find no one here but myself."

CHAPTER
19
_A BAFFLING SEARCH_

In systematic, unhurried fashion, Detective Fuller went through every room in the Deming house. The bed chambers, nine in number, were in perfect order. Only Mrs. Botts' suite over the kitchen appeared to have been used recently.

As the search progressed, Penny's bewilderment increased. She knew that Lester Jones had been in the house an hour earlier, yet there was no sign of him. Personally she inspected clothes closets and bureau drawers. Not an article could she find that ever had belonged to her father. She did come upon a white woolen bathrobe. Believing it to be the garment worn by the "ghost" she called it to Detective Fuller's attention.

"Oh, that robe belongs to my employer, Mr. Deming," explained Mrs. Botts.

Penny indicated water stains along the hem which suggested that the garment had been allowed to trail in the snow.

"Sometimes I wear the robe when I go outside to bring in the washing," replied Mrs. Botts. "It is warmer than my coat."

Try as she would, Penny could not trip the woman into making any damaging admissions. Mrs. Botts had changed her original story and would not acknowledge that she had fled from the cemetery. Stubbornly, she maintained that she had told everything she knew about Mr. Parker's disappearance.

"I took him to Mercy Hospital in my employer's car," she repeated to Detective Fuller. "That's the last I saw of him."

"In what condition was Mr. Parker when you left him?" questioned the detective.

"He seemed all right. Perhaps he was a bit dazed."

"Why didn't you report to the police?"

"Because I didn't see the newspapers for a day," Mrs. Botts replied sullenly. "Later I read Miss Parker's offer of a reward."

"Then you did write, requesting me to run the ad in the _Star_!" Penny cried triumphantly.

"No, of course not," Mrs. Botts retorted, "I merely read the item."

Penny knew Mrs. Botts was not telling the entire truth, but to prove it seemed an impossible matter. Neither could she establish that a man who claimed to be Lester Jones had been living in the house. True, Louise and the taxi driver would support her story, but it would only be their word against Mrs. Botts'. The situation had become hopelessly confusing.

Detective Fuller was not entirely satisfied with the housekeeper's story. "Guess we'll have to take you along to the station for questioning," he concluded.

Only then did Mrs. Botts lose her composure.

"No, don't take me away!" she pleaded anxiously. "My employer is coming home tonight. I just received the telegram. If I'm not here when he arrives, I may lose my job!"

Actually Detective Fuller had little evidence against Mrs. Botts and doubted that he could hold her many hours in jail. Far more might be gained by allowing the woman her freedom and keeping watch of the house.

"We'll let you stay here," he decided after a moment's thought. "However, you'll be wanted for questioning a little later. Make no attempt to leave the premises."

"I won't try to go away," Mrs. Botts promised. "I want to cooperate with the police. All I ask is that my employer, Mr. Deming, doesn't hear of this. I'm innocent and it's not right for me to lose a good job."

Very shortly the party bade the woman goodbye and left the estate. Detective Fuller assigned a policeman to keep watch of the property and then returned to Riverview. Louise and Penny, completely bewildered, left with their driver, Joe, debated their next action.

"Where to?" the cabman inquired. "Home?"

"I suppose so," sighed Penny. "I never was in such a muddle in all my life. What became of that man I thought was Dad?"

"He must have left the house while we were at the police station," Louise declared. "It was a surprise finding Mrs. Botts there too! She must have returned in a hurry after we went away."

"Mrs. Botts got rid of Lester Jones somehow," Penny said with conviction. "Oh, she's a slick one!"

As Joe shifted gears, the girls observed a dark figure approaching the estate from down the road.

"Wait!" Penny instructed the cabman. "Let's see who it is."

A moment later the figure emerged from the shadow cast by a giant tree. Penny was surprised to recognize Mose Johnson. The old colored man carried a basket on his arm and evidently had been doing a little late marketing at the crossroads store.

"Good evening, Mose," Penny greeted him as he approached the cab.

"Evenin', Miss Penny," he beamed, pausing. "I'se suah astonished to see yo' all out dis way. Has yo' been lookin' for dat ghost?"

"I'm afraid I have," Penny admitted ruefully. "I've certainly had no luck."

Mose shifted the market basket to his other hand. "Dat ole ghost ain't been around so much lately," he explained. "I comes by dis spot half an hour ago on my way to de sto' to get some victuals. Dere wasn't no ghost around den either. If dere had a been I'd have seen him, you kin be suah o' dat. I was mighty skittish and ready to make mahself absent in about two shakes."

"And you didn't see a thing?" inquired Penny.

"Well now, I can't rightly say dat," Old Mose corrected. "I didn't see no ghost but I did see a taxicab."

"Ours, I suppose."

"Not dis one, Miss. De cab I see was a yelleh one."

The information interested Penny. "Which way was it going, Mose?" she asked quickly.

"It wasn't goin', Miss Penny. It was standin' right at de gate. Den I sees two dark lookin' white men git out and go into de big house."

"You did?" Penny demanded eagerly. "Then what happened? Did the cab drive away?"

"It waited 'till de two men came back, 'cept when dey comes back dere is three of 'em!"

"Three men?" Penny cried, her excitement mounting. "What did the third man look like, Mose? Think hard! It's very important."

"Well," said Mose, "he was tall and he had something in his hand. A funny lookin' little satchel. I guess you calls it a quick-case."

"You don't mean a brief case?"

"Yes, dat's it," Mose grinned. "Anyways, dey all gits in de taxicab and off dey snorts. And dat's all I sees. Dere wasn't no ghost."

The colored man's rambling information served to confirm Penny's own suspicions. Mrs. Botts had lied. A roomer known as Lester Jones had been held at the house and later hustled away. Perhaps the man _was_ her father!

"Mose," she cried, "the person you saw may have been Dad! Did it look like him?"

"Why, now yo' speaks of it, dere was somethin' about dat man dat look like Mr. Parker," the colored man agreed. "Kinda de way he walked. I couldn't see his face cause he kept it sort o' tucked down in his collar."

"All the same, it must have been Dad!" Penny exclaimed. "The brief case practically proves it! Tell me, which way did the cab go?"

"Straight down de road," said Mose, pointing. "But de car's been gone a long time now. If you figures on catchin' dose men, you all bettah be travelin'."

CHAPTER
20
_ACCUSATIONS_

Alarmed and excited by Mose Johnson's revelation, Penny glanced about for the policeman who had been assigned to watch the Deming mansion. The officer had taken cover somewhere and was not to be seen.

"Joe, drive as fast as you can to the airplane spotting station!" she ordered the cabman. "I'll telephone the police station from there."

As the taxi bounced along over the frozen road, the girls kept close watch for the yellow cab Mose Johnson had mentioned. They did not expect to overtake it. If the old colored man's story was accurate, the taxi bearing Mr. Parker had left the mansion at least a half hour earlier.

"Dad must have been spirited away immediately after I talked to him!" Penny said. "He's been drugged or something! Otherwise he would have known me."

"But according to Mose, your father must have gone willingly with those men," Louise returned.

"That's the queer part."

"Of course, you're not certain the man is your father."

"Yes, I am!" Penny insisted. "I was almost sure of it earlier this evening. Now I know! Oh, Lou, something terrible has happened to Dad!"

Louise drew her chum into the hollow of her arm. "Brace up!" she said sternly. "You're not going to cave in now, are you?"

Penny's slumping shoulders stiffened. She brushed away a tear. "Of course I'm not going to cave in!" she replied indignantly. "I'll find Dad--tonight, too!"

Enroute to the airplane spotting station, the cab neither met nor passed any vehicle. Leaving Louise in the taxi, Penny clattered up the tower steps and burst into the overheated room where Salt Sommers was making out a report. Her words fairly tumbled over one another as she told him what had happened.

"Will you notify police for me?" she pleaded.

"Of course," Salt assured her, reaching for a telephone. "My relief's due in five minutes now, so I'll be free to join in the search."

While the photographer waited impatiently for a connection, Penny asked him if he had seen a yellow taxi pass the tower.

"Not since I've been on duty. The cab must have taken another road."

Salt completed the call to the Riverview Police Station and was told that every radio-equipped cruiser in the city would be ordered to watch for the yellow cab. As he hung up the receiver, a low humming sound was heard outside the tower.

"Listen!" commanded Salt. "A plane!"

Distinctly they both could hear the roar of a motor to the eastward.

"That's an unidentified ship," Salt declared, reaching for another telephone. Taking down the receiver he said tersely: "Army Flash," and went on to report the position of the passing airplane.

Penny had gone to the doorway. She could see the wing lights of the passing ship. As she watched, the lights descended in a steep glide.

"Salt!" she called. "The plane is landing!"

The photographer darted to the platform to see for himself. "You're right!" he exclaimed. "It's coming down at the Deming estate!"

"Mr. Deming is due home tonight from the East," Penny added. "That must be his plane."

Salt went inside to complete his report to headquarters. As he rejoined Penny, they saw a man trudging along the road toward the tower.

"My relief," said the photographer. "I'm free to go."

Gathering up his belongings, he followed Penny to the waiting taxicab. There a brief conference was held. The girls were in favor of searching for the yellow taxi, but Salt pointed out that the chance of finding it was a slim one. He proposed that they return to the mansion and try to force information from Mrs. Botts.

"Detective Fuller had no luck," replied Penny. "She has one story and she sticks to it. Her one fear is that she'll lose her job."

"Then this is the time to make things merry for her!" urged the photographer. "If Mr. Deming just arrived home, we'll toss a few firebrands around and find out what he has to say!"

The suggestion appealed to Penny. From the first she had distrusted Mrs. Botts and felt that police had been entirely too lenient with her.

"All right, let's go!" she agreed. "If Mrs. Botts loses her job, I'm sure it's no more than she deserves."

Joe drove the party once more to the Deming mansion. No policeman was in evidence near the premises. Actually he had gone to the crossroads store to report to his superiors the arrival of Mr. Deming's airplane, but at the moment Penny assumed the man was neglecting his duties.

"If this case ever is solved, we must do it ourselves!" she declared, thumping on the front door. "I'm in no mood to take any slippery answers from Mrs. Botts!"

After a long delay the door was opened by the caretaker. Recognizing Penny and her friends, the woman sought to lock them out.

"Oh, no you don't!" said Salt, pushing her firmly aside. "We want to see Mr. Deming."

"He's not here," Mrs. Botts replied nervously. "Please leave me alone. Go away!"

Ignoring the plea, Penny, Louise, and the photographer walked boldly into the living room. A fire burned in the grate and there were fresh flowers on the table.

"Where is Mr. Deming?" asked Salt in a loud voice.

Footsteps sounded on the circular stairway. A portly, bald-headed man with a pleasant face came heavily down the steps.

"Did someone ask for me?" he inquired.

"You're Mr. Deming?" asked Salt.

"I am. Flew in from New York about ten minutes ago and was just changing my clothes. What may I do for you?"

"I've been trying to tell these folks you can't see them tonight, Mr. Deming," broke in Mrs. Botts. "You're too tired."

"Nonsense," replied the mansion owner impatiently. "Sit down by the fire, everyone. Tell me what brought you here."

Mrs. Botts began to edge toward the kitchen door. Observing the action, Salt called sharply:

"Don't go, Mrs. Botts. We want to talk to you in particular."

"I've nothing to say," the caretaker retorted tartly.

"Sit down, Mrs. Botts," ordered her employer. "For some reason you have seemed very nervous since I arrived home tonight."

"It was upsetting to get your telegram so late," Mrs. Botts mumbled, sinking down on the sofa.

"Mr. Deming," began Penny, "a great deal has happened here tonight."

"I intended to tell you about it myself," interrupted Mrs. Botts, addressing her employer. "I've not had a chance."

"Be quiet, please," commanded Mr. Deming. "Do continue, Miss--"

"Parker," supplied Penny. She introduced Salt and Louise, then resumed her story.

As the tale unfolded, Mr. Deming listened with increasing amazement. Now and then he focused his gaze upon the crestfallen Mrs. Botts, but he did not speak until Penny had finished.

"This is a very serious charge you have made against my housekeeper," he said then. "Mrs. Botts, what have you to say?"

"There's not a word of truth in it!" the woman cried. "Why, I've worked for you ten years, Mr. Deming. I've been a loyal, faithful servant. Why should I deceive you by taking a stranger into the house?"

"It does seem fantastic," replied the perplexed Mr. Deming. "Miss Parker, what proof have you that your accusations are true?"

"The proof of my own eyesight," Penny said quietly. "For that matter, a number of persons saw the ghost wandering about the grounds."

Mrs. Botts tossed her head. "I've already explained that part. Frequently when I go outdoors, I put on your old white bathrobe, Mr. Deming. It's warmer than my coat."

"The ghost happened to be a man," Penny said. "And here is something you don't know, Mrs. Botts. I was in this house earlier this evening while you were away. I talked with your mysterious roomer, and I'm satisfied it was my father."

"So _you_ were here!" Mrs. Botts cried angrily. "Mr. Deming, this girl opened the telegram you addressed to me!"

"I did indeed," admitted Penny, unabashed.

Mr. Deming arose and walking over to the fire, stood with his back to it. "I confess I don't know what to say," he said. "I've never had reason to distrust Mrs. Botts."

"Thank you, sir." The housekeeper smiled triumphantly.

Penny realized that Mr. Deming was on the verge of swinging to Mrs. Botts' side. So far the interview had gained nothing. She had told the entire story. There was no further information she could add.

"I suppose we may as well go," she said, looking miserably at Salt.

Penny arose. Suddenly her eyes lighted upon a small object lying half hidden between the cushions of the sofa. Before Mrs. Botts realized what she was about, she had pounced upon it.

"Dad's spectacle case!" she cried triumphantly.

Opening the lid, she held up a pair of dark horn-rimmed glasses.

"I'm sure I don't know where the case came from," Mrs. Botts stammered.

"When Dad reads on the sofa at home, he often loses his case between the cushions!" Penny went on excitedly. "Mrs. Botts, you thought you were very clever getting him away from here and removing all the evidence!"

"A salesman who wore glasses was here last week--" the housekeeper began weakly.

"You can't talk yourself out of this," Penny cut her short, "Mr. Deming, let me show you something."

She reopened the lid of the case and pointed to the initials "A. P." engraved in gold letters.

"Anthony Parker," she said impressively. "Dad had them stamped there because he lost the case so many times. Does this prove my story?"

"It does," said Mr. Deming. Sternly he faced the housekeeper. "Mrs. Botts, you have deeply humiliated me. I shall turn you over to the police."

Mrs. Botts began to weep. Stumbling across the room, she clutched her employer's arm.

"Please don't turn me away from here," she pleaded. "Just give me a chance and I'll explain everything. Please, Mr. Deming! This time I promise to tell the truth!"

CHAPTER
21
_MRS. BOTTS' REVELATION_

"Very well, tell your story," Mr. Deming bade the housekeeper. "What do you know about Mr. Parker's disappearance?"

"It was just like I said," Mrs. Botts began in an aggrieved voice. "I was driving not far from the railroad station when I saw the auto accident."

"You say you were driving?" Mr. Deming interposed. "In whose car, may I ask?"

"I used yours, Mr. Deming. I didn't think you would care."

"We'll skip that. Go on with your story."

"Well, I saw the accident. A coupe driven by a young man, crowded Mr. Parker's car off the road."

"Purposely?" asked Penny.

"I don't know. Two men were in the car and they were speeding. I read part of the license number too. It was F-215 something."

"Why didn't you give this information to the police immediately?" demanded Mr. Deming.

"I'm trying to explain. I stopped my car--your car, I mean. Mr. Parker seemed stunned so I offered to take him to the hospital. Of course at that time I didn't know who he was."

"Dad didn't seem much hurt?" Penny inquired quickly.

"He had a few scratches, but nothing serious. We started for the hospital. Before we got there Mr. Parker changed his mind and decided he didn't want to go. He asked me to take him to a hotel or a rooming house."

"How strange!" exclaimed Penny. "Why didn't he ask to go home?"

"Because he didn't remember he had a home," Mrs. Botts replied. "I guess the accident must have stunned him. Anyway, he said his name was Lester Jones. Since he wanted a room and was willing to pay, I figured I could bring him here."

"So you turned my home into a hotel," Mr. Deming remarked rather grimly.

"I--I didn't think you would be back this winter. I wouldn't have done it, Mr. Deming, only I needed extra money. My sister in Kansas has been sick and I've had to send her funds."

"Mrs. Botts, I've always paid you well," her employer responded. "Had you told me you needed more money, I would have assisted you. But go on."

"Well, I brought Mr. Parker here and gave him a room. Right off I noticed how queer he acted. He didn't seem to be sure who he was, and he kept going through some papers he carried in a portfolio, trying to puzzle things out."

"All this while you made no attempt to contact police?" Mr. Deming questioned severely.

"I was wondering what to do when I saw a picture of Mr. Parker in the paper."

"And then you dropped an unsigned letter in my mailbox?" Penny probed.

Mrs. Botts knew that the net was closing tightly about her. Although she tried to slant her story in such a way that she would not appear too much at fault, the facts remained bald and ugly.

"Yes, I left a note at your house," she acknowledged reluctantly. "Later I telephoned and made an appointment to meet you at the cemetery."

"Why didn't you go through with it?" asked Penny. "Were you afraid?"

"I began to realize I might be held for something I never intended to do. Folks started to watch this house. I tried to keep my roomer out of sight, but he'd do such queer things."

"Such as stroll in the garden at night," supplied Penny.

"Yes, I felt sorry for the poor man. He had such dreadful headaches and was so bewildered."

"Evidently you weren't sorry enough to tell him who he was," reprimanded Mr. Deming. "Really Mrs. Botts, I can't understand why you acted as you did."

"I just kept getting in deeper and deeper," the housekeeper whined. "Mr. Parker paid me three dollars a day for his room and board. It didn't seem wrong to take the money as long as he was satisfied."

"Where is my father now?" Penny broke in. "That's the important thing."

Mrs. Botts regarded the girl with a trace of her former arrogance. "I don't know what became of Mr. Parker after he left here," she said coldly.

"You sent him away when you knew Mr. Deming was coming home!" Penny accused. "You thought you could keep the truth from your employer!"

"And I would have too, if it hadn't been for you!" Mrs. Botts flared. "I've not done any harm, but you've made a lot out of it, and now I'll be discharged."

"You are quite right about that," agreed Mr. Deming in a quiet voice. "However, there's far more at stake than a job, Mrs. Botts. Even now you don't seem to realize the seriousness of your offense."

"You won't turn me over to the police, will you, Mr. Deming?"

"It will not be in my hands to decide your fate. I strongly advise you to tell everything you know. Where did Mr. Parker go when he left here?"

"I've no idea." Mrs. Botts covered her face. "Oh, leave me alone--don't ask me any more questions. My head buzzes."

"A taxicab with two men in it was seen at the door earlier this evening," Penny went on relentlessly. "What have you to say about that?"

"They were friends who came for Mr. Parker."

"Your friends?"

"Well, no, I found the names and addresses in Mr. Parker's brief case. They were men in the tire business."

This latest scrap of information fairly stunned Penny. As she well knew, her father's portfolio contained only evidence pertaining to the tire-theft case.

"Who were the men?" she demanded.

"One was named Kurt Mollinberg--Ropes Mollinberg his friend called him. I forget the other."

"Ropes Mollinberg!" exclaimed Salt Sommers who had listened quietly to the story. "Why, he's one of the lowest rats in this town! Connected with the numbers racket and I don't know what else!"

"Why did you summon those men, of all persons?" Mr. Deming questioned.

"Well, I found their addresses in the portfolio. I had to get rid of Mr. Parker before you came and I was afraid to call his house."

"You're a cruel, heartless woman!" accused Penny. "You sent my father away with two of the most notorious rascals in Riverview. Why, those men have been waiting for a chance to waylay him! They wanted to get possession of vital evidence Dad had in his portfolio."

"I didn't know," murmured Mrs. Botts. "When they came in the taxi, they offered me money."

"And you took it?"

"I tried not to, but they forced it on me."

Penny sprang to her feet. Only by the greatest effort of will could she keep from telling the housekeeper what she thought of her contemptible actions.

"You sent Dad away with those men," she repeated mechanically. "Didn't he realize who they were?"

"I told him they were his friends. I really thought so. He went willingly enough."

Penny was sick with despair. From the first, the situation had been grave, but now there seemed little hope. From Mrs. Botts' story she could only conclude that her father suffered from a brain injury. Even if she were fortunate enough to find him, he would not be likely to recognize her as his daughter.

"Oh, Salt," she pleaded, turning to the photographer. "What are we to do? What can we do?"

His reply though prompt, was not completely reassuring.

"We've already put every policeman in Riverview on the trail of those men!" he answered soberly. "And we'll scour every nook and cranny of this town ourselves! Chin up, Penny! Why, we've only started to fight!"

CHAPTER
22
_A PARK BENCH_

Penny and her friends were heartsick with the knowledge that Mr. Parker had fallen into the hands of ruthless members of the tire-theft gang. The taxi which had borne him away had left the mansion fully an hour earlier. There seemed little likelihood that the trail could be picked up quickly.

"I'll telephone the boys at the newspaper office," Salt offered. "The police too! We'll put a description on the radio. We'll have everybody in Riverview watching for that yellow taxi."

"Call the cab companies too," urged Penny. "We may be able to trace it through the driver."

Salt made good use of the Deming telephone which had not been disconnected during the winter months. While he phoned, Penny ran outside to find the policeman assigned to guard the mansion. She soon returned with him and placed Mrs. Botts in his custody.

"Oh, Mr. Deming, don't let them take me to jail," the housekeeper pleaded. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

"Mrs. Botts, I can't help you," her employer returned coldly. "Your offense is a very serious one. The court must decide your fate."

The housekeeper broke into tears again and for several minutes was quite hysterical. When her act moved no one, she resigned herself to the inevitable. Packing a few articles in a bag, she prepared to leave the house in the custody of the policeman.

"I'm sorry about everything," she said as she bade the girls goodbye. "I hope Mr. Parker is found. I really do."

After Mrs. Botts had gone, Penny was too upset to remain quietly in a chair. She longed to join in an active search for the yellow taxi. Common sense told her that the cab undoubtedly had reached its destination, yet she hoped she might pick up a clue.

"By questioning filling station attendants, we may be able to learn which way it went from the crossroads," she urged.

"Come on, then," said Salt.

Joe, faithful as ever, waited in his cab outside the mansion. Penny chose to ride beside him, as the front seat offered an unobstructed view of the road.

The cab turned away from the mansion and swept down the familiar twisting highway. At the first bend, the bright headlights illuminated a patch of snow along the ditch. Penny thought she saw a small, dark object lying on the ground.

"Stop the car!" she cried.

Joe brought the cab to a standstill a little farther down the road.

Penny leaped out and ran back to the ditch. Lying just at its edge was a leather portfolio. A glance satisfied her that it had belonged to her father.

"Salt! Louise!" she shouted. "I've found Dad's satchel!"

The others came running. By that time Penny had examined the portfolio. It was empty.

"Just as I thought," she muttered. "Those men were after the evidence Dad carried! And they got it, too!"

Salt and Joe examined the snowy ditches for a long distance. There were no footprints. They could only conclude that the portfolio had been thrown from a window of the moving cab. Evidently Mr. Parker remained a prisoner.

"Now that those men have what they want, maybe they'll release Dad," Penny said hopefully. "Don't you think so, Salt?"

The photographer glanced at Joe. Neither spoke.

"You believe they'll harm Dad!" Penny cried, reading their faces. "Maybe I'll never see him again--"

"Now Penny," Salt soothed, guiding her toward the taxi.

The cab rolled on, its tires crunching the hard-packed snow. At the crossroads, they met a police car and hailed it. Penny turned the empty portfolio over to one of the officers, explaining where it had been found.

"Every road is being watched," she was told in return. "The alarm has been broadcast throughout the State, too. If that yellow cab still is on the road, we'll get it."

For an hour longer, Penny and her party scoured roads in the vicinity of Riverview. Many times they stopped at filling stations and houses to inquire if a yellow cab had been seen to pass. Always the answer was in the negative.

"Don't you think we ought to go home?" Salt suggested at length. "For all we know, police may have found Mr. Parker by this time. We'd never learn about it while we're touring around."

"All right, let's go home," agreed Penny.

The taxi turned toward Riverview. Arriving at the outskirts, Joe chose a boulevard which wound through the park. The trees, each limb and twig glistening with ice, were very beautiful.

Penny gazed absently toward the frozen lake where a few boys were skating. Suddenly her gaze fastened upon a man who sat on a park bench beneath a street lamp. He wore no hat. His overcoat was unbuttoned.

"That man!" she cried. "Salt, it looks like Dad! And it is he! It is!"

The man on the bench had turned slightly so that she was able to see his face.

Joe brought the cab to a halt with a jerk. Penny leaped out, followed by the others. The first to reach the bench, she fairly flung herself headlong at the disheveled man who sat so dejectedly alone.

"Oh, Dad, I've found you at last! How thankful I am you're safe!"

The man on the bench stared blankly at her.

"Who are you?" he asked in a dazed voice.

"Why, I'm Penny--your daughter."

"I have no daughter," the man answered bitterly. "No home. Nothing. Not even a name."

Salt, Louise and Joe reached the bench.

"Who are these people?" the man asked. "Why do they stare at me?"

"Why, Mr. Parker," said Salt, taking his arm. "You remember me, don't you?"

"Never saw you before in my life."

"You're my father--Anthony Parker," Penny said desperately. "You were in a bad accident. Don't you remember?"

"I remember that I was taken by two men in a taxicab. They pretended to be my friends. As soon as we were well away from Mrs. Botts' home, they robbed me of my money and portfolio. Then they pushed me out of the cab. I started walking. I kept on until I came here."

"You're cold and tired," said Salt, trying to guide him toward the taxi.

"Who are you?" Mr. Parker demanded suspiciously. "Why should I let you take me away? You'll only try to rob me--"

"Oh, Dad, you don't understand," Penny murmured. "You're sick."

"Come along, sir," urged Salt. "We're your friends. We'll take you to the doctor."

Mr. Parker planted his feet firmly on the ground.

"I'm not going a step!" he announced. "Not a step!"

"Sorry, sir, but if you're so set about it, we'll have to do it this way."

Salt nodded to Joe. Before Mr. Parker knew what was coming, they caught him firmly by the arms and legs. Although he resisted, they carried him to the cab.

"Take us home as fast as you can!" Penny directed Joe. "Then I'll want you to go for Doctor Greer, the brain specialist. Dad's in very serious condition."

"Serious, my eye!" snorted the publisher. He struggled to free himself from Salt's grip. "Let me out of here!"

"Dad, everything will be all right now," Penny tried to soothe him. "You're with friends. You're going home."

"I'm being kidnaped!" Mr. Parker complained. "Twice in one night! If I were strong enough to get out of here--"

Again he tried to free himself. Failing, he edged into a corner of the seat and averted his face.

CHAPTER
23
_FORGOTTEN EVENTS_

In the upstairs bedroom, Penny moved with velvet tread. Noiselessly she rearranged a vase of flowers and closed the slat of a Venetian blind.

"You needn't be so quiet," said Mr. Parker from the bed. "I've been awake a long time now."

Penny went swiftly to his side. "How are you feeling this afternoon, Dad?"

"Afternoon?" Mr. Parker demanded, sitting up. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Roughly, about two days."

Mr. Parker threw off the covers.

"Oh, no, you don't," said Penny, pressing him back against the pillow. "Doctor Greer says you are to have absolute bed rest for several days. It's part of the treatment."

"Treatment for what?" grumbled Mr. Parker. "I feel fine!"

"That's wonderful," declared Penny, with a deep sigh of relief. "I'll have Mrs. Weems bring up something for you to eat."

She called down the stairway to the housekeeper, and then returned to the bedside. Her father looked more like his former self than at any time since the strange motor accident which had caused him to lose his memory. His voice too, was more natural.

"Guess I must have had a bad dream," Mr. Parker murmured, his gaze roving slowly about the room. "I seem to recall riding around in a taxi, and being pushed out into the snow."

"You know where you are now, don't you?" asked Penny.

"Certainly. I'm at home."

Mrs. Weems came into the room bearing a tray of food. Hearing Mr. Parker's words, she looked at Penny and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Doctor Greer was right," she whispered. "His memory is slowly coming back. How thankful I am!"

"What's all this?" Mr. Parker inquired alertly. "Will someone kindly tell me why I am being imprisoned in this bed?"

"Because you've been very, very sick," Penny said, arranging the food in front of him. "You know who I am now, don't you?"

"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Parker indignantly. "You're my daughter. Your name is--now let me think--"

"Penny."

"To be sure," agreed Mr. Parker, in confusion. "Fancy forgetting my own daughter's name!"

"You've forgotten a number of other things too, Dad. But events gradually are coming back to you. Suppose you tell me your name."

"My name?" Mr. Parker looked bewildered. "Why, I don't remember. It's not Jones. I took that name because I couldn't think of my own. What's wrong with me?"

Penny tucked a napkin beneath her father's chin and offered him a spoonful of beef broth.

"What's wrong with me?" Mr. Parker demanded again. "Am I a lunatic? Can't either of you tell me the truth?"

"You're recovering from a severe case of amnesia," revealed Penny. "The doctor says it was brought on by overwork in combination with the shock of being in an auto accident. Since you were hurt you've not remembered what happened before that time."

"I do recall the auto mishap," Mr. Parker said slowly. "Another car crowded me off the road. The crash stunned me, and my mind was a sort of blank. Then a pleasant woman took me to her home."

"A pleasant woman, Dad?"

"Why, yes, Mrs. Botts gave me a nice room and good food. I liked it there. But one night a girl broke in--could that have been you, Penny?"

"Indeed, it was."

"When Mrs. Botts came home she was very excited," Mr. Parker resumed meditatively. "She said I had to leave. She hustled me out of the house with two strangers."

"One of the men was Ropes Mollinberg, a member of the tire-theft gang."

"Yes, that was his name!" Mr. Parker agreed. "Speaking of tire thieves, I've been intending to write an editorial for the paper. Penny, please have my secretary come in. I'll dictate the material while it is fresh in my mind."

Mrs. Weems looked slightly distressed. Penny, however, whisked away the tray of food. Getting pencil and paper she again sat down beside her father.

"Your secretary isn't available just now, but I'll take down what you want to say."

Penny could not write shorthand so she only pretended to jot down notes. Mr. Parker led off with a few crisp sentences, then wandered vaguely from one idea to another.

"I can't seem to think straight any more," he complained. "Type that up please and let me see it before it goes to the compositors."

"How shall I sign the editorial?" Penny inquired.

"Why, with my name--Anthony Parker."

Penny jumped up and fairly laughed with joy.

"Dad, events are coming back to you! You've just recalled your name and that's a big step forward."

"Anthony Parker," the publisher murmured. "Yes, that's it! Now there's another matter that troubles me. I had a brief case--"

"It was stolen by those men who took you away," Penny supplied eagerly. "Dad, if only you could remember what those lost papers contained, we'd expose the entire tire-theft gang!"

Mr. Parker thought for a long while, then shook his head.

"Mind's a blank, Penny. What does the doctor say? Is there a chance my memory ever will return?"

"Of course," returned Penny heartily. "You've already recalled a number of important things. Me, for instance! Doctor Greer thinks that with rest, events will gradually return to mind. Or another shock, perhaps a blow somewhat similar to the one you had, might bring everything back."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Mr. Parker joked. "Go get the sledge hammer!"

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid."

"I'm afraid not, either," sighed Mr. Parker wearily. "Guess I'll sleep some more now. I feel pretty tired."

During the days that followed, the publisher made a slow but steady recovery. At first Penny did not worry him by mentioning how matters had gone at the _Star_ office. Only after Mr. Parker was well enough to spend several hours a day at the plant, did she reveal how Harley Schirr had sought to establish himself as editor of the paper.

"That fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Parker in annoyance. "Why, I meant to discharge him and he knew it. I have evidence in my safe showing that Schirr accepted money from a local politician."

"You did have evidence," Penny corrected. "While you were away, Mr. Schirr went through your safe."

Amazed by the boldness of his former employee, Mr. Parker immediately examined the contents of both his desk and strongbox. To his chagrin he found that Penny was right. Every document pertaining to Schirr was missing.

"Well, it doesn't matter," the publisher said philosophically. "He'll never set foot in this office again, nor in any other Riverview newspaper!"

"Dad," said Penny, "I've wondered if Schirr may not be hooked up with the tire-theft gang. What do you think?"

"My poor thinker isn't much good these days. However, I very much doubt it, Penny. Schirr always was a snoop and not above taking money for writing biased stories. My judgment would be that he has no connection with the Mollinberg outfit."

"If only you could remember what was in your stolen portfolio!" Penny sighed.

"If only I could!" agreed Mr. Parker. "Sometimes I doubt I'll ever fully recover my memory."

"Oh, you will, Dad. You're doing better every day."

Penny seldom spoke of the automobile accident which had caused her father's trouble for the subject was a painful one to them both. Although the publisher had been absolved of all blame, police had not succeeded in tracing the hit-skip driver.

Mr. Parker seemed well and strong. Each day he went to the office for longer and longer periods. Gradually his memory was returning, yet he had been unable to recall data which might bring about the capture of the tire-theft gang. Strangely, he could remember nothing of his intention to call at the State Prosecutor's office. Nor could he disclose a scrap of evidence which had been carried in the stolen portfolio.

"If only Jerry would wire or return from his vacation!" Penny commented anxiously. "I can't understand why he doesn't reply to my message."

The reporter's long absence had caused considerable worry at the _Star_ office. Jerry was the one person who could divulge the contents of the stolen portfolio documents, but repeated wires failed to bring any response.

"Jerry will show up one of these days," Mr. Parker said confidently. "The only trouble is, by that time the higher-ups of the tire-theft gang may have skipped town."

"Dad, can't you remember the men who took you away in the taxi?"

"Only vaguely. I've described them to police as best I can. So far, no action."

Penny was silent for a moment. In her mind she had been turning over a way to bring the crooks to justice. It seemed to her that the men might be identified through Black Market operators with whom they must have dealings.

"Now what are you keeping from me?" inquired Mr. Parker lightly.

"I was thinking about a place known as Mattie Williams' garage," replied Penny. "I've good reason to suspect it deals in stolen tires."