Chapter II: Helping a Stranger

Christopher Nichols saw for himself that the rumble seat was empty. He looked quickly up and down the village street. Walter Crocker was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, that fellow certainly did a speedy disappearing act," the detective commented. "We weren't inside the real estate office five minutes."

"He might at least have thanked us for the ride," said Penny. "Dad, I suppose you'll say this is silly, but I thought he acted as if he were afraid we'd recognize him."

"What made you think that?"

"In the first place he insisted upon riding in the rumble seat. And he kept pulling his hat down over his eyes."

"I'll agree he did act queerly," the detective admitted. "But he's gone now, so we'll just forget about him."

"Oh, all right," laughed Penny. "I keep forgetting that this is your vacation."

A well dressed gentleman in gray came walking leisurely down the street. He gazed curiously at Penny and her father, and they immediately guessed that he might be the missing Judd Kilkane.

"You weren't looking for me by any chance?" the man asked.

"We are if you're Mr. Kilkane," replied the detective.

"That's my name all right. Come on into the office. I stepped out for a minute to buy an evening paper at the drugstore. Say, you're not Nichols from Belton City?"

"Yes," agreed the detective. "You rented me a cottage."

"Old man Crocker's cottage," the real estate agent said as he opened the office door. "I have the key for you."

"Did I understand you to say we are renting the Crocker cottage?" questioned Mr. Nichols quickly.

"Yes, it's owned by old Herman Crocker up on Knob Hill. Do you know him?"

"Oh, I've merely heard his name mentioned," replied the detective carelessly.

"I guess just about everyone has heard tell of Herman," chuckled the real estate man. He sat down at his desk and motioned Penny and her father into near-by chairs. "He's an eccentric character."

"I trust that his cottage is at least habitable," said Mr. Nichols.

Mr. Kilkane looked puzzled. Then his face lighted and he declared heartily: "Oh, you'll find the place to your liking. There's nothing wrong with the cottage. If everything isn't perfectly satisfactory I'll have Herman Crocker fix it right up for you."

"And shall we pay our rent to him?"

"No, I'll take care of that," replied the agent. "Herman said he'd rather not have you coming to the house with the money. As I say, he's something of a recluse."

"We met his nephew this evening."

"His nephew?" asked Mr. Kilkane raising his eyebrows. "That's a new one on me. I didn't know Herman had one. But then, he's close mouthed."

"We gave this fellow a ride in our car," Mr. Nichols said. "Then he went off somewhere. I suppose he's on his way to see his uncle."

"Did you say that Herman Crocker's home is close to our cottage?" inquired Penny.

"Yes, Miss. They're about a quarter of a mile apart on the Knob Hill road."

"Will we have many other neighbors?" asked the detective.

"None at all," replied the agent, staring at him. "Oh, you'll find it lonely up on Knob Hill. But you said in your letter that you wanted a quiet, isolated place----"

"That's right, Mr. Kilkane. I'm not complaining, merely inquiring. However, it might be wise for us to spend the night at a hotel and pay our first visit to the cottage by daylight."

The real estate agent tapped his pen against the desk and frowned.

"We never had but one hotel here and it went out of business three years ago. I could put you up at my house----"

"No, we don't wish to cause you any trouble," Mr. Nichols said quickly. "Penny and I will just drive on to the cottage."

"You can't miss the place," declared Mr. Kilkane eagerly. "I'll loan you my lantern too."

"Will we need a lantern?" gasped Penny.

"Well, you might, Miss. The cottage is wired for electricity but sometimes the company is slow about getting it turned on."

Penny and her father exchanged a quick glance but offered no comment. Mr. Nichols wrote out a check for the rent and in return received the key to the cottage. Mr. Kilkane carried the lantern out to the car for them and told Mr. Nichols how to reach the place.

"Remember now," he said in parting, "if everything isn't right at the cottage, just let me know."

Mr. Nichols drove through the village and turned up a dark, narrow road which led to the summit of Knob Hill. The highway was densely lined with tall trees whose branches crashed in the wind. Penny and her father could see only a short distance beyond the headlights.

"I don't see how you ever found such an isolated place as this, Dad," Penny remarked as the car labored up the steep incline. "We'll practically be hermits up here."

"So much the better," laughed the detective.

The car rounded a curve in the road, and Penny saw a large, rambling old house with many cupolas, set back amid a grove of evergreen trees.

"That must be Herman Crocker's home," she remarked, turning her head to stare at it. "A gloomy old place."

"Young Walter Crocker had quite a walk if he came up here tonight," said the detective. "Too bad he didn't wait. We could have hauled him right to his door."

"I'm just as glad he went off," declared Penny. "Somehow I felt very uneasy when he was riding with us."

The car bumped on until Mr. Nichols saw a narrow lane leading to a tiny cottage on a knoll.

"This must be our little nest," he said, turning in.

The cottage was a plain white frame building with a cobblestone chimney overgrown by vines. Even at night the grounds appeared unkempt. Several loose shutters flapped in the wind.

Penny and her father stepped from the car and stood staring at the cottage. The low whistle of the wind in the evergreens added to the depressing effect.

"How much rent are we paying for this mansion, Dad?"

"Fifteen a week. But everything is supposed to be furnished."

"Including cobwebs and atmosphere," laughed Penny. "Well, any sum for this tumble-down, antiquated wreck would be robbery! Why, the cottage looks as if it hadn't been occupied in a dozen years."

"I may have been stung," the detective admitted ruefully. "But let's hope it's better inside."

Mr. Nichols carried the suitcases up the weed-choked path. He fumbled in his pockets for the key and finally found it. Mr. Kilkane had told them to enter by the kitchen door.

As it swung back on squeaking hinges, Penny and her father caught a whiff of stale air.

"Just as I thought!" exclaimed Penny. "The place hasn't been opened up in weeks."

Mr. Nichols passed through the doorway into the dark kitchen. He groped about for the electric light switch and could not find it.

"Wait here," he told Penny. "I'll have to go back and get Mr. Kilkane's lantern."

"I'll wait outside the door. It's too stuffy in here."

Penny stood on the sagging porch until her father returned with the lighted lantern. The bright beam illuminated a wide circle of barren kitchen. An old cook stove occupied one corner of the room; there was a plain table with four chairs and a make-shift sink with old-fashioned pump. The floors were without carpet or linoleum. Every piece of furniture was covered by several inches of dust.

"Wait until I see that man Kilkane!" said Mr. Nichols indignantly. "Why, the electricity hasn't even been turned on. We can't live in a place like this!"

"Let's look at the other rooms, Dad."

There was no dining room, as the builder evidently had intended that the occupants should eat in the kitchen. The living room had a large fireplace but no other item of comfort. The three chairs were all straight-backed, the carpet was moth-eaten and dusty, and a small table still bore a vase filled with shriveled flowers which someone had forgotten to throw away.

"Come along, Penny," said Mr. Nichols starting toward the door. "We'll not stay here."

"But where will we go?" Penny placed a detaining hand on his arm. "There's no hotel in the village."

"It would be more pleasant sleeping in the car."

"You know we'd be stiff in every muscle if we tried that, Dad. Let's open a few windows. It won't seem so bad then."

Mr. Nichols raised several windows and they were then able to breathe more freely. An inspection of the adjoining bedrooms left them somewhat encouraged. The mattresses were fairly soft, and Penny found clean linen in one of the bureau drawers.

"I can have these beds made up in just a few minutes," she said cheerfully. "And we can bring in our own blankets from the car."

"Maybe that would be best," the detective agreed. "But we'll leave in the morning."

Penny was abroad at daybreak the next morning. While her father still slept, she explored the grounds, discovering a deep and rather lovely ravine not far from the cottage door. To the right stretched a dense wood and only a short distance on up the road was the summit of Knob Hill.

"This place really isn't half bad by daylight," she told herself. "Dad would be certain to get a complete rest here."

Penny went back into the house and set about cleaning up the kitchen. She had just finished the task when Mr. Nichols appeared in the doorway.

"Are there any mirrors in this place?" he asked irritably. "I'd like to know how I'm to get my whiskers cut off!"

"Why not let them grow?" giggled Penny. "I think you'd look real cute with a beard!"

"Oh, you do?" demanded her father.

"There's a looking glass over the sink," Penny told him. "And plenty of water if you like it cold."

"Why not heat some on the stove?"

"That would be a good idea," Penny admitted, "only I can't find any matches. And apparently one is expected to cut down a tree for wood!"

"We're starting right back to Belton City as soon as I've shaved," said Mr. Nichols firmly.

"No, I've changed my mind about this place, Dad," Penny replied quickly. "If our landlord, Mr. Crocker, will only fix things up, it won't be half bad."

"The cottage would need to be rebuilt to make it comfortable. I doubt that Mr. Crocker will consent to do that."

"He might clean it up for us, furnish wood and clean bedding, and see that the lights are turned on," Penny said. "We could get along then. It wouldn't hurt us to rough it for a few weeks."

"I guess I am too much attached to my comforts," Mr. Nichols smiled. "So you really are willing to stay?"

"I think you'd have a grand rest here."

"And what would you do, Penny?"

"Oh, cook and hike. I'd manage to keep occupied."

"You're being a good sport about this," the detective said gravely. "For myself, I'd not mind staying here. It's a change and that's what I need."

"Then it's settled," laughed Penny. "While you're shaving, I'll run down and see our landlord. Perhaps I can borrow a few supplies from him too."

Mr. Nichols tossed her the car keys.

"No, I'll walk," Penny called over her shoulder as she left the cottage. "I need the exercise."

By daylight the old Crocker home was nearly as gloomy as when viewed amid the shadows. Penny paused at the entrance of the narrow, rutty lane and stared at the place. Everything was quiet. The blinds were all drawn and she could see no one moving about.

"It looks almost as if no one were here," she thought.

The winding lane led through the trees to the house and on either side were rows of tall, uncut privet hedge.

Suddenly as Penny walked hurriedly along, she was startled to see a lean, yellow hound hurl itself over the top of the hedge directly in her path. She stopped short. The animal bared his fangs, growling low.

Penny was not afraid of dogs as a usual thing, but she had never seen a more vicious looking hound. She had every reason to believe that if she tried to go on up the lane he would attack.

Penny reached down and seized a stout stick. She did not know whether to try to advance or retreat.

As she was eying the hound speculatively, Penny heard another sound directly behind her. She whirled about to see an old man with intent dark eyes watching her from beyond the hedge. Only his face was visible for the dense green foliage completely screened his body.

"What do you want here?" asked the old fellow in a harsh voice. "Who are you?"