Chapter VII: Penny's Discovery

"Is that you, father?" Penny asked.

When there was no answer, she reached up and pressed the electric switch. The hallway became flooded with light. Penny and Michael Haymond stood blinking at each other, both deeply embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," stammered the young man. "I didn't mean to disturb anyone. I was just after a drink of water."

"I'm afraid you won't find it in the attic," replied Penny. "Not unless the roof is leaking."

"The attic?" Michael Haymond repeated. "I must be turned around then. I thought this door led to the living room."

Penny could not be certain whether or not the young man was telling the truth. It was entirely possible that he had become confused in the dark hallway. She could not imagine any reason why he would have wished to investigate the attic.

Before Penny could frame a reply Mr. Nichols' door opened and the detective peered out.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"I am afraid I have disturbed the entire household," the young man apologized. "I was only looking for a drink of water."

"There's no harm in that, I'm sure," replied Mr. Nichols pleasantly. "I'll get you one."

"It really doesn't matter," the young man murmured.

Just then Mrs. Masterbrook's door swung open. The housekeeper, garbed in an old-fashioned nightgown and with her hair done up in curlers, looked out into the hall.

"Dear me, what is going on here?" she asked crossly. "After working hard all day I'd like to get a little sleep."

"It was all my fault," Michael Haymond apologized again.

The housekeeper turned to gaze at him. As their eyes met, Mrs. Masterbrook made a strange rasping sound in her throat. Her hand moved instinctively toward her face as if to ward off a blow.

"Mrs. Masterbrook, I don't believe you have met our guest," Mr. Nichols began.

The housekeeper gave him no opportunity to finish. She moved back into her bedroom and closed the door.

"Did I offend your housekeeper?" asked Michael Haymond anxiously.

"Don't give it a thought," replied Mr. Nichols, lowering his voice. "Mrs. Masterbrook is a very odd character. She may have felt embarrassed because she wasn't dressed up for the occasion. Come along now and we'll get that drink of water."

Penny went back into her room and sat down on the bed. Apparently her father had not distrusted Michael Haymond's motives nor had he considered Mrs. Masterbrook's rude action as anything out of the way.

"Dad takes everything casually," Penny thought.

She could hear her father and Michael Haymond in the kitchen laughing and talking together. The icebox door slammed shut. Evidently they were indulging in a snack of food.

"Mrs. Masterbrook will be furious in the morning," Penny chuckled. "She seems to detest Michael Haymond anyway. For a moment I thought she appeared to recognize him, but I suppose she was merely trying to be dramatic. That's the trouble with Mrs. Masterbrook--she's usually acting a part."

Penny allowed her thoughts to ramble at will until she heard her father and Michael Haymond enter their rooms. The hall light was switched out. Once more the house quieted down.

Penny crept back into bed, but she could not sleep. She felt strangely excited.

Throughout the night there was no further disturbance. After a few hours the rain ceased and stars began to straggle through the clouds. The wind died down.

Penny tossed restlessly upon her pillow. Now and then she could hear Mrs. Masterbrook's bed creak in the next room as if the housekeeper also were spending a sleepless night.

At dawn Penny arose and, quietly dressing, let herself out of the cottage. The grounds were muddy, but everything seemed fresh and green. Birds chirped and the earth gave off a pleasant odor.

At breakfast time Penny returned to the house, feeling none the worse for her sleepless night. As she approached the porch she saw her father and the guest talking earnestly. They turned to greet her.

"Aren't you an early bird this morning, Penny?" inquired her father.

"Oh, I just went for a little walk before breakfast, Dad."

Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.

"You're lucky to get anything to eat this morning," she said stiffly. "There's something the matter with the stove. It doesn't draw properly and we're practically out of wood."

"Anything else wrong about the place?" Mr. Nichols asked with a sigh.

"There are enough odd jobs around here to keep a man busy for a week," replied the housekeeper. "The water pump isn't working well and someone ought to put on the screens."

"I'll be glad to do that for you," offered Michael Haymond. "And I'm good at cutting wood too. Is there an ax around here anywhere?"

"I think I saw one in the basement," Mr. Nichols told him. "But see here--you're our guest."

"I'll be glad to do a little to earn my breakfast. I like to work."

"I can see you do," Mr. Nichols smiled. He studied the young man for a moment. Then he asked abruptly, "How would you like a steady job for a few days?"

"Doing what?"

"All the odd jobs I'm supposed to do. Can you drive a car?"

"Yes."

"Then you could drive to town for our groceries, see that we have a daily wood supply, and repair all the things around here that are falling to pieces."

"Our landlord is expected to see that the place is in livable condition," Penny said quickly. She felt a little troubled because her father wished to engage the strange young man.

"If we wait for him to take care of things, we'll never be comfortable here," returned Mr. Nichols. He turned again to Michael Haymond. "Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Probably you aren't in need of a job."

"But I am," replied the young man quickly. "I'll be glad to work for my board and room."

"I think we can do better than that for you," smiled Mr. Nichols. "Your salary won't be large, but we'll keep you in spending money at least."

"What shall I do first? Chop the wood?"

"You might look at the stove and see if you can discover what is wrong with it."

"O.K.," laughed the young man. "I know a little about cook stoves. We had one at the----"

He stopped abruptly and then finished in confusion: "We had a cook stove at the place where I lived."

"And where was that, young man?" asked Mrs. Masterbrook tartly.

"It doesn't matter in the least," interposed Mr. Nichols smoothly. "Mr. Haymond's affairs are his own."

"There's no great mystery about my past," said the young man. "I came from the West. My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Mr. Nichols sympathetically.

Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.

"Now Penny--don't say it," declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.

"Don't say what, Dad?"

"That I'm making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way."

"Well, yes, I do," Penny admitted. "I like Michael a lot, but I don't exactly trust him. He hasn't told us much about himself----"

"That's his own business. I haven't any patience with folks who go prying into other persons' private affairs."

"I thought that was the work of a detective," Penny said teasingly.

"When a man commits a crime, then his actions become a matter of public concern," Mr. Nichols replied. "I had a long talk with Michael last night and if I'm any judge of character, he's a decent sort. I don't intend to pry into his personal affairs just for the pleasure of it."

"Well, if the tin spoons disappear don't blame me," Penny laughed, imitating the housekeeper's shrill voice.

"Young Michael will save me a great deal of petty annoyance," Mr. Nichols went on. "I mean for him to serve as a buffer between me and Mrs. Masterbrook."

"For some reason she's taken an intense dislike to him, Dad."

"I noticed that, Penny. Mrs. Masterbrook isn't happy unless she is reading the law to someone. With young Michael here, she'll vent her spite on him and leave us to enjoy our vacation."

"How marvelously your mind works, Dad!"

"I do think of a smart idea now and then."

"Wouldn't it be wiser to discharge Mrs. Masterbrook?"

"She bakes wonderful biscuits," the detective answered. "Besides, she amuses me. I'm curious to see how she gets on with young Michael."

"You're beyond my depth," Penny said with a shrug. "I don't understand your whims at all."

She was forced to admit that from the standpoint of work her father had made no mistake in hiring the young man. Michael put the cooking stove in good order again, chopped a day's supply of wood and repaired the pump. He worked quietly, yet effectively. Even the housekeeper could find no complaint to voice.

"Michael, I suppose you'll be wanting to see Herman Crocker sometime today," Mr. Nichols remarked to the young man.

"Why, yes, sir, I guess so," he replied uncertainly.

"You said that was why you came here," the detective reminded him.

"Yes, sir. I do want to see Mr. Crocker on a matter of business."

"Feel free to run down there whenever you like," Mr. Nichols told him. "You've done enough work around here for one day."

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Nichols went for a long walk in the woods but Penny chose to remain at the cottage with a magazine. Michael worked about the yard, washing the automobile. He did not seem in any hurry to make his call upon Herman Crocker.

"I don't believe he's anxious to go there at all," Penny thought. "I wonder if he didn't make up the entire story?"

She was somewhat surprised to observe that for the most part Mrs. Masterbrook left the young man entirely alone. The housekeeper seemed more subdued than usual as if she were brooding over some matter.

The day passed quickly. Penny knew very well that Michael had not visited Herman Crocker for she had kept watch of him the entire time. She had a theory that he did not wish to go there at all, and to test it she called the young man.

"Michael," she said, "Mrs. Masterbrook tells me that we need fresh eggs. I'm driving down to Crocker's place after supper to get some. Don't you wish to ride along with me?"

The young man hesitated, his eyes dropping before Penny's steady gaze.

"Why, I thought I'd wait until tomorrow before I see Mr. Crocker. Thanks just the same."

When supper was over, Penny drove down to the Crocker place. No lights were visible in the window. Either the owner had gone away or was trying to save electricity.

Penny parked the car in the lane. She looked carefully about for the yellow hound. To her relief he was nowhere around the place. Quickly she walked across the yard and pounded on the door.

Penny waited a few minutes and then turned back to the car. She halted as she heard a rap on one of the windows. Glancing up, she saw Perry looking out at her.

"Oh, hello, Perry," Penny called. "Open the door."

"I can't," shouted the boy through the glass. "It's locked."

"Isn't your grandfather here?"

The lad shook his head. "He's been gone all day. I'm locked up in here."

"Can't you open a window?" Penny called.

Again Perry shook his head. "I haven't had anything except bread to eat all day," he told her. "I'm getting real hungry."

"Well, I should think so," said Penny grimly.

She observed that the lower floor windows were all high from the ground, beyond the reach of anyone in the yard.

"Aren't any of the upstairs windows unfastened?" she called to the boy.

"Yes, but I can't get out there."

"Does your grandfather have a ladder?"

"I think there's one somewhere in the barn."

"I'll find it," Penny said encouragingly. "Just you wait until I come back, Perry."

She hurried off to the barn, well aware that in taking matters into her own hands, she was certain to incur the wrath of Herman Crocker.

"I don't care if I do get into trouble," she thought indignantly. "He has no right to shut Perry up in the house without anything to eat. It's cruel."

Penny opened the barn doors and stepped inside. She stopped short to stare at an automobile which stood on the floor beside the granary. One glance assured her that it was not Herman Crocker's ancient car. This was an expensive model with a streamline design, shiny and new save that one fender was slightly battered.

"Why, it's Walter Crocker's automobile!" Penny thought in amazement. "How did it get here?"