[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Penny Nichols and
the Knob Hill
Mystery

By

JOAN CLARK

The Goldsmith Publishing Company
CHICAGO

COPYRIGHT MCMXXXIX BY
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

Penny Nichols and the
Knob Hill Mystery

CHAPTER I

A Cottage at Knob Hill

Penny Nichols, hair flying in the wind, came running up the steps of the Altman porch. She did not need to ring the bell, for just at that moment Susan, her dark-haired chum, appeared in the open doorway.

"Why, hello, Penny," greeted the Altman girl. "You're all out of breath."

"I ran most of the way from home," replied Penny.

"I was hoping you'd drop in today. Come on into the house."

"No, I can't, Susan," said Penny hurriedly. "I just ran over to say good-by."

"Good-by?" echoed Susan blankly. "You're not going away, Penny?"

"Yes, Dad took a sudden notion he wanted to spend a quiet vacation at a place called Knob Hill. We're motoring down there this afternoon."

"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Susan. "You didn't say a thing about it when we were playing tennis yesterday."

"How could I when I didn't know anything about it myself until an hour ago? That's the way Dad does things, Susan."

"I suppose you're going off on another one of those exciting mystery cases," Susan said enviously.

"I only wish we were," sighed Penny. "This vacation won't be a bit exciting. Dad just wants a complete rest at a quiet place. He says he'll not even think about work while we're gone."

"What sort of place is Knob Hill?"

"From all I can learn it's just a dead spot on the map," Penny declared. "And we've rented a cottage sight unseen."

"Oh, it may not be half bad," said Susan encouragingly. "You'll probably be able to do a lot of interesting things—swim, hike or ride."

"Not at Knob Hill," replied Penny, shaking her head. "It isn't a summer resort place at all. There will be absolutely nothing to do except eat, sleep, and grow fat."

Susan laughed as she glanced at her chum's slender figure. Penny was too active and athletic ever to be plump. She had sparkling blue eyes, golden hair, and a natural smile. It was very easy for her to make friends.

"I haven't finished my packing yet," said Penny. "I'll have to get back home or I'll keep Dad waiting."

"I'm terribly sorry to see you go," Susan told her. "Don't forget to send me a postcard now and then."

Penny promised that she would write often, and then, aware that time was slipping away, said a hurried farewell. Reaching her own home, a large white house on Hilburn Street, she found her father washing the car in the back yard.

Christopher Nichols was a tall, slim man with graying hair. For many years he had been in charge of the Nichols Detective Agency and was well known not only in Belton City but throughout the state. Many persons believed that Penny had inherited her father's sleuthing ability, for even at the age of fifteen she had shown remarkable talent in solving mystery cases.

As Penny paused for a moment to chat with her father before going into the house, she noticed the tired lines of his face.

"Dad really needs a long rest," she thought. "I ought to be glad we're both running off to a quiet place like Knob Hill."

"Hello, Penny," Mr. Nichols greeted his daughter. "I'll have this cleaning job done in another ten minutes. Then I'm ready to start whenever you are."

"You seem anxious to get away from Belton City," Penny smiled. "You're not trying to escape from any creditors?"

"Nothing like that," laughed Mr. Nichols. "I'm just sick and tired of the Nichols Detective Agency. For two weeks I intend to forget everything remotely connected with investigation work. Why, if a thief broke into the house tonight and stole our diamonds, I'd not interest myself in the case!"

"That's what you say now," chuckled Penny. "Anyway, we haven't any diamonds."

"Inspector Harris tried to tempt me with a case only today," the detective went on, his face becoming serious again. "I told him I couldn't take it."

"You've earned the right to your vacation," Penny declared.

Mr. Nichols glanced quickly at his daughter.

"You're not very anxious to go to Knob Hill, are you, Penny?" he asked.

"Why—what makes you think that?" Penny stammered. The question had caught her off guard.

"I pride myself that I've learned a few simple things during my twenty years as a detective. Faces aren't hard to read—especially yours."

"Dear me," said Penny, "I didn't suppose I was an open book. Just what does my face tell you?"

"That you're bored at the thought of going to a dull place such as Knob Hill. It's selfish of me to drag you along——"

"No, it isn't, Dad!" Penny broke in. "You've needed this rest for years and I'd not think of letting you go off by yourself. Why, for all your wonderful detective ability, you can never find your own slippers!"

"That's so," Mr. Nichols chuckled. "Well, I hope the two weeks won't turn out to be too monotonous for you."

Penny left her father to finish cleaning the car and ran into the house. Mrs. Gallup, the kindly housekeeper who had looked after the girl since the death of her mother, was preparing luncheon in the kitchen.

"I've laid out all your things on the bed," she told Penny. "And your suitcase is down from the attic."

"Thank you, Mrs. Gallup," said Penny. "I'll soon have everything packed."

By the time she had completed the task, the housekeeper announced luncheon. Throughout the meal Mr. Nichols laughed and carried on in a high mood, declaring that he felt like a youngster let out of school.

"What shall I do about your mail, sir?" inquired Mrs. Gallup when it was time for Penny and her father to leave.

"Forward letters to me at Knob Hill in care of Judd Kilkane," the detective instructed. "But don't give anyone my address unless it is a matter of great importance."

"I'll be careful about that," Mrs. Gallup promised. "And I do hope you have a good rest in the country, Mr. Nichols."

She watched from the doorway until the car disappeared down the street.

Penny settled herself for a long ride. She switched on the radio and from force of habit turned the dial to the police station broadcast.

"Not that station," said Mr. Nichols.

"I forgot, Dad," laughed Penny. "My mistake."

She tuned to a program of band music and they both listened to it as they drove along. An hour's ride brought them into high hills. From then on they went more slowly, enjoying the view.

Approaching dusk found Penny and her father still several miles from Knob Hill.

"I thought we'd be settled in our cottage by this time," said Mr. Nichols, frowning. "Perhaps we ought to spend the night at a hotel."

"We can decide about that when we reach Knob Hill," Penny replied. "But let's stop somewhere for an early supper. Otherwise, we'll have to buy supplies and carry them with us."

Mr. Nichols turned in at the next roadside cafe. He and Penny enjoyed an excellent meal and then went on once more toward Knob Hill.

It was nearly dark by this time. As they rounded a sharp curve, Mr. Nichols reached down to switch on the headlights. At the same moment Penny gave a little cry of alarm.

"Oh, Dad! There's a car in the ditch!"

Mr. Nichols slammed on the foot brake, for he had seen the wreck at the same instant. A high-powered blue sedan lay on its side in the rain-gutted ditch to the right of the road. One tire was down, and Mr. Nichols judged that a blow-out had caused the accident.

"I wonder if anyone was hurt?" Penny gasped.

Just then a short, squat little man in a long gray overcoat and felt hat stepped out from behind the overturned car. He held up his hand as a signal to Mr. Nichols.

"I see you've had an accident," said the detective as he brought his own car to a standstill at the side of the road. "Anything we can do to help?"

Penny could not see the stranger's face clearly, for his soft felt hat was pulled low over his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was husky.

"Sure, you can give me a lift if you will. My tire blew out when I was doing seventy. First thing I knew I was in the ditch."

"You're lucky it wasn't a worse accident," replied the detective.

"What's lucky about it?" demanded the stranger irritably.

"Your car doesn't appear much damaged," replied Mr. Nichols, studying the man curiously. "And you don't seem to be hurt. You easily might have been killed traveling at that speed."

"What is this—a lecture in motor safety?" asked the man angrily.

"Not at all," said Mr. Nichols. "Did you say you wanted a ride?"

"Yes; how far are you going?"

"Only to Knob Hill."

"I'll ride along that far anyway," said the stranger.

"My name is Christopher Nichols," the detective introduced himself, "and this is my daughter, Penny."

"Pleased to meet you," muttered the man, without looking directly at either of them. He hesitated, and then added: "I'm Walter Crocker."

"The name sounds familiar," commented Mr. Nichols.

"You may be thinking of my uncle, Herman Crocker. He's well known in these parts."

"I don't believe I know him," replied the detective.

"I'm on my way to see him now," said the man. His voice was bitter. "Herman Crocker is a disreputable crook, even if he is my uncle. He's been stealing from me for years, but it's at an end now! I'll force him to give me my inheritance even if I have to tear him limb from limb——"

"I'd not get so excited if I were you," interrupted Mr. Nichols calmly. "You're probably upset because of the accident."

"It did shake me up a bit," replied Crocker, with an abrupt change of tone.

"Just climb in and we'll take you to town with us," Mr. Nichols invited.

Penny started to move over so that the man could sit beside her.

"Never mind," he said quickly. "I'll ride in the rumble."

"It's not very comfortable," Mr. Nichols warned.

"No matter. I'd rather sit back there."

He climbed into the rumble and Mr. Nichols drove on down the road. Now and then when Penny would glance back through the glass she could see the man gazing intently at her. His scrutiny made her feel very uncomfortable. She wondered if her father shared the feeling. Mr. Nichols was paying close attention to the road, and his masklike face revealed none of his thoughts.

Soon the car drove into the little sleepy village of Kendon which had been settled at the foot of Knob Hill.

"Look for Judd Kilkane's real estate office," the detective told Penny.

"There it is!" she cried a moment later. "On the north side."

Mr. Nichols parked the car in front of the building.

"I'll be back in just a minute," he said to Walter Crocker. "I want to get the key to our cottage from Judd Kilkane."

The man in the rumble made no reply. He sat hunched over in the seat, head bent low.

"Wait a minute, Dad," called Penny. "I'll go with you."

They entered the building, which was little more than a one-story frame shack. The door had been left unlocked, yet Judd Kilkane's office appeared to be deserted.

"This is annoying," said Mr. Nichols. "He's probably out to supper, but it means we may have a long wait."

"We ought to tell Walter Crocker," returned Penny. "Dad, I don't like that fellow. He gives me the creeps."

"He is a bit queer," the detective admitted with a short laugh.

"Dad, do you suppose——"

"No," interrupted Mr. Nichols, "I don't think he's an escaped crook or anything of the sort. Even if he were, I'd not be interested. This is my vacation."

"Oh, all right," laughed Penny. "I was just thinking aloud."

Mr. Nichols opened the door and they walked toward the car together. Suddenly Penny halted, staring toward the rumble seat.

"Why, Dad!" she exclaimed. "Walter Crocker has gone!"

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?"

CHAPTER III

A Queer Old Man

"My name is Penelope Nichols," the girl introduced herself after she had recovered from astonishment. "Are you Mr. Crocker?"

"I am," replied the old man grimly. "What do you want here?"

"Why, my father and I rented your cottage," Penny told him quickly. "Would you mind calling off your dog? He acts as if he'd enjoy chewing me to pieces."

"Rudy has been trained to attack anyone who tries to come up the lane," Herman Crocker said evenly.

He stepped through a gap in the hedge and spoke sharply to the hound. Rudy went reluctantly to the side of his master.

Penny could not help but stare at the old man. He was short and stooped and his clothes were not very clean. She saw that he was carrying a shotgun.

Herman Crocker studied the girl shrewdly.

"What is it you want of me?" he asked gruffly. "I told Kilkane he was to handle everything about the cottage. I don't want to be bothered."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Crocker, but there are a few details which must be settled if my father and I are to remain."

"What's your complaint?"

"The electricity hasn't been turned on, Mr. Crocker. The cottage needs cleaning. There is no wood. I can't find half enough dishes or cooking pans. We'll need more linen and blankets."

"You can't expect me to fix up the place like it was a palace," complained the old man. "You're only paying fifteen dollars a week."

"If you're unwilling to do anything about it then we'll leave this morning." Penny turned to walk away.

"Here, wait," called the old man. "I'm willing to do anything that's reasonable. Come up to the house and I'll give you some clean linen."

Penny walked with Mr. Crocker up the lane, trying not to show that she felt uneasy. The old man caught her staring at his shotgun.

"I was hunting squirrels early this morning," he explained.

"Isn't this out of season?" Penny asked before she stopped to think.

Herman Crocker glanced at her with an expression which she was unable to fathom.

"Seasons make no difference to me," he answered shortly. "I go hunting when I please."

They walked on in silence. When they were near the house Penny said casually:

"Oh, by the way, my father and I met your nephew last night."

"My nephew?"

"Why, yes, Walter Crocker. He told us he was on his way to visit you."

Penny saw the old man glance quickly toward her. She could tell that her words had disturbed him.

"Oh, I couldn't think who you meant at first," he muttered. "Yes, Walter was here last night. But he's gone back to the city."

Penny allowed the subject to drop, yet she wondered if Herman Crocker were telling the truth. Had the younger man really visited his uncle for the purpose of claiming an inheritance? He had seemed very bitter toward the old fellow. From her observation of Walter Crocker she did not believe that he was a person who would be easily discouraged in his ambitious designs.

Penny had learned from past experience that if one wished to avoid trouble it did not pay to ask too many questions. More than once an inquiring turn of mind had involved her in strange adventures. Not so many months before this same trait of curiosity had drawn her into a detective case which had baffled the Belton City police. Her clever work, which resulted in the capture of a daring group of auto thieves, is recounted in the first volume of this series, "Penny Nichols Finds a Clue."

Even more recently, Penny had solved a mystery which concerned a queer sculptured figure called The Black Imp. By exposing an unscrupulous dealer in paintings who sought to betray his patrons, she saved many persons from being swindled and at the same time gained honor for herself.

At the moment, Penny was not eager to involve herself in trouble. She determined to say no more about Walter Crocker unless the old man reopened the subject.

"I'll get the things for you," said Herman Crocker as they reached the kitchen door. "Just wait here."

Penny was a little surprised because the old man did not invite her into the house.

"It won't take me long," he said, deliberately closing the door behind him.

Penny seated herself on the steps of the sagging porch and kept her eye upon Herman Crocker's dog which had stationed himself only a few feet away.

"That animal is vicious," she thought uneasily. "I don't see why Crocker keeps him around."

Hearing a slight sound Penny gazed toward the right and was surprised to observe a small boy peering at her from the corner of the house. He was tall and very thin but did not appear to be more than nine or ten years of age.

"Hello there," said Penny in a friendly voice.

"Hello," answered the boy. He moved slowly toward her, staring rather blankly.

"You're not Mr. Crocker's little boy?" Penny asked, hoping to draw him into conversation.

"I'm his grandson."

"Oh, his grandson," repeated Penny, studying the lad with interest. He bore slight resemblance to Herman Crocker. "And is Rudy your dog?"

"No!" replied the lad bitterly. "I hate him. If I tried to go away from here he'd attack me. My grandfather has trained him to do that."

Penny was not certain that she had understood correctly. She could not believe that Herman Crocker deliberately kept his grandson a prisoner on the property.

"You don't mean——" she began, but the words died away.

The kitchen door had opened. Herman Crocker stood scowling at his grandson.

"Perry!" he said harshly. "Get inside! There's work to be done!"

"Yes, sir," replied the boy meekly.

With a frightened glance directed toward Penny he scuttled into the house. Mr. Crocker closed the door again.

"I do believe that old man was afraid to have me talk with his grandson!" Penny thought shrewdly. "How strange!"

She did not have long to reflect upon the queer actions of her new landlord, for in a very few minutes he reappeared with an armload of linen and blankets.

"I've telephoned the electric company for you," he told her. "Your lights ought to be on before night."

"And will you have the cottage cleaned for us?" Penny requested.

"I can't do the work myself," scowled the man. "But if you want to get Mrs. Masterbrook, I'll pay the bill."

"Who is she?" inquired Penny.

"I'll give you her address. She does cleaning work by the day."

Penny was not very well pleased with the arrangement because it meant that she must make a special trip to find Mrs. Masterbrook. However, there seemed no other way since the landlord had proved himself to be such an unaccommodating person.

"You'll likely be going in to town sometime to-day?" ventured Mr. Crocker as Penny turned to leave.

"Why, I imagine so. We'll need supplies."

The man hesitated, and then said in a tone which he tried to make sound casual: "It might be just as well for you not to mention to folks that you saw my nephew. Not that I have any secrets to keep. I just don't like folks nosing into my affairs. Anyway, Walter's gone now and it's no one's business but my own."

"I am a stranger in the community," replied Penny. "I'd have no occasion to speak of your nephew."

"That's what I thought," said Herman Crocker in a tone of relief. "Well, if there's anything more you need, let me know. And I'll see that you get a supply of wood before nightfall."

"Thank you," Penny responded.

She permitted herself a smile as she walked down the lane with the arm load of bedding. It was easy enough to see why Mr. Crocker had become so obliging. He expected a favor in return—her silence regarding Walter Crocker.

"He acts almost as if he is ashamed of his nephew," she thought. "I wonder why he doesn't wish folks to learn about him."

Mr. Nichols had finished shaving by the time Penny reached the cottage.

"Well, I hope you rounded up some breakfast for us," he remarked.

Penny shook her head as she dropped the pile of linen on the table.

"No such luck, Dad. I asked Mr. Crocker for so many things I didn't try to get any food. He's the strangest man!"

"What's so strange about him?"

"I suspect he's a miser or something of the sort. Anyway, he keeps a wicked looking dog and goes around the premises with a shotgun. He won't let his grandson talk with strangers, either."

"You didn't learn much, did you?"

"Well, I didn't have a very good chance," Penny grinned. "You see, he wouldn't let me into the house. I had to wait on the porch while he brought the things."

"Penny, are you making all this up?"

"Of course not!" she retorted indignantly. "Wait until you meet Mr. Crocker. He's a very mysterious character."

"Then I'd just as soon not meet him," laughed the detective. "In my present mood he'd not interest me a bit."

"I'll tell you about the practical results of our talk," smiled Penny. "We're to have all the wood we need and our electric lights should be hooked up by nightfall. Mr. Crocker has promised to pay for having the cottage cleaned. He gave me the name and address of a woman who will do the work."

"That's fine," said the detective. "If she's any good as a housekeeper, why not hire her ourselves by the week? Then you'd be free to roam around and have a good time."

"The idea sounds all right to me," Penny declared quickly. "To tell you the truth, I don't know much about cooking on an old-fashioned stove."

"Let's drive down to the village now," suggested the detective. "We'll have breakfast and then find the cleaning woman."

Penny and her father rode down Knob Hill to the little town of Kendon. Fortified by an excellent meal at the Florence Cafe they set forth to find the home of Anna Masterbrook. They were told that she was a spinster who lived two miles from the village.

"Why, this is the same road we came over last night," Penny observed as they drove along.

"Yes, it is," agreed Mr. Nichols. "For half a cent I'd keep right on going until we reached Belton City."

"Oh, we'll both like it after we get the cottage in order," Penny said cheerfully. "Mrs. Masterbrook may easily turn out to be a diamond in the rough."

"I hope so," sighed Mr. Nichols. "But our luck isn't running very well."

The car rolled over a low hill and Penny observed a curve just ahead.

"Dad, didn't we pick up Walter Crocker at just about this point?" she asked.

"I think this was the place," he agreed.

The car swung slowly around the bend. Both Penny and her father turned their heads to glance toward the ditch. They were surprised to see Walter Crocker's automobile still tipped over on its side. Apparently it had not been greatly damaged.

"Well, that's certainly odd," said Penny as they drove on past the scene of the accident.

"Meaning just what, Penny?"

"Why, it seems queer to me that the car hasn't been towed to a garage," she replied thoughtfully. "Mr. Crocker told me his nephew had gone back to the city. If that is true, why did the man abandon a good automobile?"

CHAPTER IV

Inside Information

"The garage may be slow in towing the car into town," replied Mr. Nichols. "I've noticed that things don't move at lightning speed around Kendon."

"I suppose that could be the reason," Penny admitted reluctantly. "But wouldn't you think that Walter Crocker would want to find out how much damage had been done to his car before he left?"

"Oh, he may have so much money that it doesn't matter."

"I doubt that, Dad. You remember he told us he was coming here to claim an inheritance. After meeting old Herman I'd guess that he didn't get it. Would you think——"

"I'm not thinking at all these days," chuckled Mr. Nichols. "I've padlocked my brain for two weeks. Please, Penny, don't try to stir up imaginary cases for me to solve."

Penny made no reply, for just then they came within view of an old farmhouse which answered the description provided by Herman Crocker. A tin mailbox by the roadside bore the name Anna Masterbrook.

"This is the right place," Mr. Nichols declared.

They went up the front walk, observing that it had been swept that morning. The porch was freshly scrubbed, too, and clean curtains hung in the windows.

"Mrs. Masterbrook must be a good housekeeper," the detective said. "I think we'll employ her if her price is right."

He rapped on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, gaunt-looking woman of middle age. Her black hair had been drawn back tightly from her face, accentuating the high cheek bones.

"Mrs. Masterbrook?" inquired the detective, lifting his hat.

"That's my name," said the woman. Her voice was high pitched and unpleasant. "If you're selling anything——"

"I am not a salesman," Mr. Nichols assured her. "Mr. Crocker sent us to you. I understand that you do cleaning work."

"I worked for Herman Crocker seven years," the woman said. "Precious little pay or thanks I ever got for it too!"

"We are staying in his cottage," Penny explained. "Mr. Crocker said we were to have you clean it up for us, and he would pay the bill."

"How do I know he'll keep his promise?"

"Does Mr. Crocker usually break his word?" asked the detective.

"Well, he's close," Mrs. Masterbrook replied. "A dollar looks as big as a mountain to Herman."

"If Mr. Crocker fails to settle the bill, I'll look after it myself," Mr. Nichols promised. "And another thing. Would you be willing to take a position as housekeeper for a couple of weeks?"

"What would it pay?" Mrs. Masterbrook demanded quickly.

"Well, I might let you name your price."

"Five dollars a week," the woman said firmly after a moment of thought. "I wouldn't come for a cent less."

Penny and Mr. Nichols glanced at each other. They had expected Mrs. Masterbrook to ask double the amount.

"You are hired, Mrs. Masterbrook," said the detective gently.

Penny and her father went back to the car to wait while the woman collected a few things to take with her.

"I think we've found a jewel, Penny," the detective declared enthusiastically. "If I'm any judge of character, she's a good housekeeper."

"And if I'm a judge of it, she's a chronic grumbler and a gossip," replied Penny. "But we're only paying five dollars, so we can't be too particular."

Mrs. Masterbrook soon came down the walk with a small handbag. She crowded into the front seat of the car and even before they were well on their way to Kendon, began to question her new employer. She asked his name, his business, where he was from, why he had come to Kendon and how long he meant to stay.

Penny glanced impishly at her father, who was growing slightly annoyed. She had warned him that Mrs. Masterbrook would prove to be a gossip.

"I met Mr. Crocker's grandson this morning," she remarked, hoping to switch the conversation to a less personal topic. "He seems like a fine lad."

"Yes, but it's a shame the way Herman brings him up," replied Mrs. Masterbrook, shaking her head sadly. "Perry has never had much schooling and he's kept at home all the time."

"I should think the school authorities would see that the boy attended classes," remarked Mr. Nichols.

"They don't like to cross Herman," Mrs. Masterbrook explained. "At least that's how I figure it."

"Mr. Crocker doesn't actually mistreat the boy?" Penny questioned.

"Herman couldn't be very good to anyone even if he tried. Perry was his daughter Ella's son, and I guess old Herman thought more of Ella than he did of any other member of his family. When she died he took the boy to raise."

"I judge his own wife isn't living," remarked Mr. Nichols.

"No, poor Ida went to her rest come twelve years ago this fall. Folks said she wouldn't have taken down with pneumonia if Herman had given her enough to eat."

Neither Penny nor her father encouraged Mrs. Masterbrook to talk, but all the way to the cottage she chattered about first one person and then another. With no effort on her part, Penny gathered many items of interesting information concerning Herman Crocker.

"Folks around here call him a miser," the woman revealed. "When his sister Jenny died, she left quite a tidy little fortune. Some people don't think Herman ever inherited very much of it, but I could tell 'em a few things about that matter if I were minded to do it."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Mr. Nichols, "but the Crocker family isn't of great interest to us. Suppose we forget about it."

"I thought you wanted to hear," retorted Mrs. Masterbrook indignantly. She subsided into hurt silence.

Penny felt sorry that her father had discouraged the woman from talking. Although she did not approve of idle gossip, she had been eager to learn more about Herman Crocker and his queer relatives. She wondered too if Mrs. Masterbrook could tell her anything about Mr. Crocker's nephew, Walter.

Penny and her father left the housekeeper at the cottage and then drove back to the village for supplies.

"I'm afraid I made a great mistake in hiring her," confessed the detective. "She'll talk us crazy."

"At least you must admit it's interesting to have all the inside information about our landlord."

"I'm not concerned in Crocker's affairs," Mr. Nichols rejoined. "Anyway, I'd not believe a word that woman said about him. Obviously, she bears a grudge."

Penny and her father made their purchases in one of the grocery stores, finding the owner a pleasant, genial individual. During the course of the conversation he remarked upon the automobile accident which had occurred the previous night.

"It's a funny thing about it," he said. "The owner of the car disappeared and no one seems to know the driver."

"Why, my daughter and I brought him to town last night," declared Mr. Nichols quickly. "He was Herman Crocker's nephew, or so he told us."

"You don't say! Well, that's the first time I ever heard that Herman had a living nephew. Shall I carry these packages out to the car for you?"

"Yes, please," requested the detective.

The storekeeper deposited the grocery order in the automobile and then went back into his shop.

"Dad, Mr. Crocker asked me not to tell anyone about his nephew's having been here," Penny said as they started up Knob Hill.

"Well, I didn't make any such promise," replied her father. "I can't see why there should be any mystery about it. Anyway, it will be fairly easy for the police to learn the man's name by tracing the license plates of his abandoned car."

"Yes, that's true," Penny agreed. "I can't for the life of me understand why Walter Crocker would go back to the city without trying to salvage his car."

"I'd not worry about it too much," smiled the detective. "For all we know he may have left orders at one of the garages to have it hauled in and repaired."

Upon arriving at their cottage, Mr. Nichols and Penny were pleasantly surprised to find Mrs. Masterbrook hard at work. She had cleaned up all the rooms, and she came out to the car to help carry in the groceries.

"The electric company man was here while you were gone," she told Mr. Nichols. "The lights are on now."

"Fine," replied the detective. "And how about our supply of wood?"

"Herman sent over enough for today and to-morrow. He said he'd get busy and cut more. But I'd not count on it. Herman is as lazy as all get out."

Mr. Nichols laughed and told the housekeeper that he and Penny were going for a little walk before lunch.

"It will be ready at one o'clock sharp," Mrs. Masterbrook warned. "I hope you'll be back on time, because I don't like to keep victuals waiting."

"We'll be here," promised the detective. When he and Penny were beyond hearing, he added: "I'm afraid we made a big mistake in hiring that woman. I can see right now that she means to be the boss of the show."

"Oh, well, if the weather is nice we can stay away from the cottage most of the time," laughed Penny.

After exploring the ravine, they went back to the cottage to find that luncheon was nearly ready. In justice to Mrs. Masterbrook, the detective admitted that the meal was excellent. She had made biscuits, cake, and gravy, besides preparing the usual vegetables and meat.

However, without being requested to do so, the housekeeper seated herself at the head of the table. Penny and her father had assumed that she would take her meals alone, but neither of them had the courage to make the suggestion. They were a little afraid of the woman's sharp tongue.

Conversation was difficult in Mrs. Masterbrook's presence. Penny and Mr. Nichols did not wish to say anything of a personal nature lest the housekeeper repeat it to her acquaintances. Mrs. Masterbrook talked enough for everyone. She prattled on about the gossip of the town until Penny and her father were thoroughly bored. They were relieved when the meal was over.

"I believe I'll drive back to town this afternoon," the detective announced. "I want to buy a newspaper, and I'll order a telephone installed."

"I thought you were eager to lose contact with the world," laughed Penny.

"To a certain extent—yes," replied Mr. Nichols. "Bui I also like to keep informed."

"You don't need to worry about that part," chuckled Penny. "Mrs. Masterbrook will see to it that you're up to date on all the news."

"She'll probably appropriate the telephone too," said the detective ruefully. "But I think I'll put one in anyway. Coming with me, Penny?"

"No, I'd rather stay here, Dad. I thought I'd write a letter to Susan."

After her father had driven away, Penny unpacked her suitcase. Then she carried her writing materials to a pleasant nook not far from the ravine, finding a flat rock which served as a desk.

The letter was soon finished. Penny sealed it and then sat for a long time gazing at the distant trees which were waving gently in the breeze.

"It's nice here," she thought dreamily, "but rather dull. I wish Susan could visit me. Together we might stir up a little excitement."

After a while Penny dozed off. When she awoke she gathered up her writing things and walked back to the house. She chanced to be wearing tennis shoes and so made very little noise as she entered.

Penny had no intention of trying to spy upon Mrs. Masterbrook. In fact, she had forgotten all about the housekeeper as she made her way toward her own bedroom.

The kitchen and living rooms were in order but quite deserted. The significance of this did not dawn upon Penny.

Then she came to the doorway of her father's bedroom. She might have passed it without a glance had she not heard a startled cry.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in!" muttered Mrs. Masterbrook in confusion.

The woman had been caught in the act of examining letters and papers contained in Mr. Nichols' suitcase. She straightened up quickly, a deep flush spreading over her cheeks.

"Mrs. Masterbrook!" said Penny sternly. "Kindly explain the meaning of this! Why are you prying into my father's private papers?"

CHAPTER V

A Night Visitor

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Masterbrook angrily. "I merely came into this bedroom to do the work for which I was hired."

"Did my father employ you to read his private letters?" asked Penny coldly.

"I was cleaning the room and I thought I would unpack the suitcase. I had just come upon these letters when you walked in."

"I'll relieve you of them now," said Penny. "Hereafter, please don't touch anything either in father's suitcase or my own."

Mrs. Masterbrook did not trust herself to reply. With an angry toss of her head she marched back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

"I don't care if she is out of sorts!" Penny thought. "Dad ought to discharge her for a trick like this."

She returned the letters to the suitcase and after locking the bag took the key with her. Later in the afternoon when Mr. Nichols came back to the cottage in company with one of the telephone men, she drew him aside to reveal what the housekeeper had done.

"It's nothing so very serious," the detective said. "Of course the trick was a contemptible one, but I doubt that she learned anything of interest. The letters all dealt with matters of routine business."

"But if Mrs. Masterbrook reads our letters she'll pry into other things too."

"We could discharge her," the detective said, frowning thoughtfully. "The point is—where would we get another housekeeper on short notice? Especially one who can cook."

"Mrs. Masterbrook does do her work well," Penny admitted grudgingly.

"I'll discharge her if you say the word, Penny."

"No, let her stay," the girl decided. "But we'll have to be very careful about what we do and say around her."

With a telephone installed, the electric lights connected, and the house stocked with groceries, Penny and her father felt that they were fairly well established in the cottage. As was to be expected, Mrs. Masterbrook acted very distant during the remainder of the day. She went about the house with an injured air which was amusing to Penny and Mr. Nichols.

Toward evening the telephone rang.

"Why, that was a long and two short!" exclaimed Penny, springing up from her chair. "That's our ring."

"Must be a mistake," replied Mr. Nichols. "No one would be calling us so soon."

Before Penny could reach the telephone, Mrs. Masterbrook answered it. She appeared in the doorway and said primly to Mr. Nichols:

"Long distance is calling."

"Long distance!" exclaimed the detective. "That's queer. How did anyone get my number so soon?"

"I'm sure you can't blame that on me," replied the housekeeper maliciously.

Mr. Nichols went to answer the call. Penny noticed that Mrs. Masterbrook lingered not far away, evidently listening. Upon seeing that the girl was watching, she retreated to the kitchen.

In a few minutes Mr. Nichols returned to the living room.

"I hope nothing is wrong at home," Penny said in a low tone. She was afraid the call had been from Mrs. Gallup.

"No, everything is all right," returned the detective. "That was Inspector Harris who telephoned me."

"But how did he get your telephone number?"

"Oh, he plagued Mrs. Gallup into revealing our address, and then he found that we had a telephone installed today. Worse luck!"

"Mrs. Gallup was instructed not to tell where we were unless something of great importance arose."

"The inspector evidently convinced her that this was a vital matter."

"What is it all about anyway?" Penny inquired curiously.

"Inspector Harris wants me to take a new case. Last night a big robbery was committed at Hannibal, which is the nearest town to Kendon. The inspector thought that since I was on the scene it would be convenient for me to conduct the investigation."

"Convenient for him."

"Obviously."

Penny glanced quickly at her father. "And what did you tell him, Dad?"

"I said I wouldn't do it. This is my vacation and I mean to enjoy it."

"Good for you, Dad," Penny said approvingly.

"The inspector didn't like to take 'no' for an answer," Mr. Nichols went on. "He claimed that this was not an ordinary robbery case and that I'd be sorry if I turned it down."

"What was so unusual about it, Dad?"

"Nothing that I could tell. A private home was entered and the thieves escaped with about a thousand dollars' worth of jewelry. The owner, a man of wealth, insists upon private detectives taking over the case. He's not satisfied with the local police talent."

While Penny and her father were discussing the robbery, Mrs. Masterbrook announced dinner. To their relief, she did not talk during the meal but maintained an aloof air.

"I don't like the look of the weather," remarked Mr. Nichols, glancing out the window. "I shouldn't be surprised if we have a storm tonight."

"The wind does appear to be rising," Penny agreed. "Just listen to it whistle in the grove of evergreens—it gives one a creepy feeling."

"I hope we have a good roof over us," Mr. Nichols declared. "One that doesn't leak."

As he spoke, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Mercy on us!" screamed Mrs. Masterbrook in terror. "What's happened to the lights?"

"Probably the current has been turned off, or the high wind may have broken a wire," said the detective calmly.

"Or a fuse may have blown out," Penny added.

"I'll get my flashlight from the car and take a look," said Mr. Nichols. "I don't know if I can locate the fuse box or not."

"It's in the cellar," contributed Mrs. Masterbrook.

"The only way to get down there is from the outside of the cottage," Penny added. "Those strange-looking double doors with the iron rings pull up, and beneath them is a stone stairway which leads into the cellar. Be careful, for it's easy to fall. I took a tumble myself this afternoon when I was prowling around."

Mr. Nichols groped his way to the door and disappeared into the night. A few minutes later Penny saw the beam of his flashlight playing over the lawn. Then the cellar doors were thrown back and the light vanished.

"You'd not catch me going down into that dark, damp hole at night!" Mrs. Masterbrook said in a low voice.

"Why not?" asked Penny. "Isn't it just as dark here?"

"Something might happen. If you knew what I do about this place——"

"What do you mean?" questioned Penny quickly.

"Oh, I don't tell everything I know," the housekeeper retorted.

Penny felt certain that the woman was trying to plague her, but nevertheless she was greatly relieved when her father returned to the kitchen.

"It was only a blown fuse after all," he reported. "But I can't find any extra ones."

"I'll telephone Mr. Crocker!" Penny announced. "He's our landlord and he ought to work at the job."

"I'll bet a cent you don't get any," the detective rejoined.

After a lengthy telephone conversation, Penny faced her father triumphantly.

"You lose your cent," she laughed. "Mr. Crocker was provoked, but he promised to come right over with a new fuse."

Twenty minutes later an ancient automobile was heard laboring up Knob Hill. Mr. Crocker came up the walk, carrying a lighted lantern.

"Seems like you folks are having a lot of trouble here," he said crossly as Mr. Nichols met him at the door.

"We're sorry to trouble you," replied the detective. "If the cottage had been better equipped——"

"I'll put in the fuse for you to be sure it's good," Mr. Crocker interrupted.

He and Mr. Nichols went down into the cellar together. From the doorway of the kitchen Penny noticed that someone was sitting in Mr. Crocker's car.

"Is that you, Perry?" she called softly.

There was no answer, so she walked down to the car. Mr. Crocker's grandson sat hunched down in the front seat.

"Aren't you going to say hello to me?" asked Penny. "I do believe you're shy."

"I'm not shy," replied the little boy quickly. "But my grandpa says he'll whip me if I talk with you."

Penny was silent for a moment.

"Of course I don't wish you to get into trouble, Perry," she said quietly, "but why doesn't your grandfather like me?"

"Because you'll ask too many questions," the boy answered. "Please go away now, before grandpa finds you talking with me."

The cottage became flooded with light as Mr. Nichols and Herman Crocker replaced the old fuse. Penny knew that they would be coming up the steps in a moment. She did not wish Perry to be punished so she slipped back into the house.

However, as soon as Herman Crocker had driven away Penny ran back outside to meet her father. She told him what Perry had said.

"Herman Crocker is a queer old duck," the detective replied. "I don't doubt he abuses the boy."

"We ought to do something about it, Dad," Penny said earnestly.

"Now don't get worked up over the affair. We haven't any proof that the boy is mistreated. If the local authorities aren't interested in the case, we have no call to interfere. We'd only stir up a tempest in a teapot."

"I suppose you're right," Penny admitted reluctantly. "You usually are."

"I'd forget the Crocker family if I were you. Try to enjoy your vacation."

Penny did not wish to forget about Perry. She felt that he deserved a better fate than life with a queer old man like Herman Crocker.

Later in the evening as she sat with a book, she kept thinking of the boy. She could not keep her mind on anything she read.

At nine o'clock it began to rain. The wind, steadily growing stronger, rattled the windowpanes.

"I'm afraid this will be a noisy place tonight," commented Mr. Nichols. "But I'm drowsy enough to sleep through anything."

Mrs. Masterbrook had retired soon after the dishes were washed. After getting himself a drink in the kitchen, Mr. Nichols announced that he too was going to bed.

"I'll be coming along in a few minutes," Penny said. "How about the doors? Shall I lock them?"

"Oh, it wouldn't do any harm," replied the detective carelessly. "But on a night like this there's no chance anyone will visit us——"

Mr. Nichols' voice trailed slowly away. As if in contradiction to his words, there came a sharp rap on the door.

CHAPTER VI

The Attic Door

"It seems that you are wrong, Dad," commented Penny dryly. "Already we have a visitor."

Mr. Nichols went to the door and flung it open. The light revealed a bedraggled young man who might have been in his early twenties. He was not very well dressed and his clothes were rain soaked. Penny and her father regarded the stranger a trifle suspiciously until he spoke.

"I beg your pardon," the young man said apologetically, "but I am looking for the Herman Crocker place. Would you be kind enough to direct me?"

"Why, certainly," replied the detective. "Come in out of the rain, won't you?"

"Thanks, but my shoes are covered with mud."

"You can't harm anything in this cottage," said Penny. "Come right in."

The young man stepped over the threshold, removing his limp felt hat. He had sandy hair, Penny observed, and penetrating blue eyes which roved swiftly about the room.

"It's a nasty night," said Mr. Nichols. "Have you walked far?"

"All the way from Kendon."

"Then you went right past Herman Crocker's place. It's a large house to the left of the road."

"The rain is coming down so fast I couldn't see very far ahead of me," the young man replied. "This was the first light I saw along the way."

"It may be that Mr. Crocker has gone to bed," Penny remarked. "I imagine he retires early."

"Will he be expecting you?" inquired the detective.

"Why, no, he won't," the young man replied after a slight hesitation. "I suspect he'll be very much surprised to see me."

"We have a telephone," Penny said. "If you like, I'll call Mr. Crocker for you. He might be willing to drive up and get you."

"Oh, please don't go to any bother," returned the young man quickly, edging toward the door again.

"It won't be any trouble at all."

"Please, I'd rather you wouldn't. I'll not mind the walk."

Penny glanced sharply at the young man. It was plain to see that he had some special motive for not wishing to give Herman Crocker advance notice of his arrival in the community.

Without having any real reason for such a belief, it suddenly struck Penny that the young man's visit might have some connection with the mysterious call which Walter Crocker had made upon his uncle.

"I take it you're a stranger in these parts," remarked Mr. Nichols. He too was studying the young man curiously.

"Well, yes, I am. I'm here to see Mr. Crocker on rather important business."

"You'll be his second out-of-town visitor this week," Penny commented in a casual tone. "Mr. Crocker's nephew was here, but I understand he has gone back to the city."

"Mr. Crocker's nephew?" asked the young man quickly.

"Yes," said Penny, watching him closely. "Walter Crocker."

A strange look came into the young man's eyes. An expression of astonishment gave way to one of wariness.

"You are acquainted with Walter Crocker perhaps?" asked Penny, ignoring her father's warning glance.

"I have heard of him," replied the young man after a brief hesitation. He turned once more toward the door.

As he opened it a strong gust of wind blew a sheet of rain into the room.

"See here, you can't go out in that," said Mr. Nichols firmly. "Let me telephone Crocker and tell him you're here."

The young man shook his head.

"Then I'll put on chains and take you down there in my car."

"No, I'd rather not have you go to any bother on my account. I don't mind a little rain."

"It's blowing a gale and the storm is getting worse every minute," the detective insisted. "Herman Crocker keeps a vicious dog too. If you walk in there without being expected, you may receive an unpleasant reception."

"I wasn't looking for a very cordial one anyway," the young man said slowly. "But thanks for the tip about the dog. Maybe it would be just as well to go back to town for the night."

"There's no need to do that," said Mr. Nichols. "You're welcome to stay here if you like. Our quarters aren't very luxurious, but at least it will be better than walking back to the village."

"I'll get Mrs. Masterbrook to help me fix up one of the bedrooms right away," Penny added quickly.

"It's very kind of you," said the young man, looking troubled. "You know nothing about me——"

"We're not worried upon that score," replied Mr. Nichols with a smile. "But you might tell us your name."

"Oh, yes, to be sure——" stammered the young man. "Just call me Michael—Michael Haymond."

"I am very glad to know you, Mr. Haymond," returned the detective. "May I take your coat and hat? I'll build up the fire so that your things will dry out."

Penny crossed the room intending to call Mrs. Masterbrook. As she opened the door leading into the hallway she saw the housekeeper hastily retreating into her own bedroom. Obviously she had been listening to the conversation.

"Mrs. Masterbrook!" called Penny.

"Well, what is it?" asked the housekeeper, re-opening her door.

"A guest is spending the night. Will you please help me prepare the east bedroom?"

"This is a nice time to start making up beds," the housekeeper complained. "I was just ready to undress."

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Masterbrook. I'll do it myself."

"I didn't say I wasn't willing to help," the housekeeper said quickly. "Only if you ask me, you're making a big mistake to take a perfect stranger into the house."

"What makes you think he's a stranger?" asked Penny quickly.

"I couldn't help hearing what he told you," Mrs. Masterbrook returned with a toss of her head. "I don't believe for a single minute that his name is Michael Haymond. Anyone could tell that he was lying."

"Who do you think he is?" asked Penny. "A 'G' man in disguise?"

"He looks more like a young criminal to me," Mrs. Masterbrook replied soberly. "His face is very familiar."

"Dear me, how did you manage to see him? Not through the keyhole?"

The housekeeper had not meant to betray herself. She flushed and made no answer.

"If you care to meet Mr. Haymond, come into the living room," Penny invited. "I think you'll find him to be a very nice young man."

"No, thank you, I don't wish to meet him," said the housekeeper coldly. "And if the cottage is robbed during the night, kindly don't blame me."

"All right, I won't," laughed Penny.

The bedroom which the guest was to occupy adjoined Mr. Nichols' sleeping quarters. Long after the house had settled down for the night, Penny could hear sounds from that part of the cottage. Either her father or Mr. Haymond was very restless.

"It may have been unwise to take a stranger into the house," the girl reflected, "but he seemed honest enough. I don't see why Mrs. Masterbrook had to act so hateful about it."

For some time Penny remained awake thinking over the information which Michael Haymond had given about himself. He had not told where he lived nor had he mentioned the nature of his business with Herman Crocker. She had fancied that the young man had seemed somewhat shaken by her reference to Walter Crocker.

"I may have imagined that part," she told herself. "Dad didn't seem to notice anything wrong."

Shortly Penny fell asleep. Several hours later she found herself wide awake again. She did not know what had aroused her.

Although Penny had left the curtains up, the room was dark. She could still hear the rain pattering against the tin roof.

Then the girl became aware of another sound. She heard a floor board creak. Someone was moving softly down the hallway.

"I wonder who is up at this hour?" she thought.

For a minute Penny lay perfectly still, listening. Then she crept noiselessly from bed. Drawing on her dressing gown, she tiptoed to the door.

The hall was dark. At first she could distinguish nothing; then she made out a shadowy figure at the far end. Someone was trying to open the door which led up to the attic.

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?"

CHAPTER VIII

The Toy Lantern Clue

Penny stood staring at the car. She knew she could not be mistaken. It was the same automobile which Walter Crocker had upset in the ditch. She had last seen it there when she and her father had gone after Mrs. Masterbrook.

"I suppose Walter Crocker might have instructed his uncle to bring the car here," Penny mused. "But it seems very odd. Old Herman didn't want me to tell anyone about seeing his nephew here. I wonder——"

The girl's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of a car coming up the lane. Glancing out the barn doors Penny saw Herman Crocker arrive in his battered old automobile. He parked beside her own car.

"Of course he'll know I am here," Penny told herself. "I must act as if I've noticed nothing out of the way."

She slipped out of the barn without being observed. As she approached the house, Old Herman climbed from the car, holding fast to Rudy's chain. The hound began to growl and tried to get away from his master.

"Good evening, Mr. Crocker," said Penny pleasantly. "I don't seem to be very popular with your dog."

"I thought that was your car standing here in the lane," replied Mr. Crocker gruffly. "Did I see you coming from the barn?"

"I had started that way," said Penny. "Then I heard your car coming."

Mr. Crocker seemed to relax.

"What's wrong down at the cottage now?" he asked in the tone of one who had deeply suffered.

"Nothing at all, Mr. Crocker. I came to ask if I might buy some fresh eggs."

"I don't make a practice of selling them," the man frowned.

"Then I suppose I'll have to drive in to town."

"Maybe I can let you have a dozen this time."

Mr. Crocker started toward the house but as Penny followed he turned and said pointedly:

"I'll bring them out to the car."

Penny had hoped that she would have an opportunity to speak with Perry. She wished to warn the boy to say nothing about her plan to help him escape from the house. She could only hope that he would be wise enough to remain silent concerning her presence near the barn.

Mr. Crocker did not unlock the front door. Instead he went around to the back porch and from a box which was stored there, counted out a dozen eggs into a paper sack. He returned to the car.

"How much do I owe you, Mr. Crocker?" asked Penny.

The man named a price fifteen cents above the town market. She paid it without a protest.

"How is your grandson, Perry?" Penny asked casually as she prepared to drive away.

Mr. Crocker glanced at her sharply but the girl's face disclosed only polite interest.

"Oh, the boy's fine," he answered gruffly. "He's somewhere around the place."

Penny said goodbye and drove away without disclosing that she knew Perry had been locked in the house during his grandfather's absence. Such treatment seemed nothing short of cruel to her. She could not understand why the townspeople would show such indifference to the lad's fate unless they were unaware of existing conditions.

Upon reaching the cottage, Penny drew her father aside and reported everything she had learned.

"You're sure that the boy told the truth about having no food?" the detective inquired.

"I can't be absolutely certain," Penny admitted. "I've never been inside the house."

"Always there are two sides to every question," Mr. Nichols said slowly. "Folks around here with the exception of Mrs. Masterbrook, seem to think that Crocker isn't a bad sort."

"I'm positive he's not the right person to have entire control of a child, Dad."

"That may be. However, he gave the boy a home when no one else came forward to take him in."

"How do you account for Walter Crocker's car being in Herman's barn?"

"I don't see anything so mysterious about that, Penny. They are relatives. Walter probably asked Herman to have the car hauled there until he came back from the city."

"How do we know he ever went to the city, Dad?"

"What?" asked Mr. Nichols blankly.

Penny repeated her question.

"You're not hinting that something may have happened to Walter Crocker?"

"Yes, I am, Dad. Herman Crocker is a sinister character."

"In your imagination."

"In any one's imagination," Penny said firmly. "We know that Walter Crocker came here to collect money from Herman. That old man is a miser. What would be more natural than to have the nephew conveniently disappear?"

"Penny, you've been reading entirely too many wild stories."

"Dad, you are laughing at me!"

"Pardon me, but I can't help it," smiled the detective. "Herman Crocker is an eccentric character but I don't think he's quite as black as you paint him."

Before Penny could reply, Mrs. Masterbrook came to the porch.

"You're wanted on the 'phone," she told Mr. Nichols.

"Now what?" asked the detective, frowning. "I hope it's not Inspector Harris again."

He went into the house and was gone several minutes. Penny could hear him arguing with someone on the wire. Finally he returned to the porch.

"Well, I've done it now," he told her gloomily.

"What is wrong, Dad?"

"Oh, it was Inspector Harris again. There's been another robbery."

"Near here?" Penny asked quickly.

"Yes, about twenty miles away at a place called Benton. Unknown persons broke into the home of a wealthy family and made off with money and jewels valued at several thousand dollars."

"Why, that sounds almost like the other robbery case, Dad."

"Inspector Harris thinks that the same gang may have pulled both of them. He's after me to take the case."

"And you told him you would?"

"I finally agreed that I'd drive over to Benton and make an inspection. But unless the case is a particularly interesting one I'll have nothing of it. This was supposed to have been my vacation."

"Are you going to Benton now?" questioned Penny eagerly.

"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours."

"Take me with you, Dad," Penny pleaded.

"All right," the detective agreed, "but I don't care to be influenced by any of your wild theories as to who committed the robbery."

"I'll be as quiet as a mouse," Penny promised.

During the ride to Benton Mr. Nichols told her what little he had learned about the case.

"It was the James Kirmenbach home which was robbed," he revealed. "You may have heard of the man. He formerly was the head of the Kirmenbach Chemical Company but retired a few years ago to live quietly in the country. The thieves broke into a wall safe, taking a box of money and jewels. The most valuable item was a diamond necklace."

"I suppose the local police made a routine investigation?"

"Yes, but they found no clues. Kirmenbach appealed to Inspector Harris and that's how I'm rung in on the deal."

It was a few minutes after nine o'clock when Mr. Nichols drew up in front of an imposing brick house at the outskirts of Benton.

Penny and her father presented themselves at the door and upon giving their names to the maid were promptly admitted. Mr. Kirmenbach, a bald headed man in his early sixties, came to greet the detective.

"Mr. Nichols?" he asked, extending his hand. "Inspector Harris telephoned that you would take the case."

"I only promised to make an inspection," the detective replied. "Tell me exactly what happened please."

"I'll call my wife," said Mr. Kirmenbach. "She'll be able to give you a better account than I."

While Penny and her father were waiting they glanced quickly about the living room. It was lavishly furnished and in excellent taste.

Mrs. Kirmenbach, a gray haired lady, only a few years younger than her husband, smiled graciously as she bowed to Penny and the detective.

"I do hope that you'll be able to recover my necklace for me," she said to Mr. Nichols. "The other things do not matter, but the diamonds were left me by my father years ago. I prized them for sentimental reasons as well as their actual value."

"When did you discover your loss?" questioned the detective.

"Early this morning Ellen, our maid, noticed that the window of the study had been pried open. She called me at once. The wall safe had been forced and my box of jewels was missing. My husband sent for the police at once."

"And they learned nothing," Mr. Kirmenbach said in a tone of disgust. "There were no finger-marks, no evidence of any kind."

"How many servants do you employ?" asked the detective.

"Only three," answered Mrs. Kirmenbach. "Ellen is the maid, and we have a colored woman who does the cooking. Jerry, a young college boy, serves as our chauffeur. I can vouch for them all."

"I'll talk with them later," Mr. Nichols said. "I'd like to look at the study now, please."

"This way," invited Mr. Kirmenbach. "I had the room locked up again after the police were here this morning. Nothing has been disturbed."

"Good," said Mr. Nichols. "I'll just look around for a few minutes."

"We'll leave you alone," Mrs. Kirmenbach declared politely. "If you want us for anything, we'll be in the living room."

"It will not take me long," replied the detective.

Penny glanced about the study with keen interest. It was a small paneled room, lined high with book shelves. There was a comfortable davenport, several chairs and a table.

Mr. Nichols first turned his attention to the wall safe. Next he carefully examined the window sill.

"Find anything, Dad?" asked Penny.

"Not yet," he answered.

As her father continued his inspection, Penny became a trifle bored. She sat down on the davenport and began idly to play with a toy lantern which had been dropped there. It was a child's toy such as one often saw in candy stores filled with sweets. The red isinglass had been broken in one place and the original string wick had been replaced by a tiny bit of cloth.

"Dad," said Penny presently, "do the Kirmenbachs have any children?"

"They didn't mention any," Mr. Nichols replied absently.

"They probably have grandchildren," Penny went on.

"Does it make any difference?" asked the detective. He was feeling irritated at his failure to find clues.

"Not particularly, Dad. I was just wondering about this toy lantern."

Mr. Nichols turned around and looked quickly at the object in her hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked sharply.

"Why, it was right here on the davenport, Dad."

Mr. Nichols took the toy from her hand. Penny was surprised by the intent expression of his face as he examined the lantern.

"Come along, Penny," he said quietly, dropping it into his coat pocket. "We'll talk with Mr. and Mrs. Kirmenbach again. It's just possible that we've found a vital clue!"

CHAPTER IX

Herman Crocker's Visit

"You really believe this toy lantern has a connection with the jewel theft?" Penny asked in amazement. "And you say my theories are wild!"

"Wait until we have talked with the Kirmenbachs," replied Mr. Nichols tersely. "I may be on the wrong track but I think not."

Penny and her father found Mr. and Mrs. Kirmenbach awaiting them in the living room. The elderly couple had never seen the toy lantern before and scarcely could believe that the detective had picked it up in the study.

"It may have been dropped there by some child," Mr. Nichols remarked.

"But no child has been in the house in weeks," Mrs. Kirmenbach said quickly. "I can't understand it at all."

"May I speak with your servants now?" requested the detective when the toy lantern had been fully discussed.

"Certainly," replied Mrs. Kirmenbach. "I will call them in."

In turn Mr. Nichols questioned the chauffeur, the cook, and the maid. When he displayed the toy lantern, Ellen's face lighted.

"Why, I saw that toy this morning when I first went into the study," she said. "It was lying on the floor. I picked it up so that no one would stumble over it and fall."

"You dropped it on the davenport?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'd like to have you show me exactly where you found the lantern."

"Certainly, sir."

The maid led Mr. Nichols back to the study and indicated a place not far from the wall safe.

"Mr. Nichols, you don't think that the toy was left by the jewel thieves?" Mr. Kirmenbach asked in amazement.

"Do you know of any other way the lantern happened to be in this room?"

"No."

"Then we will go upon the assumption that the toy lantern is a clue left by the thief—a very interesting clue."

"It seems unbelievable!" exclaimed Mr. Kirmenbach. "What would a jewel thief—a grown man be doing with a toy lantern?"

"It does appear a bit unusual," Mr. Nichols admitted, "but I feel certain there is a logical explanation."

"I have great faith in your ability, Mr. Nichols," said Mr. Kirmenbach. "However, I must say that I am unable to see where this clue will lead."

"At the moment I have no idea myself," replied the detective, smiling. "But I think that this may develop into something."

He declined to amplify his statement further, and a few minutes later left the house with Penny. They drove slowly back toward Knob Hill.

"Dad, I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Kirmenbach," Penny remarked. "I don't see what good that toy lantern will do you."

"First I'll have it examined for finger prints," the detective explained. "However, so many persons have handled it that I don't look for anything on that score. Next I'll get in touch with Inspector Harris and have him check on the manufacturers of toy lanterns. I'll try to find out who bought it."

"But there must be hundreds of toys just like this," Penny protested. "It doesn't have a single distinguishing feature."

"You're wrong there, Penny. Did you notice the wick?"

"Why, it was just an old piece of cloth."

"Exactly. When the old wick tore away, some ingenious child fashioned another from a piece of clothing."

"And you hope that it will be possible to trace the cloth?" Penny asked in amazement.

"That is what I shall try to do."

"You surely don't think that a child committed the robbery, Dad?"

"Hardly, Penny. But the thief may have a child of his own or a small brother. There is a slight chance that the lantern was left deliberately, but I rather doubt such a possibility."

Turning in at their own cottage, Penny and her father noticed a strange car standing by the picket fence.

"It looks as if we have a visitor," the detective observed.

Penny saw a man in a light overcoat standing by the porch talking with the housekeeper. As she and her father came up the walk, he turned to stare at them.

"This is Mr. Erwin Madden from Chicago," the housekeeper said. "He wishes to see you, Mr. Nichols."

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting," remarked the detective pleasantly.

"No, I arrived only a few minutes ago. May I talk with you?"

"Certainly," replied Mr. Nichols. He turned toward the housekeeper who was loitering in the doorway. "That will be all, Mrs. Masterbrook."

After the woman had gone, Mr. Nichols offered the visitor a chair on the porch. Penny started to go into the house but Mr. Madden indicated that it was unnecessary for her to leave.

"My business isn't of a confidential nature," he said pleasantly. "In fact, I am trying to broadcast my mission here in Kendon."

"If I had known that I should have invited our housekeeper to remain," smiled Mr. Nichols. "The town has few secrets unshared by her."

"I came here in search of my business partner, a man by the name of Jay Kline," the visitor went on. "He left Chicago some days ago, coming to Kendon to attend to a private business matter which did not concern the firm. He has not been heard from since."

"Indeed?" inquired Mr. Nichols politely. "You think that he has met with a mishap?"

"Yes, that is my belief," returned Mr. Madden gravely. "Mr. Kline gave me to understand that his mission here was a dangerous one. If something had not gone wrong I know I should have heard of him before this."

"Whom did your friend plan to visit here?"

"I don't know," the visitor admitted. "Mr. Kline was very secretive."

"Have you inquired for him in the village?"

"Yes, no one has heard of the man. It is all very bewildering."

"Are you actually sure that he came to Kendon?" inquired Mr. Nichols.

"I have no proof, but neither have I any reason for thinking that he would go elsewhere. I am convinced that my partner met with foul play."

"You wished to consult me professionally?" Mr. Nichols asked. He wondered who had sent the man to him.

"Professionally?" Mr. Madden questioned in a puzzled tone.

"I am a detective, you know," Mr. Nichols smiled. "On vacation at the present."

"Oh," murmured the visitor in surprise. "No, I wasn't aware of your calling. The grocery store man sent me to you. He told me that you had picked up a stranger in your car several nights ago, and I thought that by some chance the man might have been my missing partner."

"We did give a young man a lift to town," Mr. Nichols said. "But his name was Walter Crocker."

"Then I'll not trouble you further," said the visitor, arising. "Thank you for your time."

He bowed to Penny and her father and drove away in his car.

"He was afraid to tell me any more about the case for fear I'd charge him a fee," chuckled Mr. Nichols. "Very likely by the time Mr. Madden gets back to Chicago his partner will be there too."

"Dad," said Penny thoughtfully, "maybe the man we picked up really was Jay Kline."

"What was that?" Mr. Nichols demanded.

"I said, perhaps the fellow who rode to town with us wasn't Walter Crocker at all but merely told us that name—"

"I can't keep up with your theories," Mr. Nichols laughed. "You have a new one every minute."

"That's because there are so many new developments, Dad. I wonder if it's too late to stop Mr. Madden?"

"He's a mile down the road by this time. And I'm glad of it because I don't want you to make yourself or me look ridiculous. What gave you the idea that Jay Kline and Walter Crocker are one and the same person?"

"I don't know," admitted Penny. "It just came to me all at once. Walter Crocker mysteriously disappeared—"

"You mean he went back to the city."

"We don't know that at all," Penny argued. "Did anyone except you and me see Walter Crocker? No! He went to talk with his uncle, Herman Crocker, and was seen no more. His automobile mysteriously appears in Crocker's barn—"

"Not so loud!" Mr. Nichols warned. "I think Mrs. Masterbrook is standing by the dining room door."

Penny subsided into hurt silence. She felt that her theories were logical and she did not like to have her father tease her.

"Well, anyway I didn't think up the toy lantern clue!" she muttered under her breath.

"That reminds me, I must telephone Inspector Harris," said Mr. Nichols. "I hope he thinks more of my theory than you do."

Penny could tell that her father was growing deeply interested in the Kirmenbach robbery case and following his talk with Inspector Harris, he admitted that he had promised to do further work.

"It's likely to be a tough case," he told Penny the next morning. "Harris thinks we'll have no luck in tracing the toy lantern. I'm driving over to the Kirmenbach place again this morning."

"I believe I'll stay here this time," she replied.

Penny was glad that she elected to remain, for a short time after her father left, Herman Crocker drove into the yard. He greeted her in a more cordial tone than usual.

"Is everything all right here?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, we're getting along very well," Penny answered, glancing shrewdly at the old man. She felt certain that his real purpose in coming to the cottage was not to inquire for their comfort.

"Mrs. Masterbrook at home?" Mr. Crocker questioned casually.

"I saw her walking down toward the road a few minutes ago. Shall I call her?"

"No, I didn't want to see her anyway," he answered quickly. "Just thought I'd take a look around. I have some things stored up in the attic that I'd like to get."

"Just go right in," said Penny. She fell into step with him. "Oh, by the way, do you know Michael Haymond, our new hired man?"

"Never heard of him."

"I thought he might have been to see you."

"Why should he?" Herman Crocker demanded, looking at Penny suspiciously.

"I'm sure I don't know," she laughed uneasily.

When the man made no comment Penny waited a moment and then decided upon a bold attack.

"For some reason Michael reminds me of your nephew," she said. "I suppose he'll be coming back one of these days."

"Walter?" asked the old man gruffly. "I don't look for it."

"But won't he wish to get his car which is stored in your barn?" Penny asked with pretended innocence.

Herman Crocker's expression became guarded. The girl's words startled him but only a slight twitch of his eye muscles disclosed that he had been taken unawares.

"I suppose Walter will get the car sometime," he answered slowly. "He told me he didn't have the money to pay a repair bill just now."

"You had it towed to your place for him?"

"That's right," replied Herman Crocker irritably. "Any more questions? If not I'll go on up to the attic."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Penny apologetically.

She had intended to go along with the old man to the attic, but there was something about the look he gave her which made her change her mind. She was afraid she had made her questions too pointed. It would not do for Mr. Crocker to suspect her motives.

"I guess you know your way," she said evenly, opening the screen door for him.

"I ought to," snapped the old man. "I lived in this cottage for eight years."

He entered the house alone and Penny heard him tramping up the stairs to the attic.

"I wonder what he's doing up there?" she thought. "I'd give a lot to find out."

CHAPTER X

Searching the Loft

While Penny stood listening to the sounds in the attic she saw Mrs. Masterbrook coming up the path to the cottage. The housekeeper paused by the gate to stare at Mr. Crocker's car and then glanced quickly about.

"What is Herman doing here?" she asked abruptly as Penny met her on the porch.

"I'm sure I don't know," replied the girl. "He said he wanted to get something from the attic."

"The attic!" repeated Mrs. Masterbrook. "Oh!" And for no apparent reason she began to laugh.

"What do you find so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," replied the housekeeper, passing quickly into the cottage.

Penny stared after the woman, thoroughly bewildered by her actions. She felt certain that Mrs. Masterbrook knew why old Herman Crocker had come to the cottage.

Penny sat down on the porch steps to wait. Fifteen minutes elapsed before she heard Mr. Crocker coming down the attic stairway. As he stepped out on the porch she noticed that he had nothing in his hands and he seemed somewhat disturbed.

"Did you find what you were after?" asked Penny.

"Oh, yes—yes," replied the old man absently.

Mrs. Masterbrook had emerged from the kitchen in time to hear the remark.

"Did you really?" she inquired with a slight smirk.

The words were spoken casually enough but Penny thought she detected a note of triumph in the woman's voice. Mr. Crocker noticed it too for he glanced sharply at the housekeeper. Her face was expressionless.

"Well, I'll have to be getting back," the old man said. He walked slowly to the car.

Mrs. Masterbrook waited on the porch until he had driven down the road. The housekeeper was highly pleased about something. Penny thought that she looked exactly like a cat which had drunk its fill of rich cream.

"Mrs. Masterbrook knows what Herman came here for," the girl reflected. "I'd question her only it wouldn't do a bit of good."

Penny hoped that if she showed no interest the housekeeper might offer a little information. She was disappointed. Without a word Mrs. Masterbrook walked back into the cottage.

"I'd like to find out what is in the attic," Penny thought. "When the coast is clear I'm going up there and look around."

Throughout the morning she lingered near the cottage, but it seemed that always either the housekeeper or Michael Haymond was at hand to observe her actions. When Mr. Nichols returned from his walk Penny did not tell him about Herman Crocker's mysterious visit to the attic for she felt certain that he would not consider it mysterious at all. He was deeply absorbed in his own case and would sit for an hour at a time lost in thought.

"Are you worrying about toy lanterns, Dad?" Penny asked mischievously.

"That's right," he agreed with a smile. "I talked with Inspector Harris this morning from the village store. He's not progressing very well in tracing down the lantern clue. It seems there are dozens of companies which manufacture toys exactly like the one you found at Kirmenbach's place."

"Then you've reached a dead end?" asked Penny.

"For the time being, yes. But I've not given up. I still believe that it may be possible to trace the thief by means of the clue. After all, the toy lantern had one distinguishing feature—the cloth wick."

"It's too bad all this had to come up on your vacation," Penny said sympathetically. She could see that the lines of worry had returned to her father's face.

"I wish I had kept out of the case," he returned. "But now that I'm in it, I'll have no peace of mind until it's solved. There's something about that toy lantern clue which challenges me!"

"I feel the same way regarding Herman Crocker," Penny nodded.

"What was that?" Mr. Nichols looked up quickly.

"I meant that our landlord's queer personality fascinates me. He's always doing such strange things."

"Let me see," Mr. Nichols said jokingly. "How many queer characters have you discovered since we came here?"

"Only three, Dad. Mrs. Masterbrook, Michael and old Herman. Unless you count Walter Crocker and Mr. Madden."

"How about the postman? I noticed you were talking with him yesterday."

"Purely upon a matter of business," Penny laughed. "His name isn't down on my list of suspects yet."

She said no more for just then Michael Haymond came up the path with an armful of wood.

After carrying it to the kitchen he returned to the porch. Mr. Nichols motioned him into a rocker.

"I'm afraid I'm not doing very much to earn my wages," the young man said apologetically. "My chief occupation around here seems to be eating and sitting."

"I'm well satisfied," replied the detective.

Although Penny had thought that her father was unwise to hire Michael she liked the young man a great deal. He was quiet, unassuming, and did his tasks willingly. Whenever he had a spare moment he usually spent it with a book. Penny had read the titles with surprise. Michael devoted himself to volumes of philosophy and history and he studied textbooks of mathematics and French.

"Rather deep stuff," Mr. Nichols had commented, looking at one of the philosophy volumes.

"I never had a chance to attend college, sir," Michael had replied, flushing. "I'm trying to educate myself a little."

During the afternoon both Mr. Nichols and Michael absented themselves from the cottage. Mrs. Masterbrook decided that she would walk down to the village. Penny was delighted to be left alone in the house.

The moment that everyone was gone she hastened to the attic. It was a low-ceiling room, dimly lighted by two gable windows. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere.

The attic contained an old chest of drawers, the footboards of a bed, two trunks, a chair with a broken leg, and several boxes of dishes.

As Penny's gaze roved over the objects she observed that a faint scratch on the floor showed where the trunks had been recently moved. Some of the dust had been brushed off from the lids.

"Herman must have been looking at the trunks," the girl thought. "I wonder what he expected to find?"

She lifted the lid of the nearest one and was pleased that it was unlocked. There was nothing in the top tray but beneath it she found old fashioned clothing which had belonged to a woman. The garments had been very carefully packed in moth balls.

Penny opened the second trunk. It too was filled with clothing in a style worn some fifteen years before. In the bottom she came upon an old picture album and a packet of letters. All were addressed to Herman Crocker and appeared to be of a business nature.

Penny was tempted to read the letters, but she put aside the thought. After all it was not very honorable of her to pry into Mr. Crocker's personal affairs without a stronger motive than curiosity.

"If there is any occasion for learning more about the man, I can read the letters later," Penny reflected. "Dad would be ashamed of me if he knew what I was doing."

She replaced the packet in the trunk and closed down the lid. Then after making certain that the chest of drawers contained nothing of interest, she hastened down stairs again and washed the grime from her hands.

Later in the afternoon Mrs. Masterbrook came back from Kendon and it seemed to Penny that she was more subdued than usual. Even Mr. Nichols noticed a change in the woman.

"I wonder what is the matter with her?" he remarked. "She seems to be losing her fire!"

"I guess she's just tired from the long walk to town," Penny replied. However, she watched Mrs. Masterbrook closely, and was inclined to agree that something had gone amiss. The housekeeper looked worried.

"Aren't you feeling well, Mrs. Masterbrook?" she inquired kindly.

"Of course I'm feeling well," the woman snapped.

After supper that night Michael Haymond left the house, but Penny did not know whether or not he went to call upon Herman Crocker. She went to bed about ten, and heard the young man return to the cottage shortly after that hour. By eleven o'clock everyone had gone to bed.

Penny went off to sleep soon after her head touched the pillow. It was hours later that she awoke to hear the kitchen clock chiming three o'clock.

In the hallway a board creaked.

Penny sat up and listened. She was certain that someone was tiptoeing down the hall. For a moment she was frightened. Then she crept out of bed and flung open the door.

At the end of the hall she saw the figure of a man. He fled before she could speak or make an outcry. Penny heard the outside door slam shut. She hurried to a window and was in time to see someone running swiftly toward the woods.

"Dad!" she screamed excitedly. "Wake up! Wake up!" And to emphasize her words, Penny ran to her father's bedroom and pounded on the door with her clenched fist.

CHAPTER XI

Aid from Michael

"What's the matter, Penny?" cried Mr. Nichols as he opened the door of his room. "Are you having nightmares?"

"Dad, someone broke into the cottage!" she told him tensely. "When I stepped out into the hall he ran away. I saw him disappear into the woods."

By this time the detective was thoroughly awake.

"Are you sure, Penny?"

"Of course I am! I didn't imagine it this time and it wasn't someone after a drink either!"

"Let me get dressed," said her father. "Then I'll look around."

Penny ran back to her own room. She was amazed that Mrs. Masterbrook and Michael had not been aroused. In the next room she could hear the housekeeper snoring contentedly. There seemed no reason to awaken her.

Penny quickly dressed and was ready first.

"We'll take a look around the place," Mr. Nichols said, "but it's probably too late to catch the prowler."

"Yes, he'll be a long way from here by this time," Penny agreed.

Armed with a flashlight, they slipped outside and after making a tour of the house walked as far as the edge of the timber. They found no one.

"It's no use going on," the detective declared. "We'd never catch the fellow now. He may have been a tramp who noticed that our door was unlocked."

"I wonder if Michael Haymond is in his room?" Penny asked abruptly.

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"It seems odd he didn't awaken with me screaming all over the place."

"Mrs. Masterbrook slept through it," Mr. Nichols replied.

"Just the same I'm curious to know if Michael is in his room. Dad, why don't you——"

"Penny, I'll not do it," the detective interrupted. "I like that young man and I'm not going to barge into his room in the middle of the night and ask him a lot of stupid questions."

"All right," Penny returned with a sigh. "But how easy it would be just to peep in the door and see if he's there."

"I'll not do that either," replied Mr. Nichols. "You may have been mistaken about the prowler. You've taken such an imaginative turn this summer."

"Thanks, Dad," Penny drawled. She added mischievously: "Let me know when you've found the owner of the toy lantern."

"There's good common sense behind my theory," said Mr. Nichols seriously. "Inspector Harris seems to think I'm on the wrong track but I have a hunch——"

"In that case you should be generous with your daughter," Penny laughed. "She has a hunch too."

"We'll call a truce," Mr. Nichols smiled. "You're free to trace down all the mystery you can find at Kendon providing that you don't ask me to discharge Michael."

"Seriously, Dad, I think something is going on here that would bear investigation," Penny said soberly. "I'd like to delve into it but I need a sympathetic helper."

"I'm sorry, Penny, but I haven't time to play around."

"I didn't mean you at all, Dad," Penny laughed. "I was thinking about Susan Altman. Would you mind if I invited her down here for a few days?"

"Go ahead if you like. She'll be company for you while I'm working on the Kirmenbach case."

"I'll send a letter right away," Penny declared eagerly.

The next morning after writing to her friend she walked down to the village to post the letter. Dropping in at the grocery store for a loaf of bread she deliberately drew the genial owner into conversation, seeking information regarding Herman Crocker.

"I feel rather sorry for him," she remarked. "I'm sure that he hasn't enough money to feed himself and his grandson properly."

"Don't you worry about that," replied the storekeeper with a quick laugh. "Old Herman has more money than anyone in this town. He inherited plenty when his sister Jennie died in the East. Herman was her only heir, and when he dies the money probably will go to his grandson, Perry."

"Doesn't Mr. Crocker have any other living relatives?" Penny questioned. She was thinking of Walter Crocker.

"Not to my knowledge," answered the storekeeper. "The Crocker family has just about died out."

Penny paid for the bread and walked slowly back toward the cottage. She glanced curiously at the Crocker homestead as she passed it, but as usual the blinds were drawn and the place seemed deserted.

"How unhappy Perry must be there," she thought. "He should go to school and have playmates his own age. I can't see why someone doesn't take an interest in his welfare."

During the next two days Penny found time heavy upon her hands. Mr. Nichols frequently was absent from the cottage and Mrs. Masterbrook and Michael proved very poor company. The housekeeper talked entirely too much about nothing while Michael scarcely spoke a word unless Penny asked him a direct question.

On the afternoon of the second day, for want of another occupation, Penny wandered up to the attic to look around once more.

"If I really mean to learn anything about Herman Crocker I'll have to examine those letters," she reflected. "I don't know whether to do it or not."

Penny opened the trunk and noticed that the layer of clothing had been disturbed. She did not remember having left the garments so carelessly. She refolded the clothes and then felt down in the bottom of the trunk for the packet of letters. It did not seem to be there.

Not until Penny had removed all the clothing piece by piece could she realize that the letters were gone. The only papers remaining in the trunk were old receipts for bills paid. Many of them were stamped tax statements.

"Someone has taken the letters," she told herself. "How foolish I was not to examine them when I had a chance."

Penny could only speculate upon what had become of the missing packet. She did not believe that Herman Crocker had taken the letters, for to her knowledge he had not returned to the cottage since his first visit. It was possible that the night prowler had opened the trunk, but a more likely supposition seemed to be that Mrs. Masterbrook had decided to get more "inside information."

"That woman is a natural born snooper," the girl thought. "She knew that Herman Crocker was up here in the attic too, so it's quite possible she took the letters after he went away."

Although she was disappointed, Penny did not believe that the missing letters had contained anything of vital significance. It was logical to assume that had they served as damaging evidence against Herman Crocker, the man would have destroyed them upon his visit to the attic.

As Penny was reflecting upon the problem, the stairway door opened and Mrs. Masterbrook called her name.

"There's someone here to see you!" the housekeeper reported.

Penny was annoyed at having been caught in the attic. She had not known that Mrs. Masterbrook was anywhere about the premises. It was just another proof that nothing seemed to escape the vigilant eye of the woman.

"I'll be there in a minute," Penny said.

She closed the lid of the trunk, wiped her dusty hands and went quickly down the stairs. Reaching the front door, she gave a cry of amazed delight.

"Susan Altman!"

"I thought you'd be surprised," laughed the other girl, as Penny gave her a welcome hug. "When your letter arrived I didn't stop to debate. I just jumped on the train and came."

"I'm tickled pink!" Penny declared slangily. "When you didn't write, I had started to believe you weren't coming. But why did you walk from town? Why didn't you telephone?"

"I didn't know you had one."

"Oh, yes, we have all the modern conveniences," laughed Penny. "You must be dead tired. Come on in."

"I'm not a bit tired," Susan insisted, "but I'd like to wash a few of the cinders out of my eyes. Such a dirty old train."

"Let me take your suitcase," cried Penny.

The girls went inside and while Susan freshened herself from the journey, they talked as fast as they could.

"What's all this mystery you wrote me about?" Susan asked in an undertone. "Who is Mrs. Masterbrook, and where is that old house you mentioned?"

"You'll hear all about it," Penny promised eagerly. "But let's wait until we're away from the cottage."

"Even the walls have ears?" laughed Susan.

"No, but our housekeeper has," Penny replied.

The girls soon left the cottage, walking down by the ravine where they would be alone. Penny told her chum everything that had happened since she and her father had arrived at Kendon. Susan did not feel that her friend had placed an imaginative interpretation upon any of the events.

"I'm glad you're in sympathy with me," Penny laughed. "I'm hoping that together we may be able to help little Perry Crocker. And incidentally, we might stumble into a mystery which would rival Dad's toy lantern case."

"You know I want to help," said Susan eagerly. "But I'm an awful dub. I never have any ideas."

"I'm a little short of them myself just now," Penny admitted. "But first we'll go down to the Crocker place. I'm anxious for you to meet the main characters of our melodrama."

"I think I noticed the house on the way up the hill," Susan replied. "Is it that ancient, vine-covered mansion?"

"Yes, Mrs. Masterbrook told me Old Herman moved in there after his sister died. He used to live in this cottage."

"And where is this young man named Michael Haymond?"