Ghost Beyond the Gate Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does anyone live there now?"

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

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

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

The car pa.s.sed Old Henry's cabin and crept on until it came to a crossroad. Several buildings were cl.u.s.tered on either side of the main highway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Losing interest in the pair, Penny and Louise climbed out of the coupe.

They had noticed a cafe next door and thought they might go there for a cup of hot coffee.

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

As the girls let themselves out the garage door, a truck pulled up in front of the cafe. They would have given it no more than a casual glance had not the driver alighted. He was a short, ruddy-faced man with a missing front tooth which made his facial expression rather grotesque.

Without glancing at the girls, he entered the restaurant.

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

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

CHAPTER 3 _AN UNPLEASANT DRIVER_

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

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

"We might have frozen to death!"

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

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

"Anyway, let's forget it."

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

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

"Now remember," Louise warned her, "not a word to that truck driver.

We'll just snub him."

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

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

"War equipment," commented Penny.

"How do you know?"

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

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

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

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

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

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