Penny Nichols And The Knob Hill Mystery Part 20

"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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sume 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?"