The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (151 page)

Mrs. Weems sadly heaved a deep sigh. Since the death of Mrs. Parker many years before, she had assumed complete charge of the household. However, the task of raising Penny had been almost too much for the patient woman. Though she loved the girl as her own, there were times when she felt that running a three-ring circus would be much easier.

“Louise and I plan to start for Red Valley by train early tomorrow,” said Penny briskly. “We’ll probably catch the 9:25 if I can get up in time.”

“And has your father said you may go?”

“He said it was up to you.”

Mrs. Weems smiled grimly. “Then the matter is settled. I shall put my foot down.”

“Oh, Mrs. Weems,” Penny wailed. “Please don’t ruin all our plans. The trip means so much to me!”

“I’ve heard that argument before,” replied Mrs. Weems, unmoved. “I see no reason why I should allow you to start off on such a wild chase.”

“But I expect to get a dandy story for Dad’s paper!”

“That’s only an excuse,” sighed the housekeeper. “The truth is that you crave adventure and excitement. It’s a trait which unfortunately you inherited from your father.”

Penny decided to play her trump card.

“Mrs. Weems, Red Valley is one of those picturesque hidden localities where families have gone on for generation after generation. The place must fairly swim with antiques. Wouldn’t you like to have me buy a few for you while I’m there?”

Despite her intentions, Mrs. Weems displayed interest. As Penny very well knew, collecting antiques had become an absorbing hobby with her.

“Silas Malcom has a spinning wheel for sale,” Penny went on, pressing home the advantage she had gained. “I’ll find him if I can and buy it for you.”

“Your schemes are as transparent as glass.”

“But you will let me go?”

“I probably will,” sighed Mrs. Weems. “I’ve learned to my sorrow that in any event you usually get your way.”

Penny danced out of the kitchen to a telephone.

“It’s all set,” she gleefully told Louise. “We leave early tomorrow morning for Red Valley. And if I don’t earn that five hundred dollar reward then my name isn’t Penny Gumshoe Parker!”

CHAPTER 3

INTO THE VALLEY

The slow train crept around a bend and puffed to a standstill at the drowsing little station of Hobostein. Louise and Penny, their linen suits mussed from many weary hours of sitting, were the only passengers to alight.

“Yesterday it seemed like a good idea,” sighed Louise. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

Penny stepped aside to avoid a dolly-truck which was being pushed down the deserted platform by a station attendant. She too felt ill at ease in this strange town and the task she had set for herself suddenly seemed a silly one. But not for anything in the world would she make such an admission.

“First we’ll find the newspaper office,” she said briskly. “This town is so small it can’t be far away.”

They carried their over-night bags into the stuffy little station. The agent, in shirt sleeves and green eye shade, speared a train order on the spindle and then glanced curiously at the girls.

“Anything I can do for you?”

“Yes,” replied Penny. “Please tell us how to find the offices of the Hobostein Weekly.”

“It’s just a piece down the street,” directed the agent. “Go past the old town pump, and the livery stable. A red brick building. Best one in town. You can’t miss it.”

Penny and Louise took their bags and crossed to the shady side of the street. A horse and carriage had been tied to a hitching post and by contrast an expensive, new automobile was parked beside it. The unpaved road was thick with dust; the broken sidewalk was coated with it, as were the little plots of struggling grass.

In the entire town few persons were abroad. An old lady in a sunbonnet busily loaded boxes of groceries into a farm wagon. The only other sign of activity was at the livery stable where a group of men slouched on the street benches.

“Must we pass there?” Louise murmured. “Those men are staring as if they never saw a girl before.”

“Let them,” said Penny, undisturbed.

Two doors beyond the livery stable stood a newly built red brick building. In gold paint on the expanse of unwashed plate glass window were the words: “Hobostein Weekly.”

With heads high the girls ran the gantlet of loungers and reached the newspaper office. Through the plate glass they glimpsed a large, cluttered room where desks, bins of type, table forms and a massive flat-bed press all seemed jammed together. A rotund man they took to be the editor was talking to a customer in a loud voice. Neither took the slightest notice of the girls as they pushed open the door.

“I don’t care who you are or how much money you have,” the editor was saying heatedly. “I run my paper as I please—see! If you don’t like my editorials you don’t have to read them.”

“You’re a pin-headed, stubborn Dutchman!” the other man retorted. “It makes no difference to me what you run in your stupid old weekly, providing you don’t deliberately try to stir up the people of this valley.”

“Worrying about your pocketbook?”

“I’m the largest tax payer in the valley. If there’s an assessment for repairs on the Huntley Lake Dam it will cost me thousands of dollars.”

“And if you had an ounce of sense, you’d see that without the repairs your property may not be worth a nickel! If these rains keep up, the dam’s apt to give way, and your property would go in the twinkling of an eye. Not that I’m worried about your property. But I am concerned about the folks who are still living in the valley.”

“Schultz, you’re a calamity-howler!” the other accused. “There’s no danger of the dam giving way and you know it. By writing these hot editorials you’re just trying to stir up public feeling—you’re hoping to shake me down so I’ll underwrite a costly and unnecessary repair bill.”

The editor pushed back his chair and arose. His voice remained controlled but his eyes snapped like fire brands.

“Get out of this office!” he ordered. “The Hobostein Weekly can do without your subscription. You’ve been a pain to this community ever since you came. Good afternoon!”

“You can’t talk like that to me, Byron Schultz!” the other man began hotly. Then his gaze fell upon Louise and Penny who stood just inside the door. Jamming on his hat, he went angrily from the building.

The editor crumpled a sheet of paper and hurled it into a waste basket. The act seemed to restore his good humor, for with a wry grin he then turned toward the girls.

“Yes?” he inquired.

Penny scarcely knew how to begin. Sliding into a chair beside the editor’s desk, she fumbled in her purse for the advertisement clipped from the Hobostein Weekly. To her confusion she could not find it.

“Lose something?” the editor inquired kindly. “That’s my trouble too. Last week we misplaced the copy for Gregg’s Grocery Store and was Jake hoppin’mad! Found it again just before the Weekly went to press.”

“Here it is!” said Penny triumphantly. She placed the clipping on Mr. Schultz’ desk.

“Haven’t I had enough of that man in one day!” the editor snorted. “The old skinflint never paid me for the ad either!”

“Who is J. Burmaster?” Penny inquired eagerly.

“Who is he?” The editor’s gray-blue eyes sent out little flashes of fire. “He’s the most egotistical, thick-headed, muddle-brained property owner in this community.”

“Not the man who was just here?”

“Yes, that was John Burmaster.”

“Then he lives in Hobostein?”

“He does not,” said the editor with emphasis. “It’s bad enough having him seven miles away. You don’t mean to tell me you haven’t seen Sleepy Hollow estate?”

Penny shook her head. She explained that as strangers to the town, she and Louise had made no trips or inquiries.

“Sleepy Hollow is quite a show place,” the editor went on grudgingly. “Old Burmaster built it about a year ago. Imported an architect and workmen from the city. The house has a long bridge leading up to it, and is supposed to be like the Sleepy Hollow of legend. Only the legend kinda backfired.”

“You’re speaking about the Headless Horseman?”Penny leaned forward in her chair.

“When Burmaster built his house, the old skinflint didn’t calculate on getting a haunt to go with it,” the editor chuckled. “Served him right for being so muleish.”

“But what is the story of the Headless Horseman?”Penny asked. “Has Mr. Burmaster actually offered a five hundred dollar reward for its capture?”

“He’d give double the amount to get that Horseman off his neck!” chuckled the editor. “But folks up Delta way aren’t so dumb. The reward never will be collected.”

“Is Delta the name of a town?”

“Yes, it’s up the valley a piece,” explained Mr. Schultz. “You don’t seem very familiar with our layout here.”

“No, my friend and I come from Riverview.”

“Well, you see, it’s like this.” The editor drew a crude map for the girls. “Sleepy Hollow estate is situated in a sort of ‘V’ shaped valley. Just below it is the little town of Delta, and on below that, a hamlet called Raven. We’re at the foot of the valley, so to speak. Huntley Lake and the dam are just above Sleepy Hollow estate.”

“And is there really danger that the dam will give way?”

“If you want my opinion, read the Hobostein Weekly,” answered the editor. “The dam won’t wash out tomorrow or the next day, but if these rains keep on, the whole valley’s in danger. But try to pound any sense into Burmaster’s thick head!”

“You started to tell me about the Headless Horseman,”Penny reminded him.

“Did I now?” smiled the editor. “Don’t recollect it myself. Fact is, Burmaster’s ghost troubles don’t interest me one whit.”

“But we’ve come all the way from Riverview just to find out about the Headless Horseman.”

“Calculate on earning that reward?” The editor’s eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps.”

“Then you don’t want to waste time trying to get second-hand information. Burmaster’s the man for you to see. Talk to him.”

“Well—”

“No, you talk to Burmaster,” the editor said with finality. “Only don’t tell him I sent you.”

“But how will we find the man?” Penny was rather dismayed to have the interview end before it was well launched.

“Oh, his car is parked down the street,” the editor answered carelessly. “Everyone in town knows Burmaster. I’d talk to you longer only I’m so busy this afternoon. Burmaster is the one to tell you his own troubles.”

Thus dismissed, the girls could do nothing but thank the editor and leave the newspaper building. Dubiously they looked up and down the street. The fine new car they had noticed a little while earlier no longer was parked at the curb. Nor was there any sign of the man who had just left the newspaper office.

“All we can do is inquire for him,” said Penny.

At a grocery store farther down the street they paused to ask if Mr. Burmaster had been seen. The store keeper finished grinding a pound of coffee for a customer and then answered Penny’s question.

“Mr. Burmaster?” he repeated. “Why, yes, he was in town, but he pulled out about five minutes ago.”

“Then we’ve just missed him!” Penny exclaimed.

“Burmaster’s on his way to Sleepy Hollow by this time,” the store keeper agreed. “You might catch him there.”

“But how can we get to Sleepy Hollow?”

“Well, there’s a train. Only runs once a day though. And it went through about half an hour ago.”

“That was the train we came in on. Isn’t there a car one can hire?”

“Don’t know of any. Clem Williams has some good horses though. He keeps the livery stable down the street.”

Their faces very long, the girls picked up their overnight bags and went outside again.

“I knew this trip would be a wash-out,” said Louise disconsolately. “Here we are, stuck high and dry until our train comes in tomorrow.”

“But why give up so easily?”

“We’re licked, that’s why. We’ve missed Mr. Burmaster and we can’t go to Sleepy Hollow after him.”

Penny gazed thoughtfully down the street at Clem Williams’ livery stable.

“Why can’t we go to Sleepy Hollow?” she demanded. “Let’s rent horses.”

Louise waxed sarcastic. “To be sure. We can canter along balancing these overnight bags on the pommel of our saddles!”

“We’ll have to leave our luggage behind,” Penny planned briskly. “The most essential things we can wrap up in knapsacks.”

“But I’m not a good rider,” Louise complained. “The last time we rode a mile I couldn’t walk for a week.”

“Seven miles isn’t so far.”

“Seven miles!” Louise gasped. “Why, it’s slaughter.”

“Oh, you’ll last,” chuckled Penny confidently. “I’ll see to that.”

“I am curious to see Sleepy Hollow estate,” Louise admitted with reluctance. “All that talk about the Huntley Dam interested me too.”

“And the Headless Horseman?”

“That part rather worries me. Penny, do you realize that if we go to Sleepy Hollow we may run into more than we bargain for?”