The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (217 page)

Having no intention of announcing their presence, the pair drew up about a quarter of a mile from the lake, parking in a side road.

Shadows were casting long arms over the ground as they started hurriedly across the fields toward the beach. They had covered two thirds of the distance when Penny suddenly caught Salt’s arm, pointing toward the lake.

“Look!” she exclaimed. “There they are now!”

Out on the lake a barge-type boat was being steered toward the beach near the shack where Professor Bettenridge stored the mines. The watching couple recognized three persons aboard the craft, the professor, Mr. Johnson and Webb. The barge also bore a large mine, similar in type to those Penny had seen inside the shack.

“That must be the mine Mr. Johnson is supplying for the test tonight,” she whispered.

Hand in hand, Penny and Salt crept closer to the shore. The boat grated on the sand and Webb, with the professor helping him, carried the heavy mine toward the building.

“If the mine is to be exploded tonight, wouldn’t it be easier to leave it on the barge ready to drop into the lake?” Penny commented. “Webb and the professor must have a special reason for hauling it ashore.”

“I think you have something there,” Salt observed. “Obviously, they’re going to doctor it in some way. We’ll see what happens.”

Webb unlocked the door of the shack and the two men carried the mine inside. Creeping still closer to the building, Salt and Penny heard Mr. Johnson say:

“Just a minute. I see you have other mines stored here. How am I to be sure that the one exploded will be the mine I have provided?”

“You may mark it if you wish,” the professor replied. “In fact, we prefer that you do, so there can be no possible doubt in your mind. Take this pocket knife and scratch your initials on the covering of the mine. Then tonight, before it is dumped in the lake, you may check again to see there has been no substitution.”

“You understand, I don’t distrust you,” Mr. Johnson said, ill at ease. “But so much money is at stake—”

“I understand your attitude perfectly,” the professor replied. “Certainly you are entitled to take every precaution.”

A silence ensued, and Penny and Salt assumed that Mr. Johnson was scratching his initials on the mine.

“Now suppose we have dinner at the village inn,” the professor presently suggested. “Then we will have the demonstration.”

“Must we wait so long before setting off the mine?”Mr. Johnson inquired.

“Yes, village authorities gave permission for the test to be held at nine o’clock,” the professor explained. “My own preference would be to get it over immediately, but I dare not disobey their orders.”

Mr. Johnson made no reply, and a few minutes later, the three men walked away. No sooner had they disappeared up the lake than Penny and Salt came out of hiding from among the trees.

“You have to hand it to Professor Bettenridge,” commented the photographer with grudging praise. “He’s a smooth talker. I’ll bet a frosted cookie the test could be held at one time as well as another so far as the village authorities are concerned. He has a special reason for wanting it at nine o’clock.”

“Probably to give Webb time enough to work on the mine or exchange them,” Penny said, and then frowned thoughtfully. “But what if the machine actually should work? After all, the professor agreed to explode Mr. Johnson’s mine, and apparently he’s marked it with his initials. It won’t be easy to substitute another one now.”

“All the same, if I’m any good at guessing, it will be done. Now what shall we do until nine o’clock? Grab ourselves something to eat?”

Penny was about to suggest that they drive to a village cafe, when she noticed Webb returning alone from up the beach. Barely did the pair have time to duck out of sight behind a boulder before he approached.

Walking directly to the shack, he unlocked the door, and entered.

“Now this must be where the hocus-pocus begins!”Salt whispered. “We’ve got to find out what he does to that mine.”

“Louise and I climbed up in that tree the other day and looked through the glass in the top.”

“Then that’s the trick for us! Come on!”

Making no sound, the pair climbed the tree close beside the shack. Noiselessly, they inched their way toward the skylight, and lying flat, peered down into the dark interior.

Webb had lighted a lantern which he hung on a wall nail. Unaware that he was being watched, he squatted in front of the mine which bore Mr. Johnson’s initials, studying it thoughtfully.

Muttering to himself, he next took a powerful ratchet drill, and for a long time worked with it on the mine, boring a tiny but deep hole.

“I’m getting stiff in this position,” Penny whispered. “What is he doing, Salt?”

“Don’t know,” the photographer admitted, puzzled. “Apparently, he’s doctoring Mr. Johnson’s mine so it will explode tonight, but I’m not smart enough to figure how the trick will be accomplished.”

By now it was so dark that the pair in the tree no longer feared they would be seen. Keeping perfectly still, they watched the work in the room below.

“It’s clear why Professor Bettenridge set nine o’clock for the demonstration,” Salt whispered. “Webb needed all this time to get the mine ready.”

“And that’s why they brought it here instead of dumping it into the lake,” Penny added. “But how can they make the mine explode at exactly the right moment?”

After Webb had worked for a while longer, he arose and stretched his cramped muscles. Going to a cupboard, he removed a white powder from a glass tube, and carefully inserted it in the hole he had just made in the mine. As a final act, he sealed the tiny hole with another material, and polished the surface so that the place did not show.

“Slick work!” Salt commented. “By the time he’s through, no one ever could tell the mine has been touched! Certainly not that thick-skulled Johnson.”

Apparently satisfied with his work, Webb put away his tools, made a final inspection of the mine, and then left the shack. After carefully locking the door, he disappeared into the night.

“Now what’s our move?” Penny asked as she and Salt finally slid down from their uncomfortable perch. “Shall we tell Mr. Johnson what we just saw?”

“We could, but he might not believe us. Penny, I have a better idea! If we can get inside the shack—”

“But it’s locked!”

“The skylight may be open.” Salt climbed up on the roof to investigate, but to his disappointment, the roof window was tightly fastened from inside.

“We could smash the glass,” Penny suggested dubiously.

Salt shook his head. “That would give the whole thing away. No, I think we can get inside another way, but we’ll have to work fast! Now that Webb has the mine ready for the demonstration, the professor and Mr. Johnson may show up here at any minute.”

CHAPTER 19

THE LANTERN SIGNAL

Salt explained that he intended to pick the lock of the shack door.

“When I worked the police beat, a detective taught me this trick,” he explained. “You keep watch while I work.”

Now that Webb had disappeared no one was to be seen near the beach. To Penny’s relief, not a person appeared, and Salt, working swiftly, soon had the door open.

To make certain they would not be taken unawares, Salt relocked the door on the inside. Groping about, he found the lantern Webb had left behind, and lighted it.

Three mines lay on the floor. “Which is the right one?” Penny asked. “They all look alike!”

“Mr. Johnson’s initials must be on the one Webb tampered with.”

Salt turned over one of the mines, inspecting it.

“That thing might go off any minute,” Penny said, edging away. “Do be careful, Salt.”

Salt chuckled. “If it should go off, we’d never know what hit us,” he said. “This is the one Webb tampered with all right. Penny, how are you at forging?”

“Forging?” she repeated, not understanding what he meant.

“Can you duplicate Mr. Johnson’s initials on another mine?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not so it would look the same.”

“Sure, you can,” Salt said, thrusting his pocket knife into her hand. “It will be dark and no one will look too carefully.”

“But why do you want me to do it? You mean to substitute Mr. Johnson’s mine for one of the others?”

“That’s the ticket,” chuckled the photographer. “Maybe my guess is wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion if we use one of the professor’s own mines, it will fail to explode.”

“The mine has to be doctored with that powder we saw Webb use!”

“That’s my theory, Penny.”

“But maybe the other mines have already been treated.”

“That’s a possibility,” Salt admitted thoughtfully. “No way of telling that, because the hole would be covered so skillfully. We’ll have to take a chance on it.”

While Salt held the lantern, Penny scratched Mr. Johnson’s initials on the metal covering of the mine. Skilled in art, she was able to copy them fairly well.

“They don’t look exactly the same,” Salt said, comparing the two, “but they’re good enough to get by unless Mr. Johnson becomes very critical.”

Quickly they moved the two mines, placing Mr. Johnson’s well to the back of the room, and leaving the substitute exactly where the other had been.

“Well, that job is done,” Salt chuckled. “Unless I miss my guess—”

He broke off, startled to hear a murmur of voices from a short distance down the beach. Quick as a flash he blew out the lantern and hung it in its accustomed place on the wall nail.

“Salt! Those men are coming!” Penny whispered fearfully. “We’re trapped here!”

It was too late to slip out the door, for already the men were very close, and unmistakably, one of the voices was that of Professor Bettenridge.

The only available hiding place was a storage closet. Barely in time, Salt and Penny squeezed into it, closing the door and flattening themselves against the wall.

The door of the shack swung open to admit the professor, Webb, and Mr. Johnson.

“Dark as pitch in here,” Webb muttered. “Wait and I’ll light the lantern.”

In a moment the yellow glow illuminated the dingy little room.

“Which is my mine?” Mr. Johnson asked. “They all look alike.”

“And for all practical purposes they are exactly alike,” said the professor smoothly. “So far as my machine is concerned, it makes not a particle of difference. Webb, which is the mine that Mr. Johnson supplied?”

“Here it is,” the assistant said, tapping the one Salt and Penny had substituted. “See your initials, Mr. Johnson?”

“Yes, yes,” agreed the man.

Inside the closet, Penny and Salt breathed easier.

“Let’s get on with the demonstration,” the professor urged with sudden impatience. “Load the mine onto the boat, Webb. Go out to the center of the lake. Then when you have dropped it, give the usual signal.”

“When everything is okay, I’ll wave my lantern three times,” Webb agreed.

The mine was trundled out and the shack became dark. However, Salt and Penny did not dare come out of hiding until they heard Webb start the motor of the boat.

“The coast is clear,” the photographer then reported, peering out a crack of the outer door. “Webb has gone, and the professor and Mr. Johnson are walking up to the cabin.”

From the beach, Penny and Salt watched the boat moving slowly across the water. Presently the craft stopped, and the mine was heaved overboard. The pair waited, but there was no signal from Webb. Nor did his boat move away from the locality where the mine had been dropped.

“Why doesn’t he wave the lantern?” Penny fretted.

“He’s waiting deliberately, and for a purpose,” Salt declared. “Why not amble up the hill and watch the professor perform?”

“Not a bad idea,” agreed Penny.

Walking rapidly, they arrived at the cabin quite breathless. As they tapped lightly on the door, Professor Bettenridge appeared visibly startled. He stiffened to alert, guarded attention, but relaxed slightly as his wife admitted the pair.

“Oh, it’s you two again,” he said none too pleasantly. “You are just in time to witness my final demonstration. We are waiting now for my assistant’s signal.”

“It seems to take a long while,” Mr. Johnson commented, glancing at his watch.

“Webb may have had trouble getting the mine overboard,” the professor soothed. “Besides, he has to move out of the danger zone.”

Penny and Salt looked at each other but said nothing. They were certain that Webb had been in no haste to return to shore.

“What are you two smirking about?” the professor demanded irritably. “I suppose you think my machine won’t work?”

“I’ll be surprised if it does,” Salt agreed, unruffled.

Mrs. Bettenridge, who stood at the window, suddenly cried: “There is the signal!”

Professor Bettenridge snapped on a switch and the ray machine began to hum. He turned on another motor and lights began to glow. Then he struck the crystal ball, producing a musical vibration.