The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (105 page)

“Nothing,” Penny mumbled. “I’m just a little wet. I’ve been down in a well.”

“There are times when your jokes don’t seem at all funny,” the housekeeper said sternly. “How did you ruin your clothes?”

“That’s the truth, Mrs. Weems. I was down in a well and I stepped off into the water—”

“Penny, you can’t expect me to believe such a tall story. Now tell me exactly what
did
happen.”

“Would it seem more reasonable if I said that I stumbled and fell into a ditch?”

“I rather thought something of the sort happened,”Mrs. Weems declared. “How did the accident occur?”

“It didn’t,” Penny maintained plaintively.

Escaping upstairs before the housekeeper could question her further, she took a hot shower and went to bed. She could hear a murmur of voices in the living room below, and knew that Mrs. Weems was discussing her “behavior” with her father.

“Sometimes grownups are so unreasonable,” she sighed, snuggling into the covers. “You tell them the truth and what they really want is a nice logical whopper!”

Penny slept soundly and did not awaken until the Sunday morning sun was high in the heavens. Sitting up in bed, she moved her arms experimentally. They were very sore and stiff. She swung her feet to the floor and groaned with pain.

“Guess I can’t take it any more,” she muttered. “I must be getting soft, or else it’s old age sneaking up on me!”

Torturing herself with a limbering exercise, Penny dressed and went downstairs. Mrs. Weems had gone to church while Mr. Parker had submerged himself in fifty-eight pages of Sunday paper. Detouring around the living room, Penny went to the kitchen to prepare herself a belated breakfast. She was picking at the nuts of a fruit salad found in the ice box when her father appeared in the doorway.

“Penny—” he began sternly.

“Where was I last night?” she interrupted. “I’ve said before, and now repeat—in a well! A nice deep one with water in it.”

“When you’re ready to tell me the real story, I shall listen,” Mr. Parker said quietly. “Until that time, I must deprive you of your weekly allowance.”

“Oh, Dad!” Penny wailed. “You know I’m stony broke! I won’t be able to drive my car or even buy a hot dog!”

“That is your misfortune. Mrs. Weems says I have been entirely too indulgent with you, and I am inclined to agree with her. I’ve seldom checked your comings or goings, but in the future I shall expect you to tell me your plans when you leave the house at night.”

Having delivered his ultimatum, Mr. Parker quietly withdrew.

Penny had lost her appetite for breakfast. Feeling much abused she banged out the kitchen door into the yard. Her first act was to inspect the gasoline tanks of both Leaping Lena and the maroon car. As she had feared, the combined fuel supply did not equal three gallons.

“There’s just about fifty-five miles between me and misery,” she reflected grimly. “I wouldn’t dare siphon gas out of Dad’s car or ask for credit at a filling station either!”

Wandering around to the front porch, she sat down on the steps. One of her high school boy friends pedalled past on his bicycle, calling a cheery greeting. Penny barely responded.

Presently a milk wagon clattered to a stop in front of the house. The driver came up the walk with his rack of milk bottles. Penny eyed him speculatively.

“We have a lot of old bottles in the basement,” she greeted him. “Does your company pay for them?”

“Sorry,” he declined. “We use only our own stamped bottles. There’s no deposit charge. Customers are expected to return them without rebate.”

The driver left a quart of milk on the back doorstep of the Parker home. In walking to his wagon, he paused beside Penny, remarking:

“Maybe you could sell your old bottles to a second-hand dealer. I saw one on the next street about five minutes ago.”

“Where?” Penny demanded, jumping to her feet.

“He was on Fulton Avenue when I drove past.”

Thanking the driver, Penny ran as fast as her stiff limbs would permit to the next street corner. Far up the avenue she saw a battered old car of the second-hand man. Hurrying on, she reached the automobile just as its owner came from a house carrying an armful of corded newspapers.

“Excuse me,” she called eagerly, “do you buy old bottles?”

The man turned toward her, doffing his derby hat.

“Good morning, Miss,” he said. “I buy newspapers, old furniture, rubber tires, copper, brass, or gold, but not bottles.”

Penny scarcely heard the discouraging information for she was staring at the man as if his appearance fascinated her. For a moment she could not think where she had seen him before. And then suddenly she remembered.

“Why, I saw you at Mrs. Marborough’s place!” she exclaimed. “You’re the one person who has been inside the house! I want you to tell me all about it.”

CHAPTER 16

INSIDE THE MANSION

Mr. Butterworth, the second-hand dealer, scarcely knew what to make of Penny’s abrupt request.

“Tell me how the house looks inside,” she requested as he remained mute. “Is it as handsome as folks say?”

“You are a friend of Mrs. Marborough?” the man inquired, cocking his head sideways as he regarded the girl.

“Of course.”

“Then why do you not ask Mrs. Marborough that question?”

“Because she never invites anyone into her house,”Penny explained patiently. “You’re the only person to get in so far as I know. I’ll venture she sold you something. Am I right?”

“Maybe so,” Mr. Butterworth grinned. “My lips, they are sealed.”

“Sealed?”

“I promise Mrs. Marborough I tell nothing of what I see in the house.”

“Then there is something mysterious going on there!” Penny exclaimed. “Tell me, why did you go to the house?”

“Mrs. Marborough sent for me.”

“But why?” Penny demanded, exasperated because she could learn nothing of importance. “Did Mrs. Marborough sell you something?”

“Maybe so, maybe not,” the second-hand man answered, climbing into his overloaded car. “You ask her.”

Penny watched him drive away, and then returned to her own doorstep. She was listlessly throwing acorns at a squirrel when Louise Sidell came down the street, dressed in her Sunday best.

“What’s the matter, Penny?” she inquired, roving over to the porch. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Lower than the center of the earth. I’ve lost my reputation with Dad, my allowance, and my initiative. If I had a nickel I’d go drown myself in a coke!”

“What you need is a nice adventure,” Louise said mischievously. “How about a trip out to Mrs. Marborough’s tomorrow night?”

“I’ve had enough of wells!”

“Penny, you don’t mean it!” Louise grinned. “After discovering those loose bricks, you’ll just forget about them?”

“Why not?” Penny demanded wildly. “Dad won’t let me leave the house at night any more without a six thousand page report on where I am going. If I so much as mention Mrs. Marborough’s well, he’ll clap on a double punishment.”

“You can manage it somehow,” Louise declared with confidence. “I’ll meet you tomorrow night about eight-thirty.”

“Maybe,” Penny said gloomily.

Throughout the day she tried to win favor with both Mrs. Weems and her father by doing small things to please them. When the housekeeper came home from church, dinner awaited her. Penny insisted upon doing the dishes. She straightened the kitchen, she brought her father his bedroom slippers, and refrained from turning on the radio while he was reading. The schedule was a trying one for her, but she kept it up faithfully all day Sunday and until after dinner on Monday. Then came the denouement upon which she pinned her hopes.

“Dad,” she said demurely, leaning on the chair arm and stroking his hair, “with your kind permission I should like to absent myself from the house for a few minutes.”

“Where do you plan to go?” he asked, trying to act stern.

Penny was prepared for the question. From her pocket she whisked a lengthy typewritten paper, handsomely decorated with a diagram.

“What’s this?” Mr. Parker asked, his lips twitching slightly.

“Merely a report on my proposed movements for the next hour. At eight-thirty I hope to be at Louise’s house. Eight thirty-four should find me on Adams Street, moving southward. At eight thirty-eight I pass Gulbert Park—”

“Never mind,” Mr. Parker interrupted. “I see by this lengthy document that your ultimate destination is Mrs. Marborough’s estate. Isn’t it rather late to pay a social call?”

“Eight-thirty?”

“What does this X on the map represent?” the publisher asked, his interest shifting.

“Oh that?” smiled Penny. “Merely one of the fixtures in Mrs. Marborough’s yard. Louise and I think treasure may be hidden there.”

Amused by what he took to be his daughter’s whimsy, Mr. Parker returned the diagram to her.

“Do I have your permission to leave the house?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes, you may go,” he agreed. “But mind, no late hours. And no more tall tales about falling into wells!”

Louise was waiting for Penny in the Sidell yard and the girls went as quickly as they could to the Marborough estate. The house was completely dark, leading them to believe that the widow might have absented herself for the evening.

“We’ll have to be especially careful,” Louise warned as they approached the old wishing well. “She might return at any moment and find us.”

Penny had brought the silken ladder, extra rope, a flashlight and a suit of warm coveralls which her father used when he worked on the car. Donning the bulky garment, she prepared to descend a few feet into the well.

“Do be careful,” Louise said anxiously. “If you should fall you might kill yourself.”

“You think of the most cheerful things,” Penny muttered, climbing nimbly down the swaying ladder. “I’m not taking any chances though. I’ll tie myself to the ladder with this extra piece of rope.”

After she had gained the position she desired, Louise handed down the flashlight. Penny carefully inspected the brick wall.

“I believe it is an opening!” she reported jubilantly. “I really do. Here, take this flash. I can’t work and hold it.”

While Louise directed the beam from above, Penny tugged at the bricks. Unable to move them, she called for a tool which she had brought with her. By means of it, she easily pried one of the bricks loose. Pushing her arm through the opening, she encountered only empty space.

“It’s a little tunnel I think!” she shouted to Louise. “Take this brick, and I’ll try to pry out others!”

Within ten minutes Penny had handed up enough of them to make a large pile beside the flagstones.

“Do you realize you’re practically destroying Mrs. Marborough’s well!” Louise said uneasily. “How will we ever explain this?”

“I can put the bricks back again,” Penny assured her. “They were meant to come out. Now, the flashlight again.”

Balancing herself precariously on the ladder, she directed the light through the opening she had created. A long narrow tunnel which she judged to be about five feet below the ground, extended as far as she could see.

“I’m going to try to get in there!” she called to Louise. “Toss me a life preserver if I fail!”

Calculating the space, Penny swung her feet from the ladder to the ledge. Retaining an arm hold on the ropes, she edged herself backwards into the hole.

“It’s much easier than it looks,” she called encouragingly to her chum. “Come on, if you want to explore.”

Louise hesitated, and then daringly climbed down into the well. Penny helped her from the ladder into the tunnel.

“Where do you suppose this leads?” Louise gasped.

“Maybe to the house,” Penny speculated. “I know lots of these old places had escapes made so that in time of war or Indian attacks, the householders could get away. Never heard of a tunnel opening into a well though!”

The bricked passageway was so low that for the first twelve feet the girls were forced to crawl on hands and knees. Gradually, the tunnel deepened until they were able to walk in a stooped position.

“We’re coming to the end of it,” Penny presently announced.

Directly in front of her was a heavy door which showed the effects of age. It did not move easily, but together, the girls were able to swing it open.

“Where in the world are we?” Louise murmured in perplexity.

Penny flashed her light directly ahead. A series of four steps led down from the tunnel into an empty room which barely was six feet across. So far as she could see it had no exit.

“It looks as if we’re at the end of the trail,” Louise remarked in disappointment.

“This must be part of the Marborough house,”Penny declared, descending the steps into the tiny room.

“But there’s no way out of it except through the tunnel!”

“There must be if we can find it,” Penny insisted.

Wandering about the room she began to explore the walls, and Louise followed her example. Their search was rewarded, for presently they discovered a small brass knob embedded in the rough board paneling. Penny pulled on it and a section of wall slid back.