CHAPTER 17 STRANGE SOUNDS

Penny felt reasonably certain that she had deciphered the code correctly, but although she studied over the message for nearly an hour, she could make nothing of it.

“No train tomorrow,” she repeated to herself. “How silly! Perhaps it means, no plane tomorrow.”

She worked out the code a second time, checking her letters carefully. There was no mistake.

Later in the evening when Mrs. Downey stopped to inquire how she was feeling, Penny asked her about the train service near Pine Top.

“The nearest railroad is thirty miles away,” replied the woman. “It is a very tedious journey to Pine Top unless one comes by airplane.”

“Is the plane service under the control of the Fergus-Maxwell interests?”

“Not to my knowledge,” returned Mrs. Downey, surprised by the question. “This same airline company sent planes here even before the Fergus hotel was built, but not on a regular schedule.”

Left alone once more, Penny slipped the typewritten message under her pillow and drew a long sigh. Somehow she was making no progress in any line. From whom had Ralph Fergus received the coded note, and what was its meaning?

“I’ll never learn anything lying here in bed,” she murmured gloomily. “Tomorrow I’ll get up even if it kills me.”

True to her resolve, she was downstairs in time for breakfast the next morning.

“Oh, Penny,” protested Mrs. Downey anxiously, “don’t you think you should have stayed in bed? I can tell it hurts you to walk.”

“I’ll limber up with exercise. I may take a little hike down to the village later on.”

Mrs. Downey sadly shook her head. She thought that Penny had entirely too much determination for her own good.

Until ten o’clock Penny remained at the lodge, rather hoping that Sara Jasko would put in an appearance. When it was evident that the girl was not coming, she bundled herself into warm clothing and walked painfully down the mountain road. Observing old Peter Jasko in the yard near the cabin, she did not pause but went on until she drew near the Fergus hotel.

“I wish I dared go in there,” she thought, stopping to rest for a moment. “But I most certainly would be chased out.”

Penny sat down on a log bench in plain view of the hostelry. Forming a snowball, she tossed it at a squirrel. The animal scurried quickly to a low-hanging tree branch and chattered his violent disapproval.

“Brother, that’s the way I feel, too,” declared Penny soberly. “You express my sentiments perfectly.”

She was still sunk in deep gloom when she heard a light step behind her. Turning her head stiffly she saw Maxine Miller tramping through the snow toward her.

“If it isn’t Miss Parker!” the actress exclaimed with affected enthusiasm. “How delighted I am to see you again, my dear. I heard about the marvelous way you stopped the bob-sled yesterday. Such courage! You deserve a medal.”

“I would rather have some new skin,” said Penny.

“I imagine you do feel rather bruised and battered,” the actress replied with a show of sympathy. “But how proud you must be of yourself! Everyone is talking about it! As I was telling Mr. Jasko last night—”

“You were talking with Peter Jasko?” broke in Penny.

“Yes, he came to the hotel to see Mr. Fergus—something about a lease, I think. Imagine! He hadn’t heard a word about the accident, and his granddaughter was in it!”

“You told him all about it I suppose?” Penny asked with a moan.

“Yes, he was tremendously impressed. Why, what is the matter? Do you have a pain somewhere?”

“Several of them,” said Penny. “Go on. What did Mr. Jasko say?”

“Not much of anything. He just listened. Shouldn’t I have told him?”

“I am sorry you did, but it can’t be helped now. Mr. Jasko doesn’t like to have his granddaughter ski or take any part in winter sports.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Then I did let the cat out of the bag. I thought he acted rather peculiar.”

“He was bound to have found out about it sooner or later,” Penny sighed. With a quick change of mood she inquired: “What’s doing down at the hotel? Any excitement?”

“Everything is about as usual. I’ve sold two fur coats. Don’t you think you might be interested in one yourself?”

“I would be interested but my pocketbook wouldn’t.”

“These coats are a marvelous bargain,” Miss Miller declared. “Why don’t you at least look at them and try one on. Come down to the hotel with me now and I’ll arrange for you to meet my employer.”

“Well—” Penny hesitated, “could we enter the hotel by the back way?”

“I suppose so,” replied the actress in surprise. “You’re sensitive about being crippled?”

“That’s right. I don’t care to meet anyone I know.”

“We can slip into the hotel the back way, then. Very few persons use the rear corridors.”

Penny and Miss Miller approached the building without being observed. They entered at the back, meeting neither Ralph Fergus or Harvey Maxwell.

“Can you climb a flight of stairs?” the actress asked doubtfully.

“Oh, yes, easily. I much prefer it to the elevator.”

“You really walk with only a slight limp,” declared Miss Miller. “I see no reason why you should feel so sensitive.”

“It’s just my nature,” laughed Penny. “Lend me your arm, and up we go.”

They ascended to the second floor. Miss Miller motioned for the girl to sit down on a sofa not far from the elevator.

“You wait here and I’ll bring my employer,” she offered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Who is this man?” inquired Penny.

The actress did not hear the question. She had turned away and was descending the stairs again to the lobby floor.

For a moment or two the girl sat with her head against the back rest of the sofa, completely relaxed. The trip down the mountainside had tired her more than she had expected. She was afraid she had made a mistake in coming boldly to the hotel. If Harvey Maxwell caught her there he would not treat her kindly.

As for seeing the fur coats, she had no intention of ever making a purchase. She had agreed to look at them because she was curious to learn the identity of Miss Miller’s employer, as well as the nature of the proposition which might be made her.

Presently, Penny’s attention was directed to a distant sound, low and rhythmical, carrying a staccato overtone.

At first the girl paid little heed to the sound. No doubt it was just another noise incidental to a large hotel—some machine connected with the cleaning services perhaps.

But gradually, the sound impressed itself deeper on her mind. There was something strangely familiar about it, yet she could not make a positive identification.

Penny arose from the sofa and listened intently. The sound seemed to be coming from far down the left hand hall. She proceeded slowly, pausing frequently in an effort to discover whence it came. She entered a side hall and the noise increased noticeably.

Suddenly Penny heard footsteps behind her. Turning slightly she was dismayed to see Ralph Fergus coming toward her. For an instant she was certain he meant to eject her from the hotel. Then, she realized that his head was down, and that he was paying no particular attention to her.

Penny kept her back turned and walked even more slowly. The man overtook her, passed without so much as bestowing a glance upon her. He went to a door which bore the number 27 and, taking a key from his pocket, fitted it into the lock.

Penny would have thought nothing of his act, save that as he swung back the door, the strange sound which previously had drawn her attention, increased in volume. It died away again as the door closed behind Fergus.

Waiting a moment, Penny went on down the hall and paused near the room where the hotel man had entered. She looked quickly up and down the hall. No one was in sight.

Moving closer, she pressed her ear to the panel. There was no sound inside the room, but as she waited, the rhythmical chugging began again. And suddenly she knew what caused it—a teletype machine!

Often in her father’s newspaper office Penny had heard that same sound and had watched the printers recording news from all parts of the country. There was no mistaking it, for she could plainly distinguish the clicking of the type against the platen, the low hum of the machine itself, the quick clang of the little bell at the end of each line of copy.

“What would the hotel be doing with a teletype?” she mused. “They print no newspapers here.”

Into Penny’s mind leaped a startling thought. The coded message in upper case letters which Fergus had dropped in the snow! Might it not have been printed by a teletype machine?

“But what significance could it have?” she asked herself. “From what office are the messages being sent and for what purpose?”

It seemed to Penny that the answer to her many questions might lie, not in the Green Room as she had supposed, but close at hand in Number 27.

Her ear pressed to the panel, the girl made out a low rumble of voices above the clatter of the teletype. Ralph Fergus was talking with another man but she could not distinguish a word they were saying. So intent was she that she failed to hear a step behind her.

A mop handle clattered to the floor, making a loud sound on the tiles. Penny whirled about in confusion. A cleaning maid stood beside her, regarding her with evident though unspoken suspicion.