CHAPTER 7 THE GREEN DOOR
Before Penny could ask another question, the signal board flashed a summons, and the attendant slammed shut the door of the elevator. He shot the cage up to the fifth floor and did not return.
Hesitating a moment, Penny wandered over to the desk.
“How does one go about obtaining a card for the Green Room?” she inquired casually.
“You’re not a guest here?” questioned the clerk.
“No.”
“You’ll have to talk with the manager. Oh, Mr. Fergus!”
Penny had not meant to have the matter go so far, but there was no retreating. The hotel manager came out of his office, and recognizing her, smiled ingratiatingly.
“Ah, good afternoon, Miss—” He groped for her name but Penny did not supply it. “So you decided to pay us a visit after all.”
“This young lady asked about the Green Room,” said the clerk significantly.
Mr. Fergus bestowed a shrewd, appraising look upon Penny.
“Oh, yes,” he said to give himself more time, “Oh, yes, I see. What was it you wished to know?”
“How does one obtain a card of admission?”
“It is very simple. That is, if you have the proper recommendations and bank credit.”
“Recommendations?” Penny asked blankly. “Just what is the Green Room anyway?”
Ralph Fergus and the clerk exchanged a quick glance which was not lost upon the girl.
“I see you are not familiar with the little service which is offered hotel guests,” Mr. Fergus said suavely. “I shall be most happy to explain it to you at some later time when I am not quite so busy.”
He bowed and went hurriedly back into the office.
“I guess I shouldn’t have inquired about the Green Room,” Penny observed aloud. “There seems to be a deep mystery connected with it.”
“No mystery,” corrected the clerk. “If you will leave your name and address I am sure everything can be arranged within a few days.”
“Thank you, I don’t believe I’ll bother.”
Penny turned and nearly ran into Francine Sellberg. Too late, she realized that the girl reporter probably had been standing by the desk for some time, listening to her conversation.
“Hello, Francine,” she said carelessly.
The girl returned a haughty stare. “I don’t believe I know you, Miss,” she said, and walked on across the lobby.
Penny was rather stunned by the unexpected snub. She took a step as if to follow Francine and demand an explanation, but her sense of humor came to her rescue.
“Who cares?” she asked herself with a shrug. “If she doesn’t care to know me, it’s perfectly all right. I can manage to bear up.”
After Francine had left the hotel, Penny made up her mind that she would try to learn a little more about the Green Room. Her interest was steadily mounting and she could not imagine what “service” might be offered guests in this particular part of the hotel.
Choosing a moment when no one appeared to be watching, Penny mounted the stairway to the second floor. She followed a long corridor to its end but did not locate Room 22. Returning to the elevator, she started in the opposite direction. The numbers ended at 20.
While Penny was trying to figure it out, a group of four men and women came down the hall. They were well dressed individuals but their manner did not stamp them as persons of good breeding. One of the women who carried a jeweled handbag was talking in a loud, excited tone:
“Oh, Herbert, wait until you see it! I shall weep my eyes out if you don’t agree to buy it for me at once. And the price! Ridiculously cheap! We’ll never run into bargains like these in New York.”
“We’ll see, Sally,” replied the man. “I’m not satisfied yet that this isn’t a flim-flam game.”
He opened a door which bore no number, and stood aside for the others to pass ahead of him. Penny caught a glimpse of a long, empty hallway.
“That must be the way to Room 22,” she thought.
She waited until the men and women had gone ahead, and then cautiously opened the door which had closed behind them. No one questioned her as she moved noiselessly down the corridor. At its very end loomed a green painted door, its top edge gracefully circular. Beside it at a small table sat a man who evidently was stationed there as a guard.
Penny walked slowly, watching the men and women ahead. They paused at the table and showed slips of cardboards. The guard then opened the green door and allowed them to pass through.
It looked so very easy that Penny decided to try her luck. She drew closer.
“Your card please,” requested the doorman.
“I am afraid I haven’t mine with me,” said Penny, flashing her most beguiling smile.
The smile was entirely lost upon the man. “Then I can’t let you in,” he said.
“Not even if I have lost my card?”
“Orders,” he answered briefly. “You’ll have no trouble getting another.”
Penny started to turn away, and then asked with attempted carelessness:
“What’s going on in there anyway? Are they selling something?”
“I really couldn’t tell you,” he responded.
“Everyone in this hotel seems to be blind, deaf and dumb,” Penny muttered to herself as she retraced her way to the main hall. “And definitely, for a purpose. I wonder if maybe I haven’t stumbled into something?”
She still had not the faintest idea what might lie beyond the Green Door, but the very name had an intriguing sound. It suggested mystery. It suggested, too, that Ralph Fergus and his financial backer, Harvey Maxwell, might have developed some special money-making scheme which would not bear exposure.
Into Penny’s mind leaped a remark which her father had made, one to the effect that Harvey Maxwell was thought to have his finger in many dishonest affairs. The Green Room might be a perfectly legitimate place of entertainment for hotel guests, but the remarks she had overheard led Penny to think otherwise. Something was being sold in Room 22. And to a very select clientele!
“If only I could learn facts which would help Dad’s case!” she told herself. “Anything showing that Maxwell is mixed up in a dishonest scheme might turn the trick!”
It occurred to Penny that the editor of the Riverview Record might have had some inkling of a story to be found at Pine Top. Otherwise, why had Francine been sent to the mountain resort? Certainly the rival reporter was working upon an assignment which concerned Harvey Maxwell. She inadvertently had revealed that fact at the Riverview airport.
“Francine thinks I came here for the same purpose,” mused Penny. “If only she weren’t so high-hat we could work together.”
There was almost no real evidence to point to a conclusion that the Fergus hotel was not being operated properly. Penny realized only too well that once more she was depending upon a certain intuition. An investigation of the Green Room might reveal no mystery. But at least there was a slender hope she could learn something which would aid her father in discrediting Harvey Maxwell.
Without attracting attention, Penny descended to the main floor and left the hotel. As she retrieved her skis from the snowbank she was surprised to see Francine standing close by, obviously waiting for her.
“Hello, Penny,” the girl greeted her.
“Goodness! Aren’t you mistaken? I don’t think you know me!”
“Oh, don’t try to be funny,” Francine replied, falling into step. “I’ll explain.”
“I wish you would.”
“You should have known better than to shout out my name there in the lobby.”
“I don’t follow your reasoning at all, Francine. Are you traveling incognito or something?”
“Naturally I don’t care to have it advertised that I am a reporter. I rather imagine you’re not overly anxious to have it known that you are the daughter of Anthony Parker either!”
“It probably wouldn’t be any particular help,” admitted Penny.
“Exactly! Despite your play-acting at the airport, I know you came here to get the low-down on Harvey Maxwell. But the minute he learns who you are you’ll not even get inside the hotel.”
“And that goes double, I take it?”
“No one at Pine Top except you knows I am a reporter,” went on Francine without answering. “So I warn you, don’t pull another boner like you did a few minutes ago. Whenever we’re around Fergus or Maxwell or persons who might report to them, just remember you never saw me before. Is that clear?”
“Moderately so,” drawled Penny.
“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Francine hesitated and started to walk off.
“Wait a minute, Francine,” spoke Penny impulsively. “Why don’t we bury the hatchet and work together on this thing? After all I am more interested in gaining evidence against Maxwell than I am in getting a big story for the paper. How about it?”
Francine smiled in a superior way.
“Thank you, I prefer to lone wolf it. You see, I happen to have a very good lead, and you don’t.”
“Well, I’ve heard about the Green Room,” said Penny, hazarding a shot in the dark. “That’s something.”
Francine stopped short.
“What do you know about it?” she demanded quickly. “Maybe we could work together after all.”
Penny laughed as she bent down to strap on her skis.
“No, thanks,” she declined pleasantly. “You once suggested that a clever reporter finds his own answers. You’ll have to wait until you read it in the Star!”
