CHAPTER 24 THE WOODEN BOX

Penny pulled the rope again and again, causing the huge bell to sway back and forth violently. It rang many times before Al Gepper succeeded in opening the tower room door.

His face was crimson with fury when he seized the girl, hurling her away from the rope. With one quick toss he released the hooks of the silken ladder, stuffing the soft strands beneath his coat. The bell made a final clang and became silent.

Penny retreated against the wall, anticipating severe punishment for her act. However, Al and his companions were more concerned with thoughts of escape than with her.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” muttered Al. “Come on!”

The two men on the floor had ceased their struggles. Painfully they regained their feet. In this sudden emergency they had forgotten their differences.

“What shall we do about the box in the tower?” Pete demanded, nursing a swollen eye.

“Leave it here,” returned Al. “We can’t save anything now. The police are apt to swoop down on us any minute.”

Turning, he fled to the street. Pete and Slippery hesitated, then followed. Penny heard a key turn in the lock. Even before she tested the door she knew she had been imprisoned in the tower room.

“They’ve escaped after all,” she thought dismally. “But I may have saved some of the loot. I’ll take a look.”

Quickly she climbed the iron stairs to the belfry. From the turret she obtained a perfect view of the entire Lane. Al Gepper was running down the street, while Pete and Slippery had turned toward the cemetery.

There were no other persons in the vicinity, Penny thought at first glance. Then her heart leaped as she saw three men entering the Lane at its junction with the main street. They, too, were running.

“They must have heard the bell!” she told herself. “Oh, if only I can make them understand what has happened!”

Her best means of attracting attention was by ringing the bell. She pushed against it and was rewarded by a deafening clang.

The men stopped short, staring toward the belfry. Penny cupped her hands and shouted. Her words did not carry plainly, but the newcomers seemed to gain an inkling of what was amiss, for they wheeled and began to pursue the two who had taken refuge in the cemetery.

From her high perch, Penny saw Al Gepper nearing the end of the Lane, unobserved by all save herself. Tapping the bell again, she called:

“Get him, too! At the end of the street!”

One of the pursuers halted, turning toward the tower. In the moonlight Penny saw his face and recognized Jerry Livingston. He was close enough now to hear her voice.

“It’s Al Gepper!” she shouted. “Don’t let him escape!”

The reporter turned, but as he started off in the new direction, both he and Penny saw the fleeing man climbing into Leaping Lena. With a grinding of gears, he drove away. Jerry stopped, thinking that he never could overtake the car.

“Keep after him, Jerry!” encouraged Penny. “The gas tank is almost empty. He can’t possibly go more than three or four blocks!”

As the reporter again took up the chase, she began tolling the bell once more, determined to arouse everyone within a mile of the Temple.

Her energy was rewarded, for in another minute she heard the familiar wail of a siren. A police cruiser swerved alongside the tower, stopping with a lurch.

“What’s the idea of ringing that bell?” demanded an officer, leaping to the ground.

Tersely Penny explained the situation. The two policemen took a short-cut through a vacant lot, circling the cemetery. Darkness swallowed them, but presently there came a muffled command to halt, followed by a revolver shot.

So excited was Penny that she nearly tumbled from the bell tower. Recovering her balance, she sat on the stone ledge, trying to remain calm. Her nerves were jumpy and on edge.

“If only Jerry captures Al Gepper—that’s all I ask!” she breathed.

As the minutes elapsed, it occurred to her that she had not yet searched for the loot which she believed to be hidden in the belfry. With questing fingers she groped beneath the ledge. For a short distance she felt nothing. Then she encountered a long wooden box.

Before she could open it, she heard shouts from the direction of the cemetery. Four men, two of them police officers, were marching Slippery and Pete toward the Temple. As they came nearer she received another pleasant surprise. The two who had aided in the capture were her father and Salt Sommers, a photographer for the Star.

“Dad!” shouted Penny. “Can you get me down from this pigeon roost?”

Mr. Parker, separating from the others, came to the foot of the bell tower.

“So it was you who sounded the alarm!” he exclaimed. “I might have known! How did you get up there?”

“I’m locked in. Dad, send the police to help Jerry. He’s after Al Gepper who rode off in my car.”

The police cruiser was dispatched, leaving one officer to guard the two prisoners. Mr. Parker unlocked the door of the tower room, releasing his daughter.

“You’re all right?” he asked anxiously.

“Of course. Here’s a little present for you.” Penny thrust the wooden box into his hands.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know yet. I found it hidden in the belfry.”

“Penny, if you fell into a river you would come up with a chest of gold!” exclaimed the publisher admiringly.

“Open it quick, Dad.”

Mr. Parker required no urging. The box was locked but he pried off the cover hinges, exposing the contents.

“A real treasure!” exclaimed Penny.

The box contained several bracelets, one of them set with rubies and diamonds, countless rings, four watches, and several strings of matched pearls.

“Stolen loot!” ejaculated the publisher.

“And what a collection!” chuckled Penny as she examined the separate pieces. “There’s enough plunder here to start a jewelry store.”

“Likewise sufficient evidence to put this Celestial Temple gang out of circulation for a long, long time,” added her father.

“I learned a lot tonight, Dad. Wait until I tell you!”

“A scoop for the Star?”

“You’ll be able to use your largest, blackest headlines.”

Penny began to tell her story, interrupting only when Slippery and Pete were brought into the building handcuffed together. Starting again, she made her charges, accusing Slippery not only of having committed the Henley burglary, but also of having robbed the Kohls and many prominent Riverview families.

After inspecting the jewelry found in the wooden box, one of the police officers definitely identified several of the pieces as stolen goods. He expressed an opinion that the jewelry had been hidden in the belfry because it was too “hot” to be disposed of by fences.

“The organization members had an agreement by which all shared in the loot,” added Penny. “That caused trouble. Al Gepper and Slippery thought they were taking most of the risk without sufficient return. So they pulled a few extra jobs of their own.”

Before she could reveal more, the police car was heard outside the Temple. From the window Penny saw that Jerry and the policeman were returning with Al Gepper who had been handcuffed.

“They’ve caught him!” she cried jubilantly.

The prisoner was brought into the Temple to be identified. He had been captured when Leaping Lena had stalled for lack of gasoline.

As Gepper was searched, the silken ladder, and various small objects were removed from his coat. Penny noticed two tiny rubber suction cups no larger than dimes, and immediately made up her mind that later she would try to obtain them. She was quite certain she knew their purpose.

Penny told her story and learned, in turn, that after she had telephoned Jerry, he had traced her father, and with the police both had hastened to the Hodges’ cottage. Arriving there, they discovered that Gepper had fled. Jerry, Mr. Parker, and Salt Sommers had immediately proceeded to the Celestial Temple.

“It was lucky you rang that bell, Penny,” chuckled Jerry. “If you hadn’t, we never would have arrived here in time.”

“It was lucky, too, that Mr. Gepper tried to escape in Lena,” she laughed. “I guess my old rattle-trap has redeemed itself.”

One of the officers picked up the silken ladder, examining it with critical interest. He agreed that it had undoubtedly been used in many mysterious burglaries committed during the past month.

“It’s obvious that Slippery approached the houses on the ‘blind’ side, and scaled the wall after hooking his ladder into a window ledge,” Penny remarked. “I suppose he reasoned that second-story windows nearly always are left unlocked. But how did he learn the houses were deserted? By telephoning?”

“That would be my opinion,” nodded the policeman. “If someone answered, he could hang up. Otherwise, he would be fairly sure the house was empty.”

“One night at the theatre I saw a man who resembled Slippery noting down the license number of the Kohl car. But the house was robbed within a few hours after that. How could he have obtained the name and address?”

“Easily. There are ‘information fences’ who supply such data to fellow members of the underworld. It is also possible that Slippery previously had watched the Kohl house, obtained the car license number, and then watched for it later at the theatre.”

Jerry already had supplied police with the name of the fence whose establishment Slippery had visited earlier in the day. Later, a raid staged there brought to light much loot taken from various Riverview homes.

However, for the moment, police were most interested in gaining complete information which could be used in rounding up all members of the Celestial Temple Society who had not fled the city.

Searching Slippery they found, not only jewelry stolen from the Henley residence, but a booklet containing many names and telephone numbers.

“Sadie Beardsell,” Penny read. “She’s one of the members, I am sure.”

Lest Mr. and Mrs. Hodges might also be arrested, she explained that the old couple had been an innocent dupe of Al Gepper. Turning to the medium she said:

“I think I know how you accomplished most of your tricks. Of course, you were the one who sent Mrs. Hodges a letter with six dollars. Undoubtedly, you had it mailed by an accomplice from New York at exactly the hour you specified. Then at that same hour you slipped up to the Hodges’ cottage, and rapped six times on the bedroom wall.”

“You seem to have everything figured out,” Al Gepper responded sarcastically. “Clever girl!”

“I saw how you made the spirit painting tonight at the séance,” resumed Penny. “May I ask if that same method was used in regard to Mrs. Weem’s picture of Cousin David?”

She did not dream that the medium would answer her question. With a shrug which implied that the entire matter was very boring, he replied:

“No, the picture was painted with a solution of sulphocyanid of potassium and other chemicals, invisible until brought out with a re-agent. During the séance, an assistant sprayed the back of the canvas with an atomizer, bringing out the colors one by one.”

“And how was the paint made to appear wet?”

“Poppy oil.”

“One more question, Mr. Gepper. I never could understand how you were able to raise the kitchen table at Mrs. Hodges’ cottage.”

“No?” Al Gepper smiled mockingly. “I assure you I had nothing to do with that demonstration. It was a true spirit manifestation.”

“I’ll never believe that,” declared Penny.

“Then figure it out for yourself,” replied the medium. “You are such a very brilliant child.”

Before the prisoners were led to the police car, Salt Sommers set up his camera and took a number of flashlight pictures for the Star.

“How about it, Mr. Parker?” inquired Jerry eagerly. “Are we putting out an extra?”

“We are,” said the publisher crisply. “This is the big break I’ve been hoping we would get! We should beat the Record on the story by at least a half hour.”

The three men hurriedly left the Celestial Temple, with Penny trailing behind them. At the main street intersection they finally obtained a taxicab.

“To the Star office,” Mr. Parker ordered. “An extra dollar if you step on it.”

“How about my pictures?” Salt Sommers asked, as the cab rocked around a corner. “They ought to be dandies.”

“Rush them through as soon as we get to the office,” Mr. Parker instructed. “If they’re any good we’ll run ’em on page one. Jerry, you handle the story—play it for all it’s worth.”

Jerry glanced at Penny who sat very still between her father and Salt. Their eyes met.

“Chief,” he said, “there’s a sort of fraternity among reporters—an unwritten rule that we never chisel on each other’s work.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Parker asked, startled. “I don’t get it.”

Then his glance fell upon his daughter, and he smiled.

“Oh, so it’s that way! You think Penny should write the story?”

“I do, Chief. It’s hers from the ground floor up.”

“Please, Dad, may I?” Penny pleaded.

The cab rolled up to the Star office, stopping with a jerk. Mr. Parker swung open the door, helping her alight.

“The story is yours, Penny,” he said. “That is, if you can crack it out fast enough to make the extra.”

“I’ll do it or die in the attempt.”

“Keep to the facts and write terse, simple English—” Mr. Parker began, but Penny did not wait to hear his instructions.

With a triumphant laugh, she ran ahead into the Star office. Her entry into the newsroom was both dramatic and noisy.

“Big scoop, Mr. DeWitt,” she called cheerily. “Start the old print factory running full blast!”

Dropping into a chair behind the nearest typewriter, she began to write.