CHAPTER 11 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS
Miss Kippenberg watched the concentric circles race each other to the far edge of the lily pool.
“Then you know the reason why this part of the estate is kept closed off?” she murmured, very low.
“I learned about the alligator yesterday,” said Penny. “Why is such an ugly brute kept here?”
“It was none of my doing, I assure you. I hate the horrid thing. Surely you don’t mean to suggest—”
“I am not suggesting anything yet,” said Penny quietly. “But you must realize that it is rather unusual to keep an alligator on one’s estate.”
“My father brought it here from Florida,” Miss Kippenberg revealed reluctantly. “For some reason the creature seemed to fascinate him. He insisted upon keeping it in the pond.”
“Your father is not living here now I am told.”
“That is true.” Miss Kippenberg quickly switched the subject back to the alligator. “Mother and I would like to get rid of the beast but we’ve never been able to do it.”
“Any zoo should be willing to take it off your hands.”
“Mother often spoke of getting in touch with one but for some reason she never did. I suppose she hesitated to give the alligator away upon Father’s account.”
Penny remained silent, wondering how deeply she dared probe into the private life of the Kippenberg family. After all there were certain inquiries which a person of sensibility could not make. She couldn’t very well ask: “Have your parents separated? Why did your father leave home? Is it true he is wanted by the authorities for evading income tax?” although these questions were upon the tip of her tongue.
She did say carelessly, “Your father is away, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Miss Kippenberg answered briefly. After a moment she went on: “Father was rather peculiar in many ways. He had a decided flare for the unusual. Take this estate for instance. He had it built at great expense to resemble a castle he once saw in Germany.”
“I’ve never visited such an elegant place.”
“It is entirely too flamboyant for my taste. But Father loved every tower and turret. If only things had turned out different—”
Her voice trailed away and she stared at the ground, lost in deep thought. Arousing herself, she went on once more.
“If you had known Father you would understand it was not strange for him to have an alligator on the estate. At one time he kept imported peacocks. The place was fairly overrun with them.”
Penny offered no comment. She moved closer to the edge of the lily pool, gazing down into the now tranquil waters.
“I know what you are trying to imply,” Miss Kippenberg said jerkily. “It couldn’t be possible. I refuse even to consider such a ridiculous theory.”
“It does seem rather far-fetched,” Penny admitted. “Of course, tragedies do occur and those foot-prints—”
“Please, not another word or you’ll drive me into hysterics!” Sylvia cried. “You are trying to play upon my feelings so that I will tell you things! You are only trying to get a story! I’ll not talk with you any longer.”
She turned and ran up the path toward the house.
“Overplayed my hand that time,” thought Penny ruefully. “As Dad says, I really have too much imagination to make a good reporter. Also too lively a tongue.”
Miss Kippenberg had vanished into the house by the time the girl retraced her way to the garden. The black limousine no longer stood at the front door so she knew she was expected to get back to Andover by her own efforts.
“If Jerry is still waiting at the drawbridge, I’ll ride home with him,” she told herself. “Otherwise, I’m out of luck completely.”
The path which Penny followed brought her toward the rear of the house. As she drew near, the kitchen door suddenly opened and a stout woman in a blue uniform came outside. In her arms she carried two large paper sacks which appeared to be filled with garbage for the bottoms were moist.
Just as the woman reached Penny one of the bags gave away, allowing a collection of corn husks, watermelon rinds and egg shells to fall on the sidewalk.
“Now I’ve done it!” she exclaimed crossly. “Splattered my stockings too.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Penny, pausing.
“This is the only place I ever worked where the cook was expected to carry out the garbage!” the woman complained. “It makes me good and mad every time I do it.”
“I should think a house of this size would have an incinerator so that the garbage could be burned,” Penny remarked.
“Say, this place doesn’t have any conveniences for the servants,” the cook went on. “You’re expected to work, work, work from morning to night.”
She broke off quickly, regarding Penny with a suspicious gaze. “You’re not one of Miss Sylvia’s guests?” she demanded.
“Oh, no, I only came here on an errand. I wouldn’t repeat anything to the family.”
“That’s all right then,” the woman said in relief. “I liked my job here well enough until lately. All month it’s been one dinner party after another. Then we spent days getting ready for the wedding feast and not one scrap of food was touched!”
“But I suppose Mrs. Kippenberg pays you well.”
“Listen, she didn’t give me one extra cent for all the work I did. Mrs. Kippenberg always has been real close, and she’s a heap worse since her husband went away. Another week like this last one and I quit!”
“Well, I can’t say I blame you,” Penny said, leading the woman on. “I suppose Miss Sylvia is as overbearing as her mother?”
“Oh, Miss Sylvia is all right, as sweet a girl as you’ll find anywhere. I felt mighty sorry for her when that no-account man threw her over.”
Penny knew by this time that she must be talking with Mrs. Latch, for the footman had mentioned the cook’s name. As the woman walked on with her bundles of garbage she fell into step with her.
“It was strange about Mr. Atherwald’s disappearance,” she remarked. “I hear he came to the house and then went away just before the wedding.”
“I can tell you about that,” replied Mrs. Latch with an important air. “Yesterday morning a boy came to the back door with a letter for Mr. Atherwald. It’s my opinion he sent it to himself.”
“Didn’t the boy tell you where he had obtained the letter?”
“He said it was given to him by one of Mr. Atherwald’s friends. A man in a boat.”
“Oh, I see,” said Penny, making a mental note of the information. Realizing that the cook had told everything she knew about the matter, she quickly switched the subject. “By the way, who is the head gardener here?”
“Do you mean Peter Henderson?”
“A fairly old man,” described Penny. “Gray hair, stooped shoulders, and I might add, an unpleasant manner.”
“I guess that’s Peter. He’s not much of a gardener in my opinion. And he feels too high and mighty to associate with the other servants. He doesn’t even stay here nights.”
“Is he a new man?”
“Mrs. Kippenberg hired him only three days before the wedding. I don’t think he’s done a lick of honest work since he came here.”
“And Mrs. Kippenberg doesn’t mind?”
“She’s been too busy and bothered to pay any attention to him,” the cook declared. “But she always has time to boss me. I tell you, if dishes aren’t prepared perfectly she raves!”
“No wonder Mr. Kippenberg was forced to leave home,” Penny interposed slyly. “You can’t blame him for running away from a violent temper.”
“Oh, the Kippenbergs never had any trouble,” Mrs. Latch corrected. “Mr. Kippenberg would just laugh and not say a word when she jumped on him. They were never heard to quarrel.”
“Then it seems odd that he went away.”
“Yes, it does,” agreed the cook, frowning. “I never did understand it. And then the way Mrs. Kippenberg changed all the servants!”
“You mean after Mr. Kippenberg went away?”
“She fired everyone except me. I guess she knew she couldn’t get another cook half as good if she let me go. Right away I struck for more money and she gave it to me without a whimper. But since then she works me like a dog.”
Mrs. Latch clattered the lid of the garbage can into place and turned toward the house. But as Penny once more fell into step with her, she paused and regarded the girl with sudden suspicion.
“Say, why am I telling you all this anyway? Who are you? You’re not one of those sneaking reporters?”
“Do I look like a reporter?” countered Penny.
“Well, no, you don’t,” admitted Mrs. Latch. “But you’re as inquisitive as one. You must be the girl who brought Miss Sylvia’s new dress from the LaRue Shoppe.”
Penny hesitated too long over her reply, and the woman gazed at her sharply.
“You are a reporter!” she exclaimed with conviction. “And you’ve been deliberately pumping me! Of all the tricks! I’ll tell Miss Kippenberg!”
“Wait, I can explain.”
Mrs. Latch paid no heed. With an angry toss of her head she hastened into the house.
“Overstepped myself again,” Penny thought in dismay. “I’ll be getting away from here while the getting is good.”
Turning, she ran down the walk toward the river, only to stop short as she reached the boat dock. The drawbridge was in open position and the old watchman did not appear to be at his usual post. She had no way of reaching the mainland.
