CHAPTER 13 TWO MEN AND A BOAT

Penny ignored several empty tables at the front of the dreary restaurant and selected one not far from where the two men sat. As they glanced at her with insolent, appraising eyes, her pulse quickened. She was almost certain that the heavy-set man was the same fellow she had noticed near the Kippenberg estate.

A waiter in a soiled white apron shuffled up to take their order.

“Hot roast beef sandwich and coffee,” said Jerry. “With plenty of cream.”

“Make mine the same,” added Penny without looking at the menu.

All her attention centered upon the two men who were now talking together in low tones. After the first glance they had taken no interest in her and were unaware of her scrutiny. The heavy-set man bent nearer his companion and with the point of his knife drew a pattern on the tablecloth.

“What do you think of this route, Joe?” he asked.

“Too risky,” the other muttered. “Once we start we got to make a quick shoot to the sea.”

“Any way we take we might run into trouble. Y’know, I wish we had never agreed to do the job.”

“You and me both!”

“Dietz ain’t to be trusted,” the heavy-set man said and his shaggy eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “He’s thinking first and last of his own skin. We’ve got to watch him.”

“And the girl, too. She’s a dumb one and plenty apt to talk if the going gets rough.”

Penny lost the remainder of the conversation as Jerry spoke to her.

“We couldn’t have picked a worse place,” he complained. “Look at all the breakfast egg on the tablecloth. I’m in favor of walking out even now.”

“I’m not,” replied Penny.

“Say, what’s got into you anyway?” Jerry demanded. “You’re acting mighty funny.”

“Notice those two men at the last table,” she indicated.

“What about them?”

“See that heavy-set fellow with the tattooed anchor on his arm? Well, I’m satisfied he is the same boatman who cruised near the Kippenberg estate yesterday afternoon.”

“It might be,” Jerry agreed, unimpressed. “The Kobalt is only a stone’s throw away. And this place seems to be frequented by rivermen.”

“You didn’t hear what they were saying?” whispered Penny. “Listen!”

Jerry immediately fell silent, centering his attention upon the two men. But by this time they had lowered their voices so that only an occasional word could be distinguished.

“What were they saying anyway?” Jerry asked curiously.

Before Penny could answer, the proprietor came from the kitchen bearing two plates of food which he set down before them. The sandwiches were covered with a dark brown, watery gravy, potatoes bore a heavy coating of grease and the coffee looked weak.

“Anything more?” the man inquired indifferently.

“That’s all,” Jerry replied, with emphasis. “In fact, it’s too much.”

At the adjoining table the two men abruptly hauled to their feet. Paying their bill they quitted the restaurant.

“Let’s leave, too,” suggested Penny. “I should like to see where they go.”

Jerry pushed his plate aside. “Suits me,” he agreed. “Even my cast-iron stomach can’t wrestle with such food as this.”

He paid at the cash register and they went out into the night. Penny looked about for the two men and saw them walking toward the river.

“Hold on,” said Jerry as she started to follow. “Tell me what all the excitement is about.”

Tersely, Penny repeated the conversation she had overheard.

“They’re tough looking hombres all right,” Jerry admitted. “Likely as not mixed up in some dirty business. But to say they’re involved in the Kippenberg affair—”

“Oh, Jerry,” Penny broke in impatiently, “we’ll never learn anything if we take that attitude. We must run down every possible clue. Please, let’s see if they go down to the river.”

“We ought to be getting our story back to the office,” Jerry reminded her. “If we miss the last edition there will be fireworks.”

“It will only take a minute,” Penny insisted stubbornly. “If you won’t come with me, then I’m going alone!”

She started away and the reporter had no choice but to follow. A narrow, well-trod path led down a steep slope toward the river. Long before they came within sight of it they could hear the croak of bullfrogs and feel the damp, night mists enveloping them like a cloak.

Drawing closer to the two men, Penny and Jerry slackened pace and moved with greater care. But if they hoped to learn anything from the conversation of the pair ahead they were disappointed. The talk concerned only the weather.

Reaching the banks of the river, the two men boarded a sturdy cabin cruiser which had been moored to a sagging dock.

“It’s the very same boat,” Penny whispered jubilantly. “I knew I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Even so, what does that prove?” demanded Jerry. “It’s no crime to run a motorboat near the Kippenberg estate. The river is free.”

“But you must admit there is other evidence. Oh, why can’t we follow them? We might learn something really important.”

“We’re not going off on any wild chase tonight,” stated Jerry sternly. “Come on, it’s home for us before your father sends a police squad to search for his missing daughter.”

“You’re losing a golden opportunity, Jerry Livingston.”

“Listen, by the time we located a boat those men would be ten miles from here. They’re leaving now. Use your head.”

“Oh, all right,” Penny gave in. “We’ll go home, but I’ll bet a cent you’ll be sorry later on.”

She waited until the cruiser was lost to view in the darkness and then allowed the reporter to guide her back up the steep path.

“At least let’s try to find out who the men are,” Penny urged as they came near the cafe. “The restaurant owner might know.”

More to please her than for any other reason, Jerry said that he would inquire. He re-entered the cafe, returning in a few minutes to report that the proprietor had never seen either of the men before.

“And now let’s be traveling,” he urged. “We’ve killed enough time here.”

During the remainder of the ride back to Riverview, Penny had little to say. But long after she knew Jerry had forgotten the two boatmen she kept turning their conversation over in her mind. She only wished she might prove that her theories were not ridiculous.

Presently, the automobile drew up in front of the Parker residence.

“Won’t you come in, Jerry?” Penny invited. “Dad may wish to talk with you about the case.”

“I might stop a minute. I have a question or two to ask him.”

The door of the house swung open as Penny and the reporter crossed the front porch. Anthony Parker stood framed in the bright electric light, a tall, imposing figure.

“That you, Penny?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I’m glad you’re home safe,” he said, not trying to hide his relief. “Mrs. Weems and I have both been worried. It’s going on nine o’clock.”

“So late? Didn’t Louise telephone you?”

“Yes, she said you had gone on to the Kippenberg estate. Knowing you, I worried all the more. What mischief did you get into this time, Penny?”

“None. Jerry took care of that!”

Mr. Parker held the door open for his daughter and Jerry to pass through. “Have you had your dinners?” he asked.

“We stopped at a roadside cafe, Dad. But the food was horrible. We didn’t even try to eat it.”

“Mrs. Weems can find something for you, I’m sure. She’s upstairs.”

“Don’t call her just yet,” said Penny. “First, we want to tell you what we’ve learned.”

Mr. Parker listened attentively as Penny gave a detailed account of her visit to the estate, the finding of the silk hat, and finally of her encounter with the two boatmen at the river cafe.

“I might have learned a lot more if only Jerry hadn’t played grandmother,” she said crossly. “He refused to follow the boat down the river—said it would only be a wild chase.”

“Jerry, I’m glad you had will power enough to overrule her,” declared Mr. Parker. “The possibility of those men being connected with the Atherwald case seems very vague to me.”

“Dad, you should have heard what they were saying! The one man drew a design on the tablecloth and asked his companion what he thought of the route. They talked about a quick get-away to the sea.”

“The men may have been fugitives,” Mr. Parker commented. “But even that isn’t very likely.”

“They spoke of being uneasy about a certain job they had agreed to do,” Penny went on earnestly. “They mentioned a girl and said that a fellow named Dietz would bear watching.”

Mr. Parker leaned forward in his chair. “Dietz?” he questioned. “Are you certain that was the name?”

“Yes, I heard it clearly.”

“I don’t see how there could be any connection,” Mr. Parker mused. “And yet—”

“Where did you hear the name before, Dad?” Penny asked, all eagerness.

“Well, DeWitt has been digging up all the facts he can about James Kippenberg. As it happens, the man once had a business associate named Aaron Dietz who was dismissed because of alleged dishonesty.”

“Then there must be a relationship!” Penny cried. She whirled triumphantly to face the crestfallen reporter. “You see, Mr. Jerry Livingston, my theory wasn’t so crazy after all! Now aren’t you sorry?”