CHAPTER 7 NIGHT SHIFT WORKER

“I detest a stool pigeon,” said Mr. Gandiss after Joe the Sweeper had slouched away. “However, his information may be valuable. I can’t afford not to investigate it.”

Not wishing to attract comment from the other employes, the factory owner made no attempt to see the girl under suspicion. Instead, he escorted the party to his private office. Ringing a buzzer, he asked one of the foremen to bring the operator of Machine 567 to him.

Presently she came in, a thin, wiry girl in ill-fitting blue slacks and sweater. Her hair was bound beneath a dark net and she wore goggles. As she faced Mr. Gandiss, she removed the latter. Everyone stared.

For the girl was Sally Barker.

“You sent for me, Mr. Gandiss?” Subdued and embarrassed, her eyes roved from one person to another.

“Why, Sally,” said the factory owner in astonishment. “I had no idea you were working here on the night shift. When were you employed?”

“A week ago.”

Perplexed, Mr. Gandiss stared at the girl’s factory badge. There could be no mistake. Plainly it bore the number 567.

“You like the work?” he asked after an awkward silence.

“Not very well,” she confessed truthfully. “However, I can use the pay I receive.”

“During the daytime I believe you help your father aboard the River Queen,” Mr. Gandiss resumed, trying to be friendly. “Rather a strenuous program. When do you sleep?”

“Oh, I get enough rest.” Sally spoke indifferently, though her eyes were red and she looked tired. “Pop didn’t want me to take the job, but I have a special use for the money.”

“Pretty clothes, I suppose—or perhaps a new sailboat?”

“A college education.”

Mr. Gandiss nodded approvingly, and then, recalling the serious charge against the girl, became formal again. “You wonder why I sent for you?”

“I know my work hasn’t been very good. I’ve tried, but I keep ruining materials.”

This gave Mr. Gandiss the opening he sought. “What do you do with the discarded pieces?” he inquired.

“Why, I just throw them aside.” The question plainly puzzled Sally.

“You may have heard that we are having a little trouble here at the factory.”

“What sort of trouble, Mr. Gandiss?”

“Small but valuable pieces of copper and brass seem to disappear with alarming regularity. Most of the thefts have been attributed to workers on the night shift.”

Sally’s blue eyes opened wide, but she returned Mr. Gandiss’ steady gaze. Her chin raised. “I’ve heard talk about it among the girls,” she replied briefly. “That’s all I know.”

“You have no idea who may be taking the materials?”

“Not the slightest, sir.”

An awkward silence fell. Mr. Gandiss started to speak again, then changed his mind.

“Was there anything else?” Sally asked stiffly.

“Nothing.”

“Then may I return to my work?”

“Why, yes.” It was Mr. Gandiss’ turn to appear awkward and ill at ease. “We hope you will enjoy your work here, Sally,” he said, feeling that a friendly word was necessary to end the interview. “If you should learn anything that will lead to the arrest of the thieves, I hope you will give us the information.”

Sally inclined her head slightly in assent. With dignity, she walked from the office.

No one spoke for several minutes after the girl had gone. Then Mr. Gandiss drew a deep sigh.

“I had no idea Sally was working here,” he said, frowning.

“Father, you shouldn’t have accused her of stealing!” Jack burst out.

“My dear boy, I accused her of nothing.”

“Well, Sally is proud. She took it that way. You don’t really believe she would stoop to such a thing?”

“I confess I don’t know what to think. Joe the Sweeper may not be a reliable informer.”

“If he saw her hide brass in her clothing as he claims, why didn’t he report her last night?” Jack demanded. “Sally is no thief. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I get mighty sore at her sometimes, she’s so cocky. But she never did a dishonest act in her life.”

“I’m glad to hear you defend her, Jack,” Mr. Gandiss said quietly. “Certainly no action will be taken without far more conclusive evidence. Now suppose you and Penny amuse yourselves for a few minutes. Mr. Parker and I have a few business matters to discuss.”

Thus dismissed, Penny and Jack wandered outside.

“Want to see the steel plant?” Jack asked indifferently. “They should be pouring about this time.”

At Penny’s eager assent, he led her to another building, up a steep flight of iron stairs to an inner balcony which overlooked the huge blast furnaces. In the noisy, hot room, conversation was practically impossible.

Gazing below, Penny saw a crew of men in front of one of the furnaces, cleaning the tapping hole with a long rod.

In a moment a signal was given and the molten steel was poured into a ladle capable of holding a hundred and fifty tons. An overhead crane, operated by a skilled worker, lifted the huge container to the pouring platform.

Next the molten mass was turned into rectangular ingots or molds.

“The steel will cool for about an hour before it is ready to be taken from the mold,” Jack shouted in Penny’s ear.

Moving on, they saw other ingots already cooled, and in a stripping shed observed cranes with huge tongs engage the lugs of the molds and lift them from the ingots.

“Each one of those ingots weighs twenty thousand pounds,” Jack said, surprising Penny with his knowledge. “After stripping, they are placed in gas-heated pit furnaces and brought to rolling temperature.”

To see fiery ribbons of steel rolled from cherry red ingots was to Penny the most fascinating process of all. She could have watched for hours, but Jack, bored by the familiar sight, kept urging her on.

Leaving the steel plant, they returned to the main factory buildings, and without thinking, sauntered toward the room where Sally worked. A portable lunch cart had just supplied hot soup and sandwiches to the employes. Sally sat eating at her machine. Seeing Jack, she quickly looked away.

“Now she’s really sore at me, and I can’t blame her,” Jack commented. “Who is Joe the Sweeper anyhow? Riff-raff, I’ll warrant.”

Though somewhat amused by the boy’s staunch defense of Sally, Penny was inclined to agree in his second observation. Although she knew nothing of the man who had turned informer, she had not liked the sly look of his face.

Before the pair could approach Sally, the brief lunch period came to an end. A whistle blew, sending the girls back to their machines.

“You’ll have to step on it,” a foreman told Sally. “You’re behind in your quota.”

Her reply was inaudible, but as she adjusted her machine and started it up, she began to work with nervous haste.

“This is no place for Sally,” Jack said, obviously bothered. “She never was cut out for factory work. And that foreman, Rogers, who is over her! He’s a regular slave driver!”

“I thought you didn’t like Sally,” Penny teased.

“I want to see her get a square deal, that’s all,” Jack replied, his face flushing.

Joe the Sweeper sidled over to the couple. “What’s the verdict?” he asked in a confidential tone.

Jack pretended not to understand.

“Is the gal going to get fired?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Jack answered coldly. “Why does it mean so much to you?”

“Why, it don’t,” the sweeper muttered. “She ain’t no skin off my elbow.”

Penny and Jack walked on through the workroom, aware that many pairs of eyes followed them. Sally, bending over a grinding machine, looked up self-consciously. She was grinding pieces of metal, measuring each with a micrometer. There was a streak of grease across her cheek and she looked very tired.

Suddenly as Sally threw the wheel in, there was a loud clattering noise. The foreman came running. He threw the wheel back.

“What did I do?” Sally gasped, shaking from nervousness.

“You forgot to pull this lever.” The foreman said curtly. “Ruined a piece of work too! Now try to think what you’re doing and get down to business.”

Penny and Jack moved away, not wishing to add to the girl’s embarrassment. But a few minutes later, in leaving the workroom, they again passed close to Sally’s machine. This time she did not see them until they were almost beside her.

“How is it going, Sally?” Jack asked in a friendly way.

Sally raised her eyes, and in so doing forgot her work. As she automatically placed the metal in line with the wheel, she held her fingers there without thinking. Another instant and they would have been mangled.

Horrified, Penny saw what was about to happen.

“Sally!” she cried. Acting instinctively, she reached and jerked the girl’s hand away from the swift turning machinery. The wheel had missed Sally’s fingers by a mere fraction of an inch.

The foreman came running again, obviously annoyed. Shutting off the machine, he demanded to know what was wrong.

Sally leaned her head weakly on the table, trying to regain composure. Her face was drained of color and she trembled as from a chill. “Thanks,” she said brokenly to Penny. “I—I don’t know what’s the matter with me tonight. I’m not coordinated right.”

“Go take a walk,” the foreman advised, not unkindly. “A nice long walk. Get a drink or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll never learn,” Sally said in a choked voice.

“Sure, you will. Everyone has to go through a beginner’s stage. Get yourself a drink. Then you’ll feel better.”

“Let me go with you,” Penny said, taking Sally by the arm.

Without conversation, they made their way between the long rows of machines to the locker room. There Sally sank down on a bench, burying her face in her hands.

“I’m nervous and upset tonight,” she excused herself. “I can’t seem to get the hang of machine work.”

“Why not give it up? Do you really need the money so badly?”

“No,” Sally admitted truthfully. “I’ve set my heart on a college education, but Pop could raise the money somehow. It’s just that he’s had financial troubles the past year, and I wanted to help out.”

“Some persons aren’t cut out to be factory workers,” Penny resumed. “Do you realize that you nearly lost several of your fingers tonight?”

“Yes,” Sally agreed, her freckled face becoming deadly sober. “I’ll always be grateful to you. What Mr. Gandiss said in his office upset me. I wasn’t thinking of my work.”

“I thought that might be it. Well, forget the entire matter if you can.”

Sally nodded and getting up, drank at the fountain. “I’ll have to go back to work now,” she said with an effort. “First, I’ll get myself a clean hanky.”

With a key which she wore on a string about her neck, the girl opened her locker. On the floor lay a leather jacket that had fallen from its hook.

As Sally picked it up, a heavy object slipped from one of the pockets, thudding against the tin of the locker floor.

She stooped quickly to retrieve it, and then, embarrassed, tried to shield the article from view. But she could not hide it from Penny who stood directly behind. The object that had fallen from the jacket was a small coupling of brass!