CHAPTER 13 BEHIND OFFICE DOORS

“Are you hurt, Penny?” Rushing to her chum, Louise helped her out of the ditch where she had fallen.

“No!” Angrily, Penny brushed dust from her slacks. “But I’m as mad as a hornet! If that man thinks he can push me around—”

Already Webb was well down the road, walking at a leisurely but arrogant pace.

“Forget it, forget it,” Louise soothed. “We’d get no place picking a quarrel with a man like that. Anyway, you more or less accused him of thievery.”

“And a thief is exactly what he is!” Penny retorted. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s the one who stole Ben’s watch!”

“Then the thing for us to do is report him to the police. We’ll get nowhere talking to him ourselves.”

“We’ll stop in town—I think the place is called Newhall—and notify the sheriff,” Penny decided. “I certainly shall ask for the man’s arrest.”

Returning to the car, she turned it around, and they drove toward the town, less than a half mile away. Soon they approached Webb who was walking at the side of the pavement. Deliberately, he ignored them as they passed.

At Newhall, the girls found the sheriff, and rather excitedly, poured out their story. Although the official took a few notes, he seemed somewhat bored by it all.

“You don’t know the last name of the man,” he recited. “You think he may be employed by Professor Bettenridge, but you are not sure. You believe he may be a thief, but you are not positive of that either.”

“One thing I am sure of!” Penny exclaimed. “He pushed me into a ditch. So at least he’s guilty of that!”

“Are you willing to sign charges and appear against the man?”

“You mean I would have to come back here later on?”

“Certainly.”

Penny’s enthusiasm waned. “Maybe I couldn’t get here,” she said, thinking of her newspaper work. “Oh, well, let it go.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the man anyhow,” the sheriff promised. “Think you have the situation sized up wrong though. We’ve already investigated Professor Bettenridge. He has fine credentials, and his invention seems to have merit.”

“You believe it actually will explode mines?” Penny asked incredulously.

“I saw it done. Fact is, Professor Bettenridge invited me to the first demonstration he gave at the lake.”

“What happened?” Louise questioned eagerly.

“A mine was dumped into the lake. Then the professor exploded it with his machine. I didn’t understand how it was done, but I saw the flames shoot up when it went off. It was the real thing.”

Decidedly let-down, Penny and Louise took leave of the sheriff and drove to Riverview. But as they passed through the downtown section, Penny suddenly stopped in front of the Gables Hotel.

“I suppose I’m silly,” she acknowledged, “but I still doubt the honesty of Professor Bettenridge. Just for the fun of it, I intend to run in here and learn if those Navy officials are registered.”

Leaving her chum in the car, Penny was gone nearly fifteen minutes. When she returned, her face had taken on animation, so Louise knew she had interesting news.

“Just as I thought!” Penny exclaimed, sliding behind the steering wheel. “Not a Navy officer registered in the hotel, and none expected! So how could Professor Bettenridge have an appointment here tonight? He merely told Mr. Johnson that to impress him.”

“It does look that way. Still, it’s possible the officers might have registered at another hotel.”

“Possible but hardly probable. Lou, I believe Professor Bettenridge is a crook. I wish we could witness that demonstration of his tomorrow night!”

“I’ll never be able to go,” Louise said regretfully. “I’m playing in a recital—worse luck.”

“I might get Salt to ride over with me,” Penny thought aloud. “Well, we’ll see.”

The following morning she took time from her work to seek the photographer. He was in the darkroom, but the door was open. As she stepped inside, he whirled around, his face startled.

“Oh, it’s you!” he chuckled in relief.

“Why, Salt!” Penny teased. “You acted as if you thought I might be a holdup man. Why so jumpy?”

“Was I?” the photographer asked, his tone queer.

“You certainly were. Anything wrong?”

“This place was entered again last night,” Salt said reluctantly. “I can’t figure it out.”

“Anything taken?”

“Not a thing so far as I can discover. That’s the strange part of it. But the films were disturbed, as if someone had searched through them.”

“How did the person get in?”

“Apparently through the skylight. It was ordered locked, but it got hot in here yesterday. One of the boys opened it up, and then forgot to snap the lock.”

“Did you search the roof?”

“Yes, we found footprints leading to a hall window of the next building. That was as far as they could be traced.”

“Do you suppose it could be anyone from the adjoining building, Salt?”

“Not necessarily. The person may have entered it from the street. We know he stepped out onto the roof from the hall window rather than from one of the office rooms.”

Before returning to the newsroom, Penny told Salt about yesterday’s adventure in the country.

“I sure would like a chance to go there with you tonight,” he declared promptly. “Maybe we can get my camera back, even if those birds deny having seen it.”

The morning passed slowly, and Penny found it difficult to keep her mind on her work. Elda, however, no longer bothered her. With more important problems to worry about, Penny was not the least bit wounded by the little slurring remarks the girl made.

At noon she lunched on a sandwich and chocolate at a corner drugstore close to the Star building. With half an hour to spend, she suddenly was struck by an idea.

“Why don’t I talk to Jason Cordell, the Mirror editor, about Ben?” she thought. “Perhaps their difficulties are based on misunderstanding.”

Crossing the street to the Mirror building, she found Mr. Cordell’s office on the third floor. There, a secretary asked her to wait a few minutes.

Apparently an argument was in progress within the inner room, for she heard angry voices. Then a door slammed. Presently, Penny was told that she might go in.

Mr. Cordell sat at his desk, a scowl on his face. He was busy writing and barely glanced up as she entered. Finally he looked straight at her, demanding: “Well?” in a tone which sapped Penny’s courage.

She wished she might retreat, but it now was too late.

“I—I am Miss Parker,” she stammered. “My father is publisher of the Star.”

“Oh, yes, yes indeed,” the editor now became more friendly, and Penny took heart.

“I came to talk to you about one of your former employes—Ben Bartell.”

A mask-like expression came over Mr. Cordell’s face. He waited for Penny to continue.

“You discharged Ben, I believe. He’s had a very hard time ever since.”

“Indeed? Is he a friend of yours?”

“In a way. I feel sorry for him and I want to find newspaper work for him.”

“Then why doesn’t your father give him a job on the Star?”

Penny was prepared for the question. “I think my father would if he were assured that Ben had done nothing so very dishonorable. That’s why I came to you. Why was he discharged?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t reply to that question. Nor can I assure you that Ben was discharged on a trivial offense. The opposite is true.”

“But what did he do?”

Mr. Cordell arose. “I am sorry, I can’t discuss it, Miss Parker. If you will excuse me for saying so, I think the matter really is not your concern. My advice would be to leave Ben Bartell entirely alone. He sent you here, I suppose?”

“Indeed, he didn’t.”

“Where is Ben now?”

“Living in a shack on the waterfront. Because you blacklisted him, he has been unable to get a newspaper job anywhere.”

Mr. Cordell’s smile was hard and triumphant. Penny knew then that she had made a grave error in thinking she might appeal to the man’s sympathies. Obviously, he was highly pleased to learn of Ben’s difficulties.

“I am sorry I can’t help you,” the editor said coldly. “Do drop in again sometime.”

He opened the door for her, a pointed hint that she was to go.

As she stepped out into the outer waiting room, a man who evidently expected to see the editor, arose. He had entered the outer office only a few minutes before, and this was the first time that Penny had seen him. Upon recognizing him, she stopped short, for it was Webb.

“You can go in now, Mr. Nelson,” the secretary told Webb.

Bestowing a sneering smile upon her, he entered the private office.

Then the door closed.