CHAPTER 10 A WORD TO THE WISE
Penny and Louise stooped beside the groaning man who lay pinned on his side beneath the tree. As they attempted to move him he writhed in pain and pleaded with them not to touch him.
“The tree will have to be lifted,” declared Penny. “I’ll go for help.”
Leaving Louise to encourage Anchor Joe, she ran the entire distance to the main road. The nearest house was the one owned by Peter Fenestra. However, as she hastened in that direction, she observed a truck filled with telephone linemen coming toward her. Hailing the men, she told them what had occurred.
“I am afraid Anchor Joe is badly hurt,” she added. “I’ll telephone for a doctor while you go on to the cottage.”
One of the linemen offered to make the call, leaving her free to guide the other four men to the Parker camp. Reaching the spot, the men raised the fallen tree. Carefully they lifted Anchor Joe who had lapsed into unconsciousness.
“Bring him into the cottage,” Penny directed, going ahead to open doors.
One of the rooms had been furnished as a bedroom with an old cot, a chest of drawers and odd pieces brought from the Parker home. Penny spread a blanket over the mattress and the injured man was stretched upon it.
“He’s seriously hurt, isn’t he?” she asked anxiously.
“Afraid he is,” admitted one of the linemen. “Heat up some water and I’ll do what I can until the doctor gets here.”
Penny and Louise hastened to the kitchen to struggle with the wood-burning range. By the time they had the fire going well they heard voices in the yard. Glancing out the window they saw a lineman coming toward the cottage and walking beside a doctor who carried a light, black bag.
“It’s Doctor Griswold,” observed Louise. “He made a quick trip from town.”
Penny ran to open the door for the two men. Then, at the doctor’s bidding, she went to the kitchen again for the boiling water.
“You carry it in,” urged Louise. “I can’t bear to see poor Anchor Joe.”
The linemen had left by the time Penny reentered the bedroom. The doctor was working over Anchor Joe, and she observed in relief that he had recovered consciousness.
“Where do you feel pain?” the doctor inquired as he unfastened the man’s shirt.
“My back and chest, doc,” the sailor mumbled. “Feels like all my insides is crushed.”
“Hardly that,” said the doctor cheerfully, “or you wouldn’t be telling me about it. Now let’s see.”
He took Anchor Joe’s pulse, then gently probed his chest and sponged a break in the skin. Carefully he turned the man upon his back.
Penny drew in her breath, nearly dropping the pan of water. Across Anchor Joe’s back was tattooed the sprawling figure of an octopus. She bent closer. Beneath the front arms of the repulsive sea creature appeared a single word: One.
“John Munn’s tattoo was exactly the same, save for the word!” thought Penny. “It was ‘All’ while this is ‘One.’ What can be the significance?”
Even the doctor was startled by the strange tattoo for he glanced at it curiously as he probed.
“You are a sailor?” he inquired.
“That’s right,” muttered Anchor Joe. “Ouch, doc! Take it easy, will you?”
Penny could not remain silent. “Joe, do you know a man named John Munn?” she asked.
“Sure I know him,” the sailor mumbled. “We shipped together on the Dorasky.”
“Your tattoo is very similar to his.”
Anchor Joe’s pain-glazed eyes turned upon Penny as if he were seeing her for the first time. He made an effort to pull the blanket over his back.
“We had ’em put on together,” he muttered. “Jack an’ John, and that rat, Otto—”
“Please don’t talk to the patient,” said the doctor significantly. “He should be kept quiet.”
“I’m sorry,” apologized Penny.
She did not speak again until the doctor had completed his examination and had bandaged Anchor Joe’s cuts and bruises.
“What do you advise, doctor?” she asked. “Will it be necessary to remove Joe to a hospital?”
“Neither advisable nor desirable for at least twenty-four hours,” he replied. “I find no indication of internal injury, but it is best to be safe. The patient should be kept quiet, in bed, for at least a day or two.”
“It’s something of a problem to care for him here,” said Penny frowning. “Do you suggest a nurse?”
“Any woman who has had practical experience in caring for the sick would do.”
“Mrs. Weems may be willing to come,” said Penny. “I’ll telephone home at once and learn what arrangements can be made.”
When the doctor left, Penny accompanied him as far as the first house. From there she telephoned her father, who promised to get Mrs. Weems and come at once to the cottage.
Louise was uneasily waiting by the time Penny returned. Outside the bedroom they held whispered consultation.
“Has Anchor Joe talked?” Penny questioned. “You know what I mean. Has he said anything about John Munn or the tattoo?”
“Not a word. But every so often he mutters that he’ll get even with someone by the name of Otto—a fellow sailor who ‘ratted.’”
“He mentioned Otto when I was in the room,” nodded Penny. “I wish we dared question Joe, but the doctor advised against it.”
“I don’t think we should annoy him now. Perhaps later on he’ll tell us about the tattoo and its meaning.”
“Perhaps,” echoed Penny. “However, if I am any judge of character, Anchor Joe isn’t the talkative type. As soon as he gets over the shock of this accident, he’ll lock those lips of his. We’ll learn nothing.”
“Why are you so convinced there’s a deep mystery connected with the tattoo?”
“I can’t explain it, Lou. I just know there is. I’ll never rest until I learn the significance of those words, All and One.”
Within a half hour Mrs. Weems and Mr. Parker arrived at the cottage, bringing a supply of linen, food, and comforts for the injured man. The housekeeper agreed to assume charge until Anchor Joe could be safely removed to a hospital.
When Mr. Parker drove to Riverview the girls accompanied him. During the ride Penny questioned her father regarding Anchor Joe.
“I know almost nothing about him,” he replied. “He was sent to me by the Acme Employment Agency, and I didn’t bother to ask for a recommendation.”
“I’ve learned that he’s a friend of John Munn,” revealed Penny. “As soon as he’s able to get about again, I mean to ask him a number of things.”
Mr. Parker drove Louise to her home, and at Penny’s request dropped her off at the Weekly Times office.
“By the way, what about dinner tonight?” he inquired. “Shall we dine at the Commodore Hotel?”
“Oh, Dad, I wish I could,” Penny sighed wistfully. “Work is stacked a mile high on my desk. I’ll just grab a sandwich somewhere and work late.”
“I am afraid you are taking the newspaper business too seriously,” replied her father. “Shall I leave the car for you?”
“It would be a help.”
“All right, Penny.”
Mr. Parker gave her the car keys, and walked on to his own newspaper. Entering the Times building, Penny spoke to several high school boys who were working in the advertising office, and climbed the stairs to her own office.
For the next half hour she checked over galley proofs, marking corrections on the margins.
“I never imagined there could be so many things to do on a weekly,” she sighed. “One never gets through.”
A board creaked in the newsroom. Penny heard it and glanced up. A shadow passed slowly across the frosted glass of the office door.
“Come in,” she called.
No one answered, and the shadow disappeared. Penny waited a moment, then impatiently arose and went to the door. The newsroom was deserted.
“Queer,” she thought. “Someone walked past my office door.”
Thinking that it might have been one of the high school boys, Penny went to the head of the stairs and called:
“Did anyone come up here a moment ago?”
“Not unless it was by way of the back entrance,” was the reply.
Decidedly puzzled, Penny returned to her desk. As she sat down a sheet of paper lying on the blotter pad drew her attention. She was certain it had not been there a few minutes earlier.
Reaching for it, she gasped in astonishment. The paper bore a message scrawled in black ink and read:
“To the Editor of the Weekly Times:
You are hereby warned to give up your newspaper which offends public taste. We give you three days to wind up your business and close doors. A word to the wise is sufficient.”
