CHAPTER 5 COBWEBS AND RUST
“My dear young lady, do I understand you correctly? You are asking for the use of the Morning Press building without the payment of rent.”
Mr. Veeley, slightly bald and with a bulging waistline, regarded Penny across the polished mahogany desk. Upon arriving at his office that Saturday morning, he had found the girl awaiting him. For the past ten minutes she had stunned him with her remarkable figures and plans.
“Yes, that’s about the size of it,” Penny acknowledged. “What Riverview needs is a newspaper unhampered by the conservatism of over-aged minds. Now you have a fine building and equipment which is standing idle, fast falling into decay—”
“Decay?” Mr. Veeley inquired mildly.
“Expensive machinery soon rusts and becomes practically worthless unless kept in use,” declared Penny with authority. “If you’ll agree to my proposition, I’ll publish a weekly paper there, see that your property is kept in good condition, and turn the plant back to you whenever you can find a prosperous renter.”
“Your father sent you here?”
“Oh, goodness, no! Dad thinks it’s all a great joke. But it isn’t! I know I can make a success of the paper if only I have a chance to test my ideas.”
Mr. Veeley could not fail to be impressed by Penny’s earnest, appealing manner. The novelty of her plan both amused and intrigued him.
“I wish I could help you start your paper,” he said. “However, I doubt if you comprehend the cost of such a venture. Even should I permit the use of my building rent free, how would you meet such expenses as light, water and heat?”
“Oh, I have a plan for everything,” insisted Penny grandly. “All I need is a building. I’ll have the windows washed for you and do a good job of house cleaning. With me in charge you’ll be able to dismiss your watchman.”
“I haven’t one.”
“No watchman?” Penny inquired innocently. “Last night when I drove past the building I saw a light on the third floor. Evidently someone is prowling about there, Mr. Veeley.”
“You’re certain you saw a light?” the man inquired, disturbed by the information.
“Oh, yes, indeed. Excuse me for advising you, Mr. Veeley, but you really should have someone to guard your property.”
Mr. Veeley smiled broadly. “You are a very convincing young lady. While I realize it is a foolish thing to do, I am tempted to let you have the key.”
“Oh, Mr. Veeley, that’s wonderful! You’ll never regret it!”
“I’ll allow you the use of the building for a month,” resumed Mr. Veeley. “At the end of that time we’ll discuss the future.”
Penny was thrown into such a frenzy of excitement that she scarcely could remain outwardly serene until she had left the office. Once on the street she ran the entire distance to the Star building, dashing into her father’s suite with all the sound effects of a laboring steam engine.
“Dad!” she cried dramatically. “I have it! The key to the Morning Press plant! Now I’m on my way to draw my savings from the bank.”
“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Parker. “Don’t tell me Mr. Veeley listened to your crazy scheme!”
“He’s heartily in favor of it, Dad. Now I must rush off to the bank.”
“Come back here,” her father commanded as she started for the door. “I can’t allow you to withdraw your savings.”
“How can I launch the Weekly Times without capital?”
“You’re really determined to try it?”
“Of course.”
Mr. Parker reached for a cheque book. “How much will you need?”
“Oh, just sign your name at the bottom and leave the amount blank.”
“Sorry, I prefer not to financially cripple myself for life. One hundred dollars is my limit. I’m throwing it down a sink-hole, but the lessons you’ll learn may be worth the cost.”
“I can do a lot with a hundred dollars,” said Penny. “Thanks, Dad.”
She picked up the cheque before the ink was dry and, dropping a kiss lightly on her father’s cheek, was gone.
From the corner drugstore Penny telephoned Louise, telling her the news and asking her to come downtown at once. Fifteen minutes later her chum met her at the entrance to the Morning Press building.
“Just think, Lou!” she murmured, unlocking the front door. “This huge plant all mine! I’m a publisher at last!”
“You’re completely insane if you ask me,” retorted Louise. “This place is a dreadful mess. You’ll never be able to clean it up, let alone get out an issue of the paper!”
The girls had passed through the vestibule to the lower floor room which once had served as the Press’ circulation department. Behind the high service counter, desks and chairs remained untouched, covered by a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling light fixtures and festooned the walls.
Climbing the stairs, the girls glanced briefly into the newsroom, and then wandered on to the composing room. Penny’s gaze roved over long rows of linotype machines and steel trucks which were used to hold page forms. There were bins of type, Cheltenham, Goudy, Century—more varieties than she had ever seen before.
Passing the stereotyping department, the girls entered the press room where slumbered ten giant double-decked rotary presses. Lying on the roller of one was a torn strip of newspaper, the last issue of the Morning Press ever printed.
“It gives one a queer feeling to see all this,” said Louise. “Why do you suppose Judson closed the plant when it was prosperous?”
“No one seems to know the answer,” Penny replied, stooping to peer into an empty ink pot. “But it doesn’t seem possible a man would give up his business, throw so many persons out of work, without a good reason.”
“His bad luck seems to be yours,” Louise remarked gloomily. “Well, since you’ve fallen heir to all this, what will you do with it? It will take a sizeable chunk of your hundred dollars just to get the place cleaned.”
“Not according to my calculations,” chuckled Penny. “Let’s choose our offices and then we’ll discuss business.”
“Our offices?” echoed Louise. “I’m not in on this brain-storm of yours.”
“Oh, yes, you are. You’ll be the editor.”
“But I thought you were that!”
“I’ll be the managing editor,” said Penny gently. “You’ll have your office, and oodles of authority. Of course, you’ll have to work hard keeping our staff in line.”
“What staff?”
“We’ll recruit from Riverview High, concentrating on the journalism majors. Now I think Jack Malone will be our new advertising manager.”
“Jack Malone! Why, Penny, he hasn’t an ounce of push.”
“I know, Lou. But his father is president of the Malone Glass Company. I figure if his son is in charge of advertising—”
“I get the idea,” interrupted Louise. “Penny, with a head like yours, we should land all the important accounts in town.”
“I aim to win several fat ones away from the Star,” Penny said with quiet confidence. “If we don’t, it will be bankruptcy before the first issue of the paper is off the press.”
Louise glanced dubiously at the dusty machinery.
“There’s no denying you’re a genius, Penny. Even so, I don’t see how you expect to get these presses running.”
“We’ll only need one.”
“True, but you can’t recruit pressmen or linotype operators from Riverview High.”
“Unfortunately, no,” sighed Penny. “The first issue of the Times will be printed at the Star plant. Dad doesn’t know it yet. After that—well, I’ll think of something.”
“How do you propose to get this place cleaned?”
“Every person who works on our paper must wield a broom, Lou. After we’ve chosen our offices, we’ll scamper forth and gather our staff together.”
Returning to the second floor, the girls inspected the offices adjoining the newsroom. Penny selected for hers the one which previously had been occupied by Matthew Judson. His name remained on the frosted-glass door, and the walls bore etchings and paintings of considerable value.
In the top drawer of the flat-top desk there remained an assortment of pens, erasers, thumbtacks, and small articles. All letters and papers had been removed.
“Mr. Judson apparently left here in a great hurry,” she remarked. “For some reason he never returned for the paintings and personal trifles.”
Louise chose an office adjoining Penny’s new quarters. They both were admiring the view from the window when her chum suddenly drew herself into an attitude of attention.
“What’s wrong?” inquired Louise, mystified.
“I thought I heard someone moving about,” whispered Penny. “Quiet!”
They remained motionless; listening. A board creaked.
Darting to the door, Penny flung it open. The newsroom was deserted, but she was almost certain she heard footsteps retreating swiftly down the hall.
“Lou, we’re not alone in this building!”
“I thought I heard someone, too.”
The girls ran through the newsroom to the hall, and down the stairway. Three steps from the bottom, Penny suddenly halted. On the service counter of the advertising department lay a man’s grimy felt hat.
“Look at that,” she whispered. “Someone was upstairs!”
“He may still be here, too. Penny, did you leave the entrance door unlocked?”
“I guess so. I don’t remember.”
“A loiterer may have wandered into the building, and then left when we gave chase.”
“Without his hat?”
“It probably was forgotten.”
“Anyhow, I intend to look carefully about,” declared Penny. “After all, I am responsible for this place now.”
Both girls were uneasy as they wandered from room to room. Penny even ventured into the basement where a number of rats had taken refuge. The building seemed deserted.
“We’re only wasting precious time,” she said at last. “Whoever the intruder was, he’s gone now.”
Retracing their way to the advertising department, the girls stopped short, staring at the counter. The hat, observed there only a few minutes before, had vanished.
