CHAPTER 11 JAY FRANKLIN’S TRICKERY
“Morning, Dad,” Penny greeted her father as she slid into a vacant chair at the breakfast table. “What’s news and why?”
“No news.” Mr. Parker lowered his paper, and folding it, devoted himself to a plate of bacon and eggs.
“Just fourteen pages of well-set type, I suppose. Isn’t there anything about that big stone Lou and I found at the Marborough place?”
“Not a line. I told you the Star would play that yarn down.”
“Why are you so convinced it’s all a hoax?” Penny demanded, reaching across the table for the coffee percolator.
“Must I give you a diagram?” the publisher asked wearily. “After you’ve been in the newspaper business as long as I have, you don’t need reasons. You sense things.”
“Just like a bloodhound!” Penny teased. “How about the other papers? Aren’t they carrying the story either?”
“They are,” Mr. Parker admitted a bit grimly. “The News used a half page of pictures today and went for the story in a big way.”
“I may subscribe to a rival paper just to keep posted on the latest developments,” Penny teased.
“Nothing really new has come out. Jay Franklin is trying to sell the Marborough stone to the museum at a fancy price, and the institution officials are seriously considering his proposition.”
“Then, in their opinion the stone is an authentic one?”
“Experts have been known to be wrong,” Mr. Parker insisted. “I claim no knowledge of ancient writing, but I do have common sense. For the time being, at least, I shall continue to play down the story.”
Penny finished breakfast, and before starting to school, telephoned Jay Franklin. Relaying Mrs. Marborough’s message, she requested him to visit the old lady as soon as it was convenient. Somewhat to her surprise he promised that he would call at Rose Acres that afternoon.
During school, Penny kept thinking about the Marborough stone and her father’s theory that the writing and symbols it bore were fakes. It occurred to her that Truman Crocker’s opinion might be interesting for the old man had worked with rocks his entire life.
“Let’s hike out to his shack this afternoon,” she impulsively proposed to Louise Sidell.
“All right,” her chum agreed. “Why not invite Rhoda too? She might enjoy accompanying us.”
Upon being approached, the trailer camp girl immediately accepted the invitation. Since the last meeting of the Palette Club nearly all of the students had been very kind to her, but she seemed rather indifferent to everyone save Louise and Penny.
As the three girls trudged along the dusty road en-route to the river shack, Rhoda spoke of Mr. Coaten and his friend who still remained in Riverview.
“They’ve taken a room at the Riverview Hotel,” she told Penny and Louise. “Perhaps I am too suspicious, but I don’t trust them. Mr. Coaten never would seem like a father to me.”
“Is he married?” Louise questioned curiously.
“His wife remained in Dallas. The Coatens have two children of their own. I can’t understand why they should be so eager to adopt two more—penniless at that.”
“What will you do?” Louise inquired.
“I don’t know. Ted and I are deadlocked. He favors the adoption, but I am against it.”
“I think you are wise to be cautious—and my advice is ‘stand firm,’” Penny declared promptly. “The Breens were kind enough to take you in when you had no friends, so why not stay on with them?”
“That’s the trouble,” Rhoda confessed. “They haven’t much money, you know, and Mr. Coaten has offered to give them a hundred dollars if they make no objection to the adoption.”
“Buying them off?” Penny commented.
“In a way, yes. But why should Mr. Coaten be so interested in adopting Ted and me? We’ll certainly be a financial liability.”
The problem was such a perplexing one that neither Penny nor Louise could offer any convincing answer. Considering everything Rhoda had told them it appeared that Mr. Coaten must be motivated entirely by generosity. Yet, it seemed odd that if he were an old family friend he had not interested himself in their case at the time of Mr. Wiegand’s death.
Choosing a trail which led along the river, the girls soon came to Truman Crocker’s shack. It was a long, one-story frame building which served the dual purpose of dwelling and shop. The door of the workroom stood ajar, and the stonecutter could be seen grinding a granite block.
“Good afternoon,” Penny said in a loud voice to make herself heard.
The stonecutter jumped from surprise and switched off a running motor.
“You scared me out of a year’s growth,” he grinned. “Well, what can I do for you?”
“Not much of anything,” Penny responded, glancing with interest about the cluttered workshop. “We were just out for a walk and thought we would stop in for a few minutes.”
Her attention drawn to a large rock which had been covered with wet sacking, she crossed the room to examine it. Iron filings had been sprinkled on the covering, and she knew that they must have a special purpose.
“What is this for?” she inquired curiously.
“Oh, I’m removing discoloration from a stone,” Mr. Crocker answered. “Don’t touch the sacking. Leave it alone.”
“What do you do with the rock after you finish working on it?” Louise asked, crossing the room to stand beside Penny.
“I sell it,” Mr. Crocker returned briefly. “I have work to do, and I’m waiting to get at it.”
“Oh, we didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Penny apologized. “The truth is, we came here to ask you about that stone you hauled for Jay Franklin. Do you think the writing on it is genuine?”
“Sure it is. Anyone who knows anything about stones could tell it had been lying in the ground for years.”
“The aging couldn’t have been faked?”
“Say, what is this?” Crocker demanded, scowling. “What are you trying to get at?”
“My father, who publishes the Star, believes that someone may be perpetrating a hoax.”
“A what?” Crocker asked, puzzled by the word.
“A joke. He thinks that some clever person may have faked the writing on the two stones.”
“Well, I didn’t have nothing to do with it,” Truman Crocker declared, his tone unpleasant. “I hauled the rock for Jay Franklin and that’s all I know about it. Now go away and don’t pester me.”
“We’re the same as absent right now,” Penny laughed, retreating to the doorway. “Thanks for your splendid cooperation.”
“What’s that?”
“Never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” Penny replied. “Goodbye.”
A safe distance from the shack, the three girls expressed their opinion of the old stonecutter’s manners.
“He acted as if we were suspicious of him,” Louise declared. “Such a simple fellow!”
“It never once entered my head that Crocker could have any connection with the hoax, assuming that the writing isn’t genuine,” Penny said. “But now that I think of it, why wouldn’t he be a logical person to do such a trick?”
“He’s far too stupid,” Louise maintained. “Why, I doubt that he ever went through eighth grade in school. Likely he never even heard of Elizabethan writing.”
“All true,” Penny conceded, “but couldn’t someone have employed him? If he were told to carve a rock in such and such a manner, I’m sure he could carry out instructions perfectly. He knows more about such work than anyone in this community.”
“Oh, Penny, you’re quite hopeless!” Louise laughed. “Just let anyone rebuff you, and immediately you try to pin a crime on him!”
“I’m not accusing Truman Crocker of anything—at least not yet. All the same, those two stones were found quite close to his shack. The Gleason farm isn’t more than three-quarters of a mile away.”
“Why should Mr. Crocker be interested in playing such a joke?” Rhoda inquired dubiously. “Or for that matter, any other person?”
“I can’t figure it out,” Penny acknowledged. “If the stones are fakes, one would judge them to be the creation of a rather brilliant practical joker.”
“Are you sure you didn’t do it yourself?” Louise asked teasingly. “After all, you were the one who found the second stone, so that throws suspicion on you!”
Penny allowed the subject to die. With a quick change of interest, she suggested to her companions that they return to Riverview by way of the Marborough place.
“Don’t you think we’re showing ourselves there too frequently,” Louise protested mildly. “There’s such a thing as wearing out one’s welcome.”
“Oh, we needn’t try to break into the house.” Penny grinned. “But if we don’t go there, we’ll never learn any more about the mystery.”
Louise and Rhoda were not particularly eager to climb the hill. However, to oblige Penny they offered no objection to her proposal.
Approaching the Marborough property five minutes later, the girls were startled to hear loud, angry voices. The sound came from the direction of the old wishing well.
“Someone is having a fearful argument!” Penny declared, quickening her step.
As the three friends emerged into the clearing they saw Mrs. Marborough and Jay Franklin sitting together on a garden bench. The widow was speaking in a high-pitched voice, reprimanding the caller for having misled her regarding the record stone found on her land.
“She’s giving it to him right, and I’m glad!” Penny chuckled.
“Let’s not go any closer,” Louise murmured, holding back.
Penny stared at her chum in blank amazement. “Not go closer?” she demanded. “Why, this is why we came! I thought Mr. Franklin might be here, and I want to hear what he has to say for himself.”
