CHAPTER 25 ON THE BALCONY

“Jerry, that was Albert Potts on the balcony!” Penny cried excitedly. “I’m sure I saw him remove an object from inside the gargoyle!”

“Maybe he was just looking to see what damage was done by the storm,” commented the reporter.

“He took something out and put it in his overcoat pocket! Jerry, now that I think back, Potts acted queerly that first day when the police investigated Mr. Rhett’s office. He didn’t want anyone to go near the gargoyle! Another thing, he’s been spending money as if it were rainwater!”

“You’re suggesting—”

“That it was Albert Potts who stole the bonds! Weren’t they left in Mr. Rhett’s desk? Potts knew it and had a perfect chance to take them! He implied that Rhett walked off with them! Actually, he hid the bonds in the gargoyle, knowing that if they were found there, no blame would be likely to fall upon him. Whenever he needed money, he cashed a bond—that’s why only a few have shown up at out of town banks!”

“Say, maybe you have something!” exclaimed Jerry, pulling up at the curb. “If he had hid the bonds in the gargoyle, it would be natural for him to wonder if they still were safe after this storm! He might have decided to shift them to another place.”

“My idea exactly! Jerry, let’s nab him and turn him over to the police!”

“Not quite so fast, my little chickadee. If we accuse Potts, and it turns out we’re wrong, well, he could make it hot for us.”

“We’ll have to take a chance,” Penny urged.

Leaving the car at the curb, the pair walked hurriedly to the bank. The building was dark and the lights were off inside.

“Sure you saw Potts on the balcony?” Jerry asked as they huddled against the wall for protection against the biting wind.

“Yes, and I think he’s coming now!”

Penny was correct. They heard footsteps coming down the marble stairway, and a moment later, the bank secretary unlocked the door. The waiting couple made no move until he had locked himself out, but as he started away, Jerry tapped him on the shoulder.

Potts whirled around, obviously startled. His face blanched.

“Hello, Potts,” said Jerry. “Working late, aren’t you?”

“Why, yes,” stammered the man, edging away.

“Can you spare a match?”

Potts half reached into his pocket as if to proffer one, then said testily: “I haven’t any. Sorry.”

“Sure now, you must have a match,” said Jerry, brushing against him. “Maybe in your overcoat pocket.”

Before Potts could prevent it, he had thrust his hands deep into each of the outside pockets. The bank clerk jerked angrily away. However, it was too late. Jerry triumphantly brought to light a heavy manila envelope.

“Give that to me!” Potts cried furiously.

Sidestepping him, Jerry pulled several bonds of large denomination from the envelope.

“The stolen bonds!” exclaimed Penny. “Mr. Potts, whatever possessed you to do it?”

The bank secretary never answered the question. Instead, he wheeled and started at a run down the street. As he reached the corner, a policeman who had just finished making a report to headquarters, turned from his phone box.

“Stop that man!” yelled Jerry.

The policeman grasped Potts, bringing him up short. After that, the bank secretary did his explaining to the desk sergeant at police headquarters. So unconvincing was his story, that he was immediately locked in a cell.

Meanwhile, Jerry and Penny related all they knew about the case. All scout cars were ordered to be on the alert to pick up Antón. Mr. Rhett was brought to the station within the hour, and promptly identified the recovered bonds as those he had left in his office desk.

At first, Potts firmly maintained his innocence, but after police had subjected him to a lie detector test, he realized his case was lost. When one of the detectives who was questioning him, remarked that his wife likely would be implicated in the theft, Potts broke completely:

“No! No! My wife had nothing to do with it,” he insisted. “I wanted to give my family better things—that was why I took the bonds. I thought Mr. Rhett would never return and that he would be blamed for the theft.”

“How did you cash the bonds?” he was asked.

“I was afraid to take them to a bank myself,” Potts confessed. “Instead, I paid a woman in another town to do it for me. But she did it only as a favor, and had no idea the bonds were stolen. I alone am to blame.”

A check by police revealed that Potts had spent only $2,000 of the total amount stolen. Mr. Rhett declared that this sum easily could be made up, so that the bank would sustain no loss. He was inclined to be lenient with his secretary, but police were insistent that the man be brought to trial.

Jerry and Penny, knowing that they had a big story to write, did not tarry long at the police station. However, the police desk sergeant promised to keep them informed of any new developments in the case. True to his word, he called them soon after they reached the Star office. His news was that Antón had been captured by the police and now was safely locked in a jail cell.

“Well, that rings the gong on the case,” Jerry announced as he hung up the telephone. “Thanks to you, Penny, it’s all wound up.”

“And it’s nearly edition time!” barked the city editor. “Let’s get going on that story.”

He looked at Jerry who was known as the best writer on the paper, and then his eyes moved on to Penny who waited with bated breath.

“This was her story from start to finish,” said Jerry as the editor hesitated.

“Get going!” ordered the editor again, and now he looked straight at Penny. “Give it to me in takes.”

Penny hurried to a typewriter. The lead, telling of Mr. Rhett’s return, Potts’ arrest and recovery of the stolen bonds, almost wrote itself. Keeping her own part and Jerry’s entirely out of the story, she wrote smoothly and with speed.

When she had finished half a page, she called: “Copy boy!” and ripping the sheet of paper from the typewriter gave it to him to carry to the editor’s desk.

With a fresh sheet in the machine, she wrote on until she had a second “take” ready. Again she called the copy boy and, as he snatched it from her hand, rolled still another sheet into the typewriter.

At last she was on the final page and glanced over it before she typed “30” at the end. The story had been well told, written tersely in the manner DeWitt liked. With a feeling of exultation, she realized she had done a good job.

Getting to her feet, she dropped the last page into the copy basket. Earlier sheets already had been copy-read and were in the process of being set into type. Any moment now, the edition would roll and papers would be on the street.

Penny turned from the desk to see Jerry sitting with his feet propped up on one of the tables. He was gazing at her quizzically and grinning.

“Well, you did it again, Penny!” he remarked.

“We did it together,” she corrected.

“With the help of our silent partner,” he added lightly.

“Silent partner?”

“The hurricane. It damaged a lot of Riverview property, but on the other side of the ledger, it helped write ‘30’ to the Rhett case.”

Penny nodded as she reached for her hat and raincoat. Just then, a copy boy ran up.

“Telephone for you,” he said. “It’s your housekeeper, Mrs. Weems. She wants to know if you’re safe.”

“Safe and sound and on my way home,” laughed Penny. “Tell her I’ve already started.”

“And that she’s being driven by her faithful chauffeur,” chuckled Jerry, as he reached for his hat. “Which reminds me, we have a little package to deliver to the Rhetts’.”

“The Zudi drum! I forgot all about it!”

“Haven’t you forgotten another important matter too?” teased Jerry, escorting her through the swinging gate. “Me, for instance.”

“You?”

“My reward for tonight’s work. Girl reporters, even cute little numbers like you, can’t snatch my bylines without paying the piper!”

“And what fee do you require?” Penny asked with pretended innocence.

“We’ll go into that later,” he chuckled, pinning her neatly into a shadowy corner of the vestibule. “Just now, I’ll take a little kiss on deposit!”

THE END