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<h2 id="c12">CHAPTER 12 A JOB FOR PENNY</h2> Penny gazed at Salt in grim despair. “I was so sure Jerry would be here,” she murmured. “What can we do now?” “We’ve run down every clue,” he replied gloomily. “If he isn’t at the hospital, I’m afraid it’s a case for the police.” “But Mark was so sure he had seen Jerry tonight. Try once more, Salt.” “Okay, but it’s useless. He’s not here.” Again Salt hammered on the door with his fist. He was turning away when a sleepy voice called: “Who’s there?” “Jerry is in there!” Penny cried. “Thank goodness, he’s safe!” “Open up, you lug!” ordered Salt. A bed creaked, footsteps padded across the carpet and the door swung back. Jerry, in silk dressing gown, blinked sleepily out at them. “What do you want?” he mumbled. “Can’t you let a fellow catch forty winks without sending out the riot squad?” “How are you feeling, Jerry, my boy?” Salt inquired solicitously. “Never felt better in my life, except I’m sleepy.” “Then what made you walk out of the hospital?” “I don’t like hospitals.” “We ought to punch you in the nose for making us so much trouble,” Salt said affectionately. “Here we spent half the night searching the swamp for you!” Jerry’s face crinkled into a broad grin. “The swamp! That’s good!” “Didn’t you ask a taximan at the hospital how much it would cost to go there?” Penny reminded him. “Sure, but I decided not to go.” “You got a nerve!” Salt muttered. “Climb into your clothes and we’ll take you back to your cell.” “Oh, no, you don’t!” Jerry backed away from the door. “I’m no more sick than you are, and I’m not going back to the hospital!” “You’re an advanced case for a mental institution!” the photographer snapped. “Maybe you don’t know Danny Deevers is out to get you and he means business!” “I’m not worried about Danny.” “Maybe you don’t think he cracked you on the head tonight at the theater?” “I’ve been thinking it over,” Jerry replied slowly. “Probably it was Danny, but I doubt he’ll dare show his face again. Police are too hot on his trail.” “Says you!” snorted Salt. “By the way, why were you so interested in going to the swamp tonight? Any clues?” “Only the information you and Penny gave me.” “We learned a little more this evening,” Penny informed him eagerly. “And we have a photograph we want you to identify.” The story of their findings at Caleb Corners and beyond, was briefly told. Salt then showed Jerry the picture of the ancient car which had been involved in the traffic accident. “This older man is Danny Deevers,” Jerry positively identified him after studying the photograph a minute. “I don’t recognize the driver of the car.” “We’re almost sure he’s one of the Hawkins’ boys,” Penny declared. “You know, the swamper we told you about.” Jerry nodded. “In that case, putting the finger on Deevers should be easy for the police. The Hawkins family could be arrested on suspicion. Like as not, Deevers is hiding in the swamp just as Penny suspected!” “If he is, it won’t be easy to capture him,” commented Salt. “They say a man could hide there a year without being found. And if the Hawkins’ boy is arrested, he’ll naturally lie low.” Jerry thoughtfully studied the photograph again. “That’s so,” he admitted. “Anyway, our evidence is pretty weak. We couldn’t pin anything on either of the Hawkins’ boys on the strength of this photograph.” “It would only involve Mrs. Jones,” contributed Penny. “Why turn it over to the police?” “Well, it would relieve us of a lot of responsibility. Tell you what! I know the Chief pretty well. Suppose I give the picture to him and ask him to go easy on Mrs. Jones? I think he would play along with us.” “Sounds like a good idea to me,” approved Salt. “The police can watch the Hawkins place and maybe learn Danny’s hideout without tipping their hand.” The matter of the photograph settled, he and Penny turned to leave. “We’ll send the hospital ambulance after you, Jerry,” Salt said by way of farewell. “Better get into some duds.” “I’m not going back there!” “It’s no use trying to make him,” said Penny who knew from experience that the reporter could be stubborn. “But do be careful, won’t you, Jerry?” “Sure,” he promised. “And thanks to both of you for all your trouble!” The hour now was well past midnight. Saying goodbye to Jerry, Penny had Salt take her directly home. Quietly she slipped into the house and upstairs to her own room without disturbing Mrs. Weems. However, next morning, explanations were in order, and as was to be expected, the housekeeper did not look with approval upon the trip to the swamp. “Your motives may have been excellent,” she told Penny, “but your judgment was very poor. Even with Salt as an escort you shouldn’t have gone.” To make amends, Penny stayed close at home that morning, helping with an ironing. At noon when her father came for luncheon, she eagerly plied him with questions about the Danny Deevers case. “There’s nothing new to report,” Mr. Parker said. “He’s still at large. The Star has posted a $10,000 reward for his capture.” “Ten thousand!” echoed Penny, her eyes sparkling. “I could use that money!” Mr. Parker carefully laid down his knife and fork, fixing his daughter with a stern gaze. “You’re to forget Danny Deevers,” he directed. “Just to make certain you do, I’ve arranged with Mr. DeWitt to give you a few days’ work at the office. Kindly report at one-thirty this afternoon for your first assignment.” “Oh, Dad! Of all times—I had plans!” “So I figured,” her father replied dryly. “Mr. DeWitt, I trust, will keep you busy until after Danny Deevers has been rounded up by the police.” Penny knew that protests were quite useless, for when her father really set down his foot, he seldom changed his mind. At another time, she would have welcomed an opportunity to work at the Star office, but this day she regarded it as nothing less than punishment. As her father had predicted, Penny was kept more than busy at the office. There were telephones to answer, obituaries to write, wire stories to redo, and a multitude of little writing jobs which kept her chained to a desk. Penny pounded out page after page of routine copy, her face becoming longer and longer. Whenever the shortwave radio blared, she listened attentively. Never was there any news to suggest that police were even taking an interest in Danny Deevers’ escape. “Oh, they’re working hard on the case,” Jerry assured her when she talked it over with him. “You’ll hear about it in good time.” “Everyone treats me as if I were a child!” Penny complained. “Just wait! If ever I get any more information, I’m keeping it under my hat!” For two long days she worked and suffered in the newspaper office. Then late one afternoon, Mr. DeWitt beckoned her to his desk. “You act as if you need a little fresh air,” he said. “Take a run over to the Immigration Office. See a man named Trotsell. He’ll tell you about a boy who entered this country illegally. They’re looking for him now.” “I’ll hippety-hop all the way!” Penny laughed, glad to escape from the office. At the Immigration Building, Mr. Trotsell, an official of brisk manner and crisp speech, gave her the facts of the case in rapid-fire order. “The boy is only sixteen,” he said. “His name is Anthony Tienta and he was befriended by G.I.’s in Europe. Early in the war, his parents were killed. Anthony was put in an orphan’s asylum by Fascists. He and another lad escaped to the mountains. For six months they lived in a cave on berries and what they could pilfer.” “Interesting,” commented Penny, “but what is your connection with the case?” “I’m coming to that. When G.I.’s entered Italy, Anthony left his mountain hideout to become a guide. He learned English and later joined an American division as a mascot. When the war ended, Anthony sought permission to come to this country and was turned down repeatedly.” “So he stowed aboard a troopship?” “Yes, we don’t know yet how he eluded Immigration officials in New York. Somehow he slipped into the country. Later he was traced to a farm in Michigan. We were closing in on him, when someone tipped him off and he fled. We know he’s somewhere in this state.” “Near here?” “It’s very possible. We thought if a story appeared in the paper, someone who has seen the boy may report to us.” “Do you have a picture of him?” “Unfortunately, no. He is sixteen, with dark eyes and dark, curly hair. The lad is athletic and very quick witted. His English is fairly good, heavily sprinkled with G.I. slang.” “I’ll write the story for you,” Penny promised as she arose to leave. “The truth is, though, my sympathy is with Anthony.” “So is mine,” replied the official. “However, that does not change the law. He entered this country illegally and must be returned to Italy.” Penny left the office and was midway to the newspaper office when she bumped squarely into her friend, Louise Sidell, who had been downtown shopping. “Oh, Lou!” she exclaimed. “I called you twice but you weren’t at home. Did Bones ever find his way back?” Louise shook her head. “He never will either. Those men probably kept him on the island. I’m going out there tomorrow.” “To the island?” “If I can get Trapper Joe to take me. My father says I may offer him twenty-five dollars to help me get Bones back.” “It was entirely my fault, Lou. I’ll pay the money.” “You needn’t.” “I want to,” said Penny firmly. “I’ve earned a little money the past two days at the newspaper office.” The two girls walked together to the next corner. “What time are you starting for Trapper Joe’s tomorrow?” Penny asked. “I’d like to leave right after breakfast. Any chance you could take me in your car?” “I was thinking the same thing,” grinned Penny. “It may take a little doing—but yes, I’m sure you can count on me! I’m long overdue for a date myself with Old Man Swamp!” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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